Tuesday, October 07, 2014

Saturday matinee, tritone.

At around 2:30 Saturday afternoon, we shuffled into a tiny dark room to be flattened against the wall by the plutonium weight of infra-sound, that is Doom metal.

A puja for the wrathful gods.

Over a year ago now I guess...
Whilst waiting for white Hills.


Saw Opium Lord




Before then
The thrash aspect of Heavy
Had left me cold!

Just plain too fast and not

Dark enough.


In my youth
The cover of Black Sabbath's album

Had promised much.
Black is dark
Sabbath would be mumbling and shrieking and wearing velvet, a Game of Thrones kind of thing.

Put it this way
I thought the image on the cover was Borley rectory...
The most haunted house in England.


Why is it always a ghostly nun?!


But the music was mild.
And Borley was Mapledurham Watermill.

Safe as milk.



You know you want to sing along :)




Tony Iomi's tritone
The tritone is a restless interval, classed as a dissonance.
Was born.

From late night Hammer Horror faux medieval music.





Though it is said to be Giuseppe Tartini, rather than Tommy Iomi who has the first claim on the Diabolus in Musica.


On a sunny day
A Saturday matinee
At Temple of Boom

Into
A
Small
Dark
Room.

Sealclubber....

Then Slomatics...
who were     s  l  o  w       e  n  o   u    g    h.





Wednesday, October 01, 2014

Sugar is a necessary fluid.


  1. (redirected from Surrealist Art) 1. A 20th-century literary and artistic movement that attempts to express the workings of the subconscious and is characterized by fantastic imagery and incongruous juxtaposition of subject matter.



Monday, September 29, 2014

Empty nest.


Youngest has taken his duvet and gone to university.
Today he received his loan, so in theory

Today

...all is progressing in the right direction.

Yesterday, sat in a Korean restaurant
As I was eating the second chocolate mochi
I checked my phone.

Mistake.
Youngest wasn't making sense
Something about needing £2016.85p
The day before his loan.

My phone was almost out of battery.
I rummaged around in my bag for my long-life Nokia
Whilst I was searching
Husband rang son on his phone and handed it over to me.
I tried to work out my son thought that he needed £2000+

The expected charge for accommodation had been £1700 so I'd put that into his account
And why was he going to an ATM anyway?
I'd given him £100 in cash.

Just in case you thought that anyone could send their child to a London university and not need at least £2000 already saved....

Most of the time he was silent
Which was pretty annoying
Since I just wanted to know if I needed to do anything.

Why tell me if there is nothing to do about it?

It wasn't quite as bad as...
The mochi turning to ash
But it felt pretty bad.

And it didn't get any better since it is the latest instalment in a week of panic about things not done, things not said and statements from him that make us feel as if we have done something wrong.

Finally at around 10 pm he returned our calls to say that he had been out the night before, hanging out with the bassest from The Jesus and Mary Chain.



Poetic truth
Or truth?

But, you know what?

Why it felt so horrible to be taken from our previous night of bad sci-fi, good cider and next day of excellent dolsot bibimbap, and chocolate mochi.

We want time to ourselves.
Thirty years 'on call'.

I want time off!


Thursday, September 18, 2014

EVENTVWR.

I tend to take it all too seriously.
I become filled with righteous indignation.

So the name of this blog exists as a reminder to myself that when the ticks and leaches come calling, it is time to tell lies.

 'My address?'
'Sure, yes. I live at 37 Dagon street'

Much better to keep them talking.
Much more satisfying....

A few days ago I entered phase one of this scam. I had passed the stupid enough test. Yea go me! and this morning I entered the second phase.

Madam was meant to use the cmd line eventvwr.

Which she did.

Madame was meant to be horrified by the proof of hackers recorded in her PC

She wasn't.

Madame was meant to go to a web site that was spelt out to me very very slowly.

Madame typed the letters into Notepad.

Madame was asked to click on the link....

Here is my recording.
A bit long perhaps, but I hope it provides inspiration to anyone else who has work to do and so craves anything that wastes time!





Sunday, September 14, 2014

Underground.


We visited the in-laws last week....
There is plenty to say about that.
Most of it I have said before.

It just gets worse.

Last night we set off for Darlston, London.
To a busy road
Not unlike Broad street
To a door in a wall
Down some stairs
Into....

How could I tell?

Along the street were many such doors indicating a partitioning of something large and underground.

Concrete sections.
Drainage pipes along the ceilings.

We had come to see my son's band Mirrorhall.




Afterwards
The frantic push through Saturday night London.

On the long road home
The temperature dropped and I began to get really cold.

Really cold on a motorbike
Feels like cold water is being poured under your clothes.

The M40 is an expanse of darkness.
No street lights
No cat's eyes.

Got home at 3:30 AM and slept until 12.

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Once upon a time....

Once Upon a Time there were two boys.
Jack and Tom.
When the time came for them to leave their small house deep in the woods their mother dug down deep into the earth of her Grandfather's grave for the gifts her father had had buried, to keep safe until this day.

As the sun disappeared and the sky grew black with storm clouds their mother pulled two black boxes out of the ground and quickly hid them inside a sack. The rain began to fall and they hurried straight back home so that the boxes could be opened where no one except Tom and Jack would see what was inside....



When the boxes were opened their mother handed the presents her grandfather had so carefully won, and her father so carefully hidden, to her boys.



Drum sticks gilded with the fire of the sun for Tom,




...and a pen cast from a single star, filled with ink brewed from the darkest nights, for Jack.

Thursday, September 04, 2014

Sun flow...

If it had been sport.

If any of my kids had required me to stand on a muddy field in wind and rain with other parents shouting about football.

I would have had to take a book...
An mps player loaded with Swans...Bo Ningen....Tool
I'd have been ostracised by the other parents.

It would not have been good.

Instead I have handed over wads of cash for amps and amp-heads...
Driven hundreds of miles
Driven all night.

Bands in the hall,
Bands in the kitchen
Amps, drum kits, guitars all over the house

All good
Except finding parking spaces close enough to a venue for unloading, in particular The Black Star @ 24 kg

Last night after collecting Jim's drums I almost drove up a tunnel that would have got me an instant fine, and finished with parking on a double yellow, trying not to hyperventilate, waiting for the band to collect the final bass pedal.

Six hours latter, after the gig, I was again parked on the same double yellow. Now it was my friend. One of the better stopping places as the pace of city-life accelerated past 'The Golden Turkish Scissors' and kebab houses, towards midnight.

Before then...

The Sunflower Lounge
Had big screens showing
Sport...

I hurriedly drank down my ginger beer and made my way down the narrow staircase, into the dark.

Pink Violence was on stage, followed by April, and then LSA and the audience was getting bigger. The stairs began to fill..

Someone handed out the kelidascope spectacles...

Youth Man turned up.




It was good!

Mirrorhall Sunflower lounge. 3rd September. 2014.