How To Write Poetry 2 / Book: To Ease My Troubled Mind - Ted Kessler / Thee Headcoats / Faversham boat yard

RTomens, 2025

'Decide what your poem is about'

Mine are often (not always) about nothing. But then...

are they really poems?

No.

*

When I worked in the bookshop I'd play Thee Headcoats and other Medway bands' music regularly. It seemed to suit the place, the place being a bit ramshackle, rough, raw around the edges. I found this book in the local charity shop the other day...

That sparked a fresh wave of Medway Sound listening again. 

Chatham is a Medway town. It's the only town I've ever visited that actually made me depressed. 

Rochester is good.

Gillingham is great for a walk where the River Medway opens up.

Heading East from the Medway towns you come to Faversham and a fantastic boat yard.

It's the kind of place I'd like to live...in a shack...alongside the creek...

...away from all the big city crap...with men who while away the days patching up their boats...get a bulldog and learn to play the banjo...drive an old Jeep...I can dream of the alternate lifestyle...

How To Write Poetry (1) / Heavy Metal addiction

How To Write Poetry 1, RTomens, 2025

Too much?

Are the drawn lines too thick? Do they overwhelm the typing?

I started a series called How To Write Poetry, based on the AI answer from a Google search. Perhaps I'll make enough of them to create a book. Imagining having done that, I then like to imagine some poor soul buying the book thinking they will learn how to write poetry. As long as they didn't buy it directly from me, otherwise they'd want their money back.

I'm not saying it's impossible for a How To text on writing poetry to succeed in helping to create the next ------  ------ (insert a great poet) but what does that even matter so long as whoever starts writing enjoys it? Don't be a snob! As long as I don't have to read the results...

How To Write Visual Poetry? Perhaps I should have asked that - damn! You can. See what 'it' says. 'It' knowing everything. AI can write Visual Poetry, I'm sure. Hold on, isn't half the fancy digital Text Art I see on X written by some kind of programming anyway? You know, the whizzy, pulsating, shimmering stuff you see. I blame Kenneth Goldsmith. 

So I printed part of the answer on paper that had already been treated then proceeded to type, first the vertical bank of lines running through it, then the double-typed angular lines and some wavy lines at the bottom. It wasn't enough. 

That noise you heard was me thinking (sounds like the rusty cogs of a knackered machine slowly turning). 

Pens! Yes, grab a pen and draw - that's what it needs. I picked out the Pentel N850 permanent marker and started. Minutes later I thought 'Fuck, that's too thick!'. But having started, what could I do? Abandon it? I very rarely abandon work. Carry on. Use some red. It was starting to look a right mess. 

Help! 

There's no-one to help you but yourself!

Spaces filled in on the right-hand side...yes...leaving holes through which some type is visible; I'm sure you noticed. 

How's it looking? Unusually, I couldn't tell. Is it total crap? OK? Good? 

Finally, black down the left-hand side to frame the typed section.

Put it to one side.

Get on with important stuff, such as listening to Venom...

As well as being addicted to typing Visual Poetry, I'm now addicted to Metal. It's never been fashionable. Never 'cool'. Now I like the fact that's it's neither. It was always there, since the 80s, being ignored by me. Gradually though, over the last year or so, I've been seduced by it (Metallica first, then Pantera and others). A few weeks back I bought A History of Heavy Metal by Andrew O'Neill in a charity shop. That did it. It's a humorous take but for a novice like me, informative too regarding bands I'd never heard of before. After all these years of listening to music, it's great to start enjoying a new (old) genre.

TTFN 

Vispo: Who's To Judge? / Crime and Dissonance Ennio Morricone comp

 

Who's To Judge?, RTomens, 2025

I am the judge.

Dense lines in the corner, but first the circles/globes on 'poles'. Initially empty save for the words, then filled with black lines and finally coloured in red ink.

You can be the judge.

*

Twenty years ago, when it was released, I was initiated into the other side of Ennio Morricone courtesy of the compilation, Crime And Dissonance. Previous to that, like many, I only knew his classic spag Western soundtracks. That's what he'll be remembered for more than anything else. Naturally. Squint Eastwood's sharp shooting Man With No Name was bound to continue reaching a wider audience than the many Italian horror and crime films bearing the maestro's sonic touch. Crime And Dissonance covers all the ground Morricone would explore, much of it genre-twisting, from modern classical to 'jazzy', 'avant-garde', even groovy Pop moods. Essential.

Three Vispo Pieces / How Much Art? - SSD

 

Wait And See, RTomens, 2025

Buy it here

Nothing Means Anything Anymore, RTomens, 2025

Buy it here

Anti, Anti, Anti, RTomens, 2025

Buy it here

Collage: Taking Notes / Morricone Art Ensemble mix up

RTomens, 2024

I hope you're all taking notes...is probably what a teacher once said in class...and I didn't...because school was a house of horrors to me, filled with terrifying subjects, such as Maths (double Maths was an excuse/motivation to leave the school grounds by the rear exit, walk into town and browse in the local record shop...yes, that's how I got where I am today!). 

Another horror: the chance of being thumped by a bully. I was the original 7 stone weakling Charles Atlas body-building ads were aimed at. I should have taken the course, except that, had I built myself a body like his perhaps I would have got into more fights and, inevitably, lost some because, like gunslingers in the Old West, there's always someone faster/stronger/meaner. 

Have you ever confused Ennio Morricone with the Art Ensemble of Chicago? Come on, admit it, you have. No, you've never been listening to one of Ennio's spaghetti soundtracks and thought it was the AEC, of course. You might, however, have been listening to the AEC, on shuffle, which later served up Ennio's Dialogo from Dimensioni Sonore 7 and thought 'It's the Art Ensemble again'...as I did ten minutes ago. Here's the track...

I don't want to say it again because I've told a lot of people but in case you're one who doesn't know. Ennio Morricone made some astounding 'avant-garde' music for 70s Italian horror films (sorry if I'm being patronising towards you). Also, the track above is from recording made for RCA in 1972. An epic release split with Bruno Nicolai. Both created fantastic sounds fusing Jazz with electronic mood pieces and orchestral modernism yada-yada. Treat yourself for Christmas, why don't you. Take note!

Vispo - Make it new? / Album: Fiasko! - Kaboom Karavan

 

Captured, RTomens, 2024

'Make it new' said  Ezra Pound - right - well you could in the early 20th century, but now? Make the art new? What? Is there anything 'new', as in a totally new vision/idea whatever? 

Relax, it's fine. You see, whatever you make, if you're true to yourself, will be a new take on something, surely. Not a new angle or direction necessarily, but unique to you, so, in a way, new. And we know that newness for the sake of it as a guiding principle is likely to lead to that principle being the sum total, rather than some inherently interesting work. 

I often try techniques that are new to me because I can't keep doing the same thing. Whoever can, good luck to them. The problem with continually doing the same thing, especially in these days of a restlessly scrolling audience, is that it can all start to look the same. I hope to avoid that, but the viewers will decide.

*

There's a carnival in town - something wicked this way comes? - it's filmed by Béla Tarr, scripted by Tristan Tzara and László Krasznahorkai and features mobile sculptures by Eduardo Paolozzi and Jean Tinguely with music by Bram Bosteels (Kaboom Karavan) and guests, Bart Maris (trumpet), Raphael de Cock (igir, jadagan and uillean pipes) and Stefaan Smagghe (violin and sarangi). Let the Fiasko! begin! Acts include a a hologram of Tom Waits playing the swordfishtrombone, the recreation of a New Orleans voodoo ritual by dancing skeletons and a Charles Mingus impersonator doing a table dance whilst cutting up Free Jazz records on three decks. Voices from the dead played at half-speed are piped through speakers all around the ground. It's fantastic, terrifying, funny, charming, mysterious...and very much worth a visit.

Kaboom Karavan

Buy it here

Print: Something Happened / JG Ballard paperbacks and judging books by their covers

 

RTomens, 2024

There's somethin' happenin' here...what it is ain't exactly clear...

*

I have the complete JG Ballard short stories in two volumes but recently previous collections from the 70s have become incredibly appealing. First off, obviously they're attractive as items, as books that appeared at the time, being of their time, being what people would have read, how they would have read Ballard way back then. Secondly, I like slimmer books; ones that fit neatly into a pocket. Thirdly, the artwork interests me. 

So I got lucky in the week, coming across these three on one sci-fi shelf of an Oxfam shop. Usually the sci-fi sections disappoint me, lined as they are with big fantasy novels such as Game of Conquest Vols 3, 5 and 6. I heard someone else complain the other day that Fantasy is what's big these days. I wouldn't know, but it makes sense. How 'big' sci-fi is in terms of sales, I've no idea. I don't read contemporary sci-fi. Perhaps I should. Perhaps I should listen to more contemporary music and watch more contemporary films...and Art...and whatever.

The greatest artwork to ever grace a Ballard paperback has to be by David Pelham...

...that's one of several he did. He seemed to totally 'get' Ballard, which is no surprise since he got to know him through Eduardo Paolozzi, thus joining the inner sanctum, the righteous brotherhood of  post-New Wave lit/Pop Art in Britain. It was Ballard who insisted Pelham should produce the artwork for his books. Was England not the coolest place on earth during the 60s Art/New Wave (sci-fi) revolution? Michael Moorcock's New Worlds magazine, Ambit, Ballard, Paolozzi etc? I think so. And Ballard, like one of his literary heroes, William Burroughs, looked nothing like 'cool'. If WSB looked like a Southern gentlemen, Jim looked decidedly English conservative, very suburban. Also like Burroughs, he was older than the hip youngsters around him. They were never going to give up their sensible clothing for t-shirts and denim. No beards either. Yet, both inspire(d) generations to come through their writing. Here I am, judging books by their covers but metaphorically-speaking, it isn't always wise.

TTFN  

Art: Post-Industrial / What ChatGPT says about me / Demdike Stare revival / Ballardian boat of the Drowned World

 

RTomens, 2024

*

'who is robin tomens?'

Robin Tomens is an author, music enthusiast, and blogger known for his work related to jazz music and record collecting. He has written books such as "Waltz in Time," which explore various aspects of music and culture. Additionally, Robin Tomens runs a blog called "Inconstant Sol," where he shares insights and reviews about jazz albums, including rare and obscure recordings, often delving into their historical context and significance. His contributions have made him a respected figure among jazz aficionados and collectors.'

A friend sent me the above, created by ChatGPT. I don't fear AI. It made me laugh. People assume fear drives a dislike of AI, as if those of us yet to be enthralled by it cower at the prospect of it taking over. Future scenario: AI is used to infiltrate the military industrial complex to such a degree that those controlling input can no longer stop the results, or alter them. AI creates wars which destroy the world. Somebody must have written that as fiction, surely.

How ChatGPT describes me is wrong anyway. Where does it get its false information? It names a book I haven't written and a blog I never wrote. I am certainly not 'a respected figure among jazz aficionados and collectors', despite having written this. More likely, because I wrote that.

*

Ten years after my book was published, Demdike Stare released Tryptych. I mention it only because there's a Demdike Stare revival gathering pace...in my room...just because they came to mind, for some unknown reason...so I played Tryptych and was surprised at how good it still sounded...almost as good as when Sean Canty and Miles Whittaker seemed to rule the kingdom of 'hauntology'...they were so hip (ugh)...Mancunians from the murky North...a post-industrial landscape littered with the ruins of factories, crumpled pylons, rusting power generators...rubble...constant rain feeding giant weeds that burst through pavement cracks to thread themselves through smashed windows towards light that's never quite strong enough...in the new garden of evil...

They wouldn't thank me for suggesting they're finished. They're not. In January this year they released Sustain: FForward, a 'mixtape' merging all manner of beats and samples. But for my money, it's not as impressive as their Testpressing series, 2013 to 2015. 

*

Talking of rampant foliage in the post-industrial world...the Drowned World, whilst walking around Chatham Docks this week I came across this...

...very Ballardian, eh?

TTFN

Painting/print: Cold Facts / Album Of The Week: Antolog​í​a 1: Obras para la Orquesta Experimental de Instrumentos Nativos - Cergio Prudencio

 

RTomens, 2024

Second in the silhouette series, using acrylic paint.

*

Prepare to have your mind blown by Bolivian composer Cergio Prudencio (that or shrug indifferently and click off, it's your choice but if you choose the latter you need your ears checking). 

'In addition to forming ensembles with highland native instruments (sikus, tarkas, mohoceños, pinkillos, wankaras, seeds, drums, etc.), the foundation is laid on the three structural principles that govern Aymara music: "arca-ira," which means alternation of sounds between two musicians; "tropa," which involves the formation of large ensembles of instrumentalists and sound amplification; and "wakiña," meaning community strength. According to Prudencio, the acoustic and expressive identity of Andean-highland sounds originates from these principles, as does that of the OEIN.'

I had to quote because, to be honest, I'm lost for words, especially when fathoming what the hell I'm listening to and I've only started listening this morning, whilst it undoubtedly requires many more plays to even begin to comprehend the depths and, yes, what you're actually listening to. 

Whilst I think of the Art Ensemble of Chicago's slogan 'Ancient To The Future' that doesn't cover this anthology, really. It sounds, in part, 'ancient', as in traditional, yet is 'progressive', even avant-garde (I hesitate to use the term it can be off-putting). 

Imagine Edgard Varèse in the Bolivian mountains. If you like. I just did.

I'll shut up.

You listen.

Collage: Any Resemblance / My Year In Music on Spotify

 

RTomens, 2023

*

It's the time of year people compile lists of their favourite books/films/albums of 2023, isn't it? Yes, I would...I might...if I had a memory left. Besides, my Favourite Books of 2023 would be a very short list. Ditto Film. Etc. So, thank god for Spotify because it can remember my musical year for me. or rather, it logs it. It knows everything about my listening habits. Slightly disturbing...slightly...in a way...the thought it 'it' keeping track...you know, the way technology does...

So because you're just dying to know, here's what I listened to and for how long and who etc...

Is this a long time spent listening to music? 

Surprisingly, my concentration is 'absolute'...well, I'm showing my age, I suppose. You know, I come from the pre-(computer)historic era, when we listened to albums all the way through...because we'd saved our money, gone to shops and bought the vinyl, therefore the effort required naturally meant we played the whole damned thing...no skipping through...no temptation to skip to another album...no easy way out...and sometimes, yes, the album hadn't been played in the shop and it turned out to be a dud so we had to skip back to the shop to change it...imagine that, kids! 

My top genres as burger contents - huh! It ain't fast food, y'know! Perhaps the burger graphic is apt for what most people listen to...yeah (he says, snobbishly) the musical equivalent of fast food! Seeing this I got to thinking that I may be on the rarer side of Spotify listeners, mainly, no, partly because the audience for Acousmatic music worldwide must be relatively small, but also because the types who listen to that and Experimental music are a snooty bunch who shun what they see as shameful streaming as opposed to buying vinyl or even CDs. Correct? I don't know. They're very serious about music...they support artists and labels...they relish the design, the type of card, the booklets that accompany albums...they have more spare cash than me too. I'm glad they do because they support labels with cash, whereas I just stream. Needs must.

It's not easy finding other people with similar taste...except for a few online, who I have a fake Friendship with. In ye olde days we naturally bonded over music, you know? Friends met in bars, clubs and gigs, naturally being into the same things, or similar. But they were real people, not names on a screen. It transpires that I should move to Berkeley, USA, if I want a good chance of bumping into musical soulmates. Spotify told me. I don't know what Brian Eno's doing in there because I don't listen to him that much. Sun Ra and Miles Davis, though, are two of my Most Listened To artists of all-time, probably.

Who did I listen to most in 2023? Well, look who it is...Conrad Schnitzler....I'm a Top 0.005% fan! I can't even work out what that means. Hello Conrad. 

So there it is, my musical year. 

Today I listened to another album all the way through...because I'm crazy like that. Here's a classic of electronic music from 1970 by Oskar Sala...

Collage: Life During Wartime / Post-Mortems, Punk & Prog Genius

 

RTomens, 2023

*

Oh, you're back! I wondered where you'd been. Me? I've been doing loads of things, most of them pertaining to the business of living, by which I mean breathing (first and foremost), eating and sleeping. What? You think I set my sights pretty low? Maybe, but I've achieved more than Joe Strummer, who would have been 71 today if he hadn't died 21 years ago, aged 50. OK, I've only achieved more in terms of time, but did he achieve more than me in actual achievement? I don't know. What is 'more'? Just because he lead a band that became famous does that make his achievement greater than anything I've done? 

The Clash were my favourite band 46 years ago (46! Christ!). I saw them 'live' at Friars, Aylesbury, twice. Back then there were 'No Elvis, Beatles or The Rolling Stones', as Strummer declared on 1977. Why? Because Punk killed them. It didn't literally kill Elvis that year. Preliminary autopsy findings determined Presley's death was the result of a "cardiac arrhythmia", which is ironic because he made his career out of rhythm (of the rock 'n' roll and hip gyratory varieties). He was only 42, but overweight and full of opiates Dilaudid, Percodan, Demerol and codeine, as well as Quaaludes. 

Strummer died of a heart attack caused by an undiagnosed congenital heart defect. I can still see him 'singing' amidst a torrent of saliva from fans, as disgusting as that sounds, so I doubt that was good for him. Meanwhile, today, The Rolling Stones are still going! And The Beatles will go on forever in our hearts, won't they? Perhaps The Clash will also be eternal, their torch carried by each new generation that discovers them. Yes, I'm sure. I, however, stopped loving them so much a few years after they split up and rarely play them, these days.

Every generation claims to 'have seen the best bands'. The claim gets weaker as time passes, though. Is it really such a great claim to have seen Oasis, Blur or Pulp 'live'? For those adoring fans who were there, yes, I suppose it is.  A stronger claim, though, would be to have seen Elvis in his prime, surely. What about The Beatles? Or James Brown in the 60s. The Doors? Hendrix? Etc, you know the roll call of 'legends'. Yes, each generation has its own legends, but how do they compare to the forerunners, the mould-breakers and makers? Those who forged the template used by thousands of artists to come?

So I turn my gaze towards today. I look around, admittedly incapable of properly assessing 'the scene' because my ear is far from 'the ground'; instead it's content to be far away absorbing all that has passed, musically, since the dawn of Jazz...through the Blues, Rock 'n' Roll, Electronic music, Soul, Rock, Reggae, Funk, Punk/New Wave/No Wave (I wish I'd never started this list) and all points connected and disconnected. Still, I like to think that somewhere in sweaty basements bands are doing something new and interesting, followed by youths who dress in new and interesting ways. I see no sign of them on the streets, though.

For now, let us go then you and I...back to 1974 and Peter Gabriel's performance during which, to illustrate the lyric, he reappears in a terrifying old man mask. I doubt there's anyone today who's as committed to conjuring up such a fascinating and disturbing theatrical vision. A mere two or three years later, Punk would banish such Prog eccentricities, but today this level of creative imagination would be welcomed.

I've been waiting here for so long / And all this time has passed me by / It doesn't seem to matter now / You stand there with your fixed expression / Casting doubt on all I have to say.

Collage: Slaves of the book / 'A superior commercial thriller' / The Plastic People of the Universe

 

RTomens, 2023

This a page from an altered book that I've just completed. I'm in the process of scanning every page and when that's done I'll be providing the link here on the blog.

*

Unusually, my TBR pile is promising enough to prevent me from being tempted to buy another novel for a while.

That's a lie, the kind us book-lovers tell ourselves. 'I've got enough to be going on with.' - yeah, right.

On the bus this morning, heading for shops containing books that I will not buy, I had the mad idea of reading everything by Agatha Christie. God know where it came from, except possibly the fact that I'm currently reading a crime novel, although that's were the similarity ends. I doubt that one line in Tom Rob Smith's Child 44 is similar to anything written by Christie, but then again, I may be wrong. 

'That's not what you normally read,' said a friend, spotting the book by my bed. True, it isn't. I likened it to him watching a Tom Cruise action film as opposed to his normal 'tasteful' fare of film noir, Westerns, cult classic etc. I fancied a change, you know? Not that I'm a 'highbrow' reader. The last one I finished was Shane by Jack Schaefer and a more plainly written novel you could not find, which does nothing to lessen the effect of the story.

Meanwhile, it was the mid-20th century Russian setting of Child 44 which made me interested, that and the fact that it was in a £2 sale. It's back and inner front pages are packed with positive blurb, although one almost had the opposite effect to the one desired. 'A superior commercial thriller' Telegraph' it reads. 'Commercial'? Me, engaging in 'commercial' culture? Surely not? I shun commerciality! I'm...I'm above anything that smacks of being 'commercial'! 

So, OK. I get to around page 70 and, being underwhelmed, contemplate giving it the elbow. I was wasting my time on a 'commercial' thriller, wasn't I? But then the true nature of an evil regime's idea of 'justice' begins to be explored and described more deeply and Smith does a good job of depicting the terror of being convicted in the name of communism. Suffice to say, I'm hooked.

Coincidentally, last week I discovered, The Plastic People of the Universe, a band operating underground (where else?) in communist Czechoslovakia. As is often the case, severe social constraints conspire to spark wild creations in the name of free expression and The Plastic people were very 'free'. I loosely liken their range of style to Trout Mask-era Beefheart but in case that puts you off, give them a listen anyway. 

For now, ta-ta.

Collage: Look! / In The Bookshop / Cisco Kid - War (Live)

 

RTomens, 2023

Another day, another collage - no, I don't make them every day - some days I work in the bookshop, which doesn't feel like 'work', it's true. In fact, every time I unlock and open the door, taking the first steps inside, I still feel a...tingle? A rush? A...sense of wonder that the domain of books is under my control for the day...a sacred space, almost...where I sit surrounded by spines, some of which are over 100 years old...some well-creased, others new from the warehouse...the pre-loved (by whom?) having been touched, held, dropped, folded back, read, half-read, even hated in their time...

Talking of time, it's the 50 anniversary of The Cisco Kid by War, not something many will be celebrating or claiming as a musical milestone, I know, but scanning the 'net as I was this afternoon in search of clips from the Midnight Special show I came across the band performing this classic single and the film quality is exceptional (most clips from the show aren't, but a lot of the acts are great). Was it really 50 years ago when I was a Disco Kid? Yes. Time...get over it. 

Aside from every other genre (Glam, Rock, Reggae etc) we were Funk fiends and dancers before the Disco Craze of '77 tried to give the impression that, hey, white males dancing (alone!) to black music was a groovy new..um...thing. Anyway, if you don't know them, give War a chance...

Collage: Cell Testing / Denis Dufour - Complete Acousmatic Works, Vol. 1

RTomens, 2023

Whilst making a collage today I chanced upon Denis Dufour's Complete Acousmatic Works, Vol. 1 and left it playing all afternoon. It's rare that an artist who's new to me manages to hold my interest for that long, but then it's a very long (16CD) collection, which is no reason; the real reason being that it's so good. Dufour creates such varied textures through multiple approaches to sound and composition that it's impossible to get bored and in this age of restless listening, with endless sounds a click away, that's saying something. Here are futuristic scenarios, ominous weighty turbulence, vocals, finely tuned acousmatics and everything else - a whole soundworld to explore. Dig in and become immersed. 

1956 anti-censorship ad / See it. Say it. Sorted. / Collage: Difference of Opinion / Xenakis' Atrées

 

Ad for the Container Corporation of America,
1956. Artwork by Ben Shahn.

*

The British Transport Police message always plays at exactly the same time on my tube journey from East Finchley to Archway. It plays just as the train pulls into Archway and I'm preparing to get off. It goes something like: 'If you see something that doesn’t look right, speak to a member of staff or text blah. blah, blah'. It's a worthy message, of course, designed to make travellers more conscious of looking out for suspicious packages. The thing is, I do regularly see things that 'don't look right' and one day I will tell a member of staff. I'll tell them about:

   Passengers still wearing masks.

  Grossly overweight women in leggings showing me and the rest of the passengers their 'shapely' rear ends.

   People wearing trainers which look like they've been designed by Homer Simpson and a chiropodist.

  Everyone bar the occasional exception staring at the mobile phones ('What's the difference between that and reading a book?' I hear you ask. If you have to ask, you're part of 'the problem'!).

   Looking wrong aside, sounding wrong is another issue. It's become common for idiots to play whatever profoundly interesting material they're absorbed in on their phones without headphones on/in. So we all get to hear either that hilarious TikTok/YouTube clip or their taste in music which, you know, isn't exactly sophisticated...ever. That or they're talking loudly, to someone. Meanwhile, us Brits sit silently seething, being the meek, passive souls that most of us are. That and the fact that we've all read of horrific violence meted out to those who dare challenge anti-social behaviour; apparently random stabbings on public transport which, it transpires, were the result of some brave/stupid soul speaking up. 

If, one day, I decide 'I'm as mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this any more!' you may notice the absence of blog activity.

*

RTomens, 2023

The book-hunting gods smiled down on me the other day as we trawled the charity shops in Muswell Hill. Nothing rare, as you can see, but the two Ballard short story volumes are what I'd been after for some time. I wanted something more portable than the single volume complete collection I've had for years. So it came to pass. The Living Anatomy book is a treasure trove of nude figures and body parts. I used the cover image, reproduced inside, for the collage/print Difference of Opinion. I didn't even know Paul Morley's A Sound Mind existed until I saw it in the Oxfam shop. This, as you know, is the joy of shopping in shops - you come across things, surprises. So far, the tale of his journey into classical music is well worth reading, especially the first sections on how we listen to and store music today.

Vispo: I Never Felt Better / The Ecstasy of Wilko Johnson / Prophet - Sun Ra

 

Singalong now...'I never felt better in my li-i-fe' - thanks Mark...

As I explained elsewhere, it's not that I feel great, but the Winter blues are alleviated somewhat by the appearance in The Cave of Iceland's luxury all-butter mince pies, which can only be bought in December because to have them sooner would risk over-familiarity with their delicious pastry and fruity filling to the point where, come Xmas, they would be taken for granted...rendered almost meaningless and on the day that the mince pie become meaningless, well, an existential crisis is born!

Speaking of existence and the meaning of life, I recently watched Julien Temple's The Ecstasy of Wilko Johnson, in which Wilko ponders such things, as you would when diagnosed with an inoperable (supposedly) cancer. Temple includes his trademark film clips of both real life and cinematic, all blending in perfectly with the content. Wilko's literary knowledge is also used to great effect. It's a wonderful film. I saw Dr Feelgood at Friars in 1975. Their energy and attitude marked them out as something very different from either the standard Pub Rock outfit or, obviously, Prog noodling. Unbeknownst to us, we were watching the seeds of a fierce new world being sown; to be reaped by Rotten and co a year later.

From (the meaning of) Life, the Universe and Everything to the musical world's greatest cosmic voyager. An album of previously unreleased Sun Ra is due on December 16th. Prophet was recorded in a single day in August 1986 and features Him playing the Prophet VS synthesizer, a new instrument at the time. Not that Ra needed new technology to present advanced messages from the outer limits of imagination and sound - he was travelling the spaceways decades ago. Here's a taster from the album, complete with appropriately spaced-out visuals...

Collage: Wonderful / Vispo Print: How Many More Times? / Too old to boogie

RTomens, 2022

Shifting between paper, print and type today. 

Meanwhile, outside, rainfall. Where else would it fall? The Cave is a damp, leaky place, but not so bad that it rains in here - yet.

I am multi-media. Ha-ha. Why do I find that funny? I find all art terminology applied to me funny. I just do. It only ever happens, though, when someone else wants to show my work, then the art terminology factor must come into play...to show I'm an artist...a proper one...not just a bloke who makes outsider art for no-one, usually, but himself and the few who 'like' it on social me-dia.

Still, as I said to a friend the other day when he was moaning about not being appreciated and I said I also felt like not bothering anymore: it's not been a bad year for me. My work appeared in two shows (Austria and Portugal), I won a poetry prize and got the book published, also had another book of visual poetry published by Paper View. So stop moaning.

RTomens, 2022

This is a print from typed work. Printing has been a novelty lately since the old machine broke down and I bought a new one. 

Meanwhile, a picture from Bob Dylan's The Philosophy of Modern Song, the music Book of the Year! And you don't have to be a Dylan fan to enjoy it.

It's been a long time since I rock 'n' rolled...I'm also too old to boogie anymore, probably, if given the chance...although I did impress a friend the other week by running some distance to catch a bus - ha-ha!

Book: The Philosophy of Modern Song - Bob Dylan

Bob Dylan might be the last standing legend of songwriting/singer Folk/Rock godly status, a living lineage through which classic Folk up to Country 'Rock' can be traced. As such, you'd expect him to rail against modern listening via streaming over spinning vinyl, even though all his music is on Spotify. Yet despite all the valid protestations against the restless track-jumping such a service encourages, streaming enables us to enjoy and appreciate The Philosophy of Modern Song so much more than if we could only know the music through owning the records. This book works so well, in large part, because we can summon up each track at the click of a button.

It's not only a literary but also a visual treat, which surprised me since the review I read didn't mention the plethora of great images. It's Dylan's prose, though, that we're really here for and it doesn't disappoint. Now I must confess to be progressing song-by-song, gradually, savouring each chapter, so I can't review the whole book. It only arrived yesterday and I'm up to song number 5 (There Stands The Glass by Webb Pierce, a Country classic from 1953). Yes, I'm prolonging the pleasure, which includes ignoring the index of songs and instead letting each be a surprise.

You might not expect Perry Como to be included but here in Chapter 3 is his rendition of Without A Song (1951). I could vaguely remember the tune but it wasn't until I played it this morning that the greatness of Como's voice struck me right through and between the ears. I listened, then read Dylan's words. He describes Como as 'the anti-Rat Pack...the anti-American Idol...anti-flavor of the week, anti-hot list and anti-bling. He was a Cadillac before the tail fins; a Colt .45, not a Glock; steak and potatoes, not California cuisine.' At that, I laughed and marvelled. 'Without a song,' the lyrics state, 'the day would never end / Without a song, the road would never have been / When things go wrong, a man ain't got a friend / Without a song'. Now you can ponder the meaning of these lyrics; it's cornball romanticism couched in ultra-Easy surroundings or it's profound acknowledge of the power of music. Either way, I know that without a song (and other music), my life would be poorer. That's what The Philosophy of Modern Song reminds us all to cherish. 

Vispo: Pieces Of A Dream / Moonage Daydreaming with Bowie

 

RTomens, 2022

A recurring dream theme: I'm lost in a city...usually desperate to catch a last bus, or having just missed the last one...is this a city dream because I'm a city dweller? Is it telling me that subconsciously I'm...always feeling lost...failure to get somewhere (creatively?) - I dunno, you tell me Mr Freud!

Pieces Of A Dream is a print/type combination (oh, you guessed?). Print the image first, then type, then print background colour because white always looks too...stark? I have done black and white, of course, but the warmth of a light brown is more appealing. is that what they call 'the beauty trap'? Mebbe. Not that I'm prone to falling into that one...although...it's noticeable that any piece that's warmer on the eyeballs tends to garner more 'likes'.

Not that one should pander to public approval. Look what happened to David Bowie when he suddenly found himself with a massive hit on his hands (Let's Dance) in the 80s. By his own admission, in retrospect, he lost the plot by thinking he had to write more hits. It took him years to recover his old self having sold it to 'the masses'. As I'm sure you know, there's a new Bowie film, Moonage Daydream, due very soon...

...yes, it does look good and will tempt us into a cinema for the first time since...Joker. 

As young teenagers we all freaked out in Bowie's moonage daydream when, as Ziggy Stardust, he caused us to press our space faces close to the album sleeve, memorise every line and singalong-a-Bowie. People talk of momentous albums from their youth. My generation idolises Ziggy Stardust. It's true though, you had to be there. For slightly younger folk it might be the Berlin albums but for me, the essentially-mind-blowing quartet is The Man Who Sold The World, Ziggy Stardust, Aladdin Sane and Diamond Dogs. I recall just studying the inner sleeve spread to the latter when I should have been studying homework. I was a sci-fi reader even before Bowie landed but when he did, his lyrics brought futuristic ideas to life in sound and vision.

Got The Disco Memories Blues

 

Weepy nostalgia blues, opening line: "Woke up this morning, recalling my disco days"...

Which I did because it's Saturday and I remembered that once upon a time Saturdays were exciting - yes - back when I was fresh into my teens and already somehow terribly....tortured? - by something, a lack of fulfilment already! As if I could see into a near future of educational failure and subsequent factory work....oh no...

"The Greek word for "return" is nostos. Algos means "suffering." So nostalgia is the suffering caused by an unappeased yearning to return."

- Milan Kundera, Ignorance

Why is there a picture of Andy Mackay up there? Because I thought about a pair of shoes I owned which were similar to his but not as glittery and Glam, two tones of brown instead, but exactly the same shape and sole...so imagine my joy when I saw him wearing those on the inner sleeve to Roxy Music's For Your Pleasure (1973)

"Woman, take me in your arms, rock me baby" - George McCrae

But I didn't have my eye on any women, just girls, of course. The DJ would include slow numbers, providing us boys with an opportunity to approach a girl and ask for a dance - a big moment! Yes, would have already chosen a lucky (ha-ha!) recipient of my request hours ago, possibly days ago, although I don't recall any actually question involved, just an approach was enough - she knew all right! It was hit or miss, you know. Some I 'won', some I 'lost' (it was their loss, depriving themselves of the thrilling experience that was a snog from me!).

"Oh, Saturday night's alright for fighting / Get a little action in" 

- Saturday Night's Alright, Elton John

What finer cocktail was there for a 70s teenager than one made of clothes, music, alcohol, girls and fighting, eh? Teachers couldn't understand the lure of that world compared to their textbooks! Learning be damned! 

It was only a village disco, but some 'action' was guaranteed. It was either Greasers against Skinheads (or to be more sartorially accurate, by the early-70s, Suedeheads) or our village against another...or just two lads who hated each other, but such conflict was never 'internal', i.e. lads from the same village. I was never involved, not being physically equipped to punch my way out of a crisp packet. It was a spectator sport! The poor doorman had no chance (or intention) of breaking up a fight. Besides, he wasn't a bouncer in the modern sense, just a bloke who took the money. 

One night the girls had a go - that was fun. Despite sporting steel combs in the top pocket of the tonic jackets which matched their skirts, I never saw one used in a fight. No glasses or knives, just old-fashioned fists. No-one was ever seriously hurt, which is why the boys kept doing it. 

"Disco deserved a better name, a beautiful name because it was a beautiful art form. It made the consumer beautiful. The consumer was the star."

- Barry White

In a sense, that's true, even though Barry probably had Studio 54 and other glamourous hangouts in mind rather than a village hall in rural Buckinghamshire. Still, clothes meant so much, in another way. Of course I thought the girls looked beautiful! We, meanwhile, looked smart. This was the pre-Disco Fever era but its precursor, musically, minus the glitz and glam of the late-70s. We weren't beautiful people, but spotty youths doing our best with what we could get, from tonic trousers to button-down shirts and brogues before things got baggy (trousers) twinned with tight-fitting star jumpers and big, rounded collars. 

For some reason Superstition by Stevie Wonder (1972) springs to mind as a big tune, although there were so many. It has that slow funkiness to it....a kind of nasty keyboard funk which somehow mirrors the dark undertones to a disco night back then, back there, when something always could and probably would kick off. A couple of years later, Rock Your Baby by George McCrae provided a contrast with its light mood thanks largely to the Roland rhythm machine percussion. That was huge too.

Two years after that, Young Hearts Run Free by Candi Staton and what sounds now like being very close to the birth of the Disco sound as it's known today (light rhythm, lush arrangements) but what a record, what a song!  Oh, reader, I could talk long and tearfully about why that song means so much to me, but for reasons of privacy I shan't. Suffice to say that 1976 was a turning point. I started Work, I could relate to the lyrics even though they were aimed at the opposite sex. I felt a kind of freedom already slipping away, just like the girl I longed to date and eventually did despite the tragic circumstances. For a few years before that though, yes, it felt as if we ran free.