Daily Medication …….
‘music meditations from the wilderness’ ….
…. may contain …. grumbles, apologies, cancer and music …..
editorial excuses and stone throwing corner …..
Is there no escape this blighter, like damn, even Adrian Mole has cancer. Perhaps it’s just me becoming more aware since the diagnosis (I suspect not), but its difficult to escape with references appearing at a concerning rate on radio, television and each turned page of a newspaper, it’s a deflating task when trying to put it to the back of your mind pretending it’s not there.
Well hello, it’s been a while, apologies, truth is we fell out of love with music for a while, then out of love with writing and then generally, life. So first up, a sorry for what will be a paragraph or two of rambling, not having done a posting in a while, I’ve found this committing of word to blank page one of the hardest things, confidence stripped, the vocabulary vacated and the music not talking, I’ve ducked and dived to avoid doing what was once, a pleasure and a coping strategy (for me at least). I could blame this and that, but in the final analysis it all boils down me just dropping out and disconnecting, something which I realised a while back I needed to correct and correct fast.
So here we are, I’ve set myself a task to cobble out one of these collected missives a day with a minimum 1,000 limit (stop moaning at the back, you’ll love ‘em), okay its not going to break the literary bows and well a thousand words is a walk in the park for some like Andy Braken (former head honcho of Braken and Fruits de Mer records), whose 10,000 a day minimum serves as his own benchmark, a fact proven by his daunting rate of book releases, a one man library whose latest opus ‘worldly things’ we thoroughly recommend. It’s also something that’s been openly encouraged by my psychologist / head helper / shrink (though I suspect the PC brigade might have consigned this description to the dark ages) Geraldine, the sessions invaluable – I attend, I talk and fathom out a problem I didn’t know I had, now clearly I’m being a tad flippant, there’s more to it than that, but then it’s not voodoo, the ability to talk without being self-conscious, restrained, constantly auto correcting and hearing the words aloud rather than faintly tapping in your passing thoughts, allows for a degree of unravelling and dare I say clarity. During these sessions though, I’ve come to realise that in my own little way I’ve been practising all along that mysterious art form known as mindfulness, something clearly identified by Geraldine as my focus, the upshot of which, I’ve been told to get back on the horse and get doing.
As to the health, I’m bumbling along, those paying attention at the back, will be all too aware that the last posting we made had us glumly reporting the cancer had grown and that a Chemotherapic fix was required pretty much immediately to attempt to correct matters in a palliative way. As you can imagine, this was a bit of a blow, bouncing in and out consultations these last few months with a cheery no change thumbs up happily sound tracking our upbeat buoyancy, we were to put it bluntly, stopped dead in our tracks at the news that the blighter had awoken from slumber. With health deteriorating due to severe breathing problems and a seriously gnarly cough any notion of positivity seemed to diminish by the day. Added to that the fact that work were finishing me (I left at the end of last month) and with no help from, what must be, the most pitiful, pathetic and non-caring union its been my misfortune to be a member of – PCS in case you are asking, I’ve been left to deal with trying to release various early doors works pensions alone, without advise or support, an additional worry and headache which quite frankly, just adds to the woes. Nice to see my former employer HMRC are as inept at taking tax as they are dealing with staff queries, I’m guessing the word ‘urgent’ is no longer in their collective corporate vocabulary. To give you a small insight into cancer and living with it, it’s akin to stepping away from the pack, the rat race, the hullabaloo of life and all its little pettiness. Floating between states of happiness and hopelessness, you feel disconnected, moods at the mercy of the weather, sunshine bringing a new found step and giddy up in my disposition, but be honest you don’t really want to know about all this, quite frankly we don’t, it’s all very depressing.
On a lighter note, we have a new laptop, way hey, an Omen which agreed sounds a little ominous, but the bugger works and is fast with it, so no excuses in the future for delays and IT issues, the only issue we are having at the moment is migrating our word software to the new hardware.
Other than that, there’s only been the disappointment of Killing Eve, a truly lack lustre viewing that appeared to tail off somewhere around episode 3, the humour lacking the darkness of the first series and the writing clearly predisposed to venturing up pointless cul de sac’s with no explanation, that said kudos aplenty for a creepy appearance by Julian Barrett of Mighty Boosh fame. Also there’s been a new found love for Vive le Rock around these here parts not withstanding the avalanche of bands we never cared for from the 70’s and 80’s, coming back, reforming and haunting us all over again, sometimes it really is like reading through wincing eyes the Sounds c. 80.
Anyhow enough rambling otherwise we’ll have nothing to whinge about tomorrow, safe to say in the near future there’ll be plenty of Fruits de Mer’s, Castles in Spaces, Static Caravan’s, disco gecko and more …….
****** always read the label and apply the correct dosage, in the event of adverse side effects, repeat dosage by increasing the volume, lack of taste is purely your fault *****
… converse, contact, touch ….
12 Stewart Avenue, BOOTLE, Merseyside, L20 9JD
I’ll admit there was a degree of coin tossing that had us landing her collaboration with Ariel Kalma (mentions for which will be coming in the fullness of time) as opposed to this, her solo opus ‘pale bloom’. Still I guess in some near distant point in the future, we will acquire said item to call our own. Anyhow, new one from Sarah Davachi through W.25TH, this is the quite simply immaculate ‘perfumes III’, a softly spun piano drone, a description which appears a criticism at first glance, couldn’t be further from the truth, its minimalist dusting and genteel arcing serving something beautifully expressive and somewhat found hiding its light beneath a bushel, its shy and timid disposition eking out a beautified softly awakening morn dewed landscape. https://soundcloud.com/superiorviaduct/sarah-davachi-perfumes-iii
Damn, another of those to do list things we forgot to follow up earlier in the year, that being subscribing to the Sonic Cathedral year-long singles club. More galling still, not realising that limited numbers of these beauties were being sneaked in to the wilds as stand alone releases, case in point being release number 4 by Perfect Body, which pressed on rather eye catching purple wax features two variants of the track ‘melting trees’. This here version haloed in the smoking serene of ethereal angel sighs and whispering arcs of dream draped soft psych all shimmered in the becoming swoon of Jane Weaver-esque pouted floor fleeting bliss blown solar fanfares, quite adorably chilled and ice cooled if you ask me.
Keeping it Sonic Cathedral a little while longer, think this un might be the first in the singles club series, by Linda Guilala, someone who I’m certain we’ve strayed across in previous musings, was it via Elefant records we wonder, the memory fog descends rapidly. Anyhow, this un is a bit of honey, ‘Estado Natural’ be its name, a love noted pulsar rippled in oodles of motorik murmurings all sugar crushed in a gorgeously affectionate and hazy bright eyed pop preening bubble gum brittleness which to these ears at least, clings upon the kosmick coat tails of a more playful mid 90’s era Stereolab as were sparring with a galactic group of spaced out cadets among whose number include Fuxa, Sunray and a certain Sonic Boom.
Last one from the Cathedral folk for this daily deliverance at least., incoming from Molly about now, debut full length ‘all that ever could have been’ promises to be one of the heartbreaks of the year if ‘weep, gently weep’ is anything to judge by. Ignoring the distracting video, this is quite sublime in a Sigur Ros’ ‘Ágætis Byrjun’ quite sublime type way. Everything here just sighs with melancholic majesty, perched upon a porcelain palette, this frost glazed ghost gospel is crushed with a heavenly solemn that aches beautifully speared by its own solace, epic and tormented don’t even cut it, emotionally turbulent, we suggest listening in controlled conditions for fear of the need of prolonged counselling in its withdrawing aftermath.
Probably already sold out at source, happily we’ve secured our copy though as yet not had a chance to hear in full. We refer to the latest opus from Listening Center entitled ‘retrieving’ through those kaptains of the kosmick, Polytechnic Youth. While we slowly ease back into this review / write up lark, here’s the simply arresting ‘Meridian’. In short, up there with recent PY escapes Truth in Space, Dialectric and Tomorrow Syndicate, ‘Meridian’ arrives accorded with a purring pop fluency, a pulsing star crossed configuration softly secreted in the microlite motorik margins wherein plays and pulses a celestial cosmic carousel spraying utopian raptures cast in tomorrows to come all teasingly threaded in a Jarre like gauzing picked and rewired by a dream team gathering of fortdax and Art of the Memory Palace types.
Not even sure whether or not this is freely available to buy, a little something we tripped across a while back on a routine rummage around sound cloud, this is George Newson, here aided and abetted by Delia Derbyshire for a spot of Radiophonic spookiness in the guise of an excerpt culled from a far larger commission piece for the radio play ‘the man who collected sounds’. All very sparse, frosty and minimalist in its phrasing, teetering between haunting and brooding, there’s an almost Stockhausen like edge in attendance here that condemns the listener to an unfamiliar dimension.
As much as we were moderately entertained by the recent Glastonbury events, it did lack a little edge, something a little gnarly and scabby, something like Fret! whose ‘a vanity spawned by fear’ has just popped up on Cruel Nature in a strictly limited cassette pressing of 75 and from off which, we found ourselves somewhat smitten by ‘SUSD’. A rumble some corkscrewing Math mutant oik which in its initial moments had us shuffling them in the Shellac pen for ease. But then strange things happen and soon shedding its skin this blistered brooding beast soon assumes a darker persona that’s scabbed and scarred in a storm razored sky fired apocalyptic oblivion. Much more of an in your face noise niking agitant is the fancifully frenetic ‘Davy’ which again has an afterburn hostile of Shellac as though exchanging fist clenched swipes with the mighty Jesus Lizard, brutal stuff.
Hopefully back tomorrow, we’ll see ……