Halloween: Robert Smith Party (first of two picture posts)

party like it's 1982:

Halloween: Robert Smith Party

It wasn't my idea and it wasn't really our party - it was Aves birthday and she came up with the idea. And it turned out to be a really great party and the visual theme played out very well. Even though not everyone was strictly in theme, it just looked Cure-ish, mixed with the more traditional Halloweeen shenanigans. Special thanks goes to Nataleigh, our resident American, for bringing along lots of Halloweeen-y things like pumpkin pie, fake spiderwebs (on top of the real ones, haha) and being a gorgeous Roberta Smith. As an old Curehead, and, you know, proud of it, I couldn't help really going for it, putting all my Cure stuff together and playing, among other things, the Cure's Greatest Hits, the fabulous "Pornography" deluxe reissue, which I purchased especially for the occasion after hearing about it for ages, "The Top", that incredible Paris 82 bootleg, the Trilogy DVD etc. Great to see everyone! Especially my old neighbour and B'ton soulmate Toni, back for a while from India, who on first re-contact hadn't changed at all, and that's a good thing! when she arrived ,and she was the first, the party started immediately on a good note. Cheers!

scary plus

i can't find the photos i wanted to upload but i've found a jpeg called scary plus. hmmm

London Film Festival: "Our Daily Bread"

I've been to the London Film Festival. Well, the very last day of it, and because it was the last day i had no big hesitation to see two films in a row. I always seem to catch up with these film festivals at the very end and then get really into it, when it's almost too late, it was the same with the Lesbian and Gay Film Festival a little while ago. I guess it's better than nothing. When it comes to film in London i seriously seem to miss so much but it's near impossible to keep up. I always forget how much i like the NFT as well, once i'm there, especially during one of their many festivals, I want to see almost everything they show, as it's almost always worth seeing. It's a great place to see films and hang out, and it's completely smokefree now as well.

Anyway, on Thursday I finally got to see a film by my cousin, Nikolaus Geyrhalter, who has made several feature length documentaries and is quite well known these days. I've been meaning to see one of his films for ages, but they don't get shown here on TV or in the cinemas and I never got around to find out how to order them. I don't think amazon does them but i now saw that there is an Austrian website where you can order them. I definitely want to see more and will check it out.

"Our Daily Bread" is a series of scenes filmed in food production factories, slaughter houses, plantations, huge industrial complexes where animals are reared, etc, with no further narration, all you hear is industrial noises, animals, and occasionally factory workers chatting casaually. A lot of is very shocking and disturbing, especially the slaughterhouse scenes, and especially if you're a vegetarian (i'm not anymore though seeing stuff like that is making me think about it again, for some reason the way animals are kept and treated and killed is a big touch more shocking und upsetting than the way vegetables are). it doesn't show any, um, alternative ways of food production, smaller scale / organic / freerange / ethical, whatever, and it doesn't have a clear message, and i guess, that is part of its strength too, it's very disorientating and doesn't let you off the hook, so to speak. All you see is huge industrial complexes with some isolated workers who largely seem really detached from what they're doing, well, it is their job, trippy corridors, giant spaces, and occasionally you see these workers having a break, eating, um, in some ways the fruit of their labour... there's a hypnotic quality to some of it, and a morbid fascination to see exactly how things are being done, especially in the slaughterhouse. One scene that sticks in my head is of a blond lady casually cutting off the legs of cows carcasses gliding by...or a shot of pigs being transported to the slaughterhouse. I really, really, really love pigs, ya know, and there were some cute pigs in that van, showing off for the camera almost! So a lot of curious insights, no clear direction and an elegant and overall almost ambient feel. Time Out calls it "a 'Koyaanisquaatsi' for meat and metal fetishists" and that's not too far off in my opinion, haha

I wasn't sure whether i should really stay on but managed to score a ticket for another very good film in Cinema 1. "I Don't want To Sleep Alone" by Tsai Ming-Lian is a long atmospheric sort of love story with hardly any spoken words, set in a slummy city in Malaysia, with long, vaguely horrific, trippy scenes in run down apartments, bedrooms, cafes, corridors, construction sites and an all encompassing smoke/fog during the last bits. By that point I was sort of a vegetable already, I finally got this cold thats been going around and it was the first day of it, and for some reason the films slow-moving but nevertheless captivating and engrossing mood fitted it well. I really liked it. Need to go to the cinema a bit more...there's something about seeing films in such an environment too, however uncomfortable and expensive it can be, there's something about being sucked in together and not being able to switch off that makes it more powerful.

Val di Funes / Villnoesstal (first of three photo posts)

Val di Funes / Villnoesstal

Val Di Funes / Villnoesstal

Back to magnificent South Tyrol, the bit of Tyrol that's already in Italy. I've been there a few times when i was younger with my parents, a long time ago. We were staying in a little flat on a farm, cows outside our door sometimes. Most of the time the weather was very good, and a great time to be there, the autumn colours! on one day we did most of the Adolf Munkel Weg, a relatively easy but spectacular hike directly underneath th Geissler Gruppe peaks that you can see all along the valley. When it started to cloud over a different atmosphere emerged, more mysterious in some ways but intriguing nonetheless.

Asolo

some photos in and around Asolo...

basement trust

i slide through dust, always hanging on your words, the ones i spoke earlier are scattered into corners and brushed down the stairs, so it's easy for me to see absolutely nothing there, even if i wanted to look. just ghostly traces of dust trailing all the way here. you mean, when the washing and cleaning was still going. and the roof was still there. i don't trust this room, it's been cleaned too many times, but of what? i think it was a car factory, but all transport has left us here, too early to get away. i found you breathing heavily into the basement floor. what was there apart from the dust? a tunnel further? sliding away, you can't hold onto it. it could be anything that was once too close for comfort.

hiding by the chair with the velvet connection still sticking out its behind. a funfair memory invades your room and won't let you go, even in this heat, even when i touched you so simply i couldn't understand. when you follow it through it won't be so bad. long gone whispering over gentle acoustic shapes. the legs of the chair walk all over your imaginary body, long spindly legs, leading you to a clearing where the band starts playing immediately. i knew it would be right for you, right here. but it's not what i wanted for you, my child. look at your eyes, it won't be gone for long. before another master ascends. sit down


the trust i invested never paid off, but i just couldn't stop it. as the stairs descend, rolling down into infinity, i need to raise my face a bit to see clearly through the little slits. madness boils over, as you show me little trickles of blood, a hairy chest, a nipple, everything erased immediately as the magic marker strikes contact. there's an empty stage where the signs live, usually tucked away in boxes. secrets wander aimlessly until a contact point is hit. this i where we live.

you've got to follow the smells first. there's more to it than you think. as if you could jump out of the box and say it and then everything would be alright. i trail behind a bad box and slide into some bones salad, colours flash, and the ghost train runs all over me. i've left out all the bad marks and everything is spring green blossom. until it collapses back into the old basement.

valuable downtime deleted, so ghosts can come closer. i need to prepare for this somehow, but it's too loose and too close in the foreground. dragging it all over the ground like a deranged guitar motive. getting scratchy on the wrong end, as the chorus hoovers you up. my delayed reaction will speed into your mouth. we will band together before the music cuts out. it's in the basement, you know. you need to go there too. we could do it then.

sour edges creeping in. i told you i was stuck in a corridor. blessing different doors, all leading to a square from which you exit. i'm stuck where this went, and i think i need to reload now. go back down the stairs again, learn to trust again. i feel the ghosts are waiting, but it's not my fault. i just played some music on the tube. i went along where they sung and off i went, speeding through the corridors. i want to say something maybe. can i see you now? where are you hiding? is this screen not blank and new enough for you? is there a history to this?

the blade dances on the chest. when they found you they said they had no choice. your hood doesn't fit, obviously, but there's nothing i can do about that now. your speech is slurred. i can't hear you. i'm trying to record you, after i earned you trust, down there in the basement, but all you do is getting all zoomed to extraordinary sizes and then blanking out altogether. the focus is gone, but then the hand reaches out and leads you back into the triangle. i try to clean the air with spit but you don't let me do that for very long. your voice stretches my body into impossible shapes. i get really long before i space out and you get clearer, almost human. my voice sounds weird, like a kiddy voice that's floating through my head, something from the screen inside me. going down the stairs with me. i told you to clean the glass, i can't see anything through that, limbs, muscles, hair, then a soft focus on socks, pants, more screens in the background, a humming sound, then a cat jumps into the foreground and all over you, the camera doesn't turn but there's a sense it's ended right before your eyes. if you could only let it go...if it would only go away...there's nothing i can do about it now.

i fork into a different direction and pick up vague melodies that relate to me when i'm smiley enough. i want to reach them with my hands before the sound fades out and i'm left alone again. turquoise beer bottles follow me and nod before they overtake me, and blow up into gigantic cloud-like shapes, forming things i'd rather not want to signify right now. anything but a smile into the right direction. but as the blood trickles on the basement floor i've lost the connection and swerve into the corner. where were you? did i catch your eye for a second? did you start this noise? i'm no longer married to volume, i've gone over that hill in my head, but were you trying to seduce me once more? i don't know, as you always say.

leave the trail running into the house again and start the car. we're zooming off to find some contrasts. it's for the slideshow later. this house is empty but honest so don't spit now. don't move too much. the house will tell you when to move, it won't be too long. make your face more presentable. don't touch me too much. if you need to do that be careful and don't let it go in too deep. if i can feel it before the time is right i will need to rewind it. and we don't want that right now. can you hear me?

empty heated exchange, meaning nothing, just another wheel rolling over a body. underneath the lucky seat there's a number that morphs into a variety of keys and colours. but only if you know the code. can i trust you? will i colour over later? will i be transparent? will you recognize me? when i lift the stained sheet you will smile right through it before the dog drags it down into the basement.

violent humming over a grey morning, as you slide into bed. have you seen the dust over everything? the spots? this is where you belong. a mountain of dirt. don't feel too bad about it too. if you want to get to the bottom, you need to trust the voice. steps leading upstairs are blocked. windows closing. only a faded melody holds you still. something hairy comes closer. when you ... realize the claws opening up and redesigning your face step out of the enclosure, follow the stream to another nest. be yourself for once. terror holds you still until you realize. it was during a trip like this that you lost your previous reality. but now as it comes back and you feed it back to life it's changed again. you're not so there anymore as if it really was a big bite, and not just a nibble taken out.

the room clears to ancient white, but maybe that's just another way to drape it, push it into druggy confidence. another flight of fancy. nothing so much as a prison in itself. another sip of the wine confirms what you've lost. you need to get out and breathe again, but you've lost the key, you've lost trust in that room that will lead you out when it's still possible. words express deep, dark regrets, though only shallow little lies hide beneath, it's dark and primal greed when it comes down to it. touching you all over now, especially from behind where you can't face it. slowly the knives come out.

as blood streams all over your body and cleanses the flesh the tv goes on and advertises endless abstract lines holding onto a hope that goes ever further to disguise the miserable facts. the subway opens and swallows you. as you go to work, someone whispers in your sleep to switch off the lamp now. let darkness begin, or something. alien sounds wake you up as you progress through the corridor. some production facility. you wave and point to the points of entry and they shake their heads. it's nothing to do with me, they say. it's war but not as you know it.

shake off the sweat too and reach out into the steam. the knife has finally vanished now but you're still downstairs, chained to the wall, with no light in sight, and it feels like you're never going to get out again. "beware of the beast", the advert sings, "it's watching you" then the radio cuts in, and someone finds the right prison frequency to lull you into thinking that the revolution is near. the hands encircle the tree in the middle foreground that will sprout and bounce up through the surface. i want to imagine it getting greener, cleaner, better but all it does is cut out the light further. it confuses you. it will bring confusion.

come back to what you know. you've never been there before, so all it does is giving you a voice that is different to what you've heard before. another layer, another room, morphing into flesh but never realizing its ambition. give back the knives, the claws, the hunger, and all the nervous dances you devised. give back all that you trusted. as i boom ever closer you collapse, and finally we're enlightened.

La Regina Cornaro in Asolo

The queen arrives in Asolo. a monk (?) is describing every single movement in his amplified camp Italian voice. fierce tribal drumming. for a moment i'm on a filmset.

you can just about feel the tension in the air.

an old lady watches from a balcony.

usually this place is very sleepy.

this happens here every year to reenact the arrival of the Regina Cornaro in the beautiful hilltop town of Asolo. i think she's taking it over from Venice, this is 500 or so years ago. it all really happened.


Asolo is surrounded by grand old villas, some of them a bit faded, gardens, vineyards, and there's a castle ruin high above it from where you can already see the Alps.

the wine is very good around here, and pretty cheap. there's a great little wine bar in town, could almost be a gay bar. loungey music. no smoking everywhere.

another grappa please!

The Raspberries - Go all the way

I heard this song in my head ALL DAY LONG, after playing it at breakfast, very addictive, huh, and what a beautiful day it was, going to the heath for the second time in a row. I think very soon i will "go all the way" and declare myself a newborn fan of these obscure and slightly moldy old fruits i found at a basket at the back of the goodie shop...it might happen soon...

Smokefree Music Venues in London

OK, there's a few choices for people in London who want to see live music but don't want to stand in the smoke. I find gigs particularly bad on second hand smoke as they're often packed and smoking still seems to be largely accepted. I just want to see the show and the smoke often spoils it for me, if i bother to turn up at all. I've really cut down on gig going because of this, they're just such unhealthy environments unfortunately. I have excellent earplugs that make me hear clearly while controlling often dangerous volume levels, but I can't turn up in an oxygen mask as well, as someone helpfully suggested. When we were in NYC in Dec 2004 we saw three shows in a row at Irving Plaza and I wouldn't have lasted if smoking would have been allowed there. To me, cigarettes and rock'n'roll (or whatever you might like to call it) just don't go together like for some people. It's such a (dangerous) cliche. Anyway, there's some choices now, and with the smoking ban due next year there's something on the horizon too:


The Roundhouse in Camden: it's completely smokefree inside the venue, there's a large outdoor terrace for smokers. It's a legendary venue in a former rail depot, hosted many famous shows in the 60s and in the punk era, was supposed to become a library at some stage, but recently reopened after an extensive facelift and now hosts gigs, theatre, dance and other things :

http://www1.roundhouse.org.uk/

The South Bank: The Royal Festival Hall is being refurbished right now but Queen Elizabeth Hall (& the Purcell Room), right next to it, is still open, the whole building is now non smoking, including the foyer bar, (open to the public every day til 10 pm) that also sometimes hosts free gigs, there's a small stage there. The great thing about the South Bank is that they sometimes host really eclectic, unusual gigs, occasionally really big rock acts too, in a fairly uncommercial, informal, and *smokefree* environment, not as stuffy and conservative as one might suspect(Same goes for the Barbican too):

http://www.rfh.org.uk


Bush Hall: small old music hall in Shepherd's Bush. The concert space is completely non smoking and there are very visible signs everywhere advising punters of this. The front bar is smoking, but it's separated from the concert hall. Really great little place, beautiful ornate ceilings with chandeliers, very different to usual music venues. Last time I was there, for the great Yo La Tengo, it was a sold out all-standing show and noone smoked! I should go there more often...

http://www.bushhallmusic.co.uk/

I hear the (new) Vortex in Dalston is non smoking too, famous for hosting jazz concerts, we used to go to the old one in Stoke Newington quite a bit for Keith Tippett (and that scene) etc concerts, but it was always smokey in there, time to go back and check out the new venue:

http://www.vortexja zz.co.uk/

I've read this on a blog, The Inn on the Green in Ladbroke Grove is apparently a smoke-free venue/club. I haven't been there but it sounds interesting:

Inn on the Green 3 Thorpe Close
Ladbroke Grove London W10

Union Chapel: old church with a beautiful round interior in Islington, quite a famous venue, recently reopened after some time. You sit in church benches and you have to leave the church to go to the bar where you can smoke. Great Syd Barrett tribute the other day (see below)




That's all I can think of right now, but there are probably a few more. Anyone want to comment/ add anything?

Clovelly in Devon

Back in the summer from our West Country trip with my parents just after my birthday: on the way from Boscastle in Cornwall and Lynton in Exmoor we stopped for the day and walked along stunning dramatic coastline and extensive woods to Clovelly, a small, steep, very touristy, and I guess kitschy old town that's a bit like a museum, no cars, just one steep old street leading down to an old harbour, surrounded by serene coastal woods for miles. We arrived in the harbour from our walk and later walked that one street up very slowly, so we walked through the place just once, it was a total trip on that day, despite the tourists and all that, I guess having walked there made it more impressive when we got there ... sometimes it's best to be in between destinations, cos that was my favourite walk of that week ...

Syd Barrett Tribute at the Union Chapel

The Mystery Jets are an odd band, and i'm still not convinced what to think of them. When i first saw them on MTV 2 i thought they were kinda annoying, some young dudes prancing around in a vaguely burlesque style apparently trying to be next cool thing, and I didn't get the song. I shouldn't watch so much MTV2, and in fact, i don't anymore, it doesn't always do the bands justice, though there's good stuff on there too occasionally. once you get past all that terrible stuff. So when I later read that they were based in the vaguely mythical location of Eel Pie Island, featured a father and a son, and loved old psych and prog music I thought, hmm who are they? ...Anyway, i'm still not so sure about the music, though it's not as bad as i first thought, but i'll give them full kudos for putting on a lovely Syd tribute on Monday at the wonderful, recently reopened Union Chapel in Islington. Bathed in appropriately psychedelic floating lava lamp lights, but ornate enough even without those, it's a great venue for a night like this, the longer i was there the more i liked being in that room, sitting in the back on church benches, meeting some lovely people back there too, including a real Syd obsessive (I mean, really...). I'm not sure who everyone was but there was a constant stream of acts doing short sets, Lupen Crook, quite driven and manic, Kid Harpoon, good presence, nice clear voice, some awesome syd covers, a very young guy singing two Syd songs in an artfully smudged voice, sounding almost like Scott Walker (!), some guys from Babyshambes doing a surprisingly modest and lovely 'It's no good trying'. there was some very special surprise guest mentioned before the event but i guess the real surprise was that The Television Personalities managed to turn up for once and just about managed to play a set. Dan Treacy is a very volatile performer but his band just about held it together, at times it almost seemed like a rerun of the way some of the later Syd Barrett material must have been recorded, flashes of brilliant, lovely songs then distortion, chaos, ranting etc. He even played 'I know where Syd Barrett lives', but not without making it clear that the Mystery Jets "twisted his arm" to play it. Followed by a very passionate rendition of 'I've got a bike...you can ride it if you like" Fascinating and a bit sad at the same time. the more syd songs got played the better the evening got, these songs are meant to be played live. It wasn't even that sad and sombre, there was a sense of celebration and musical magic in the air, or something like that. And maybe a bit of lofi school production too, mostly in a charming way though. So...the Mystery Jets. In their boat at Eel Pie Island they have a portrait of Syd ringed by a lifebelt, it's hanging from the altar today. They start with an ace cover of Lucifer Sam, goosebumps, really, it sounds so full and overwhelming when played by such an efficient live band. Later they also play the Gnome, another favourite of mine from Piper. Their own material still doesn't grab me too much, i think it's the songs that is the problem but it does sound alright tonight, nice harmonising, maybe if they'd loosen up a bit and got a bit wilder, that could work. They are planning an acoustic tour for October that could be interesting and make people see them in a different light. maybe. Impressive that such a young band (apart from the white haired dad on keyboards who sometimes seems to secretly drive the whole operation) spearheaded this tribute too. Another one please, maybe next year! I want to do that walk in Grantchester Meadows that i was trying to do the other day. . .

RIP

Guided By Voices - Titus & Strident Wet Nurse (live)

this song has ... mysterious powers. a fairy tale? a childhood snapshot?

Psychic Dancehall: The Fall in Cricklewood

so, we've lived within walking distance of Cricklewood for almost two years but until yesterday i hadn't been there, I guess there was no need to. Cricklewood Broadway is basically the same road as Kilburns main drag, you just have to follow it up the nicely named Shoot Up Hill and eventually you get there. It kinda looks like Kilburn too...though the pubs look just a little bit smarter than Kilburn I guess. Though generally too smokey for me, Kilburn has some good places these days, well, mainly The Luminaire, an old Irish dance hall that has quietly morphed into a well loved indie hole that reminds me of other real favourites of the past, say, the old Concorde in Brighton. I think it's definitely haunted too, but updated for the 21st century in a way that seems to work well at the moment. I love the fact that even in this relatively uncool corner of London you can still leave the house and wander down the road to see some shows. So The Fall were taking it up the road to The Galtymore, a big Irish music hall, that still mainly hosts Irish country music, and hasn't changed much since the fifties or so. There's a slightly nasty edge to the room that works incredibly well with The Fall I have to say. I mean, the small bar is hopelessly overwhelmed by the demand of the hard drinking Fall fans, the place has a stale, slightly depressive air, but it's still comfortable, an old fashioned Friday night at the dancehall. The Mancunian punk poet and comedian John Cooper Clarke in his pink specs and what Simon reckons is a (punk rock) wig is a superb opening act for the occasion, then The Fall come on, relatively punctual, MES looking really quite incredible, his hair immaculately coiffed and wearing an old fashioned black and white jumper, i'm not sure who is in the band these days, obviously his wife Elena on kyeboards, but i'm not sure whether some of the players have returned to the band after the US tour when they had a big fight or not. I'm really not a completist when it comes to the records either, but I actually know a few songs played yesterday night, namely Mr Pharmacist, the first song of the encore. But with The Fall it's hypnotic and immediate as always, whatever they play. Very speedy, dancy, repetetive and deranged, though it could have been wilder and probably would have been, had they played a bit longer than their customary one hour set. Some hipsters wiggin out on the balcony over the stage. MES in fairly good form i reckon. I loved it when he played around with the amps of his band. They played really well, I think. Not the best Fall show ever (for me that was ATP 2002, still, one of my favourite concert memories) A good old fashioned night out then, but also a warped and deranged version of an old fashioned night out, with the surrounding seeping into the atmosphere of the gig in a subtle and interesting way for me. What happened? I feel rough today though...and I've finally been to Crickleweood...

Simon, Matsuko and Richard in Hay-on-Wye

After the Green Man Festival we decamped to Hay-on-Wye, a famous small town with about 38 second hand bookshops, right on the edge of the Brecon Beacons, there's a superb remote valley nearby and quite spectacular scenery, though in Hay you don't really see that yet, it's all very bucolic and charming still, lush green meadows and rolling hills, but you only have to drive a few miles and you're in the wide open spaces of the Black Mountains leading over a pass into the Llanthony valley (and you don't want to get stuck in there with a flat tyre as happened to us). So we went hillwalking during the day and bookshopping when not...and on the last evening we ran into an old friend of mine, Richard, and his lovely Japanese girlfriend Matsuko. He lives in Japan now, in a city in a fairly remote southern japanese island, and he's only been back for a little while before returning there again. So quite a surprise, he was a housefriend back in the old days in Brighton. While in the pub I forgot to take photos even though i took gazillions of photos of hills earlier in the day, so when we ran into them again the next morning we had to take a photo. this is in the grounds of the castle ruins in the middle of the town, where there's the so called "Honesty bookshop" - it's open 24/7, and there's lots of trashy books for next to nothing. The choice in that town is somewhat overwhelming but the more time you spend there the more you appreciate its unique atmosphere and all the things it has to offer, there's specialist shops and sections, and even a poetry bookshop, the town is so small and tranquil, and the pervading literary, eccentric, borderline atmosphere makes it slightly different from both England and Wales. And you never know who you might run into there...

below are some photos from earlier in the afternoon, walking up Hays Bluff and, ermm, Lord Herefords Knob (that's the name of the mountain though it's got a celtic sounding name too, to use for official occasions i think, a visit of the Queen?), the evening sun came out and made this a pretty special walk. The Brecon Beacons are really gorgeous, i'm glad we lingered in the area after the festival.

Green Man Festival Sunday Afternoon

mucho mellow... on Sunday afternoon the Green Man Festival really started to fall into place for me. We discovered the top terrace overlooking the entire valley with superb views of the surrounding hills. Juana Molinas was playing, more in the background i'm afraid, apparently about geometrical shapes. It fitted it all rather well. . .

The Lantern procession at the Green Man Festival

though a kid friendly festival, there were moments when it was quite hard work to be there, even for hardened adults like us, not having slept at all, rain, and all that folk music ;-) but on Sunday night the lantern procession showed that this festival is a lot of fun for kids too...i wish i'd filmed a bit more of it actually but it's a lovely little snapshot anyway...

Vegetarian Bacon

Michelle at the Green Man festival...