Friday night in Brighton and a headmaster

Had a lovely trip to Brighton Friday evening to play upstairs at the Three and Ten club. It was hosted by the lovely Jonny Fluffypunk who has a brilliant moustache and is terribly genial. I really like his material.

Also met the whimsical and delightful Project Adorno who did a very beautiful number about Germaine Greer, one of my great heroines. They had a lovely mask of her and one of the duo did a nice dance wearing it. They are smart boys with nice hair and suits. However, they live in Surrey, so John Citizen's idea that they would give me a lift home wasn't a good one.

Fortunately I got the ten past eleven train back to London, and on it met a delightful headmaster of an independent school. I showed him a proof print of the cover of my forthcoming poetry collection which seemed to impress, and gave him a copy of my CD. Apparently he makes stained glass and plays the cello. It was a gorgeous and unexpected late night transport encounter.

Anne Ford - music, and being unconventional, can save your head ...

After writing about Francesca Caccini, I thought I might dally my toes for a little while in some of the history of rather interesting female musicians and poets.

I have been an admirer of the very unconventional Ann Ford for some time. She played the viola da gamba, and English guitar and defied her father to perform in public.

Her infatuated lover wanted her to become his mistress and when she refused, he tried to sabotage her concerts. What an arsehole. How typical.

Anyway she ended up getting married as it helped her do what she really wanted to do. Unfortunately, when they were travelling to Italy, her husband died in Boulogne. This was the middle of the Reign of Terror and she got imprisoned. I'm not quite sure how these two facts are related, but never mind. The important fact in my opnion was that she was later released under a pardon for prisoners that could prove they could earn their living. Hurrah for her being a professional musician. Three hurrahs!

Fortunately she was painted by Thomas Gainsborough. This was just as well, as I expect I would never have heard of her otherwise.

Francesca Caccini and Modern Floods

I have been listening to Francesca Caccini's music on Lucie Skeaping's Early Music Show on BBC R3 and am so taken away with her melody and expressive ornamentation.

The word painting of this incipient operatic style is so breathtaking. This use of an emotionally affective solo vocal over a simple chordal accompaniment is very relevant to modern singer songwriters as well.

Here's the famous painting of Francesca.















Also, this morning at work I have been shotlisting aftermath of floods. So I have written some lyrics which relate to this experience, and intend to set them to an ornamented, emotionally affective vocal line over cello and uke.
Francesca and the Caccini family, thank you all for this inspiration.

Here are the simple lyrics. I love this idea, but have yet to see if it works in practice. I am convinced it will.

FLOOD SONG
It all happened so fast
I can't even put it into words
So much damage has been done
Everything that we had built is gone

We are left here with the water
And our neighbours who hug us
For they too have lost everything
And have no insurance

Too late for sandbags
In our rubber dinghy
We paddle the streets
Watching the rescue workers in waterproof clothing
outside the block of flats

They carry our old friend into the ambulance.
We talk, and wade and stand
And hold each other

Down upon the River Lee

Just back from a day spent on my friend's barge which he moors in East London. Lovely to spend a few hours in the company of the swan and geese families. On the boat you do feel a bit like a water bird yourself. They flock for crumbs when they see you eating; the parent swans chase the geese family off, and below them in the pecking order hovers the hopeful, hungry coot.

Great weather this summer, but the grass is so parched, all yellow and spikey. In the evening grey rabbits appear on the fringes of the path, then when some young man swaggers out of Tescos they disappear into the undergrowth. Industrial wasteland, pylons striding over fields of weeds, these make me think of the journey into Manchester which I used to do every Saturday to suffer/enjoy my piano lesson with Miss Musgrave and to spend the afternoon drawing with my cello-playing granddad.

Lhasa de Sela, Tramcar 41

I have been listening to Lhasa for inspiration, and have been learning La Maree Haute. Tremendous. I can't believe she's gone.

The passion and mood in her songs is legendary. From her I am discovering how to do more by slowing the song down. I have flirted with the slow, sparse song in country style in 'The Grim Reaper'; now 'Tramcar 41' joins that part of my repertoire, adding a Spanish / reggae hint.

This new song so far reminds me, very faintly, of 'Ghost Town' by the Specials which was such a massive hit in Thatcher's Britain. I don't have Rico's trombone so I'm forming my instrumental pieces by humming very low in my register and swooping. I get my mouth close to the neck and move up and down, pretending to myself that I am a cello bow.