THE BEST BEFORE DATE - 1998 - Abdul & Cleopatra by Jonathan Richman

Its easy to underestimate Jonathan Richman, he can be so whimsical and playfully to appear like a naif man/child. And certainly at the height of his popularity with Egyptian Reggae it did look like rock n roll went to the local play school. I saw him live at least a couple of times and it was live that you experienced how he could take over the hearts of an audience and say look lets play for a while. Yes, there is bucket loads of sentimentality, but it nevertheless has real heart, and this moves you. So you listen with delight to a song called I'm A little Dinosaur, and come away from a concert with all your cynicism momentarily removed. But then there are songs like Lonely Financial Zone which beautifully capture the soulessness of a financial district when everything is closed for the weekend. I guess what I'm saying is the guy had charm and the talent to back it up.

What I appreciate about Abdul & Cleopatra is how firmly tongue in cheek it is, the lyrics on occasion delightfully forced into their rhymes.

'Adbul's not seen Cleopatra, It's been almost now a year, And how I wonder where she's at-ra, As I wander through this world.'

This is classic Jonathan Richman, great sense of rock n roll at its most pure direct and punchy, allied to a silliness that is wonderful to hear unfold. 

'Well, Cleopatra take my patience and test it. Test it, Cleopatra take your time as you may. My time has been well spent. I dun cleaned up my tent. You'll like it when you see it someday.'

SHERINGHAM DIARY 105 - The Eternal Minute

Sometimes on social media you have to just double check yourself, when something does not remain as it was at the time of writing. I posted a film review recently in which ' a classic piece of 'show not tell' film making' got auto corrected to "shoe not tell". Which I imagine is cinema for foot fetshists and chiropodists, about unsightly 'onions' and 'chalices'.

24th February 2024

Tomorrow is a week since we set up Cottonwood Home as part of the craft offering at Seagulls & Samphire. And we had enough sales this Saturday to cover our basic monthly fee. It appears to be working. Early days obviously. This February Half Term was not great weather and it is usually a bit of a blip that then flatlines until Easter arrives. And Easter is not till the end of March. So let's wait and see. The fitting out went smoothly as you can see from the photos. There is a bit of refining and tweaking still to be done in some areas. But this was a good enough start.

Preparing and getting it all together did however prove utterly draining. It was the first full on week we've had since the shop closed. This present week has been one of energy recharge and recovery. Both of us developed muscle strains in our chest, that seemed an odd bit of synchronicity. We've been luxuriating in days off, doing nothing, finding pleasure in our own creativity, and coffee in a variety of local cafes.

25th February 2024

A bit of a bummer this week - our car (Barbara the Meriva ) suddenly developed a gear malfunction mid week. Hubby only just got it to the local garage in time. They haven't had a look at it as yet. But they've forewarned it could be either a quick two day job or up to a month before its fixed. So we are having to get re- accustomed to being carless. Walking in and out of town. Doing smaller shops and online food orders. All things we used to do when we first arrived in Upper Sheringham and were without a car. That was seven years ago this coming April !

All the things that having a car makes easier, suddenly develop a huge layer of impediment and complexity. Buying big or heavy things makes you have to use buses more. But buses around here are few and far between, to and from Upper Sheringham. You have to think quite strategically about bus timetables and making the best use of the time between your arrival and departure.  

27th February 2024

When is a minute not a minute. ie. not actually a minute in length? What is the longest minute you can ever experience?  Well, you know at the end of cycle in a washing machine, that last minute, the one that takes an absolute age. You stand there impatiently waiting to open the door, watching the 1 minute go on and on, till it eventually disappears with a click. How long was that minute? Well we have timed these, just as a piece of public information gathering. So using our Hotpoint machine as the test, in a forty minute wash, that final minute is actually a minute and a half. But on a thirty minute wash, that minute lasts the enormous length of twelve minutes. You read it right, twelve whole minutes! 

29th February 2024

Being carless reminded me today of the days in my upbringing in Halifax when the fishmonger would drive up the back terrace to sell off the back of his van. So much has been lost to our age of easy convenience. The consequence of which is that Upper Sheringham no longer has a shop or pub to service the needs of its locality. Though it would probably be one of the first things to make a return should our petro-economy collapse.

ITS JUST WRONG - ITS JUST WRONG - ITS JUST WRONG

The much uttered words of the week have been the above mantra, which is as far as our government can go to explain why Lee Anderson had to lose the party whip.  The fact that the Tory party has a deeply ingrained problem with Islamophobia cannot be mentioned. Somehow Islamophobia has been turned by some into a mild justified response, and not at all bad, not like the filthy antisemitism some Labour party members indulge in. Oh, and Mr Anderson, it is a noticeable sign of weakness if you cannot apologise or admit you've made a mistake. Feeble masculinity often chooses to masquerades itself as taking a firm principled stance over the corpse of their reputation.

QUOTATION MARKS - Martin Shaw - Dreaming

"I'm interested in dreaming.
I'm interested in the idea that Christianity
has forgotten its a dream, and
what I mean by that, 
is not the kind of dream
where you've eaten too much cheese,
not the kind of dream 
where your Mother turns into a sofa,
but the kind of dream
where you wake up, and you say -
'I have to change my life'.

Martin Shaw - Storyteller and Mythologist.

200 Words On - At The Heart Of Resistance

Whatever the political creed of authoritarian, they are no friend to democratic ideals, beyond the point of getting elected through them. The trickster nature of fascism, is all about the effective merchandising of a fantasy ideal.

Our civilisation is bewildered. We no longer have a lived sense for what drove the post war liberal consensus, a concept we are so easily prone to satirically deride. Our faith in it appears lost. We do still want to have faith in something, to have our faith renewed. What do we now put our faith in?

However, trust has been badly bruised through repeated disappointment. Putting our faith in anything, is easily sabotaged by cynicism. Cautiousness stymies our commitment. When faith has vanished, when we don't know what we are fighting for or don't want to fight for anything anymore. How can we resist?

Buddhism has no direct equivalent for faith, the nearest is sraddha which means - that which you rest your heart upon. To resist the inhumanity of political extremism, requires we reconnect with what we still rest our heart upon. Then to consider how best to resist, defend and fight for that. Our words cannot remain empty of motive and purpose.

THE BEST BEFORE DATE - 2010 - Wonderful Life by Hurts

This is one crackingly good song, surrounded by a cleanly orchestrated full body of synths and rhythms, saxophones, guitar and a impassive vocal. It's off beat tumbling back rhythm moves the song along on its positivist route. Whilst the rest of it exudes a weary European melancholic drone. Whilst he reminds his love object not to let go of the wonderfulness of life.

It's a shame that this never made sufficient impact in the UK charts at the time. Perhaps it referred back too much to a previous era of synth duos, to stand out as distinct twenty years later.  Hurts have gone on to have greater success in Europe than the UK. But nothing they've released seems quite to match the song quality and production glory of this debut single.

Ditto its video. When Hurts got picked up by RCA they completely re did the original video. It was all monumental Modernism and Mediterranean lifestyle with statuesque dancers galore. Whereas the original video looked like it was set and filmed in someone's basement living room. Starkly heightened black and white, exaggerated textures, the fuzzed edges to the film framing, all hiding a lot underneath its stylistic sheen. The background behind composed of carpet tiles and rolls of fibre insulation.

Then there are the two guys. One blank faced on the synth, the other expressionless on the microphone. Oh, and a female friend who they brought in just because they know she can dance. Dressed in a black lace off the shoulder dress. She stares out at nothing, and when called for to gesticulate, her limbs moving wildly in angles to the music. During one pause, you see her pulling down the bottom of her dress, to straighten the hemline. The posed gaucheness of this video really works, it said something quite distinct about Hurst as a group, a mixture of rough and smooth.. The second video version the record company, took elements of the first and threw money at them, but could never hope to capture or improve on. It had an honest rough arty edge, whilst the other was a conventionally stylish bit of slick fakery.

200 WORDS ON - The Fascist

Increasing populism, fundamentalism and authoritarianism are red flags, warning of the decline of a democracy. A Fascist administration is slowly slipping into being a possibility.

Described as 'the politics of them & us' what Fascism brings to the table is an unbridled Nationalism. Often attempting to restore a nations pride through mythologising a period when the country was deemed to be great.

Fascism tends to emerge in countries already broken and on their knees. The Fascist leader arrives posing as a man of the people, come to save his country from its destitute state. Desperate people do desperate things, Where a bit of lite fascism might do us all a bit of good.

Fascist's arrive and take a wrecking ball to the countries democratic governance and culture. State persecution, media disinformation, social division, racism, misogyny, homophobia, a climate of fear is cultivated around the idea of enemies within, here dissent itself becomes traitorous, all become prevalent.

Fascists will never leave office quietly, they usually having to be removed by force or assassination.. All Fascist administrations triumph via one man's ego gratification and end in egregious tyranny. The toppling spirit of democratic freedom and renewal can takes quite a while to re-emerge.

VIDEOS OF - River Stiffkey In Flood

 

Now, the River Stiffkey is for most of its length is narrow and slow flowing, it gently ambles its way to the sea. But these videos I took at Walsingham Abbey show it can be a bit of a demon when roused.

SHERINGHAM DIARY No 105 - Snowdrops in Walsingham

In the aftermath of seemingly endless assaults of storms and torrential rain, the rivers of England have protested by bursting their banks and spreading themselves far and wide across old flood plains, once thought moribund. Devasting homes and land to a point not seen since the deluges of biblical imagination.

And so it is, that even a small minnow like river such as the Stiffkey, that runs through Walsingham on its way to the sea marshes of Stiffkey itself, has transformed itself from a gentle and refined meandering into a surging swirl of taupe coloured mud.

Into this freakish swelling overwhelming moment, comes a more expected time of transformation, the blanketing of Walsingham Abbey's grounds with clump after clump of pure white snowdrops. And humankind of all ages and genders pay to wander through its archaic beauty. The first brightness, a glimmering at the end of winter,is now positively nigh.

It's a special time anyway, but this year the fresh water course that once brought monastics to build on this site, is swirling itself forcefully across the Abbey's grounds. Bringing an unknown drama to the starkly broken minimalism of window arches and buttress ruins, not perhaps seen for centuries. This was just one huge thrill of nature, thrusting and asserting its power to be manifesting in an unexpected form this time.

SHERINGHAM DIARY No 104 - Assume Form

February 1st 2024

I continue doing an hours work in the garage most days. Anymore than that has the potential at least, to tip one's mood from intial frustration into despondancy. But this affect is easing as the garage nears being sorted put. The task is reaching its later stages, down to six boxes that require to be gone through, getting rid of the bikes and junk, and reassembling our old shop counter to be our online packaging station. 

I've also begun excavating a trench in the detritus that is currently overwhelming the damp course, removing this from the outside walls. I'm doing it in small stages, as I sense this will strain my back should I overdo it. All sorts of stuff, have I discovered, dumped there over the years. Today I found an electric iron, complete with flex. The rest is litter, hedge trimmings and assorted building rubble.

February 2nd 2024

I've had a knitting project, a meditation blanket, left unfinished from last year. I bought the yarn two years ago at Worsted Wool Fair. Running out of the wool stymied me in the completing of it. But I suddenly got inspiration and before you know it, its now done. Today I 'blocked' the first section of the lengthy immensity of it. This is currently occupying the bedroom floor whilst it drys out.

During any garage sort out you rediscover things you've half forgotten existed. I have half a dozen of my artworks stored in the garage. One has been in a half dismantled state for quite some time. It needs a bit of tlc and a bit of renovation - voila! - a new project has emerged. 

February 3rd 2024

We bought a hyacinth in the supermarket the other day. Watered it, excavated a nice pot from the pantry to put it in. After only a few days in the warmth of our lounge, the flowers began to grow, and then surge. It became clear it was bolting wildly. They then began to lean precipitously toward the windows direction, seeking the light. I put them actually in the window hoping they would move back upright. No such restoration of verticality was achieved. However, it struck me there was in a certain prostrate elegance, straight out of a Meredith Frampton painting. And so decided to just let it be.

February 8th 2024

As the month progresses our post shop world has begun to assume form. Experimenting with having shops as stockists of our makes. We now have our best selling lampshades, soaps, makeup bags and notebooks in Cottage Beads & Crystals. A shop next door to our old shop site in The Courtyard in Sheringham.

We have now entered the making phase for our next task. Preparing to merchandise a section of Seagulls & Samphire, a craft makers outlet in Blackney, to take our stock. This is happening in about a weeks time. This stockist idea is very new for us. Planning our making to ensure we have sufficient backup, in an early stage. We will learn from experience how it works, and how much effort it requires to keep on top of it. We have other potential stockists in Wells next the Sea and Old Hunstanton.

In the meantime I have stock to make, but mostly I'm getting my head around possible ideas for merchandising the area in Blakeney. I had a look at the area last week. I find it a challenge to work out how to make best use of anything when its in the abstract. I need an active sense of a space and trying out ideas within it. Only then can I tell you what will work and what won't.

February 9th 2024

Yesterday I bought wool for a new personal knitting project - a sleeveless jumper in a gansey style pattern. The wool is a lovely golden mustard colour. The pattern is executed largely in the round, which will be a new thing for me. Past experience with using preparatory knitting swatches as a guide, is they are not infallible. So much can be down to informed but subjective interpretation, and the knitting tension you actually achieve can vary with personal mood. 

I've chosen a suitable yarn, it's DK 100% Shetland wool. This knits up and holds its integrity well. Some wool I experimented with behaved like an elastic band and was a nightmare to knit evenly and maintain tension with. I've not begun knitting it yet, there is a degree of nervous hesitancy hanging around. I'll start whenever I feel ready. Observing the jumper as it assumes form on my needles.

February 16th 2024

On Sunday we install our stock in Seagull & Samphire in Blakeney. Its been the first really full on week with making, since we closed the shop. Hubby has also to fit it around his part time work, which being half term is more time demanding. We have just had to decide to do what we can do, and be OK with that. We have an idea of how we want it to look and be stocked like. But we'll refine that over the next few weeks. I've finished my work on merchandising stands, just a few clocks to make now. We install on Sunday. We will end up taking way more than we will need. To be honest I can't wait to get stuck in, and find out how best to work the space. Watching it assume its form before my very eyes.

LISTENING TO - Drop 7 - by Little Simz

Little Simz has apparently being doing these Drop sessions for a while, hence we have already reached No 7. They are similar to preparatory sketches. Presenting, in rough outline and brief notes of colour, what may or may not, be oracles of work to come in the future. These may feel like slight, even half formed things,  but they possess their own power nonetheless.

Little Simz has rightly had a lot of accolades showered upon her since the magnificence of Sometimes I Might be Introvert. Transcending the overambitious and portentous aspects of it, such as those empowering therapy 'interludes'.  No Thankyou, that followed, sounded very like outakes remaining from the previous albums sessions. Justified though that was by including some great stuff like Gorilla, it felt like she was just marking out in a time of transition.

Drop 7, is seven tracks varying in length from just under a minute in length, to a single worthy three minutes plus. These are all huge steps away from the dramatically orchestrated storytelling of the previous two albums. A central highlight of Introvert, was the track Point & Kill. This fusion of afro beat with her rap styling was an immensely visceral and invigorating listen. 

The best of Drop 7 taps into aspects of that vibe, but takes it somewhere else entirely, tapping into her own version of techo afro futurism. such as on Mood Swings. 

In comparison to the lushness of her recent work, these feel paired back cooled syntheses. Echoes of African drums and wind instruments pop up as rhythmic high hits and embellishments. Her raps, on ocassions, take on a playground skipping chant like quality dancing over the top, as on S.O.S.

What I'm enjoying about Drop 7 is seeing her further blossom as an artist. Success and praise came slowly to her. Now it has arrived, she is confident in herself and her own creative process. She is not ready to sit back and rest on her laurels, however well earned. Judging by Drop 7, there is much more to come. I for one can't wait to see where that takes us next.

CARROT REVIEW  - 7/8

QUOTATION MARKS - Martin Shaw - Damaged Language

" The language that we speak these days
is a very damaged language.
We speak a language of danger
of trauma and pain
and these things are absolutely real.....
A story has to be significant to you
for you to remember it.
It has to give you that bolstering,
that largesse."

Martin Shaw - Storyteller & Mythologist

FILM CLUB - The Silence - 1963

Bergman Faith Trilogy

Two women are travelling on a train with a young boy. The boy. Johan, is the son of one of the women, Anna. The other woman is her sister Esther, who is seriously ill, and is seen consumptively coughing up blood. Johan left to his own devices, watches the endless queues of army tanks passing by from the train windows. Esther's illness forces them to stop off in a small town Timoka, staying in a large but sparsely populated hotel. The town has dispossessed people on horse drawn carts carrying all their possessions passing through. Whatever place the family have arrived in, this is a country riven by some sort divisive conflict.

So there is a constant and palpable unease surrounding them. Feeding into the frisson of tension between the two women. So much about who they are, how each sees the other, is inferred or mentioned only in passing.  Esther's previously dependent relationship on her deceased Father, seems to have been an entirely unhealthy one. There is strong incestuous air between Esther and her sister, one that Anna wants to break free of. 

There is silence because there are secrets that cannot be openly spoken of here. No one is really talking about what they want, only what they don't want. Why have they ended up here? What was the original purpose of their 'little trip'? Were they originally trying to escape a home situation, and a husband, that was itself unbearable? 

The Secret has a minimal script with little meaningful dialogue. Bergman wished in retrospect he'd gone further on cutting back the amount of spoken lines.There is also, for 1963 a remarkable amount of nudity. Film distributors being extremely nervous about it at the time.The Silence has ended up as one of Bergman's top rated films. It's a superb, almost text book example of a film devoted to the 'show not tell' movie doctrine.

It does not appear clear at first, why this film is  part of Bergman's Faith Triology. If anything it is bereft of religious commemt or spiritual feeling, which is probably the point. Here is what an absence of faith looks like. One could, however, read it as an allegory. Everyone is travelling through life without any sense of purpose, seeking love as self gratification. The Father ( God  ) is already dead. Without his presence the women's relationship, and the broader world, has become dysfunctional, surrounded by wars, death camps, incest, untold amounts of suffering. All sorts of dubious preferences now fill the moral vacuum of 'the God shaped hole'. The world is a much colder hostile place and lacks human feeling, without any common point of reference. Everyone is dissatisfied with everything and everyone.

In the previous two films individual characters were struggling with doubt or losing their faith altogether. In The Silence there is no faith left anywhere. There is nothing but nihilism and a whole wide desert of meaninglessness. These few individuals are rattling around Europe robbed of any overarching sense of purpose. Staying in a mostly empty hotel in a collapsing society. Esther is drowning her real feelings in a diet of cigarettes and alcohol. Anna tries through seeking casual sexual encounters to fill her sense of emptiness. But niether finds their strategies really satisfy them or provide them with a sense of renewed direction in their lives. This is a despairing Godless world that feels completely moribund, and goodness is it bleak.

CARROT REVIEW - 7/8

200 WORDS ON - The Authoritarian

The Authoritarian is frequently a populist, and a fundamentalist, but not wholly so. The Authoritarian exists on the political extremes left or right. Though elected by democratic vote, they do not believe in liberal permissiveness, accountability, cooperation, fairness or justice. Unless these suit their own agenda. Reforming the political system is done for their own singular advantage.

The Authoritarian leader, possesses charisma in order to bring the will of the people on board and be electable That charisma acting as a charming spell concealing the slight of hand beneath. Upholding freedom of speech only to the extent it gets them heard. Opposition overtime becomes subjugated and slyly silenced. Rights to protest, access to justice, challenging government policy, human rights are curtailed.

The longer The Authoritarian stays in power the constraints of democracy begin to chafe too much. Any sense of being a democracy increasingly becomes a sham, decoupling themselves from the rule of law or need to compromise. A parliamentary majority lets them impose legislation, control the media, demonise minorities in society.

The Authoritarian holds elections merely to further self aggrandise the leaders ego. The voting system is effectively rigged. By stealth an elected dictatorship has formed under your nose.

QUOTATION MARKS - Martin Shaw - Place

"We are of a place, not from a place."

Martin Shaw - Storyteller & Mythologist

FINISHED READING - A Wicked Deed by Susanna Gregory

In this the fifth of the Mathew Bartholemew Chronicles, He is sent, with Micheal, a few students and a number of legal minded monks to Grundisburgh. The local lord,  Thomas Tuddenham wants to bequeath the living of Grundisburgh parish church to a Michealhouse cleric. This large party from Cambridge is sent to familiarise themselves with the location, and be companions to Unwin introducing him as the new vicar, and draw up the necessary documentation.

As they near the village they find a man hanging half dead, whom Mathew attempts to save. When they return later with Tuddenham there is no visible sign of him ever being there. Tuddenham, they find, is way too keen on the documents being drawn up quickly. No one understands quite why. There appears to be a lot of contention and resentment between the local nobllity, over land ownership and precedence.

Before any documents can be drawn up Unwin, the prospective vicar is murdered. Just the first of many deaths that follow in the village. So what is going on?  Why does someone want to prevent the signing of the document being drawn up?

The first in the series that moves the location outside of Cambridge. This definitely reinvigorates Gregory's storytelling by removing it from the familiar sense of place of the college environment.  Preventing any feeling of de-ja-vu emerging, which somewhat bedevilled the earlier novels. The change of setting draws more out of Gregory who gives us here, a fresher and more spritely style of medieval who dunnit. Great atmospheric use is made of the abandoned village of Barchester. Like many villages in this period,  completely depopulated to extinction by the plague. 

It keeps you guessing and wrong foots you cleverly, as one might expect. She continues to paint greater emotional depth into Bartholemew's character. Here he is definitely more of a cross patch than in previous incarnations. Ribled and alarmed by the local quacks and their dangerous remedies. There is a sense that his disatisfaction with the lack of a private life is growing, and some sort of shift of attitude towards his future career path is underway.

However, endings, endings for Gregory still bring this deadly dull thud to the concluding chapters. Any tension or sense of threat is dissipated, nay thrown away, by endless questions demanding clarification - So, was it you who killed...... Once again Micheal and Bartholemew are held captive by various folk who openly brag, or extensively fess up to the complexity of their misdemeanors. Providing the minute detail of all the whys and wherefores of the case, and unresolved issues. This is exasperating and, to this degree, entirely unnecessary. Maybe, it's time I took a long break from the circus of these Medieval Cambridge clerics.

CARROT REVIEW - 6/8

200 WORDS ON - The Fundamentalist

A Fundamentalist is thought of  essentially as a phenomena of religion. Fundamentalism, however, is a semi-religious inflection manifesting in wider range of contexts. Generally where ever faith and belief in the rightness of anything, becomes an unquestionable absolute.

A Fundamentalist pins their colours proudly on the flagpole of literal truth, of a philosophy, the practical application of an ideal, or an inspirational piece of writing. Whatever is deemed wrong with the world would be cured if these words were literally put into practice, A Fundamentalist is not interested in opinions or nuance, but in these foundational documents being adopted as 'gospel truth' by everyone. Principles or rules, becoming frozen dogma,

A Fundamentalist prides themselves in knowing exactly where they stand. Confident in the rightness and superiority of their beliefs, moral or economic purpose. Rigidly holding to the purest version of a religious, political or economic theory, robs them of humane understanding and basic compassion.

A Fundamentalist turns the economy into a pseudo-religious belief system. A pure capitalist system best operated completely free of restrictions. This turns wealth creation into an arbiter of what is good and has value, and the inordinately wealthy individual into a wise prophet or minor deity.

SHORT STORY - Deep Listening

There was an excited thudding of the heart as an unbidden thought emerged. And that thought suffused and settled itself upon their mind like a descending fog. And that thought spoke to him and said - ' could you listen to a piece of music, without your mind wandering or falling asleep? Wouldn't that be a challenge. Are you up for trying?' A nod of the head indicated consent, whilst a tightly bitten bottom lip perhaps spoke otherwise.

Their mind woke up to what the carrying out of this new task could entail. It was ideal, part applied practice, part pleasure, part strenuous endeavour. What would be the right piece of music to accompany this? Well, that took a while to establish. They had to overcome a certain nerdy ambition they possessed, that quickly infested their sense of the task at hand. How long the music should be, wildly fluctuated in length. They didn't want to be a pussy, and so thought-  lets go for a full twenty minutes. This shifted down in five minute geared increments, then cranked itself upwards again, until another minor genuflecting moment of retreat. Back and forth it went on like a game of hesitant table tennis. 

Having provisionally settled on five minutes, the next issue was musical style. In many ways popular music was better at a short musical form. The discipline of three minutes being widely adhered to. Rarely stretching longer though, even five minutes was a bit of an ask, unless you chose a 12 inch remix. Classical, however, was the reverse, a long form of musical encounter, that placed little value on brevity. You had your minute waltzs, but longer, as in five minutes longer, was harder to find outside of the odd Chopin Etude, a Gymnopedie by Eric Satie, or something considered charmingly unfinished. Most frequently it's romantic loquaciousness recognised no horological boundary.

Annoyingly they found the right music hard to find, let alone forgive. When a piece of music, proved to be even a few seconds over or short of the required time. They reminded themselves they weren't in competition with anyone, except, of course, themselves. Boy this was proving hard. It was an experiment after all. If they should ultimately fail, well, no one else need know about it. Yet, why did four minutes eighty four feel so much worse than four minutes ninety? How come everything always has to be so neat and bloody precise, but mostly wasn't?

Setting aside Sunday evening. They lined up the chosen music on the computer, plugged in the headphones, pulled up a favourite armchair, and pondered whether it was ever possible to truly prepare oneself for listening intently, without distraction. They made a cup of tea. Then realised perhaps that was not such a good idea. What if they needed to pee two minutes in? Thoughts about the distended nature of your bladder, once they seeped into your mind, you'd never be able to shut them up. This 'in the moment' deep listening stuff, needed more careful preparation than anyone would have first imagined.

So the phone was unplugged, mobile turned off, all the doors either locked or do not disturb signs attached. Did the room need to be darkened? Lights on or off? Eyes closed of open? Headphones or speakers? The issues provoked these questions, and they kept on coming. The sense that all this prevarication over actually starting the experiment, was simply nervous delay. The perpetual nature of them grew increasingly discomforting, until they struck more base, sabotaging, carnal motivations. Shoes on or off? Sitting up or lying down? Clothed or naked? No, just no to that. You know what you'd do - in time to the music no doubt. Shame on you.

Eventually, fully clothed, out of a burgeoning self exasperation they pressed the start button, and just as the opening chord struck immediately put it on hold. No.That was too hurried. Rewind. Pause, take several minutes to deep and luxuriate in the breath. Still a bit hyper, calm down, breath slower - be gentler. Prepare your entire psycho- physical being. Imagine a pond with ripples becoming stiller and unruffled like a mirror. Yes, that one always works.

And....then...they fell asleep. Oops, nodded off for a bit there. Are you really alert enough? Well slept enough? You can always come back to this later. Go take a brisk invigorating walk. After an hours walk at sunset, and a ten - twenty minute nap, have another go. 

This time they sat bolt upright. Touched the button and off they went. Gosh I always love this opening, so magnificent and grand, reminds me of when I walked through those estate woods in Norfolk last autumn, low sun, the extended shadows, and... Hey, are you listening? Nope. Stop the music. Pause. God, you're only giving a bloody running commentary. Not truly listening with the entirety of your whole physical, mental, emotional, spiritual being. You"re writing a review. What's your strategy with this then, oh mighty deep listening guru? Rewind, Start again. Deep, deep sigh. And.......

God, No, I'm just so annoyed with myself now, really really uptight. What to do? Just listen to the god damn music! What's so difficult about that? Cool the anger dude. Deep breaths, let them go, let them go, Let Them Go, from the head down to the feet....and again. 

No, No, No, I can't do this right now, I'm so damn wired. A cup of tea. That's back on the agenda. Get up, switch on the tap, fill the kettle, wait till it boils, bag in the teapot, splash of cold water, pour the hot water in, wait till it's brewed, time three full minutes, milk in the cup, then the tea, retire to the sofa, sit and slowly drink it in. Now why can't listening to music be like that, eh? Like switching on a kettle and making a cup of tea. 

You know, maybe this is simply not the right time, another day perhaps. What am I trying to prove here, eh? OK, move on then - check your phone - one missed call - nope - they can wait - swipe. I'm chillin for a bit, know what I mean?

Written by Stephen Lumb

February 2024

200 WORDS ON - The Populist

Populist politicians present policies as popular expressions of 'the will of the people'. This cannot be claimed by any party when it draws its legitimacy from a third of the population. At best exhorting the ‘will’ in a majority vote first past the post system,is only partial in its efficacy. Drawing upon tropes of the populist is a political strategy centuries old.

The Populist adopts whatever they believe has wide popularity in the general public, or within their imagined core voters.

The Populist will often say one thing to be popular, and speak the exact opposite later the same day. In a different context and time, contradictory ideas are given equally enthusiastic voice. Resulting policy inconsistency brings chaos in there wake. Truth becomes chained to context and place, not the facts of the matter.

The Populist is compelled by their own innate inconsistency, to argue they never said something, have been misquoted, or taken out of context. If these fail to stick, they lie or attack whoever is pointing out the cognitive dissonance.

The Populist stands for nothing substantive, except their own popularity and pampering of their ego. They are tragically, the consequence and crude manifestation of Post-Modern relativism.

QUOTATION MARKS - Martin Shaw - Beholding

"You need to move your vision
from seeing the world
to beholding the world"

Martin Shaw - Storyteller & Mythologist

STREAMING - Other People's Renovation Projects

I've become an avid watcher of other people's housing renovation projects. What makes me love them so? The project has to have elements of the herculean, encounter difficulties, draw backs, and have a human heartfelt feeling for overcoming physical and financial obstacles. That through individual creativity you do enhance your life. Here are a few examples I currently follow..

Martijn Doolaard

Link - MartijnDoolaard

Something of an internet hit with over 600,000 subscribers. Doorlaad's is the grand daddy of all housing projects. He's bought some abandoned stone cabins in the Piedmont district of Northern Italy. Over the last two years he has begun renovating them. At the moment I'm nearing the end of the first year and replacing the roof on one of them is underway.

These are very slickly filmed and edited. Doorlaad is a designer, and has perfected his filming style over a number of previous trans continental bicycle trips. But there is something that seems far too polished. And one has to wonder at the lengths he needs to go too, to document his life in this way. There is always a level of artifice involved in any film making, just in creating the illusion of being an observer of things as they happen. Often its in what seems absent, that makes me wary in getting too emotionally drawn in.

I think essentially Doorlaad's nature is cool and contained, and hence less self revealing. He is emotionally absent. Presenting himself as independent, self reliant, confident and competent. At times he has to draw on usually much younger men for help, and though he is appreciative, you sense he wishes he couldve done it without them. He seems happier when he is in his own company. The irony is he hosts a weekly video about his project. But that way its on his terms what he shows you. I suspect there is much that never gets beyond the edit in each weekly episode. There are questions, like how does he afford to live like this? Does he have time for a girlfriend? Does he do design work to support this lifestyle? Obviously its his choice how much he reveals. But these gaps are rarely hinted at.

Don Johannes Schwartz

Link - Don Johannes Schwartz

Meanwhile, on the other side of the same mountain as Doorlaad. is Don Johannes Schwartz. A self declared part-time hermit. He and Doorland often refer to each other in passing. This year he has started posting twelve hour long videos that encompass a months activity from the previous year. 

We are in a renovation project that is already substantially developed. This is what Doorlaad may end up like in a few years time. The house is mostly renovated, only the garden is left to be developed. It's quite clear he supports himself by teaching, lectures and writing books, all of which requires him to be the part-time hermit. Like Doorlaad he works phenomenally hard physically. Filming wise he is less slick and happily lingers long over shots of wild life, flora, fauna and running streams. 

Having lived in the mountains for much longer than his Dutch neighbour, and with his faith too, there is the sense of a man who is trained to reflect on his experience, and is used to talking very eloquently about it. He is in short a much more instantly likeable person to spend a hour with. A man who has a genuine warmth and kindness exuding from him.

De Hoeve Old Farmhouse Renovation

Link - De Hoeve

I've written about Marina and Illiya before. It was their farm house renovation that started me off on all these others. It's a massive job they've taken on. They both have daytime jobs, so largely end up working on their house in the evenings and weekends. 

Their filming is more basic, often hand held, edited well by the ever resourceful Marina. Marina is obviously used to project managing, I think she may do it as a job. Illya is a competent and quickly picks up skills. And boy do they both work hard. But the strain of it often shows. You never see Doorlaad obviously frustrated or stressed. They come across as a really lovely couple. They have a family, but largely keep them in the background. The cats inspecting the proceedings get more air time.

How long it will take them to complete their plans stands currently at an estimate of ten years. The small conversion job they recently completed was pencilled in to take three months, but took most of last year. So accurate forward planning is not a strength. And there's always a number of unforced errors that have cost them time and money. Wrongly estimating how much materials they'll need etc.

Illya often powers on thinking he knows what to do, but hasn't fully read or digested the instructions, and ends up creating more work for himself. Cue Marina's gentle chastising of him. But what comes across here is all very human and relatable. They are quite open about their 'fails' as they call them.  And despite the huge job they have ahead, are reluctant to cut corners. Still wanting to obtain the best finish possible. I love this site and these people to bits.

LISTENING TO - Prelude to Ecstasy by The Last Dinner Party

Oh the hype, its so in your face everywhere. Touted as the next big thing, that they become the next big thing, like a divine prophecy being fulfilled right before your eyes. The Last Dinner Party's image, now much refined in the videos accompanying the release of this album, has them cavorting around in burlesque basques. And as Ronald Firbank might've described it, lots of unnecessary ribbons signifying nothing. 

Evoking the doomed epoch of The Bright Young Things, of aristo's partying before they die either of boredom or war, appears to be their basic shtick here. There is, however, no real sense of irony, hardly a glimmer of arche knowingness. This ought to be stridently camp, but it comes across as well brought up public school g1irls dressing up as tarts and pouting to camera.

Hype is just promotion, and I'm not against promotion if there is something astoundingly good on offer, to feast your ears on. However, I have tested my patience whilst listening to this album. Awaiting the moment when I either get what they are about, or am blown off my socks by one song, or one astonishingly good vocal. Well, they are not here on Prelude to Ecstasy. Nothing orgasmic. What normally comes before a climax, is a lot of foreplay. And that is what this album is, a lot of foreplay. Maybe the second album will produce something so utterly gorgeous I'll be eating these words for breakfast.

Florence Welch loves them, but it's always flattering to see pale imitations of yourself do well. The lyrics are, on ocassions, provocative and gender assertive. There are a lot of dramatic changes in musical time signatures mid song, that brings a certain underlying operatic/music hall vibe. One reviewer likened their songwriting to Sparks, which should have got me salivating in high expectation. And whilst I can detect stylistic whisps of the Mael brothers, they have a way to go before they reach their songwriting heights. There is a sense there maybe a thematic song cycle here. So - indebted - they are.

The first single to drop, Nothing Matters, is quietly captivating. Mainly because it repeats the line, "and I will fuck you like nothing matters' - ad nauseam. The one track I thought proffered a bon bon of something musically vital was My Lady of Mercy, when it lurches into a metal breakout. The one moment when the band metaphorically rip their corsets off. 

A lot of its underwhelming nature maybe due to a low key production. Its quite cautious and perfunctory, even genteel. One wonders if in more creative hands, considerably greater dynamism might have emerged. The lead guitar frequently sounds like a tinny twang, when it could have had a rougher, raw, characterful and more raucous resonance. Live, apparently, The Last Dinner Party, cut quite a different and more entrancing stride, that this album must have entirely failed to capture. A promising but overrated debut. Whatever their target market is, is unclear. Its not me, obviously. 

CARROT REVIEW - 3/8