Her Vanished Heart

As I continue archiving old cassettes of original music I have found some that had no cover designed at the time (early 1980's) and so my soul-mate and muse Rachel has cunningly fashioned some new art for the pieces with a sort of 80's retro-look to them.
The music - in all its hissy, lo-fi glory - itself can be found here - it's all free to download.

Russian Woodpecker

Many years ago my uncle - a keen Radio Amateur (and how that title seems so strange and silly) - would complain about what he called "the Russian Woodpecker". I was young and did not fully understand what he meant, imagining a very real, feathered woodpecker somewhere deep in the tundra pecking at a radio transmitter that somehow interfered with Radio Hams all over the world. I came across the term recently and have produced a ten minute instrumental track using some samples of the dreaded 'pecker.

You can read about the real Russian Woodpecker on wikipedia here.

You can listen - and download for free - my music here.

As always, love to Rachel for the cover art.

Greek Siren

I was trying hard not to comment on this because in a way, it's exactly up my street. It concerns perceptions of what a 'writer' is nowadays, as well as what constitutes an 'author'. Certainly under any normal criteria Jacqueline Howett would not be considered an author. Clearly struggling to write in the English language her tragi-comic attempts at poetry and novel-writing are so awful they defy satirising. Her self-penned blurb for her latest novel should tell you everything you need to know:

"What is an eighteen year old newly wed doing traveling on a massive merchant ship anyways? Hadn’t she gone to Greece on tour in a ballet as a dancer? These are questions Katy asks herself while traveling the high seas with Don, her chief officer. However, little do they know, a smuggling ring is also on board for this ride, on a blue diamond exchange. When explosions and threats to sink the ship also happen, they must try to save themselves."

No, what's really interesting is how a mildly critical review (I would say too uncritical, frankly) on an obscure blog has attracted scores of other self-published 'authors' to add interminable hooting dissent to Ms Howett's original - and clearly hysterical - comments. They are all too quick to condemn Howett's increasingly disjointed responses whilst at the same time clearly enjoying the company of fellow 'authors'. It was as if they had arrived at the scene of this literary accident and had been pleasantly surprised to see all their peers there, so then stood around nodding and agreeing with each other as the wreckage still smouldered.

But the truth is stranger. Hardly any of the commentators joining in the melee are true published authors themselves, and a fair amount of their vitriol seems aimed at Howett showing them up as the amateurs they so obviously are. Grammar and spelling went out of the window in this parade of people who felt they had at last found someone so bad they could safely sneer from the sidelines, knowing that however unsuccessful and unrecognized they were, here at last was someone who was worse off. And in case Howett didn't realise this they spelt it out for her in no uncertain terms: the fact she would be 'blacklisted' by publishers world-wide, and would be forced to write under a pen-name from now on. One went so far as to say Howett had damaged the reputation of 'self-publishers' everywhere.

But of course, ironically, the more they did this, the more they tweeted about Howett, the more of these self-appointed literary critics and self-published authors came out of the woodwork. Big Al's page became a magnet for the unsung tens of thousands of people who think they can write or who think that their opinion on literary matters matters.

And it didn't rest there. If you google 'Jacqueline Howett' now you will discover that numerous lit-bloggers have blogged about her. This is because it helps reinforce the illusion that these lit-blogs actually matter in the real literary world. Ironically you will also discover that if you google 'Jacqueline Howlett', 'Jaqueline Howett' or variations thereof more and different lit-blogs will appear - the ones written by people who have not checked the spelling of her name.

So in a way Howett has done everyone who inhabits the mediocre world of self-published 'authors' a favour. She has become the watermark against which they can measure themselves. It's only that the level is so extraordinarily low that pretty much everyone else in that world can now feel they are extremely talented.

Falkland

Since I was contacted by a prospective record label about releasing some of my old work I have dug out a number of cassettes from this period and am now busily transferring them and scanning in old cassette covers...



In the summer of 1982 I became a politically engaged artist for the first time. The Royal fleet had just returned from the South Atlantic and my friend had bought a Roland Juno 6 synthesizer. I borrowed the Juno as much as I could - it being the summer holidays my friend and I saw each other most days so it was convenient some of the time to leave it at my house. The track 'Falkland' includes 'found sound' in the form of tv news broadcasts of the war and conceptually it is in the key of F (for Falkland) and feels quite sad and lonely - the three week voyage from Portsmouth to the Falklands - with an upbeat bit at the end provided by my Casio VL Tone. You can hear or download the track here.

Affluenza

Dr. Oliver James ground-breaking polemic against what he calls the Affluenza Plague was first published in 2008 and I have read it several times. Its central conviction is that everyone is too rich nowadays and only want to increase their own richness. This Affluenza Disease is sweeping the planet and James sacrificed the precious first eighteen months of life of his own child to investigate societies all over the world, all of which only reinforced what he had already concluded: That rich people just want to be richer, and everyone wants to be a rich.

This profound argument prompted me to write a conceptual piece of music as a celebration of Dr James' thesis. It is in three movements:

The First Movement suggests the decadent, lazy way in which most people saunter their way through life. Aimless yet automatic. Radio announcements about the coming plague are heard in different languages.

The Second Movement is redolent of a malaise where even rich and successful people get extremely depressed. I chose to set this piece in a busy ambient environment to highlight the loneliness they feel even when in a crowd.

The Third Movement should have been optimistic but I find no optimism in Dr James' book - even he himself is emotionally shattered by his over-bearing father and sees no way out of that feeling, wanting to be a successful writer and cultural commentator. Hence, heralded by an announcement (in English) of the coming of the plague, the Third Movement is lead by a dark sequencer. Some of Dr James' conclusions can be heard: "Danish girls never wear short skirts, Russian girls are always beautiful..." The piece attempts to show the money running out - indicated by the instruments disappearing one by one until we are left with a drum box and some simple gamelan percussion... the simple life is the only one that can save humanity, and it is to the Far East that we should look.

The piece can be heard on my bandcamp site here.

The cover was created by the irresistible Rachel Laine after the iconic picture on the original cover of Dr James' book.

An animated 2011

Excitement mounts as myself and two old creative colleagues work on a short animation that targets the rash of so-called 'small publishing houses' that are emerging. Progress has slowed over Christmas inevitably, but I have high hopes for a productive new year!

The Futura is here

In early 1984 I produced my fifth music project under the name Carrillion. Five tracks make use of the omni-present Roland Juno 6 as well as this time sticking to the Casio VL-1 for rhythms. This time however I managed to get hold of a Texas Instruments Speak and Spell from my friend's little sister. I only had it for a weekend but used it to flavour the tracks that became the mini album called Futura. Having Letrasetted my previous cassettes I was given some spare Letraset sheets from my then girlfriend Rachel - who was beginning to get seriously interested in graphic design. The sheets she gave were the typeface Futura and so I simply rubbed over the title on the sheet to get the title of my album - the sheet came first - not the word! Rachel's graphic interest had also spilled over into airbrush art and she had begun copying Athena posters with a small airbrush kit. So I took a photo of one of her paintings and used that as the cassette cover, Letrasetting directly onto it...

Such painstaking work in those days that would take but half an hour on a PC nowadays...

Anyway - the music can be heard here on Bandcamp.

Eponymous Second Album

Recorded September to November 1983, this was Carrillion's second album project. Joining myself and "Jase, the bass" was Rachel Laine who speaks and breathes through the broken WEM tape echo on the track 'Sleepless'. She also designed the logo for the cover.

Hear it here.

Eponymous First Album

Following on from the interest shown in my earlier solo work, I have begun posting the first recordings of Carrillion proper here on bandcamp. As exceptional as bandcamp is, I felt this blog would be a better place in which to expound on the creative process involved in these tracks and what memories they bring back to me.

Having formed Carrillion with bass player Jason King at the last minute for a school charity concert in April 1983, we then went on to record this, our first demo tape around June.
Recorded on a borrowed Tascam Portastudio (a 244 I think) in my bedroom, I had a Roland CR 78 drum machine, a Stylophone and my mother's upright piano. But I also borrowed my friend's Roland Juno 6, eventually buying it off him second-hand some months later. Jason plays bass on some of the tracks, anticipating the synth and bass guitar sound of New Order, Ultravox or Propaganda.

Ahead of my time, as has always been the case.



1: Awaiting Dawn
A bit of an in-joke this, as I was thinking about the time I was waiting for a girl called, you guessed it, Dawn, only to be stood up. The music reflects early optimism about the meeting but eventually begins to sound a little pessimistic and finally abrubtly stops as I realise Dawn isn't coming.

2: Glims Holm
I fed my Stylophone through the unbranded practice amplifier which had a built-in reverb which to my mind made it sound a little bag-pipey, hence the Celtic title; the name of a Scottish island.

3: Wanting More
Nothing but raw greed informs this track. I was at an age where you want everything and I was no different to everyone else.

4: Numbears
Typical of my word play, this is a pun on 'numb ears'. It features Jason's bass going through the broken WEM copycat tape echo machine. The tape in this was so stretched it distorted anything you fed into it.

5: Endtime
I think I was thinking about the short segue 'Get Carter' on The Human League's album released the year before and a massive influence on my music. Very simple, the amp's reverb again on the piano and Juno.

6: Sally Forth
Another reference to a girl, this time one who seemed to unthinkingly find herself romantically involved with a new boy every week. I think secretly I wouldn't have minded being one of those boys, and I thought writing a song in her honour might result in her favouring me too.Sadly, she never got to hear it.

7: She Likes Cream
More thoughts about sex here I suppose, but I cannot remember exactly what the inspiration was. Very hymn-like, I could imagine this played big and bold, like Ultravox's 'Hymn'.

8: Timewright
Classic Carrillion! The CR78 keeping time while Jase plays a root augmented by the Juno's rich chords and the Stylophone doodles on top. The title comes from a short science fiction story I wrote about someone who could manufacture time itself. I intended to perhaps marry the two at some point.

New Wor[l]ds Eleven

After a delay of some eighteen months, here it is at last: New Wor[l]ds Eleven collates my written work from that period.

The Need For More

I cannot understand how the months move faster as I get older and how years ago I was able to complete work faster. But is that an illusion?

I am still writing my poetry and short stories and will be producing the latest collection shortly which I am going to produce on-line in some guise or another.

Scour powdering the web

Bedazzled by various on-line digital publications, I've come across several that boast website introductions full of grammatical errors. I've never done this before but felt the need to post comments to all of them pointing out their spelling mistakes. I imagined they'd remove my comment and correct the grammar, but no! they just wanly apologise in a further comment and leave the original mistakes there!! Why?

Is it so that there is at least some sign of life on their dull web pages?

Would I do the same if someone - anyone - criticized an entry here? The mere fact that underneath this entry '0 COMMENTS' could now read '1 COMMENTS' bedazzling me.

Long Dark Summer of the Soul

There have been half-hearted attempts at starting some short stories. There have been half-hearted attempts at starting a novel. There have been half-hearted attempts at writing some poetry. There has been no attempt to keep up my blog entries.

So much for the summer!

Duff

A long time ago I loved poetry. I read poetry, I wrote poetry, I breathed poetry. I learned word rhythm from the poets of old. I learned playfullness of language with the new poets...

But I was left cold by Andrew Motion's promotion some years back, as I am today by Carol Ann Duffy's appointment. I would want a real poet laureate to be at the Prime Minister's side during important press conferences, with a few words to underline prepared statements. The Press would have to report the poem as part of their editorial, the Media would have to show B-roll of it in their political round-up... Poetry would become a truly essential part of life, instead of the marginalised affectation it is.

Working In A Vacuum

I am working in a vacuum. That is, an atmosphere where no-one reads what I write, hears what I sing, listens to what I play. How does the creative artist continue like this? Complete and utter refusal to engage with the non-receptiveness of a nonplussed public. Sometimes the best work is created in this hermetic bubble, though it is seldom appreciated at the time of conception - but years, perhaps even decades later. Will my blog, this blog, be read by future generations - if it still exists? Will it lead them to my works? Are you, dear reader, the nonplussed public of now - or the student of the future?

Not quite twenty years ago today

1989 was the last year of my degree and after I'd left Uni and moved back home I "put the band back together" as Jake Blues would say. I can hardly believe it's twenty years since all this happened. If only we'd had the internet then, and been able to create myspace and facebook pages for Carrillion perhaps we'd have gotten somewhere. Equally the comedy group I was in could have done a lot more in terms of promoting ourselves by posting our work on You Tube. Damn!

Still, I think older and wiser as I am, my crative work is more relevant now than it was then, mired as it undoubtedly was in a young person's angst. All the same I think that early work of mine is ripe for rediscovery, and I intend to make it available at some point.

+ support...

Been busy scanning in old band posters and paraphenalia from my earlier career as a 'rock star'. Following sixth form I did not immediately go to Uni, but chose instead to pursue my musical passion which had begun as a school band a couple of years before. In hindsight I think I was a little ahead of my time - the early 80s were a time for New Romantics and my unique brand of poetry and rock rhythms had yet to find to find an audience.

This poster here probably didn't help. It was drawn by an old girlfriend from school who was actually in another band and is far too New Romantic to convey to the audience the unusual genre of music Carrillion was about. Later I designed my own posters and covers, but after a couple of years I decided I should go to Uni anyway, and the first incarnation of Carrillion broke up.

Carrillion Group

Today I created a group on google groups for an archival anthology of the music I have produced under the name 'Carrillion' since 1983. I intend to upload some MP3's and other archival pictures and cassette covers as well.

You can find it here.

Dark Nights

I was asked if I wanted to watch The Dark Knight at a friends house who has just bought the DVD. And Dark indeed is the night that The Dark Knight inhabits. Too dark, really. Too much shadow. Ledger is mesmeric, though.

Superhero comics and graphic novels is an area I once ventured into - writing an outline story for a friend of mine who wanted to draw a comic but couldn't write a story. It was called 'Com Sat Angel', after the 80's band, but although I spent some weeks working on the story, my friend never got around to drawing much beyond the cover and the first couple of pages.

I think I still have some of the artwork somewhere and if I find it I will post it here,

New Wor(l)ds 10

A little later than usual, New Wor(l)ds volume 10 is out containing the cream of my recent short fictions and poetry.
I elected a type only design this time to emphasize the power of the word over the image in writing. I am concerned that culturally we seem to be veering away from text toward sound and image. Can this really be the beginning of the end for pure literature?

I guess that as long as me, and people like me, continue to carve away our literary niches there will always be Words.

Fictions:
Tight Fist
Deep Blue Devil
Raking the Earth
Boomerang Babies
Tidiness in Purfleet

Poetry:
Ful(l)filled i
Ful(l)filled ii