Nostalgia

I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but my lifelong urge to read voraciously this summer, unlike every other year I can remember, was almost entirely absent. Normally, the start of June marks the opening of the book devouring season round our way but, despite an attractive in-tray at the side of the bed, I opted instead for magazines and on-line information in the main, despite the huge amounts of time available both in the house and at cricket grounds during a lull in play or a break for rain that would have been ideal in other years to salve my bibliophilic urgings. There was one exception; Wisden’s Guide to Cricket Grounds by William Powell, ironically enough. Given to me as a birthday prezzie by Ginger Dave, it’s a satisfyingly encyclopaedic guide to all First Class grounds and a vast number of Minor Counties’ venues, though not delving particularly lowly into the glories of club and village grounds. It’s stuffed with exactly the sort of information the target audience would love; pleasing line drawings, travel arrangements for rail enthusiasts and tips for where to sit, in terms of views, passage of the sun and prevailing winds. It is precisely the sort of book to dip into and lose oneself during the long wait for civilisation to return in April.

On a similarly nostalgic theme, Earth Recordings released the record of the summer; a companion piece to the late Bert Jansch’s ornithologically influenced masterpiece Avocet. Rather than inviting copycat cover versions of the sublime original avian instrumentals, Earth engaged some seriously important contributors to muse upon the sea bird theme to produce a 4 song 12” EP called Avocet Revisited. Side 1 has the only vocal cut; Edwyn Collin’s masterful Fulmar, followed by the hitherto unknown to me chamber-pop outfit Modern Studies and Curlew, which is pleasant enough. Side 2 is where the jewels are really to be found; the gloriously talented Alasdair Roberts produces subtle and superb acoustic guitar picking that evokes the spirit of Jansch, not to mention Leo Kottke or even John Fahey, on the excellent Goosander. However it’s the closing track that is the true prize; Trembling Bells, showing that their beautiful heart of folk opulence still beats beneath those breasts of riffing prog bluster, on Golden Plover. It moves 180 degrees from Sovereign Self, Wide Majestic Aire and recent Record Store Day releases, back to the pastoral and the elegiac and away from the scratch and sniff uncompromising crotch rock that their last live appearance at the Sage evoked.

As a kind of nod to the 50^th Anniversary of the Summer of Love, Trembling Bells headed out in August with Mike Heron for a further instalment of The Circle Will Be Unbroken tour. Support was from left-field, confessional New York auteur Ed Askew, whose gentle tales of human bravery were augmented by Jay Pluck on piano, Alex Neilson on percussion and guitarist Mike Hastings,  who had the hardest paper round of the night, never getting off stage from curtain up to curfew. The Bells were in the café beforehand, Lavinia tucking into cheeseburger and chips; on their usual wonderful form. Friendly, open and genuinely pleased to see someone in a worse shirt than Alex. The Mike Heron set was as charming, whimsical and downright tree hugging as ever; all leading towards a climactic finale of The Cellular Song, but it was Trembling Bells on their own who arrested my senses. The power unleashed by them on stage is verging on the seismic.

Sadly the new album, Dungeness, won’t be out until February 2018, but when it is, it will be possibly the most important release of the year. All the folk that’s fit to sing has been purged from the Bells on stage; you’d not believe this band was responsible for Ravenna or September is the Month of Death. Instead, My Father Was a Collapsing Star disinters the Bonzo Dog Doodah Band to transform sixth form humour into bleak Dadaism. The Prophet Distances Himself from His Prophecy is Black Sabbath with the accelerator jammed to the floor and every bit as scarily brilliant as it sounds. And of course Christ’s Entry Into Govan will be better than Willows of Carbeth, better than Just As The Rainbow and even better than Wide Majestic Aire; songs that all our grandchildren will love in the same way we treasure the Velvets, Fairport, Sun Ra and every other band almost as good as Trembling Bells. Mark my words, people will talk about Trembling Bells in hushed, respectful tones to acknowledge their genius half a century from now.

Now another band who’ll stand the test of time are Penetration. As part of the Whitley Bay Film Festival, they kicked off their 40^th Anniversary Tour at North Shields Saville Exchange, supported by Graham Fellows in his Jilted John incarnation. Logical really; he’d played Cullercoats Cresecent Club as John Shuttleworth the night before. It was the first time I’d been to the Saville Exchange; what a great venue it is too, with proper real ale in proper real glasses. Jilted John was funny, heartwarming and exactly the kind of musical cul de sac that Fellows reversed away from at speed in early 79.

Penetration were trying out their new chronological set, which reminded just how many superb songs they’ve written and equally how daft they are to be modest to the point of diffidence about their remarkable achievements over the years. Don’t Dictate, Silent Community, Shout above the Noise, The Beat Goes On and for that I’m glad. Pauline’s voice remains a perfect beacon in the hands of a siren, Rob grows ever more distinguished and Paul’s spangly white suit as flashy and eye-catching as the guitar work. I was worried about the pace of the set, as the obvious encores had been played in the body of the set, but the rabbit from the hat to close proceedings in the shape of their fabulous readings of I Don’t Mind, debuted previously and a simply stunning Shake Some Action left me in raptures. They’re releasing a pair of crowdfunded 7” singles that I’ve already stumped up for and return to the region on November 4^th at The Cluny; the night after Wire at the Riverside… Be at both; I will.

I’ve bought myself a few records as well; none of them contemporary I hasten to add. One of them was a new release though; No Forgetting by The Manchester Mekon. My weekly email from Monorail drew my attention to this limited edition vinyl compilation of every obscure cut ever released by the highly recondite late 70s Manchester Musicians Collective (MMC) ensemble. Bracketed alongside the very wonderful Spherical Objects, The Manchester Mekon obviously preferred Henry Cow to The Lurkers for inspiration. For the majority of the short time of their existence, they produced memorable, loose-limbed, proggy, improvised jazz rock, with flutes, saxophones and vibraphone, as in Film Music, The Note, Approaching a Russian Caravan and Jonathan Livingstone Seafood. Where they failed to make a mark was when they attempted to write songs, with synthesisers and vocals, when the music failed to ignite, especially the deathly dull Idle Gnome Exhibition or unspeakable Blancmange-lite of the title track. I will listen to this record fairly regularly, but just the second side I imagine.

The other two purchases I’ve made were from Tynemouth Market. For a quid I got the awesome Tackhead Tape Time by Gary Clail’s On-U Sound System. Released in early 1988 it came after the Sherwood inspired football number, The Game, that sampled Brian Moore, included the full band with the sadly forgotten Bristolian ranter Clail declaiming hysterically over the top of crushing beats. It predates his popular success with Human Nature and the false step of Tackhead veering towards commercialism, when trying to be Living Color reanimated with Bernhard Fowler on vocals. All the better for that, with solid gold classics Mind at the End of the Tether and Hard Left reinforcing just how cutting edge, provocative and downright daring this music was. I’m absolutely delighted to add it to my collection.

Similarly, the wonderful Charisma Records sampler One More Chance, featuring a dozen prime middlebrow prog rock and prog folk outfits from the 71-73 era plus Monty Python doing Eric the Half a Bee. Despite dross like The Nice and Jo’Burg Hawk, there are some superb cuts by the likes of Audience, Bell and Arc, the singing schoolmaster himself Clifford T Ward, Capability Brown, Rare Bird, String Driven thing and a closing Clear White Light by Lindisfarne. Well worth £4 I say.

Anyway, on the horizon we have Godspeed You! Back Emperor (25/10), Wire (3/11), Penetration (4/11), Euros Childs (25/11) and Vic Godard with The Band of Holy Joy on 8/12. Sounds decent to me; even if I’ve seen them all many times before, I can still wallow in nostalgia for the gigs yet to come.