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It’s great to see/hear that the cult following Arthur Verocai’s self-titled 1972 album garnered, over time, gave the artist a second wind, so to speak.

He released Encore, on UK label Far Out (as well as several other recordings, in his native Brazil), in 2007, and has been able to take his music live, around the world.

Verocai is now 78. I wonder if I’ll get to experience his music live? I recently saw Marcos Valle, in London, on his ‘80th Birthday’ World Tour! So you never know…

As I type this, I’m listening to tracks from No Voo do Urubu, a 2016 release from Verocai. The first thing that struck me was how great an arranger he is. So far so good.

The second thing was that it sounds as if the drums on this recording might be programmed. Less good! But the material? The music? It’s really very good. Excellent in fact. It’s not too surprising that he’s evolved somewhat, in the intervening 45 years. But there’s a spirit or character that remains consistent, and very groovy/appealing.

I was expecting to be disappointed, to be honest. And – aside from the robot drums – I’m not. Rather the opposite. I’ll have to check out Encore as well. My worry there is compounded a little by my experience with Marcos Valle recordings on Far Out, which, whilst very, very good, don’t quite have the magic of his best ‘60s and ‘70s stuff.

I’ve been having a spate of ‘two church’ days. Which is great.

I keep passing this magnificent edifice, at Walpole St Peter’s. Most times I’m unable to stop. Today, however, I stopped and had a little wander around the back end. Where there’s this odd little underpass, or passage.

The keen eye might also spot metal rings mounted in the walls on the right hand side. No idea what they might have been for? One automatically things of tethering horses. But the discs is tiny, and quite low ceilinged.

And then, later in the day, St Edmund’s, Downham Market. Both of these are churches I’ve been to before. But in both instances I’m finding new aspects.

There was a young guy playing organ in St Edmund’s today. So the church was open. I wandered around again, enjoying the stained glass, the atmos’, and the organ.

But today I mostly snapped the environs. Starting atop the hill, and wandering off towards the cemetery areas.

The end of the pathway leading away from the church and cemeteries, towards a recreational area. Looking back towards the church.

I absolutely adore this album. And I can’t quite believe I haven’t already posted on it!?

For now, most likely, this will just be a short piece, as I listen to it on my peregrinations, over a few days. For a longer read about the album, written by a Brazilian, try this.

The first thing to note is that this is one for those who may occasionally feel less can indeed be a lot more. For me this penchant for a certain kind of spare pared down vibe may well have been started, or ‘seeded’ (?), by a cassette of country folk, with a decidedly jazzy tinge, I encountered in my childhood. Read more about that elsewhere.

Another very big influence, in a similar direction, was seeing the Bruce Weber film, Let’s Get Lost, in my late teens. This beautiful Chet Baker biopic deepened my love for certain veins of mellow melancholic minimalism.

And so it is that my favourite recordings – so far, at any rate – of, for example, Toquinho & Vinicius [de Moraes], are not their big pizazzy productions, but the rarer occasions, when it’s just the two of them. For example their 1975 album O Poeta e o Vialao. Read more about that here.

Getting back to Dez Anos Depois (Ten Years Before)… The first thing to note is that it’s a double-album, and it was recorded ‘in exile’, in France.

Disc one is the pared down minimalist stuff that absolutely slays me. And is very heavily reliant on Jobim bossas. Whilst disc two is more a ‘full on production’, with a more diverse range of composers, and an equally broader sonic palette, utilising a range of varied accompaniments, from strings and woodwinds, to bass, drums and percussion.

I’m highly tempted to give this beautiful album the six stars I occasionally award to stuff that really blows my socks off. Hmm!? I’m also tempted to get it on vinyl, for the full gatefold experience.

The first record is essentially just Nara’s vocal and guitar, with very minimal backing from Tuca, another Brazilian lady, also in exile in France.

A lesbian, prone to being overweight, Tuca’s life was tragically cut short as a result of her trying, with the ‘help’ of an unscrupulous quack, to lose weight. She was clearly also a terrific musician. How sad the world can be, sometimes. But, on the positive side, she contributes wonderfully to this sublime recording. More about Tuca below.

Tuca had a couple of albums released under her own name, in the mid to late sixties. But by ‘69 she was feeling alienated from Brazil, as it was changing under the military dictatorship of those years. So she moved to France.

In France, she wound up doing the musical arrangements and contributing guitar, not just to Nara’s beautiful album, but also for the Francois Hardy album, La Question.

* This photo shows Tuca and Airto performing at the Porta Estandarte 1966 Festival Nacional de Musica Popular (TV Excelsior), where they came first in a competition.

I’m not quite sure how I stumbled upon these guys, but Uncle Walt’s Band, are an interesting discovery. They no longer exist, chiefly because two thirds of the group are deceased. But the do now have a website!

I think I must’ve found them exploring the Omnivore record label website. Omnivore released the Yester/Henske Farewell Aldebaran album (and some other obscure Yester material). Anyhoo, having discovered Uncle Walt’s Band, I’m now a fan. And I’ll be exploring their output in due course.

For now, this is a fave:

Lyle Lovett is a massive fan of these guys. And I can totally get why. But I also discovered that they had been championed, early on, by Willis Alan Ramsey, also a new name to me. He had a star studded debut out in 1972, which I’m checking out.

Around that time he encountered Uncle Walt’s Band, persuading them to relocate to Nashville, and trying to helm an album with them. This didn’t come off, so they moved back to (?), and recorded their own debut LP, Blame It On The Bossa Nova.

This latter has been reissued on the excellent Ominvire label, remastered, with lots of bonus material. I just ordered a brand new copy off Amazon, for less than £5!

The histories of both Uncle Walt’s Band, and Willis Alan Ramsey, are rather odd and interesting. UWB never achieved they success they merited, eventually going their separate ways. Their leader, Walter (uncle?) ‘Walt’ Hyatt, was killed in a domestic US plane crash, aged just 46, in ‘91. Champ Hood died from cancer in 2001.

Only bassist David Ball remains. And his story is interesting; he had to pester his way into the group, originally a duo, just Wyatt and Hood. He was told – so I’ve heard online – to ‘come back when you can play [upright] bass’. A guitarist and singer in his own right, he nevertheless did just that. And joined the group as bassist and third voice.

His successful solo career sees him back on guitar and lead vocals, in a somewhat more ‘trad country’ line.

Something I feel compelled to add, in regard to Uncle Walt’s Band, is what a trio of beautiful men they are, or rather were. You’d have thunk this combo of great talent, fab voices, excellent songs, and good looks, would make them a shoo-in for music biz success. But, no… ‘twas not to be!

Last time I stopped to look at this church it was locked. Same again this time. But… after leaving the porch to look around outside, I heard a voice. Returning to the door, I found a lady had opened it.

There was a choir group inside who’d just finished a rehearsal, and were leaving. Could I look around? Yes. Fab!

Like most English churches that predate The Reformation, this one was vandalised at that time. With the result that the stained glass is, as is often the case, a hodge-podge of later additions/renewals. Many, here at St Andrew’s, in quite simple and basic style. Such as the above.

And, as a result of this post Refornation practice, some of the glass here is quite unusual, in places. Such as the above mix of plain grid functionality with ‘old-fashioned’ figuration.

The choir were practicing at the end of the nave, just to the right of the above partition. And they were exiting the church via a door at left, behind or through the curtain. This sort of Victorian or later addition, which you see a lot, creating extra ‘rooms’ in old churches, can look a bit clunky, aesthetically. But it’s easy to see why, from a practical point of view, it’s done so often.

The rather nice light above is hidden away somewhat in the ‘room’ created by the partitioning already referred to.

I can’t recall if the above is the altar or not. If it is, it’s remarkably plain! Almost austere.

Church roofs are usually worth a heavenwards glance. Even the plainer ones. Such is the case here.

I’m not sure when it became a normal practice, but a great many churches have screen-doors, in what look very clearly like later additions. I wonder what started this practice? Maybe church porches filling up with dead wind-blown leaves, at certain times of year?

Church windows are interesting from many points of view. One is that they reveal – by virtue of puncturing the skin of the building – the thickness of walls. Which tend, in older churches, to be be almost castle thick.

One last snap, as I return to the car. At which point it started to rain again.

There’s a sweet little ‘park’ type rest or picnic spot, adjoining the church. It’s just out of camera on the right, in the above photo. I think I might’ve even snapped it on a previous visit to this church? If so, I’ll link to it… yep, here it is.

Glad to revisit St. Andrew’s, and this time get a look around inside.

Well, this arrived in todays mail. I bought it (very cheap, via discogs.com). It’s possibly a bit off my usual musical map. But I got it to explore various tendrils that emanate from Tom Waits’ 1973 debut, Closing Time.

The primary connection is Jerry Yester, ex-MFQ (Modern Folk Quartet), and the man who replaced Zal Yanofsky in The Lovin’ Spoonful, who produced Closing Time.

Here Yester is working with his then wife, Judy Henske, a folk singer and scenester, once called ‘The Queen of The Beats’!

Other connections with Waits consist in thus first being issued on Herb Cohen and Frank Zappa’s Straight (or was it Bizarre/Straight?) label. The CE-reissue is on the aptly named Phoenix Records label, with ASH- as the serial no prefix, alluding to a rebirth.

The record disappeared straight into obscurity upon release. But has subsequently acquired something of a cult following.

Does it merit one? Hmmm… I’d say, not exactly. At least not to my ears. Or perhaps that’s just ‘not on first listen’? And, as I listen to it now, I’m not sure how many more listens I’d be willing to give it.

The vocal duties are split between Henske and Yester. Of their two voices, and I’m not really a fan of either, I’d say I marginally prefer his. Hers is a bit more ‘dated ‘60s folkstress’, and sometimes gets overly strident! For my tastes.

The music is very much – like the polarised photo in the cover – of its time. And whilst that can be fab’ n’ groovy, it can also just seem a bit mannered and dated. And this stuff, I’m afraid, for me at any rate, leans heftily towards the latter.

Lyrically it’s pretty bizarre, the first track, ‘Snowblind’, sounding almost hallucinogenic. Whereas track four, ‘St Nicholas Hall’ almost sounds like a text for a church fundraiser! Very odd.

Apparently the lyrics are pretty much all Henske’s doing, whilst the music is Yester’s work. Only the opener ‘Snowblind’ being a collaboration between them both, with, rather oddly it might seem, Zal Yanofsky, whom Yester had replaced in The Lovin’ Spoonful.

I prefer the mellower less strident stuff. Such as ‘Lullaby’. But even then it’s not quite down my boulevard. Whilst musically it is quite wide-ranging, there are moments that nod vigorously towards their folkster heritage.

At this point I am starting to listen through a second time, and I am also liking it a bit more. Snowblind was a single! It is quite poppy. It’s also quite ‘psych’, even a tad psychedelic. The lyrics are downright weird. And I’m really not keen on the moments where Henske gets screamy.

As already alludes to, a product o’ it’s times, methinks! But I do like the bass and guitar work on Snowblind: raw and nasty! And I like how Henske bends the note downwards on the word Snowblind.

The single of Snowblind was backed by track two, ‘Horses on a Stick’. Lyrically what we have is more late ‘60s weirdness! I can’t even tell if this is Judith or Jerry singing… I’m guessing it’s Jerry in the foreground, and both adding harmonies!?

This cranky pop ditty appears to be about ‘merry go rounds’, or whatever they might symbolically allude to. But this is no ‘Circle Game’!

Track three is the first one I actually outright like. Dominated by Judy, singing in a more mellow vocal vein – very nicely, actually – with keys and guitars backing. The keys sound like harpsichord, celeste, or possibly even clavichord? With a little piano appearing, very effectively, towards the end.

The tinkling keys continue on St Nicholas Hall, albeit now with a warbling monophonic synth line over the top. I like this number, mostly for its strangeness, and the fact I’ve been visiting churches a lot recently. What on earth it’s actually about, if anything other than the obvious, I have no idea!

Something that I’m beginning to discern on a second listen is that chordally and harmonically there’s sometimes a slight jazzy turn, which their folk pop heritage wouldn’t necessarily suggest. It’s only very occasional. But when it happens, it really warms the sound up.

Track five ‘Three Ravens’ is another that I’m coming round to. And – given that the ‘legendary lost recording’ vibe prob’ derives from the weirder aspects of this album – this is one of the most conventional numbers. It’s kind of pop-folk soused in weird easy-listening, with lush harp and strings. Even brass, as the song crescendos, towards its end.

‘Raider’, which would’ve kicked off side two, in vinyl days of yore, is the most overtly folksy track. Keys, hammer dulcimer (or something like it; (?)?), and harmonica(s?) all add to the trad’ vibes. Yester’s quavering hi-pitched multi-layered vocals are a little bit Jerry Garcia. One of the better tracks, methinks.

I’ll have to study the lyric sheet… ‘Mrs Connor’ sounds like a slightly macabre fairy tale, on first gloss. Musically I like it. The various keyboards, and some vibes or similar tuned percussion, are a good combination.

Rather annoyingly, there seems to be an ‘artefact’ – a disc-fault? – about 1:30 in to track eight, ‘Rapture’. The vocal is great; and it’s been treated with a very groovy and yet subtle effect that I can’t quite put my finger on. I’m beginning to realise… maybe this album is worthy of cult status? Or at least a few of the tracks, perhaps? This being one such.

‘Charity’ starts out beautifully. But when it hits the chorus it gets a bit declamatory for my tastes. There’s a beautiful folk-pop feel in the verses. Perhaps this patchwork quality is part of this albums simultaneous strengths and weakness?

And finally we come to track ten, ‘Farewell Aldebaran’, the title number. Here we reach the apotheosis of the albums erratic mix of psych-pop-folk-weirdness. Around the two-minute mark the vocals go all Dr Who/Davros/Dalek… phew!

I have to admit that on the first listen, I bailed out on this track. It just plain old fashioned did my head in!

As the CD player cycles back to ‘Snowblind’, for play number three, I think Yester and Henske have successfully inserted a sonic, crowbar inside my cranium, and opened it up a little bit…

Made us a simple kedgeree, for today’s lunch. The recipe called for it to be mainly cooked in a casserole dish, in the oven. Is that the normal way kedgeree is made?

Pat wanted his eggs hard-boiled, whereas Teresa and I like ours soft, but not runny. The eggs came out exactly right (8-9 mins, for Pat’s, 6 mins for ours). And I’ve got the hang of peeling them without destroying them now, as well.

I stopped the cooking after 25 minutes – the recipe says 30 – and I’m glad I did; any longer and it’d have been too dry. Fortunately this was a success. Delicious, and easy to make.

Another two-church day. Another good day.

First church of the day was St Faiths of Aquitaine, Wilthorpe. A rather unusual little church, in a tiny little village. Perhaps it’s even just a hamlet?

If you look carefully, you might spot ‘E C 1774’, above. That’s 250 years ago!

There are a number of very beautiful organic carved stone corbels:

Like a few churches I’ve been into recently, this one has a room above the entrance. This time, however, I was able to access the space.

A great little church. Like so many, a bit different, with a character all of its own.

The second church, St Michael & the Angels, is one I’ve been to before. But on the previous occasion ‘twas shut. Today it was not just open. They had a tea n’ coffee morning on as well!

There’s some interesting trickle effect weathering, noticeable on the arches. Less discernible in my snaps, but striking when you’re there, are the sculpted wooden figures at the bases of the supporting roof arches.

Not sure what’s going on up here? A pipe leads into a small boxed off area. Note how the utilitarian is still given decorative aspects, with the various shapes at the bottom.

Sadly this church wasn’t open at the time I stopped to have a look. So these are all exterior shots.

The way it looks, at first (and second!) glance, the tower and church appear to be of differing vintage.

I always like these oddments, such as these steps leading to a bricked up door.

Looking at this old building, on this cloudy and occasionally rainy day, with the sun behind it. It looks pretty picturesque.

The rather unkempt graveyard also has a charm. It was nice to step back and get more of the moody sky in frame.

More patchwork weirdness. Love the big door/little door and big window/little window business, going on here.

The village sign is a nicely unusual metal thing, combining steam age (I nearly said railway, but it’s a traction engine!) and church heritage imagery. Intriguing!

Today was a two-church day. That’s a good day! The first was St John The Evangelist, in Waterbeach. Feast your eyes on my photos. What a lovely church!

The three photos this far are just tasters, all from the front porch. When you get inside the church proper? It’s a feast.

Even the quite plain ‘lights’ are fabulous.

There’s a band of text running around the walls of the church. Filled with Biblical quotes and admonitions.

The pulpit looks what I’d call ‘High Victorian’; i.e. quite fussy and ornate!

Carvings, mosaics, marble pillars… phew!

The impact of walking towards the altar is very palpably uplifting.

The stepped niches remind me of others I’ve seen, in a few other Anglian churches.

You sometimes see weirdly abstract stained glass. Often using old or broken fragments in an abstract form, yet still structured within an overall conventional layout (in other words not ‘modernist’ abstraction). Well, there’s one here, pictured above. It’s a bit weird, as some parts are conventionally representative (the coats of arms and emptier areas), whilst most of the more detailed areas are jumbled of stained-glass ‘rubble’.

And so, back out, and off to Ely. In Ely I visited Topping Books. I rather fancy going to their forthcoming author/book talk about the current show at the British museum, about the Roman army, Legion.

And I was massively tempted by the above book, which looks at Picasso’s life and work through his connections with Barcelona. A gorgeous and fascinating book, that nicely reproduces a lot of his earlier work. And the paper ‘wrap’, around the lower half, unfolds to create a print or poster.

Later the same day I was forced – the Welney route being closed, due to flooding – to go home via a longer more circuitous route. And it took me through Downham Market. A nice old town. I decided to take at St Edmunds, the rather dour looking ‘church on the hill’.

I had to get the key from the Rectory. The guy there (Vicar? Rev?) was friendly and helpful.

Once in the main building, this church has unite dark, fusty cosiness to it. Very atmospheric. The stained glass here is terrific.

Another terrifically powerful effect at the altar. Not so much the altar, as the combined effect of everything around it.