Live Music. Again.

It has been a long while since I went to see some live music. I think the last concert I attended was in London, about a year ago. I regularly check to see who is coming to Lincoln, just in case, but for the past couple of years, pickings have been slim.

Partly this is due to the size of Lincoln. We are a small city, with a small population, well off the beaten path. The venues we have in town are also small. The main one was in financial trouble, and was having problems attracting artists. as such, it promoted a lot of comedy nights and the like. The other, probably understanding what sells, seemed to focus on tribute act - something I've never been too fond of.

But there has been a turn around, The main one was taken over, remodelled, and has started attracting performers of note - or at least artists I'm interested in seeing. 

Recently, in a matter of days, I went to see live music at both these venues.  And I loved every second of it.

First up was Something About George, a tribute to George Harrison.  I hesitated for the longest time, but then read some reviews. It wasn't a tribute act, but a band paying tribute. The frontman talked between (and sometimes during) songs, telling George's life story, and the relevance of the songs being played. And it was good fun. Really good fun.

The second was Fairport Convention.  Someone I know told me they'd seen them in the early 70s, and figured none of those originals would be there. Of the five he saw in those days, three were still part of the band. And they were wonderful.  I have seen this lineup before, but Dave Mattacks didn't play with them last year, so it was great to see him back on drums.  And, being the lovely chap he is, he signed a couple of XTC and George Harrison albums for me.  Bonus!

Oh, and a huge shout out to Plumhall.  This wife and husband pairing were the support act, and they were fabulous. I became an instant fan.

And so I am going to go and see more live music. I've been exploring British folk music since I was a teenager, and I am aware there is a healthy live folk music scene here in Lincoln. I have thought about attending some of these events for some time, but they generally clashed with other regular activities I undertook. That has all changed, and so from this month I plan to see more live music.

And that's the way it should be!

Vale: Ravi Shankar.

I first heard Ravi Shankar as a teen, when a friend gave me a tape of The Concert For Bangladesh. After that initial playing I tended to skip the first part as I didn't 'get' Indian music. Later, of course, I recognised Shankar for the genius he was, and quite enjoyed listening to his work.

His influence on The Beatles, and George Harrison in particular, is enormous. Although Harrison had first become interested in the sitar during the filming of Help!, it was 1966 before he met Shankar and travelled to India to study with him.

As a musician, a teacher and a lecturer, Shankar toured the world and taught at a number of universities. His work brought international recognition to the music of his homeland.

He died in California at the age of 82.

Turn Me On, Dead Man...

I love conspiracy theories.  Not that I actually believe them, but I find them a lot of fun. And my favourite one would have to be the whole 'Paul is Dead' one.  You know, Paul McCartney supposedly died in a car crash on 9th November, 1966 and was replaced by Williams Campbell (Billy Shear - Billy's Here - geddit?) so that thousands of fans worldwide wouldn't kill themselves.  Of course, the remaining three (as well as all those others who would have to know about it) kept quiet about it forever, and even went so far as filling their albums and songs with clues for us.

It makes no sense at all, but it sure is fun.

I watched a DVD yesterday, in which a tape purporting to be George Harrison (but actually sounded like a talentless American actor doing an impression of what he thought a Liverpudlian should sound like) confesses to his involvement in the cover-up. It even went so far as to claim the only witness to the accident was a woman named Rita who was bought off.  Later, she survived an assassination attempt by MI5, but lost her leg. She blackmailed McCartney into marrying her or she was going to reveal the whole story.  Somehow the producers didn't figure out that Heather Mills wasn't even born in 1966 when the accident supposedly took place.

Oh yeah, ignore that one at all costs - but do check out the books and webpages surrounding the story. And if you're interested, check out The Beatle zombie retelling, Paul is Undead.

Festive Fear 2 will soon be released by Tasmaniac Publications, and I have my story, Ghost of the Heart, included.  What you don't know is that my story includes a good dose of the whole Paul is Dead theory. And boy, was that fun to write.  Keep an eye out for it, and find a copy if you can.  I believe it's already sold out.

Just finished rewriting another story of mine. My mentor, Paul Haines, (under the Australian Horror Writers Association) made a number of recommendations which I spent a few weeks considering. A few ideas finally fermented and ended up on paper.  I've just sent the rewrite back, so I'll have to wait and see what Guru Paul thinks of it.

And apart from that? Life goes on and work is busy.  My friend and colleague even announced my forthcoming publication at work last week. I plan to kill him for that at some point.

Maybe I'll replace him with a double named William Campbell.

It Was 40 Years Ago Yesterday...

To say The Beatles broke up because of Yoko Ono is a little simplistic.

From all I've seen and read egos seem to be to blame.  Paul became leader because Brian had gone, and the others resented that. John didn't want Paul to be leader - but couldn't work up the effort to actually do anything himself. George was tired of being treated like the kid brother. Ringo, of course, was Ringo.  If The Beatles had stayed together, he'd have still been there drumming.

And Yoko was there, gazing up at rebellious John.

But as a relative of mine recently said to me, they should have just worked through it and continued making music.  The sum was always greater than the parts. He then echoed Larry Norman, who sang:

The Beatles said, "All You Need is Love"
and then they broke up.

Who knows where their music would have headed if they'd stayed together.

We'd certainly have had the best songs from their respective solo albums (plus ones we don't know, as their lives would have led different paths and the experiences would have changed.) Of course, there's always the chance they would have been terrible. (Think later Rolling Stones).

As the character said at the end of Fanboys, as he's about to see The Phantom Menace after a 15 year wait, "What if it's crap?"

But at least John and Paul were always each other's filters.  And John would have told Paul that Bip Bop was just plain silly, while Paul would have toned down some of John's more scathing attacks. (As well as (hopefully)  preventing Yoko from appearing with her own songs. We're all Water????  Ugh!)

But what's done is done, and the past cannot be changed.

At least we still have Please Please Me to Let It Be, and all the stuff making the rounds for collectors.

But somewhere, in another universe, Paul, John, George and Ringo are getting on stage to belt out some old and new tunes.

And I wish I was there.

Twenty-nine Years Fly By.

The only thing I knew before I went into the pub last night was the name of the band, Rubber Soul. Yet just before they started playing I told my companion that they would open with ‘I Saw Her Standing There.’ OK, with a name like that there was a fair chance they would play Beatles stuff, but to be absolutely sure of which song they would open with is pretty impressive. How did I know it? I have no idea, just another mystery in this universe.

Of course it got me thinking about the fabs, and particularly John’s death. The anniversary was just a few weeks ago.

I could have sworn it was a Friday, but I’ve just checked online and it can’t have been. It was an evening, and I was working my part time job at a local supermarket. I think school had finished for the year, but I was working and still had several hours to spend in the deep freeze and dairy case. Another schoolboy came in, someone we worked with, someone who was always a bit of a smart-alec, and told us that John Lennon was dead.

He said it with a grin, in that schoolboy kind of way, and I didn’t believe him. I figured he knew about my Beatles infatuation and that he was having a laugh. A bit later, when someone else mentioned it, I presumed it was a publicity stunt. After all, John had just released his first album in over five years and he probably needed all the advertising and publicity he could get. I thought I’d get home and find out it was all OK, a mistake or a hoax, and that John would be on TV making some quip about how he was very much alive.

Of course, as we all know, he wasn’t.

Others went of to early morning vigils in the city centre, my friend and I talked about wearing black armbands to school – but didn’t get around to finding any black material. So the two of us sat around and played Beatle and Lennon albums till late. And we talked.

Something similar happened a few years later when George passed away. In some ways that one was more upsetting. George always seemed like the nicest, the most down to earth, the most honest of the four lads.

And then there were two.

I’ve previously written about how Paul’s music no longer interests me, and Ringo hasn’t had a decent album since the early 70s. Drag out the remastered Beatles, throw on some early 70s solo stuff (be choosy) and crank them up. If you’re looking for new music, go and pick up a Wilco album instead.

And have a wonderful Christmas.

It's Been A Long, Long, Long Time.

Once before I've written about how much I'd love to see Andy Partridge get together with Terry Scott Taylor to produce the perfect album.

Terry is currently on tour, and if I had the money I'd bring him down under to perform. He's one of my greatest idols, but I've never had the chance to see him perform in any of his incarnations. (Daniel Amos, The Swirling Eddies, The Lost Dogs or solo)  He doesn't tour that often (although vastly more often than Andy Partridge who hasn't really played live since 1982) but rarely plays outside the U.S.

This afternoon I decided TST was precisely the music I needed and so I found myself completely lost in A Briefing for the Ascent.  Although I know exactly how wonderful this disc is, the truth is I haven't played it for a long time. A Long, long, long time.  In fact he covers Long, Long Long, the vastly underated George Harrison song from the White Album.

Long, Long, Long is an amazing love song.  It is, in fact, the song I chose to have played at my wedding. And although TST's version is a completely faithful clone (right down to the drum fills) it works amazingly well and sits perfectly in the concept album that is A Briefing for the Ascent. 

It's the start of the school holidays for me.  Two glorious weeks off without worrying about the kids, and a much-needed chance to recharge before the final term for the year. I've promised myself the next two days to spend entirely on writing, but this afternoon was relax time. A glass of Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc in hand, my wife doing some gardening, a Nepalese Keema Curry on the stovetop and Terry's wonderful album playing (loudly)  in the background, I had the most delightful time.

Life doesn't get any better than this on a mild Sunday afternoon.

Making Minimal Contact.

A few years ago, I bought The Bitterbynde Trilogy by Cecilia Dart Thornton.  With every intention of reading them soon thereafter, they were placed in the metaphorical stack of books next to my not-so-metaphorical bed.  For a number of reasons, none of which seem particularly clear at the moment, I've never gotten around to reading these three books, The Ill-Made Mute, The Lady of the Sorrows and The Battle of Evernight. (OK, so the last one sounds like it should be a Led Zeppelin song....)

On Friday night, I wandered down to the Melbourne Science Fiction Club where Cecilia was the guest speaker for the evening. After catching up with a few familiar faces, I settled down to listen to the amazing tale of how she became a full-time writer. None of this is secret or new as it's easily found online, but it's incredible hearing the tale direct from the source. Basically she wrote the three novels for herself, stuck them in a drawer for a couple of years before finally putting a sample chapter online with a crit group.  Within a short time an editor had contacted her, she had an agent and a U.S. publisher paid her a six-figure advance for her books. It's always good to see a local do well, and while I realise her story and success is the exception rather than the rule, it is encouraging and inspiring.

Cecilia was completely lovely and charming. She answered our questions patiently (I'm sure she's heard all of them before), laughed at our lame jokes and smiled and nodded politely as the conversation diverted wildly off-topic. I learned a great deal from her professionalism and her attitude. I truly believe it's important for a writer to present well and to always behave professionally. Earlier this year I attended a publishing seminar where I was left completely unimpressed by several of the presented authors.  They weren't particularly articulate, didn't seem to have much to say and were generally repetitive and used extremely well worn cliches. Two of them arrived dressed as though they'd just spent the day working on the car. And this was for a large gathering of teachers at the offices of a major publisher that was trying to convince us to buy these books for our schools.

An author as successful as Cecilia doesn't have to guest at a small SF group like ours, but in the SF and F world this is what authors do.  They all seem to be fanboys and fangirls deep down, and they can recall when they would read this stuff and wonder. They used to be like us (and still are at heart!). Cecilia even talked about the fan letter she once sent to Tanith Lee. 

I've never sent anyone a fan letter, but I've often wondered exactly what some of my 'heroes' would be like in real life.  Over the years I've been fortunate enough to have met a few names, but there are some I can only wish I could have met. It's too late now to meet people like Asimov, or PKD (I still marvel at hearing a PKD story firsthand from Chelsea Quinn Yarbro) or George Harrison, although there are still a few people in the literature and music world I would seriously love to meet.  Robert Silverberg is high on my list, as are Andy Partridge and Terry Scott Taylor. And from what I hear Tim Powers has a few PKD anecdotes up his sleeve. I need to win WOTF so I can attend one of his workshops, so I'll just keep writing and submitting. And I'll keep reading in wonder. 

Oh, and I've just dug out the Bitterbynde trilogy and pushed it to the top of that metaphorical stack. I'll get into The Ill-Made Mute as soon as I finish my current WOTF volume.