renaissance man
I’ve passed this church countless times over the years. But until now, I’ve not stopped to take a look. I don’t pass it all that often more recently. Bit in this rather grim wet day, I finally stopped to investigate. And I’m glad I did.
The series of alcoves above are intriguing. Wonder what they housed? And when they were emptied? They were probably figures. And most likely removed during the Reformation. But I’m just guessing.
And then it’s time to leave…
Sweet creaming Jesu! I’ve put off buying this for years. Partly on account of usually being broke, admittedly. But also partly because I’ve sometimes bought Brazilian music and been a little bit disappointed with it. I was a little worried this might be one of those instances.
I could’ve listened to this stuff online. And indeed, I did occasionally listen to snippets, but I never really gave it my full attention. Well, despite the perennial lack of Luca, I ordered it. Along with Gal Costa is India, album, of similar vintage the latter being released in 1973).
I’ve just listened to the first full play through, in my car, driving to work. It’s a grey and rainy day in The Fens. And boy, oh boy, did this bring some much-needed Brazilian sunshine into the interior of my car, and the innards of my spirit/s oul!
It’s a delightfully, heady and eclectic mix of all the stuff I love. Brazilian samba, with jazy harmonies and melodies, sometimes vocal, sometimes instrumental (beautiful vocal harmonies), but with horns, and strings, and even synths… and this is 1972! It’s MPB, it’s folk, funk, rock, pop, and easy-listening, it’s progressive! It’s just bloody brilliant, is what it is (he says, getting unabashedly Clarkson, in his enthusiasm).
I’m just disappointed in myself, for my lack of faith. I should’ve bought this years ago. I’ve known about it for eons. And it’s always appealed. He just looks such a funky dude. And the cover is brilliant. What a beautiful shot of a beautiful building, and a beautiful man. Nice tight face. The whole vibe is just totally up my Boulevard.
To have the music hit the spot so sweetly. Such a heart piercing bull’s-eye, it’s just gravy. Can’t say how happy it makes me.
It’s kind of funny, when synchronicity strikes. I just watch the Beastie Boys story, on Apple TV. That was superb. In it, add rock relates how MCA, when accused of hypocrisy by an interviewer, replied, ‘I’d rather be a hypocrite than somebody who never changes.’ Touché!
I’m not the same person, I was 10 or 20 years ago, at the height of my all devouring passion for music, be like jazz, funk soul, Latin Brazilian, pop, easy, listening metal, whatever. Back, then I was a drinker and smoker (of weed). I’m trying to be sober these days and the ravages of time, and Miss spent time at that (perhaps?) have left their marks.
But, interestingly, I also came across something recently that talks about scars, and scar-tissue. I’ll have to dig that quote out as I’ve completely forgotten what it was or where I heard it. But I believe whoever it was – poss’ Tom Waits? – was talking about how scars are the visual markers, if you like (or perhaps even the Momentos?) of traumas we have been through. And, very crucially, survived. Perhaps these moments, and the scars they leave, are things we shouldn’t shun, but, strange as it may sound, embrace?
Anyway, I’m starting to digress massively into psychology, or whatever the hell it is. Let’s come back to the music…
This was Verocai’s only album as an artist in his own right. And it sank without trace! Read more about Arthur here.
I started watching this yesterday, and finished it off tonight. It was superb. It’s done as a film of a live stage show, presented by Adam Horowitz and Michael Diamond, aka Ad-Rock and Mike D.
Shot in New York’s fabulous (?) Theatre, and directed by Spike Jonze, it’s a very informative, candid, and ultimately moving piece of work.
The story of their rise to fame and success is an enjoyable and engaging one. Seeing Ad-Rock well up and break down in his soliloquy about Yauch, near the end, was very powerful.
I had the day off work today. I ought to have worked, frankly. But there weren’t any shifts coming up! Prob’ needed the rest, tbh.
So I drove around after lunch, for a change of scene and some fresh air. Listened to Funk Factory, a 1975 Urbaniak album. Polish American jazz funk fusion. Really good!
At one ping I passed a sign with a name like ‘pillbox meadow’. My antennae rose, and I kept my eyes peeled for said pillbox. Sho’ nuff, a short way away, I came across the bunker that features on this post.
Situated on a junction of multiple roads/paths sbd a waterway, this bunker feels like an observation post. It has vision slits on all faces. Tho’ now one or more aspects are blocked to varying degrees – some completely – by plant growth. Good camo’. But crap for obs.
As I recrossed the stream, the patterns on the metal footplate caught my eye. Time and nature’s encroachment rendering pretty patterns.
Back to the bunker, to have a look around inside. This is another one that’s not been bricked up. Thankfully.
Sadly this one, unlike the gun emplacement I last looked at, is full of crappy human detritus. Indeed, I was a little worried, in the near dark, that it might’ve been a tramp’s toilet.
Inside it was darkly gloomy. More so due to the vision slots being choked with plant growth.
I do love exploring these relics. It’s a pity they’re not maintained better.
And off I go…
I’m going to try and get my music room cum office back in order, some time soonish. I want it to be a lot less cluttered (difficult, given how tiny it is!), and more inspiring.
To help with the inspiration, I’ll be adorning the walls with inspiring images. Be they album covers, musicians/artists, or whatever. I made a start today with this selection of six drummer pictures.
I’ve started at the rock n’ pop and of things. Ginger is a foundational influence. As is Michael Shrieve. Awareness of Karen Carpenter as a drummer cam a lot later.
I’ll be addressing other musical areas – Jazz, Funk, Soul, whatever – very soon. And other instruments. Bull fiddle, for sure!
But this feels like a good start!
Wow! Love this.
To think, I was only four years old at the time. It’d be around another two decades before mobiles would start to really take a hold, to the extent that pals would – I thought rather ostentatiously, at the time – plonk their funky little Nokia down on whatever surface was at hand.
And you have to love the inimitable Blue Peter style. And the funky ‘70s threads!? There’s enough material in Peter Purves’ ‘loons to make the sails for a 100 gun ship of the line!
And what about Lesley Judd? A former dancer – she actually guested with Pans People on a TOTP routine in ‘76, whilst working as a BP presenter – she’s the stuff young boys’ dreams are/were made of.
Whilst John Noakes sat in the warm dry BP studio, PP was in the garden, and the lovely Lesley was up on the roof, with the receiver unit, all togged up in fab’ ‘70s style, inc. a nice see-through brolly!
Ingredients:
Preparation:
Then eat the hearty repast.
Proletarian fare still has standards. Eggs on his dish ought not to be cooked solid. But some ketchup is fine, as an add-on. Yummy!
Eeh… that we’re reet grand! Don’t forget, like I did, to enjoy your cup o’soup.
After my visit to St Peter’s in Outwell, I drove to a spot I’d taken note of on one of my fairly recent delivery drives. On the previous occasion it was a glorious sunset. Today it’s grey n’ incredibly windy.
Ne’er moind, as they moight say round these parts. I stopped and got snap happy anyway. I love these tatty old nondescript relics of recent near Armageddon.
This one, even better, is stil open, and not filled with the detritus of hoboes or misspent youths. It has the look and feel of a small artillery emplacement. With a commanding view of the waterway crossing and (A1698) road. The side vision ports offer surprisingly poor views.
It’s a very low structure, in which you’d have to sit, kneel, or squat. With an open rear. It was fun to look it over. Despite the Arctic gale blowing through it.
I’ve stopped and snapped the exterior of this church before. But in that occasion I merely rued the fact it was locked. Today I rang the Rev, and she told me the keys were left in the care of the Spar, next door.
Keys in hand, I had a look around, inside. What follows are the pictures I took therein.
Very nice. A balm to the soul.
Uh-oh… more ways for the crapitalist machinery to milk me of all/what little filthy lucre I may (oh so fleetingly) have.
2023 was the 50th Anniversary of the release of Closing Time, Tom’s debut record. And what a debut! I simply must have these posters (link here).
Rather annoyingly, once ordered, the overall cost is over £40! With VAT and shipping. Damn it! But I have to have these. I’ll just have to book another delivery shift for to fund the poichase…