Wade-aid: Orlando Seale at the Tabernacle W11. Plus lots more.

                                 Orlando Seale and the Swell


Wade Bayliss was back at the tabernacle last night for another of his Island Experiments and he has been tinkering with his formula since the last one.
The 'house band' being joined by guests set up has been replaced with a less chaotic running order of artists MC'd by Wade in his now familiar white jacket (a jacket which seems to get whiter as it gets older)


I missed IN XANADU and ANDY MITCHELL  but was in time to catch the indescribably cool  CUTHBERT 80 with JAMES SIMMINS & PATRICK LONG  and CHELSEA DIXON. 

HAYLEY TUCKER who gave us three songs with that belter of a voice of hers. 


Cool VALENTIN GERLIER arrived with a duet of vocal assistants providing the harmonies, replacing the advertised string quartet. He has some fine, well crafted and soulful songs.
  
I had not heard of JAKE EMLYN.

Why not? He has the appearance of the love child of Brian Jones and Marianne Faithful sitting elfin like behind a keyboard resplendent in red velvet and topper. his songs (he don't rap, he tells us. But he do) are joyfully observational, riddled with angst, insecurity, self assurance, Hilarity, naivety, wisdom and pathos, all delivered in a wonderfully camp manner. Deliciously funny and very very good. If Jake doesn't become a star there is something wrong with the world.


Wade and his band: PATRICK LONG, MARTIN SAVALE , JAYGUN, MATT WINN, MR TOM BONES + HENRY BLAKE played us through to the headline act of the evening:

ORLANDO SEALE AND THE SWELL. 


I've known Orlando for a couple of years, first saw him perform at the Troubadour and then he very kindly took part in one of my spoken word/music things in the Tabernacle bar in 2009. Things have moved on and Orlando arrived back at the Tabernacle with a 10 piece band (including strings, flute, clarinet and a number of drums) fresh from his BBC Live sessions success and blew the place away with a short but brilliant set. His band is very, very good and tight - orchestral training certainly brings discipline by the shed-load. Orlando's stage experience (he is a multi-talented man) shone through in his demeanour and commitment.
I am not going to attempt to describe what these people do save to say that it is Big in every sense , almost operatic in it's ambition. Orlando's lyrics are literary and lyrical, considered and there for a purpose. It's rock and roll for grown ups.
The set was far too short followed by the delightful scene of the man coming to the front of the stage for 10 minutes to chat with well wishers and new fans... By the way, Orlando is a babe magnet.


It was a consistently good night and testament to Wade's growing alchemy skills.The next experiment is in a couple of months.


Orlando Seale and the Swell are playing at the Union chapel London N1. on June 4th. It is a fantastic venue and it promises to be something special. 


I will be posting a separate blog-entry on Orlando and the Swell in the coming days.

La Belle Dame sans Merci 

JOHN KEATS

O, what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,

       Alone and palely loitering?

The sedge has withered from the lake,

       And no birds sing.

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,

       So haggard and so woe-begone?

The squirrel’s granary is full,

       And the harvest’s done.

I see a lily on thy brow,

       With anguish moist and fever-dew,

And on thy cheeks a fading rose

       Fast withereth too.

I met a lady in the meads

       Full beautiful—a faery’s child,

Her hair was long, her foot was light,

       And her eyes were wild.

I made a garland for her head,

       And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;

She looked at me as she did love,

       And made sweet moan.

I set her on my pacing steed,

       And nothing else saw all day long,

For sidelong would she bend, and sing

       A faery’s song.

She found me roots of relish sweet,

       And honey wild, and manna-dew,

And sure in language strange she said—

       ‘I love thee true’.

She took me to her elfin grot,

       And there she wept and sighed full sore,

And there I shut her wild wild eyes

       With kisses four.

And there she lullèd me asleep,

       And there I dreamed—Ah! woe betide!—

The latest dream I ever dreamt

       On the cold hill side.

I saw pale kings and princes too,

       Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;

They cried—‘La Belle Dame sans Merci

       Thee hath in thrall!’

I saw their starved lips in the gloam,

       With horrid warning gapèd wide,

And I awoke and found me here,

       On the cold hill’s side.

And this is why I sojourn here,

       Alone and palely loitering,

Though the sedge is withered from the lake,

       And no birds sing.

For two voices.

He said:
I can't sleep
Are you awake
I can't sleep
Are you awake I can't sleep
I can't sleep
I can't sleep
Are you awake I can't sleep for thinking about you.

She said:
If you were thinking about me you would let me sleep
go to sleep.

The Royal Wedding.

I shall not be watching the thing and, beyond this statement, will not be commenting. To me Royal weddings are merely the precursor to the serious business of Royal infidelity followed by Royal divorce. All of which is fuelled by the press.

Leave the kids alone. Marriage is hard enough without the added pressure of being hounded 24 hours a day.

I shall not be writing a 'Wedding poem' either.

Poly Styrene. RIP. So sad.

This message came from Poly's team this morning:

Poly Styrene

We can confirm that the beautiful Poly Styrene, who has been a true fighter, won her battle on Monday evening to go to higher places. Love, the PS Team

Help save the Inn on the Green.

The Inn on the Green, Portobello. W11 is threatened with imminent closure:


Neleswa Mclean-Thorne writes:   "Well folks, our beloved Inn On The Green has come upon hard times. Their landlords are attempting to shut them down due to rent arrears; which The Inn have made every attempt to clear. However with the recession, followed by the local council/landlords cutting lobs and raising rents in the area, it has been a struggle. After many years of dedicated service to the community on Wednesday 13th April Inn On The Green were given 17days (until the 30th April) to "…clear the venue of all their belongings" A large group of patrons, promoters, artists and event organisers who have had the privilege of benefiting from the unique welcoming ethos of The Inn have come together. We plan to do everything in our power to delay closure by 6months so that we can have a chance to raise the money needed to save this invaluable community resource. What Can You Do? We have are having regular meetings in the venue at the moment all are welcome to attend and we will be posting them as they occur. We are also planning a protest outside of the Westway Development Trust Office (landlords), 1 Thorpe Close, London, W10 5XL - Wednesday 27th April - So far we are beginning to: - Involving Media, Print, Web, Radio - Contacting local MP's - Protest - Private Investors - Registering as a Charitable Organisation - Charitable Funding All in-put is welcome and appreciated so if you are able to make it down this evening please feel encouraged to do so, if not please do post any idea's you have... A Save IOTG Music Marathon event of music, poetry, comedy, performance art, exhibits (all of what the venue has encouraged throughout the years) is taking place from Saturday April 30th. In order to raise awareness, raise money in the short-term and boost moral. If you would like to be involved in the 24hr event please let us know. Details are posted on  Save the Inn On The Green. <3 to you all, thanks.





Ray Roughler Jones interviewing Mick Jones (no relation) at the Inn on the Green.

Loco Cabaret at the Grand Union.

Laid back.


That's the expression I was looking for. 


Loco Cabaret happens fortnightly at the Grand Union bar which is situated on the corner of Woodfield road in W9 (a two minute walk from Westbourne Park underground station) and overlooking the canal. Last night seemed like a good time to check it out. I know co-host James Simmins from past events at the Island and the Tabernacle and was curious as to what they were getting up to at this recently started residency.


I arrived early, bought a beer then sat in the garden watching the sunlight fade on the (let's be honest) turgid waters of the Grand Union canal. Flotilla's of ducks picking their way serenely through the water-borne detritus of city life added to the scene.


There was not a big crowd in the place (at one point early in the proceedings James was able to thank his audience personally and by name) but not surprising considering it was Easter Saturday during a heatwave and then suddenly beset by rain, fat meaty globs of rain which cleared the air but cleared the streets.


Laid back is what you get at Loco Cabaret, nothing pretentious or earnest, the sense that everyone involved was enjoying themselves was present and there was an interesting mix of acts:


Very good Jazz/blues guitar  from "Panama" Dave Parrett and Kalvin Zemzaris opened proceedings followed by Orson Deimel, Kosmic Troubador; who is quite frankly mad as a hatter and hilarious, Neil Anderson, the delightful Emma Lyndon-Stanford, Cuthbert 80 - rapper/singer extraordinaire and James himself with co-host Dan Antrubus. Dan along with Marty from Asian Dub foundation on bass gave us a refreshing take on 'Foxy Lady' (excellent). There was also Dave on djembe and Simon, & Christine on bass.



All in all rather akin to being at a party full of musicians and singers and the door onto the garden made smoking breaks a doddle.


The next one is on May 7th. I heartily recommend it. 


Downstairs @ The Grand Union Bar

W9 2BA - 45 Woodfield Rd

London, United Kingdom

Murray Lachlan Young's 'Burlesque' at the Drill Hall. Now called 'The Incomers'!

Update. April 2013: Burlesque has now become 'The Incomers' and is currently touring. Click on the photo (right) for details.

I witnessed something very wonderful tonight.

In a small black lined room beneath the Drill Hall in London a cast of four, directed by Paul Jepson,  performed a read through of Murray Lachlan Young's verse play 'Burlesque'.

'For fuck's sake a read through of a verse play.' I hear you groan. Well my biddies twas a polished piece of Cornish granite slapped onto the London clay.

The plot of course was truly bonkers and all the more real for that; Murray, in order to be a great humourist, is firstly a great and attentive observer of our times... Or perhaps his times. It involved the visit by a London cokehead, Porsche driving wideboy and his hot young squeeze to old friends in rural Cornwall. It was all about power and of course the power of sex and of course that power belonged to the hot young squeeze. It however (like shakespeare) never once looked to farce to save it's bacon. I'm saying no more than that.

A verse play of this ambition could have been an awful thing, could have been bum numbingly Art house, could have been perverse. Murray's play is a delight; Playfully funny stabbed by daggers of reality, relationship truths, lies and insecurities. This was Joe Orton, Dylan Thomas and the Angry young Men on coke. I wish Ken Tynan had been here to witness it.

The players: Rory Wilton, Mary Woodvine, Jerome Wright and Kirsty Osmon were impeccably cast and did their job with skill, enthusiasm and joy.

All in all seriously good.

The development of Burlesque has only been possible through financial support from the National Lottery through Arts Council England. It needs extra funding and support now and if you love good British theatre give it a boost. Check out www.murraylachlanyoung.co.uk to find out how.

Matthew Linley, the producer deserves a namecheck too: www.matthewlinley.wordpress.com

Viv Albertine's Debut Solo Album : Please Donate Now!

The Liar of Kowloon, Green tea, love and poetry.

My old friend So Su Mi, the fragrant oriental 'liar of Kowloon', dropped in today for a cup of green tea and a fish paste sandwich.

So Su Mi was the inspiration years ago for my poem 'Lying to me was the only honest thing she done'  and her habit of wearing plastic gardenias (sprayed with feminine deodorant 'to keep them fragrant') in her hair never ceased to amuse me. Whenever she visits she rifles through my notebooks for words to steal and I always count the silver when she's gone.

So Su Mi once stole my collection of dolls eyes.

So Su Mi is in love! This was the reason for her visit: 'I am in love'. She trilled as she entered the room. 'I am really in love. Really really in love'.

I gave her a chair before she had time to steal anything and poured the tea. 'Tell me about him'. I said.

She went on at length: 'He is amazing. He is not like any other man; he is handsome, he is intelligent, he does not smell, he is rich, he adores me, he is the only man I have ever felt was my equal, did I tell you he is rich....'

I allowed her to waffle on in this manner for a good half hour before interjecting with the question: 'And where did you meet him?'

'Oh we have only talked on facebook. He loves my poetry and is teaching me about the beauty of everything around me. I feel that I am on some special journey into an unknown land and he is handsome, rich, intelligent blah blah blah etc'.

'And what do you want from me So Su Mi'. I asked.

'I need some more poems to blind him with. I cannot fool him with my usual 'cut and pastes' from the Oxford book of Modern Verse. Give me some poetry'.

I handed her my Morocco bound, signed, first edition of the collected works of McGonagal having first 'bookmarked' 'The Tay Bridge Disaster'. Saying: 'Here. This should be perfect'.

She thrust the book into her faux Gucci handbag, smeared me with a sneering kiss and oozed oleogenously from my house.

She telephoned me twenty minutes ago. Telling me that it is all over: 'I hate him. He is a psycho after all. His profile picture  wasn't him and he isn't rich. He is a security guard at Tesco. I have called the police; his credit card was snatched back by the ATM when I tried to use it. He questioned my lies. He tried to make me pay for coffee and he is a liar'.

'What did he think of McGonegal'. I asked.

'Oh. I sold that shitty old book and bought some glitter'.

'Goodbye So Su Mi'. I lisped as I hung up.

The Handsome Family - Weightless Again.mov

The Handsome Family are coming to the Tabernacle in May... Yeeha!

The Wellcome Collection and welcome recollection.

Why do they allow people to walk around galleries touting back-packs? The Wellcome Collection is not the foothills of the Himalayas or the Brecon Beacons even; It is a fucking gallery.

DIRT The Filthy Reality of Everyday Life (Unnecessarily clumsily laid out within their self described 'Versatile Space'. Nothing more than a laboratory maze of an exhibition, quite fitting I suppose in light of Wellcomes origins) is a celebration of dirt.

Educational I suppose for the young but to me a depressing deviation from the interesting; promulgating the myth that education must always centre on shit. To me just a deviation from the good stuff. I have no interest in poking about in stools.

The cafe was busy.

It was a chilly, rainy afternoon and a curious venue for a meeting with a woman I had not seen for 40 years. An on-line question of identity had lead to this event.

As I waited for her (would I recognise her?) My head screamed: Run, never go back, never revisit the past: That forgotten dusty cupboard on some long lost landing.

But the cafe was busy.

That she is small and blonde is all I had to go on; there will be no school uniform now, no green bowler hat to tip me off. she will have to make herself known to me.

As it was I saw her first.

What fun.

Pear cider, Yuri Gagarin and flouting the law.

To celebrate Yuri Gagarin bursting my birthday balloon all those years ago I am drinking a bottle of Magners pear cider. It is very fizzy.

In my youth this stuff was called Babycham and came in tiny nip sized bottles. I can remember bringing home as 'carry-outs' from my under-age sorties to the village pub a bottle of Babycham for my mother and a bottle of barley-wine for the old man.

It was considered infra dig (for a teenager in those days) not to flout the drinking laws in rural England. It was OK though because the pub landlord was also the village bobby and would monitor proceedings.

It was a good system, as systems go, and as good systems go... It went*. Now kids have to make do with buying bottles of Diamond White to skulkily consume on the street.

* Apologies to 'Saki' H. H. Munro.