Tuesday, 26 February 2013
The Wire “tactile electronic environments, acid flavoured beats, warm uneffected prose...presenting a deep connection to history, and the world lived through many timescales”
Friday, 26 October 2012
Tuesday, 23 October 2012
Wednesday, 22 August 2012
I was telling someone about this last week, but haven't listened or looked at it for a good few years. So was talking from a firmly established memory.
It has information about the session on the back as well as a photograph.
Now I remember this record well, its a howling, primal piece of music. It was recorded in a cave in Andalucia and is an all night session. The echo and stomp of dancers feet are heard throughout. Some sections of it are no more than a wailing voice, a hand knocking against a guitar and a sparse foot rhythm.
There is a photo on the back; a single candle illuminates the cave, the blur of the dancers and two guitarists, barely visible.
The cover shows De Plata eating, in my mind after he's emerged from the night of playing.
My memory may be slightly different to the actuality of the recording, but to me that further shows what a great and emotive record this is.
A different and more factual review is here
Wednesday, 8 August 2012
Run to the industrial dead zones!!!, take your friends, take a sound system, take a picnic, dance with flowers in your hair, its summer!
Wednesday, 25 January 2012
Below are some of the photographs taken by Gertrude Bell, largely in the Middle East, around the turn of the last century. Travelling deep into the deserts, she immersed herself amongst the people, politics and histories of the regions she visited.
The images speak for themselves...
Wednesday, 2 November 2011
Saturday, 15 October 2011
Saturday, 17 September 2011
The first airing of the new formation will be as follows;
Friday, 3 June 2011
Nabakov - Pale Fire
So here we go with some more literary dippings, this time in the form of some high-brow poetic conundrums from Nabakov. Rich in imagery, rich in symbolism, rich in wit and at times rich in furrowed brows, this is about a murdered poet's 999-line poem (or canto) dissected by one of his university colleagues, and friend, Charles Kinbote. This book can literally be read and interpreted in many ways, but it's worth it for a) Kinbote's deranged and eccentric ramblings about the land of Zembla – a mythical Scandinavian country where an exuberant, homosexual and deposed King, Charles the 'Beloved', has to flee after a revolution, and b) for trying to fathom who Kinbote actually is.
“In simple words I described the curious situation in which the King found himself during the first months of the rebellion. He had the amusing feeling of his being the the only black piece in what a composer of chess problems might term the king-in-the-corner waiter of the solus rex type. The Royalists, or at least the Modems (Moderate Democrats), might still have prevented the state from turning into a commonplace modern tyranny, had they been able to cope with the tainted gold and robot troops that a powerful police state from its vantage ground a few sea miles away was pouring into the Zemblan Revolution... The King refused to abdicate. A haughty and morose captive, he was caged in his rose-stone palace from a corner turret of which one could make out with the help of field glasses lithe youths diving into the swimming pool of a fairy tale sport club, and the English ambassador in old-fashioned flannels playing tennis with the Basque coach on a clay court remote as paradise. How serene were the mountains, how tenderly painted on the western vault of the sky!