HOME/DiY: Shed Roof… Finally!

Working up on the roof.

Earlier today I finally got around to starting the roof on shed #4. We bought the OSB3 boards some few weeks back. But since then there simply hasn’t been either the time, manpower, or appropriate weather conditions (too wet, and/or dark!), to ‘get it up’ (chortle!).

Perhaps unsurprisingly the shed itself has proven to be a little out of square. Meaning that the roofing panels don’t line up as precisely as one would’ve liked. But, hey-ho, ‘tis wadi ‘tis!

Looking towards the rear of the shed.

I’d gotten three panels in place when Chris, our fairly new neighbour – they moved in about a year ago – offered to help. I said ‘nah, I’m alright, ta’, as the real work had been moving the boards, and Teresa had already helped me do that, earlier in the day. I got some excellent Roughneck branded board carriers, which really helped when it came to moving the boards.

Chris then suggested a trip to’t local Wetherspoons pub. And I jumped at the opportunity. Poss’ my first social ‘drink with a mate’ scenario in three or more years! And that, as much as the roofing work, is what prompts this post. Here I am, back home, pissed. Bit of a hangover. Teresa a little miffed at my going out like (and for as long as) I did, etc. I certainly had too much to drink. Three pints and a double rum’n’coke.

Looking towards the front.

I do worry, on this head, as my dad, and his dad afore him, are/were alky-horlicks. And I don’t want to be one… no sir-ee, nor me neither! But, time and again, I drink too much. Fool that I am! It’s fun at the time. But what I really dislike is the aftermath.

Bloated, gassy, with a headache. All things I’m prone too anyway. And ‘Al Cahole’, famous Chicago prohibition-breaker, just exacerbates these conditions. Oh, and it also makes me more likely to do other dumb-ass shit like smoking. Or just gabbing a little too freely.

Garden looking pretty.

Anyhoo… back to’t shed. Teresa took some pics, whilst I toddled off to’t pub. The garden is looking rather autumnal. Which is geet luverly! I got three of four panels up today. The fourth got a bit butchered, annoyingly, thanks to my cheap/shite Titan router not working as effectively or reliably as it oughta.

So tomorrow, Sunday, I need to sort out the last panel – trim off the buggered edges – and get that up and fixed in place. Once all the panels are in situ, and screwed down, I’ll need to put further weather-proofing stuff on. I have an amount of roofing felt already. But not, I reckon, sufficient for the job. We shall see, I suppose.

Right, off to’t khazi for a beery wazz…

POSTSCRIPT

Working on the final roof board.

This last pic, above, is a bit out of sequence. But it at least captures the work in progress. I tried to route overlapping profiles, so as to more securely interlock the boards. But my cheap Titan router is, frankly, shite. And not up to the job, sadly. So I had to abandon that idea. The above pic is me preparing to cut off the botched (and incomplete) routed profile edge.

You can see the latter, Along the right edge of the board. The brown shiplap slat is screwed to the board to act as a guide/fence. I had to nip out and buy a new circular saw blade. I wound up getting a cheap set of three from the local ToolStation. Prob’ not good quality. But they allowed me to make the necessary cuts. Whereas the previous dull blade was simply binding mid-cut.

MUSiC: CD Review – Cold Shot/Snatch & The Poontangs, Johnny Otis, etc.

An X-rated entry (snigger) for ye blogge. Here we have a two-fer, put out by Ace Records: Cold Shot and Snatch & The Poontangs, both being Johnny Otis albums, albeit released under different names. And, rather unusually, both kick off with (different) versions of the same song, the superbly hilarious ‘Signifying Monkey’.

Cold Shot (1968) is a very bloozy affair, featuring Johnny’s famous guitarist son, Shuggie Otis, and singer Delmar ‘Mighty Mouth’ Evans. And, apart from the initial ‘Sig’ Monkey (Part 1)’ business, is fairly work safe or family friendly.

Snatch & The Poontangs (1969), however, is a completely different matter altogether! A talented artist, as well as musician, Johnny O’ did the R. Crumb rip-off cover cartoon. And he may also have painted the inner gatefold, which depicts late ‘60s Freak Brothers-esque urban rioting.

On the delightfully earthy Snatch, after the even filthier ‘Sig’ Monkey (Part 2)’, we also get such treats as the rather wonderful ‘Pissed Off Cowboy’. I scoured the web for lyrics for some of these smuttier gems. Alas, to no avail. So I may do the world a favour, and put the texts online, as best I can, at some point soon (time allowing!).

Taking the two albums together, they cover a whole range of blues styles and sounds, from the Bo Diddley beat of ‘Hey Shine’ to the lyrical conceit of ‘the dozens’, in which humorous insults (the ‘dirty dozens’!) are traded. And there’s also the fabulous tradition of bigging up one’s badass self, as exemplified here by ‘Two-Time Slim’, ‘The Great Stack-a-Lee’, and ‘Big Jon Jeeter’.

Anyway, these two albums sit very well together. And are augmented by a couple of bonus tracks. Great stuff!

MUSiC: How Many More Times, Led Zeppelin, 1969

Wow! An absolute monstrosity. Led Zeppeloid, at their Titanic swaggering best. With a fuzzed out riff that is pure Valhalla. The power trio of Page, Jones and Bonham, with Plant as hoodoo shaman, stride across continents in shining iron bellbottoms, their sloshing wake a tsunami that drowns entire nations in 100% proof rock’n’roll.

And what amazes me. Nay, astounds me. Is that despite all the trappings that might make for a very dated sound, the energy is so massively ‘in the present’, it sounds as fresh today as it ever did.

People often think of Whole Lotta Love as The Zep’s totemic riff Leviathan. And of course, that’s a fabulous track as well. But there’s something about the joyous elastic bounce of the How Many More Times riff that transcends almost all ostensibly similar rock music.

MUSiC: Your Love keeps Lifting Me, Jackie Wilson, 1967

A stone cold soul classic. Could this be what’s sometimes known as a ‘banger’? A one riff wonder: eight chugging bars of solid uplifting soulful grooving. Jackie Wilson sings his heart out. Just as he did his whole life, literally singing himself to death, onstage…

Some versions, such as the one YouTube offered up in ‘first place’ when I searched for the song itself, sound like they’ve had parts replaced with synthesised parts… Sacrilege!!!

The rather silly ‘fly guy n gal’ video, at the top of this blog posts, at least preserves the original sound. With the slightly out of tune guitar, in all its effervescent glory.

The guitar part.
The bass riffs.

I plan to record a version of this number myself, at some point. With me playing all the parts. Or at least all the parts I can. The lead vocal is a very scary prospect ! And do I do ye horns a capella? Or do I get some real horns recorded?

All such shenanigans will have to wait on getting a new computer and up to date DAW software, as my poor ol’ Mac is ailing, and can no longer even run Logic! A terrible state of affairs.

LYRICS

Your love, lifting me higher
Than I've ever been lifted before
So keep it it up
Quench my desire
And I'll be at your side, forever more

You know your love
(your love keeps lifting me)
Keep on lifting
(love keeps lifting me)
Higher (lifting me)
Higher and higher (higher)
I said your love
(your love keeps lifting me)
Keep on
(love keeps lifting me)
Lifting me (lifting me)
Higher and higher (higher)

Listen…
Now once, I was down-hearted
Disappointment, was my closest friend
But then you, came and it soon departed
And you know he never
Showed his face again

That's why your love
(your love keeps lifting me)
Keep on lifting
(love keeps lifting me)
Higher (lifting me)
Higher and higher (higher)
I said your love
(your love keeps lifting me)
Keep on
(love keeps lifting me)
Lifting me (lifting me)
Higher and higher (higher)

Alright…
I'm so glad, I've finally found you
Yes that one, in a million girls
And now with my loving arms around you, honey
I can stand up, and face the world

Let me tell ya, your love
(your love keeps lifting me)
Keep on lifting
(love keeps lifting me)
Higher (lifting me)
Higher and higher (higher)
I said your love
(your love keeps lifting me)
Keep on
(love keeps lifting me)
Lifting me (lifting me)
Higher and higher (higher)

Now sock it to me
Hold me, you're my woman
Keep my love going
Higher and higher
I said keep on lifting
Lift me up mama

Yesterday I finally ‘finished’ transcribing the drums. It’s currently very hard to do that, currently, as I don’t have any software in which I can easily loop and/or slow down stuff. Or, rather, what software I do have I’m not so au fait with it. Net upshot, I’m not able to easily loop sections.

Finished is in inverted commas above, because under the circ’s, it’s as finished as I could make it after a few hours of cabin fever screen-burn-out! I may have to tweak it a bit,* as I both learn to play it myself, and teach with it.

To remedy these transcription issues, I just shelled out (poss for a second time?) for the full version of Amazing Slow Downer, an app by Roni Music. Poss’ one of the best most accurately named apps ever!? £12.99, at the time of my purchase.

Combined with Moises, which I will probably also wind up buying the full version of, I can isolate the drum tracks (or other elements), and slow them down, etc.

These are two great apps that I thoroughly recommend to all budding and long in the tooth musicians alike.

* For starters, there’s a very subtle and tasty little drum fill, rather buried in the mix, at about 1:36-7, which I really must cop! And it’s only really possible to hear it once everything but drums are removed, using Moises.

MUSiC: Borboletta, Santana, 1974

The last of Santana’s sublime run of jazz fusion albums, 1974’s Borboletta has some truly superb cuts, such as the epic eight minute jazz samba Promise Of A Fisherman, and the whole opening 15 minutes or so, starting with Airto and Flora Purim’s Spring Manifestations soundscape, and morphing or segueing seamlessly into the hypnotic Canto De Los Flores, and then classic Santana vocal numbers Life Is A New, and the super hard Latin Funk grooving of Give And Take.

This was Michael Shrieve’s last hurrah, and boy does he play well! His successor Ndugu Chancler is, whilst very different, no slouch, and can be heard giving it a lighter yet still fiery Latin jazz touch on several tracks. Stanley Clarke and the returning Doug Brown provide the low register action, and Tom Coster handles keys with perfect aplomb.

And as well as guesting as wild man of the jungle, with wife Flora in support, Airto adds both drums and percussion, the latter also supplied in spades by maestro Armando Peraza, and Jose Areas. Leon Patillo’s vocals are a distinct and new/unique flavour in the evolving Santana sound. I dig his composition Mirage!

Truly extraordinary music, played with fire and passion by terrific musicians. Essential!

MEDiA: Book Review – Das Reich, Max Hastings

First published way back in 1981, the title of this book is, I feel, a trifle misleading, inasmuch as a good deal of it is as much about SOE, British/Allied special forces, and French Resistance, operating behind the lines, as it is about northward march of the infamous Das Reich!

One criticism I have, which has several interconnected strands, has to do with the class to which Max Hastings himself and a good number of the public school educated British ‘cast’ of his subject belong. The slightly dewy-eyed self-love of all such elites is both rather unctuous and not a little odious. When Hastings rhapsodises over numerous rugger loving toffs, playing at war, even when it’s very real and may well cost their own and others lives, it’s hard not to wince a bit.

A secondary point arising from all this is the possible overstatement of British/Allied efforts, and a concurrent downplaying of the French natives’ own efforts. But rather than going over all this here, I’d urge the interested reader to simply get hold of Das Reich, and decide for themselves. Hastings summarises the complexity of such things very well.

The titular or headline story traces how Das Reich, pulled out of their role on the Ostfront, start out resting and refitting deep in Southwestern France, at Montauban. Initially, and rather inappropriately, they are tasked with fighting insurgents – with dire consequences – before finally heading for Normandy, in the aftermath of D-Day, to fulfil their proper role.

As already alluded to above, Das Reich also relates how the aforementioned insurgents, with help from Allied agents, seeks to impede the 2nd SS Pz Div’s northward journey. Thanks in particular to allegedly anti-maquis actions Das Reich carried out at Tulle and Oradour Sur Glane (with which latter subject The World At War TV series so memorably commences), there’s a frisson of horror in the story. Although, as Hastings points out, such barbarity was routine in Russia, where Das Reich learned the Nazi ways of war. Nor, indeed, are the Allies blameless; Hastings asks, rhetorically, can the area-bombers of Dresden really claim moral superiority over the SS butchers?

I found Das Reich a fascinating and exciting, well-researched and well-written, and – despite Hastings slightly patrician establishment vibes – pretty well-balanced account, of a very interesting episode in the campaigns of Normandy and beyond. Definitely recommended reading.

MEDiA: Hallowe’en – Taste The Blood of Dracula, 1969

It is All Hallow’s Eve. Teresa decreed that we have pumpkin soup, followed by pasta and a Hammer movie, and rounded off wi’ pumpkin pie. Fab! So it is we settled down to a rich repast, and Taste The Blood Of Dracula!

Three and a half stars is actually quite a high Hammy House of Horrors score, from me. Whilst there’s definitely something I love about the whole über-kitsch vibe of their films, they are at the same time pretty trashy and low budget. But I guess these ‘faults’ are also part of their charms?

The settings are sometimes quite good, and this is such a one, with some decently spooky, or even just plain atmospheric, locations. The combo’ of ye aulde togs (clashing with the late ‘60s barnets!), period paraphernalia – from gas lamps to pony and trap – and a decidedly autumnal vibe (wood’s carpeted with golden brown leaves), all conspire to give the film aesthetic heft.

The acting is very mixed, ranging from the high camp overblown melodrama of Ralph Bates, in the role of Lord Courtley (and not forgetting some lesser but similarly sliced ham from Roy Kinnear, at the films’ outset), to surprisingly decent turns from Anthony Higgins (billed as Anthony Corlan) and Linda Hayden, as the vamp’-crossed lovers, Paul Paxton and Alice Hargood. Christopher Lee has, perhaps surprisingly, a fairly minor part as the titular Dracula; his antics had Teresa chortling merrily several times!

Courtley and his acolytes summon Satan!

The daft plot finds a trio of hypocritical Victorian gents in search of illicit thrills. Their chief is the appallingly odious William Hargood (Geoffrey Keen), abetted by the moustachioed Jonathon Secker (John Carson), and the hapless hanger on Samuel Paxton (Peter ‘Cleggy/Wallace’ Sallis).

A chance encounter in an East End brothel leads them to take up with the arrogant rake, Lord Courtley. A Hellfire Club type chap, who persuades them to sell their souls to the Devil, but then loses them at the very moment that gives the film its catchy title. It’s quite deliciously rifikvukits… erm… ridiculous!

Inevitably there must be hot babe interest. And this is supplied by the ‘kids’ of these hypocritical Victorian Pater Famili-asses, who are involved with each others families’ siblings. Linda Hayden n particular really is enchantingly gorgeous, in a softly and plumply innocent way!

A true Hammer babe!

Like most Hammer movies, the plot really isn’t worthy of the energy required to synopsise it. It is a quintessential ’McGuffin’, a term Hitchcock created to describe an irrelevant plot-driving conceit. All that’s required are the ingredients for a devilish bouillabaisse: antique settings, some darkly supernatural baloney, earnest heroes, evil villains, and buxom wenches, and some ketchup or jam, in vivid but not very blood-like red.

It proved to be perfect viewing for the evening. Mildly diverting, with just the right atmos’, and even providing the occasional chuckle.

Must check out Vampire Lovers!

All the cleavage and heaving bosoms got my thinking about the Hammer Glamour book, and similar titles dedicated to the groovily painted posters. Some ideas for stuff to decorate the home with, perchance!?

MEDiA: Fred & Rose West, Sounes [Audiobook]

I find the story of Fred and Rose West and their victims grimly compelling. And Howard Sounes tells the story well. I’d seen Sounes as a talking head on TV doc’s about the Wests. He reads his own well-researched book well.

Bizarrely, perhaps, the story starts rather cozily, looking back to the family histories of Fred West and Rosemary Letts. These stories, grim enough in their own ways, are nonetheless fascinating, for the slices of lower level humdrum lives, and how these can have a devastating fallout over time.

It’s a story that starts off tragically, grows into something seedy, and then slowly grows into a barely creditable tale of monstrous depravity, bubbling below a surface that seemed relatively normal. But of course things in the West household were far from normal.

Fred’s life, from his time in Scotland, to his eventual arrest, is filled with petty crime and strange sexual shenanigans. His life as a self-employed handyman,

MUSiC: Joni’s For The Roses, 50th Anniversary Edition

It’s incredibly rare that I hear of this sort of thing before it happens. More typically I learn about it long after. And frequently – the Burt Bacharach or Magma complete box-sets, for example – it’s so long after that they are no longer available at anything but insanely high prices, if at all.

But, for once, I’ve heard some fab news with almost perfect timing. Joni’s For The Roses, released in ‘72, the year I was born, is now, like me, 50 years old. And it has been released in a remastered form, on vinyl. Including a rather snazzy blue version. So I’ve ordered me a copy.

Joni, Nordic mermaid nature girl Goddess.

Teresa and I are currently on holiday in Cardiff, with family, visiting my sister Abbie, and her husband Dan, who’re now living here, in the Welsh capital. When I learned of this reissue, yesterday, I immediately ordered it. And today I got an email confirming it has been dispatched. We travel home today, so I’m looking forward to it arriving soon.

For The Roses, her fifth studio album, is part of Joni’s early years run of pure gold. Rather like Woody Allen’s purple patch, or Tom Waits in his prime; such artistic genius and musical gloriousness is to be savoured and treasured.

Overshadowed by her two best-selling albums – Blue, which was her previous release, and Court And Spark, which came next – I hold Roses to be an overlooked meisterwerk. My picks/favourites are Barangrill, Electricity, and Woman Of Heart And Mind.

According to the Wikipedia article on For The Roses ‘she originally intended for the cover to be a drawing entitled For the Roses, the imagery in which relating to her feelings on the music industry.’ I’d love to see the artwork in question! I wonder if I can do some sleuthing in that direction?