The next day we managed to get over the Pakistani border, out what an exciting day that was. I sensed that events were beginning to go wrong as we were driving downhill via "the Khyber Pass, a rumour began to circulate about the apparent failure of the brakes. Whether this tale was the truth or not, I never did discover, but one thing was certain, we drove at an extreme pace through the pass. Perhaps this was just as well, for hidden deep within the pass, there were numerous marksmen taking pot shots at the vehicles and even at our fantastic speed, some of these shots were successful.

Onward & Upward

By the time we reached the border post, the appearance of the buses resembled that of two ancient, beaten, colanders. Further problems were to arise at the Pakistan side of the border. The border officials became elated when they realised there were many faults or possible misdemeanors among our entry papers and of course this meant considerable supplementary income in the form of bribes. We had now grown accustomed to these practices. Personally I had to undergo quite a strain, as a so-called doctor, in what might have been at one time, white coat, motioned to me and then to one of the drivers, that I had had only one of the two required cholera jabs, therefore I could not possibly" enter Pakistan. Heated arguments began, but we were helplessly at his mercy. Eventually we struck up a reasonable bargain, then we followed him into his private tent way out back, where he pocketed the money and stamped our papers. The details took a little longer than they should have, as the officials delaying tactics meant he could expect more cash. These events took place in the pitch dark, which was possibly planned by the officials well in advance. After these proceedings were completed, we made our way into a small town just over the boundary and once more our eyes were to open wide in disbelief.

Many of the little local shops had decided to stretch their opening hours in order to secure our custom, no doubt they had been notified of our presence by the border guards, who would get their share of the profits. They probably added that we were easy meat. One of the shops astonished me by procuring both instruments of peace and war, with equal enthusiasm. This proprietor offered for sale drugs such as hashish or opium as well as firearms. Both these products seemed to be Pakistan's biggest exports to the west. One was aware of whole factories manufacturing firearms and I have since learned that many of these weapons would be exported all over the world wherever there was a market for them, no matter what the buyer's politics were.

It was a pity that we raced through Pakistan on our way to India, as our limited experiences of that country were very positive and the inhabitants were open and friendly. Peshawar was only a quick shopping stop for me, where I paid an outrageous price for a Mars Bar in a western-style supermarket, ( 50 P.) Peshawar was remarkably modern. Lahore was just a blur as we flashed past, without even stopping as the drivers were in a great hurry and going at full pelt, doing without sleep and driving all through the night.

SIGGIS

Entertainment at Siggis was provided by some exciting, local musicians, who despite the presense of their Rolex timepieces, played well into the night. As I wandered back from these late-night eating places, I bought some 'brownies' for supper. These were pseudo­-American, chocolate cakes and they tasted delicious, especially by now as my taste buds were popping. It was during these late-night walks alone, that I encountered the loosely-termed, Afghan policemen, wrapped in well-worn and torn, greatcoats. l noticed that they were whistling to each other, eventually my curiosity got the better of me and I found out, that this was the normal procedure to ensure that each guard was either still alive or still awake. In their arms, these policemen carried huge, blunderbus rifles, with delightfully-carved wooden stocks, inlaid with mother-of-pearl. I never saw anyone fire or even attempt to fire one of these guns, which is perhaps just as well, as they really belonged in a museum.

Soon I was to gain respect for these Afghan supercops. On my last day in Kabul I was to come face to face with some of the higher and more efficient echelons of the Afghan police force. It is a day I will never forget. I had decided to spend a quiet, lazy day, hanging around the hotel restaurant. Some of us set up a card school and I was joined by three members of the bus party, who hailed from the romantically-named centre of the universe; Clacton. lt was an intense game and I recall that I was winning, when suddenly the door was pushed open in an amateur Starsky and Hutch routine and we were all held at gunpoint by Afghanis in western clothes claiming to be detectives. l thought it was a joke and they were merely acting out some scene from a Hollywood, forties detective movie. However their sincerity and the fact that these were real guns with real bullets, soon-dismissed any apparent doubts we had about the reality of it all. Our response was tragic.

AIl we could do in our state of nervous anxiety and blind panic was to stutter out an explanation apologising for our ignorance of Islamic law and codes of practice and the customs of our friendly, tolerant host country we were crawling so low we were scrapping the floor.

Evidently someone in the hotel, probably the manager, had sensed the possibility of a large payoff and telephoned the police. Our group-mind was thinking along the lines of stiff jail sentences in some dark dungeon or even of firing squads. Fortunately, we behaved very humbly (easy under the circumstances and continued to apologise profusely.

I did not have the temerity to suggest that we should bribe these detectives, (besides they all seemed too efficient and appeared dedicated beyond reproach), but I did mention the fact that a small forfeit would be in order, to repay these kind policemen for their time and trouble and for showing us the error of our ways.

We admitted that we were naughty, irreligious and sacrilegious and vowed never to do anything as criminal as play cards again in public. This did the trick and they reluctantly accepted some cash and left, and on the way out they warned us of the certain penalty that would await us, if we were caught gambling again. Actually they need not have bothered warning us, as we were so utterly terrified. This seemed a fitting climax to our stay in Afghanistan so we moved on.

And Then

..............laze about all day. During the evening, we would gather together in one room, buy some firewood and party all night. In the mornings one would think that it was Xmas, as the first sounds one would hear, would be the loud ringing of bells outside. This turned out to be the sound of horses and carts, that were covered in bells of every description.

The only vehicles we saw with engines, were brightly-coloured, wooden trucks. The designs on these vehicles were an art-form in themselves. This was folk-art at its finest.

It was difficult to leave Herat, as everyone was having such a good time, but the promise of even greater delights, drove us on to our next stop. The journey from Herat to Kandahar, even with an early start, took us a whole day and, as hotels were now very cheap.

I booked into the, aptly named, Mayfair Hotel, for 20 Afghanis per night. l ventured out for a late evening meal in a rather expensive, but good, restaurant and had boiled eggs and soup, before returning to my hotel for a sound sleep.. Next morning I awoke to find out that the other bus had arrived at 5.00.a.m. after driving through the night. Further inconvenience was due to some mad Afghanis shooting the back window out of the second bus. After the second driver had a four-hour nap, we left for Kabul. We were also to suffer considerable hardship as one of our front skylights had been shot to pieces. This meant we had a freezing 90 m.p.h. gale blowing through the bus en route for Kabul. We were also surprised to witness the startling evidence of a possible industrial revolution occurring in Afghanistan. ln Kandahar, we had been shown all the possible uses old rubber tyres could have e.g. black rubber shoes, water carriers, ,etc.,. Could Afghanistan be the future ecological capital of the world?

We arrived safe from any other sniper attacks in Kabul at 7.30 p.m. on Friday 14th. December. Hotels were luxurious, plentiful and above all, cheap. when I awoke, completely refreshed On Saturday morning, we had been away from home a whole month, and we celebrated this momentous occasion by having a hearty, breakfast that included; two fried eggs, toast, tea, jam and real butter. Equipped with all these extra calories, l was able to meander through cold, snowbound, Kabul streets. Feeling flush, I went on a mad spending spree. I purchased a fur hat (essential for this unrelenting chill) and swapped an old duffle-coat for a coveted, authentic Afghan coat. I may have made a crucial mistake in Kabul, as I recall buying kebabs in a street stall, perhaps this was where I picked up hepatitis germs. I would suffer for this error much later & I must admit that I was feeling unwell later that evening and I retired to bed early, falling asleep around 7.00.p.m. The next day I still felt strange, but I went out for a walk around town. lndeed there were lots to see and do in Kabul and I often deliberately lost myself among back alleys, only to come upon some friendly tea-house, where I would be made welcome.

On Monday night however, I visited some of the local tourist attractions, viz.,Siggis and Sammis. These restaurants had excellent, nutritious food and I remember sampling Weiner Schnitzel at Siggis, accompanied and washed down by numerous, glasses of terrific, sweet, mint tea.

Extract From a Traveller's Diaries

The Americans built one side of the road and the Russians built the other side, both attempting to win the hearts and minds of the people. I would suggest that the USSR was responsible for the left side, and the USA for the right side.

Of course the wise old Afghanis would court both sides and be allies of neither. From recent events, one could see the deep-felt, independence of the Afghanis and I dare say they would not be silly enough to be duped by the games played by the super powers. The inhabitants of this sparse country have long, bitter memories and they are still at war with the now-defunct,. British Empire. Who is going to tell these fierce Pathan tribesmen, that the British Empire no longer exists & one couldn’t help thinking that once they had sent the Russians home they would return to fighting their old enemy.

Future events would bring a totally new agenda to the table.

The Russians cannot win, they lack a fighting spirit, but the Moslems firmly believe in their Jihad and will gladly die fighting as Allah has guaranteed instant transport to paradise for any Moslem who dies in battle fighting the infidel.

By now I was well-aware of the Afghani hospitality. I had met some tribes on their way to Mecca, when our bus broke down in Iran, while we were waiting for spare parts from Meshed and I was seeking refuge in a tea-house, l experienced real Afghan hospitality, straight from the heart, no strings attached. On stepping through the door of the tea-house, and out of a heavy snow storm, l saw the fiercest-looking people I have ever met. They had a bizarre appearance, shaved heads with unnaturally red-coloured, beards, dripping onto their chests. They were crowded around the wood stove, and, as I drew nearer to the only source of heat in the room, they all seemed to back away and give me the prime position at the direct heat. I soon learned the rules of this world and when the next pilgrim came through the door out of the cold, I also moved away from, the stove to let him gain access to the heat. this brought a warm response from the Afghanis (not noted for their warmth), who threw their toothless, knowing smiles in my direction. Their hardened exterior, masked a reality of openness and acceptability. These people only possessed at most: a rifle, coat, blanket, wife, horse, and some sheep, but they always seemed to be happy and this was their main attraction for me. Values had to undergo a radical change when entering Afghanistan, after all a horse or sheep was evidently of more value than a woman or a wife. Naturally their lifestyle had sharpened them a great deal, and what these tribes knew about survival tactics would fill many volumes. Further evidence of this ability to survive under harsh conditions would be seem later, when the mujahadeen would live off the land while waging war on one of the super powers. One could almost say that Afghanistan was the Russians' Vietnam.

My admiration for these people was to increase during my short stay in Afghanistan, and one could easily see why so many overland travellers, never complete their voyage to India and remained in Afghanistan. The hotels catered for foreign travellers and pumped out western music all day and served delicious, western food, so it was tempting to..........(to be continued.........)

Tears of the Black Tiger





What attracted me to this dvd was the blurb: ‘mad as a bag of spiders’ (uncut) & my fondness for Thai westerns as a genre.

I did enjoy the beautiful photography & the psychedelic colouring that reminded me of Haphash & the Coloured Coat or was it Lothar & the Hand People on vinyl?

Disappointed there wasn’t enough craziness in the film unlike ‘Happiness of the Katakuris’, just psychedelic eye candy.

However too much madness can turn you crazy at breakfast. I vaguely remembered William R. Strickland’s ‘Is only the name’ from the late 60s early 70s but playing the cd this a.m frightened me so much I had to replay it instantly to check that it was real.

Easy Listening


When you start enjoying the music, not just the pretty girls on the above album, you know there is something seroiusly wrong with you! When you can listen to this album sandwiched between, Merzbow, the new improved beatles album, Electric Flag & a string quartet tribute to bob dylan, its time to take stock of your life & check where its heading:-)

Spending too long dwelling on the past...........

32 Years ago this month...............

I Am Going To Take You on a Journey

Even the Hippos Were Boiled in Their Tanks


Big thanks to Gregor for the Trees!

More Memories

Happiness is:



Finally getting your grubby hands on Tonto's Expanding headband - Zero Time (little did I guess that little stevie wonder & the motown mavericks would buy up this duo lock stock & barrel, never allowing them to experiment again, unless it was to give stevie his whole 70s funk sound!), after you made the stupid mistake of selling the vinyl to get money for Edgar Broughton at the Maryland & some mood elevation from the old State Bar.


Also life is marginally better with the full re-mastered version of John Cale's Paris 1919 & eventually on cd: Tyrannosaurus Rex - My People Were Fair ............

Forgotten albums that fell between the cracks

This could be part 2 of an occasional series on a very personal trek across the great divide.

Before we all went out the other morning, I treated my wife & younger son to, what I can only describe as one the best albums I have heard, since the complete Jacques Tati soundtracks.

The album is by Karl Zero & its called Songs for Cabriolets & Otros Tipos De Vehiculos. Guarenteed to put a smile on your face before you go out to face the cruel world.

Another favourite of yours truly is ‘You are what you Eat’ (OST).Peter Yarrow (of Peter, Paul & Mary) sings ‘Moments of Soft Persuasion’ & ‘Don’t Remind Me Now of Time’ & ‘The Wabe’, that would make any sane man cry & John Simon’s ‘My Name is Jack’ are sequenced with a superb Electric Flag freakout. Perhaps I love this because I had it on vinyl at a crucial stage in my development.

Bruce Palmer (ex Buffalo Springfield)- the Cycle is Complete’.

David Crosby - If only I could Remember my Name

This Heat - s/t & Deceit

John Wall - Fear of Gravity & Alterstill (he has since distanced himself from Fear of Gravity’ as it relies heavily on classical music samples!)

Tranquillity Bass – Let the Freak Flag Fly

Kaminsky Experience – In Flight Entertainment & Espresso Espresso

Spooky Tooth & Pierre Henry – Ceremony

David Axelrod – Songs of Innocence & Experience

Comus – First Utterance -To Keep from Crying

Will Powers – Dancing for Mental Health

Zombies – Odyssey & Oracle

Pretty Things – SF Sorrow & Parachute

Hawk & Hacksaw – Darkness @ Noon

Nucleus (Ian Carr) – Belladonna & Elastic Rock

Quicksilver Messenger Service – Happy Trails

Moolah – Woe Ye Demons Possessed

Weather Report – I Sing the Body Electric & Tale Spinnin’

Exuma – Exuma

Skin Alley – s/t & To Pagham

Affinity – s/t

Gracious – This is

Mice Parade – All Roads Lead to Salzburg

Airto Lindsay – Invoke

Beach Boys – Holland

Edgar Broughton Band – Sing Brother Sing & Inside Out

Bobby Hughes Experience – Fusa Riot

Robert Mellin – ‘Robinson Crusoe’ (ost)

Stones – Their Satanic Majesties

Andrew Hodson – Map Music

Skyphone – Fabula

Brinsley Schwartz – Surrender to the Rhythm

Shuggie Otis – Inspiration Information

Alasdair Roberts – No Earthly Man

Eden Ahbez – Eden’s Island

Paul Giovanni – ‘Wicker Man’ (ost)

(to be continued…………………)

Happiness is a Warm Gun

Did everyone get Mr Lennon’s play on words when this track appeared on the ‘White Album’?

Cataloguing new books I came across an intriguing title by Richard Layard ‘Happiness’.

He states: ‘today most of us are richer, healthier, and have better homes, cars, food and holidays than ever before. But we are no happier than we were fifty years ago. What is going on?’

This certainly echoes my own beliefs. These thoughts have been with me since my sojourns into the Far East in the early 70s, where Buddhist concepts about the transitive nature of happiness/sadness & joy/sorrow often occupied a piece of my fertile mind.

Without getting too deep: how many times have you truly been happy in this life? How long did this feeling last?

Turning this around: how many times have you been so sad? How long did this moment last?

Free Your Mind

And your ass will follow. What with my younger son going to see James Brown in Glasgow & that informative documentary on George Clinton last night, we sure are having a funkee good time @ our house.

That was until I foolishly decided to take a week’s holiday & ended up with a debilitating cold/flu.

Keeping on that 70s funk theme, I am listening to Donny Hathaway singing ‘The Ghetto’ live as I write this. I must admit I was totally engrossed in the Motown sound when I was growing up & only came to the real deal later in life.

Its only a couple of years since I first obtained Funkadelic’s first album. It is so good. In fact most of the early albums are excellent. He did lose the place(some would say big style!). Last night’s documentary went a long way in explaining why this happened.

For me on a personal level, I think his biggest mistake was marrying Hilary, although she could be the next president of the USA, maybe that was the Mothership Connection.

Keeping the Memory Alive


You know some people think that as long as your offspring can still remember you living then you are still alive.

I can still remember what great pleasure this man gave to the world & how he improved my life.

I was astonished to learn that he had been one of the earliest teachers at Summerhill School. I mention this as I was fascinated with that method of teaching when I was young & in my prime & at odds with my own teachers.

He has always surprised me & even coming across his book of poetry in a prison library, where he ends each chapter with the number of miles from Glasgow, brought a smile to me even in the most trying times.

Full Text :COPYRIGHT 2006 Scotsman Publications Ltd.


INSTAL 06 *** THE ARCHES, GLASGOW


THE introduction to this year's programme brochure for Instal, Glasgow's annual weekend showcase of experimental and underground music, insists that "it's not a festival with anything to do with connoisseurship or elitism". For the uninitiated, however, the reality is rather different. To begin with, any remotely conventional understanding of "music" - defined in my dictionary as "the art or science of combining vocal or instrumental sounds (or both) to produce beauty of form, harmony and expression of emotion" - needs to be checked at the door.

This, in itself, is not necessarily a bad thing, of course. Anything calling itself "experimental" or "underground" is intrinsically at odds with convention, while quibbles about musicality are also sidestepped by the alternative term "noise art". There's plenty of scope for challenge, too, in the phrase "beauty of form", which in turn is arguably no prerequisite for "expression of emotion". Whatever you choose to call it, the sector of sonic creation and performance that Instal inhabits is a broad if uniformly unorthodox church, ranging from the outer reaches of free jazz to esoteric electro-acoustic experimentation, extremities of death-metal rock, and aurally-based conceptual art. It is evidently also highly debatable territory, with even apparently basic terms like "new" and "experimental" being open to question, given the 50-year history of such practice, traceable back to Cage and Stockhausen.

Be all that as it may, this year's sixth Instal programme couldn't be faulted for its diversity. Even in the field of free improvisation, for instance, approaches varied from the wild sax/drums duelling of US twosome Steve Baczkowski and Ravi Padmanabha to the rarefied, obliquely evocative dialogue between Japan's Kiyoharu Kuwayama on cello and Rina Kijima on violin. The violin, this time in digitally modified form, also featured in Tony Conrad's pairing with Keiki Haino, the latter switching between guitar, synthesiser and extraordinary multi-octave vocals. The deafening sonic stramash that ensued certainly scored high for visceral force, the violence of its assault offset by moments of undeniable grandeur. Kuwayama, meanwhile, also delivered a solo performance entitled Lethe, in which he applied blocks of dry ice to heated stainless steel surfaces, amplifying the vibrations created. This last piece exemplified a difficulty shared by several Instal acts, also including Lee Paterson's micro-manipulations of assorted objects on a tabletop and Tetsuya Umeda's customised rotary fans.

Even where the work seemed conceptually interesting - in Kuwayama's case, translating the physical opposition between extreme heat and cold into sound - the actual results often proved unenlightening, or tedious, or both. Elsewhere, Arrington de Dionyso's "shamanic" outpourings, via voice and bass clarinet, combined Asian throat-singing and human beat-box techniques to no obvious additional advantage. It must be said that a majority in the audience seemed already au fait with the "noise art" scene, and gave every appearance of enjoying themselves immensely.

For the interested newcomer, however, the aforementioned programme brochure offered precious little help in terms of history, context, theoretical background or clues as to the artists' intended purpose, with the result that much of the fare on offer elicited nothing but frustrated bafflement. Source Citation: "Reviews: INSTAL 06." The Scotsman (Edinburgh, Scotland) (Oct 17, 2006): 30.


I avoided it this year as I thought it was a trifle tame & uninspiring........................

Of Milkmaids & Architects

I know I really should get out more. I had the opportunity last night to go & see Martha Tilston & the Woods @ Oran Mor. This was my first visit to the Glasgow venue. I am old enough to remember it as a church. We used to live just across the road below the Grosvenor Hotel, when we were first married.

I recognised the support act from Milngavie Folk Club, The Metronomes & I was deeply impressed that first time I saw them & last night although plagued by dodgy sound engineering, they were even better. Watch out for this duo.

Martha Tilston I had never heard, although I knew her dad Steve’s work. Incidently he played Glasgow a couple of nights previously (why didn’t Martha mention this?). The stage was all decked out like a forest glade with mock fires, leaves…..etc & there was leafy & weird visuals. I was expecting some kind of Finnish psychedelic folk or some of the new American backwoods folk like Cul De Sac, Joanna Newsome, Vetiver…..etc.

However, I did not expect such a great performance. Her hirsute companions could have been the band straight from their Woodstock log cabin.

Outasight!

Mad Dog

As the late John Balance of Coil was singing @ 4.30 a.m. in our house ‘the only thing to fear is fear itself’.

I knew the recent documentary on ‘Suicide dogs’ @ Overtoun House bridge was coming on tv ages ago. We were all looking forward to a close detailed study of the urban myth. I have friend & family connections to the actual house, that is situated in the Kilpatrick Hills just above Milton (no not that one!).

My wife, best friend & twin cousins were all born there & I have been shown around the interior with its beautiful ceilings & ornate angels & other marvellous artistic works. It is a place of calm & beauty. My sister in law was not convinced of this, as we attended an Xmas service a few years ago & she was suspicious of the foxes, owls & other night creatures howling in the mist.

Anyway back to the story: since the 1950s, 50+ dogs have felt some kind of urge to leap off of this bridge to their death. My own cousin can verify this, although his own ‘wonderdog’ survived to tell the tale. Thus I knew the story was true although I was not aware that there was so many canine casualities.

Various tests were carried out to try & explain this phenomena during the programme, the most reasonable one being the presence of a large number of mink in the area & their heavy scent may have sparked off this impulse.

We relayed this story to the happy highlanders & now they have some way to threaten ‘Jura’ truly a mad dog among mad dogs.

One factor not mentioned in the documentary, that covered signals from the Faslane naval base…etc..was the presence of the Milton cat & dog home at the foot of the hill.

For myself I can live quite happily with the unexplained, the irrational. In fact, I much prefer alternative realities to the rather dull rational explanations.

Writing this I am longing to hear an old album that I am sure I would enjoy again from Joe Cocker ‘Mad Dogs & Englishmen’.

Black Swan

One of the Happy Highlanders thought my review of Bobby D’s new album was a bit harsh. Maybe it will grow on me. I will re-listen as soon as I get the time. I have just come off a back-to-back exposure to John Renbourn’s ‘9 Maidens’ & ‘Lady & the Unicorn’. I have recently seen John Renbourn live & I would have had the opportunity & I should have asked him about something that has puzzled me since I first encountered his solo albums. Why when he had discovered this beautiful medieval English sound did he stop making those terrific albums & make these pseudo Americano albums. A format that is more suited to other artists!


As usual Happy Highlander No 1 is on the same wavelength as he appeared yesterday with Bert Jansch’s new album ‘Black Swan’. On first playing I was deeply impressed by this cd. I am of course a sucker for Beth Orton’s vocals & she is all over this cd.

I mentioned earlier that I was re-discovering the Pentangle sound. I was drawing comparison with much of the new freaky folk from the US & Finland. Also this new breed of outsiders owes a lot to the Incredible String Band who are undergoing a new lease of life both in Aviemore & Clydebank.

Finally, this is not the correct forum to mention this, so I am not going to make any reference to Celtic’s return to their glorious form of old in the European theatre & their total annihilation of the quality opposition, that used to be the mighty Benfica.

All Things Must Pass

Listening to ‘Wonderwall’ finally after all these years of searching. No not that one ya ninny! Can you say ‘very freaky’ on this blog. Memories of Dec 73 on Colva Beach, Goa come flooding back. ‘All Things Must Pass’ was playing every day from a grass hut nearby. Somebody spoke & I drifted into a dream.

Paradise on earth, but with buying some of life’s little luxuries, I took my daily expenses up through the 5p per day ceiling. My extravagance knows no bounds.

Strange that this is the only piece of music that I can recall from that time. As a constant companion amid the squalor & the hunger & the real poverty, It was an ideal mantra for life in India.

Maximum Collateral Damage

Imagine the situation. You are still wet behind the ears & you desperately want to be part of the scene................'the swinging 60s' & all things groovy & then someone sticks this lp on the decks & its as if you had totally forgotten to breath, you get swept up in a mad mental maelstorm...........lifted up & cast aside.............you know that bit in movies now, where the director uses fast editing & movement becomes so fast & furious & erratic. This was the efect of listening to this album the first time. Now that I have listened to it so many times the impact has lessened slightly, but it is still for my money the best live album in the world ever. Ladies & gentlemen, I give you the MC5.

Modern Times

Just in case I gave the impression that I don’t listen to recent music, I will review the latest album by Bob Dylan. Here goes: Bob discovers J.J. Cale & rips him off like he did with Martin Carthy & Bert Jansch in another lifetime. End of.

If gardening is the new rock & roll & fishing is the new kung fu, is Gordon Brown, (or John Reid another in the Parcel of Rogues): the new Tony Blair?

Alasdair Gray in 1992, wrote about the benefits of small countries having their own self- government. This was particularly important if the small country had a wealth of natural resources. At the time there was a whole cover up & black operation to smother any ideas of the Scots acquiring this wealth that should obviously go to our colonial masters.

Amid this bitches brew, Alasdair Gray points out that throughout history, there has existed this parcel of rogues, who are motivated totally by self interest & who do their utmost to put their own country down. Is this not treason? Hanging should be their fate, not the top seat in government. Certainly, if I was English (God forbid), I wouldn’t take too kindly to a smug bunch of tartan toe-rag, know-it-alls, running my country. I think the voters will show this in the next General Election. Enough of this rant & back to the music. Didn’t Bob Dylan used to be a protest singer, political, Jew, born again Christian?

‘If it keeps on raining, the levee’s gonna break’ – pure J.J. Cale. However, I would like to state that I am a big J.J. Cale fan so that I am enjoying this cd.

I am now remembering a John Cale gig @ Glasgow’s City Halls, back in the day & we were all there, all my friends in some sort form of abandonment. Many of these friends are now dead or facing a 6 month countdown. This last week, I heard of another clean living friend, who had worked in the shipyard gaining an apprenticeship, & then went back to College/University to get his degree & changed careers. I used to meet him swimming or at the sauna, he kept himself fit. He dropped dead at work. He was a couple of years younger than yours truly. When your time is up.

Happier times, happy trails.

Broken Flowers

Just caught this movie on dvd recently. I had heard the soundtrack & loved it & I do like Bill Murray as an actor, although I did think that ‘Lost in Translation’ was just that: lost.

However I was lost in ‘Broken Flowers’ it just seemed to drift without purpose. The music is the best & most haunting part of the film & Tilda Swinton showed how you can alter your appearance with a long black wig.

This is how Osama Bin Laden has eluded his predators. Although some Black Operators have leaked the story of him dying of, what is it this time? Kidney failure, no its Typhoid.

Another movie I have just caught up with was ‘Hotel Rwanda’. This was not as harrowing as I had expected. It was a terrific film, but the harsh realities of what happened there & of how it was allowed to continue make my blood boil. It doesn’t surprise me, nor does any cruelties showing man’s inhumanity to man. Palestine is a daily record of these extreme atrocities.

Arran, not Iran

A September Weekend turns into an Indian summer: God smiles on the righteous. Lets hope that no mad US president decides on a nuke strike, while we are on this island.

Happy Highlanders meet us off the ferry @ Brodick in the sunshine. We were staying with them in their ’Log Cabin Home in the Sky’.

I had left my car in Ardrossan, so it was pleasant to be a passenger as we toured the Island listening to Alt. Country. Not as rugged an island as Mull, where we had our break last year, but it was very much like one huge working farm. The island’s dairy products reflect this & the milder, Gulf Stream weather, accounts for their farming success & the number of palm trees around are beautiful. I thought I really was back in Iran again.

Day 2 was even better & divided into 2 very distinct tours. Part 1 was a walk out to the standing stones on Machrie Moor. I am an avid fan of Julian Cope’s (cannot cope) book on the standing stones of Britain, that has a huge section on Scotland & I bought a Reference copy for one of the libraries, I used to work in. Sadly it has gone out of print. I am also reading his book on Krautrock at the moment. Anyway, nothing prepared us for the totally awesome & gobsmackable experience of these stones on Machrie Moor. The little roadside sign & the lack of a proper car park did not indicate how superb this site was, although to be honest either I am getting older or the distances were incredibly inaccurate!

From the first set of standing stones, we could see another & from the next set, we could see another & from the next set, we could see another & from the next set, we could see another & from the next set, we could see another

Etc : 6 sets. As we approached the last set, amid much snickering about telling my wife, who stayed in the car, that I had done a Billy Connolly, we hit bogland & for the first time in years, I got my feet really soaked, they were to stay this way all day, squelch, squelch, squelch.

Next up was a visit to Brodick Castle. I am not that interested in the insides of the castle, but the gardens were like those of Eden. Here was a glimpse of Paradise.

I will never forget the feeling of being in the walled garden among more butterflies & bees than you could ever dream of, wonderful, unreal & heavenly bliss.

Curves in Rainbowed Air

My younger son has decided we are going to attempt to clean up the loft & make it a more manageable dumping ground. For the foreseeable future we are as a family going to attempt this lifechanging exercise.

The area has been divided up into zones. This is how I found my old 'hippie trail' sleeping bag. If you look closely, you may ask yourself what caused all those minute burn holes. Well thats another story.

How Did We Get Here From There

Spending all those years abroad in a war zone, meant I had to catch up on a lot of new music on my return. During that short time so much musical changes had occurred, perhaps inspired by that second summer of love. Mind you when one looks around, one doesn’t witness a world full of love. Certainly there isn’t a lot of love in the USA & Britain’s weapons of mass destruction, that are killing & maiming innocent women & children all over the Middle East.

Dance music had exploded in the uk. I had to immerse myself in house, techno & drum & bass for a while. During an earlier period in my life, I wanted to learn about classical music & I learned by spending 2 or 3 years tuned into a very informative and pompous radio 3. I still listen to classical music, but now it’s the newer cutting edge pieces by artists like Steve Reich, Philip Glass, Terry Riley…etc… Radio 3 has a number of decent programmes that I listen to on a weekly basis e.g. ‘Mixing It’, ‘Jazz on 3’,’Hear & Now’, ‘Between the Ears’ etc..

As the years pile on I have had to become very selective in the listening process. I am still fond of the odd decent house tune or good Detroit techno or intelligent techno e.g. Wagon Christ, Aphex Twin, Muslimgauze or Black Dog. As I write this I am listening to the latter’s album with Black Sifichi & it is so outstanding. I was in contact with Black Dog’s Ken Downie via a Bulletin Board (remember them?) while I was working @ Bell College.

At that time using Bulletin Boards I got in contact with 2 friends, Eric & Steve, who got me involved in the whole Industrial/Intelligent Techno scene. From a shared interest in Cabaret Voltaire, Throbbing Gristle, Psychic TV, Zoviet France & especially the Hafler Trio I was to move into an exploration of pure sound or more non-musical sounds, soundwalks, glitches………etc…….

I am still around that arena with occasional backsliding. Now for instance, I am listening to Johnny Cash American V: 100 Highways, but during the period of writing this, I have played Vashti Bunyan, Devendra Banhart, Linda Perhacs, Astor Piazzolla Remixed, Koop, John Mayall, John Martyn’ s ‘Dusty’ & ‘The River’ & the Allman Brothers Live @ Filmore East.

My current obsessions include Psychedelia, Krautrock, Ye-Ye Girls & jazzy lounge.

‘If you could read my Mind’ now I am puzzled: who used to sing that? ‘I will Meet you Brother Further on up the Road’. Looking forward to it: Mr Cash.

Tartan Terrorism




Sometimes you feel so fiercely proud to be Scottish. 2 wins out of 2 in our World Cup campaign helps. It’s a bit early in the campaign to go all out Ally MacLeod, barking mad, but there is a faint glimmer of hope. Mind you we are in the so-called: ‘group of death’ ( we always seem to be & England end up with countries you’ve never heard of & I am far-travelled).

The English media’s coverage of Andy Murray’s rapid rise to the top lightens the heart. However, it is only by being involved in 3 Reading Groups, that I gained exposure to George Douglas Brown’s ‘House With the Green Shutters’. I found this lost Scottish classic to be so enjoyable & a constant page turner. A joy to read.

It is difficult being a librarian when you cannot choose the books you read. For the past 3 years, someone else has done this for me. I have discovered that this had led me into reading titles I would have avoided, but also almost all the titles I have read have been superb…e.g. ‘Time Travellers Wife’ , ‘Kite Runner’, ‘Kevin’, ‘No Great Mischief’, ‘A Gathering Light’….etc……

Its also very useful as the years pass by to learn new things. I work in an educational environment, so it is easy. I am in the process of learning to drive a 15 seat minibus & I am enjoying the experience.

Also I finally got around to listening to the Akron Family today & I would recommend this, but not while driving a 15 seater & reading ‘Green Shutters’.

Happenings

There is so much going on in Glasgow. You would think we had more hotels than you could ever need, but all 12, 500 rooms were full this weekend.

The weather didn’t really suit the Indian Summer Festival in Victoria Park, but it did stay dry most of Saturday. There are many bands at this event I would have liked to see…e.g. Camera Obscura, Fall & Antony & Johnsons. Devendra Banhart was playing @ the ABC, Sauchiehall St. We passed by the ABC & hundreds of kilted members of the tartan army who were celebrating the rebirth of the 6-0 winning Scotland side. Yes, we are back & proud.

No, we were not on our way to Hampden Park to see Robbie Williams, but to the fairly, empty CCA, where there were more people on the stage than there was in front of it, in the audience.

I have such high regard for Raymond MacDonald & Geoge Burt. I have caught them a few times @ Brels, during the West End Festival playing with one of my heroes, Lol Coxhill. Sadly they didn’t perform together this year.

Also there is the connection surrounding the cd they recorded about the Tobermory Clock, that has a personal history in my family. I bought that cd recently & visited the clock last September. So, one year later I managed to persuade my wife to come along with me to see MacDonald & Burt with the Glasgow Improvisers Orchestra. The venue has such a history for us, when it was the Third Eye Centre. Mind you at that time there wasn’t all those semi-clothed drunken girls & boys cruising Sauchiehall St.

The actual concert itself reminded me of one of the 60s ‘Happenings’. We were told there was 6 pieces (6 goals, 6 improvised pieces….co-incidence?). There was such diverse sounds with varying dynamics. My wife & I agreed on something & this was that the quiet piece was our favourite. There was an AMM Keith Rowe/George Burt connection with the latter.

It was weird again, after the concert, to be walking amid the kilted throngs & the miniskirted girls with thongs in Sauchiehall St. It was such a sharp contrast to where we had been during the previous 90 minutes (another fitba reference!).It was a very enjoyable affair & thanks to the Happy Highlanders for letting us know about the event.

Son Nos. 1 & 2


This Was Our Reaction to the Fact That Celtic Were in The Same Group as Man Utd for the Euro Championship

If the Profile Fits, Wear It

Thinking of visiting friends on Scotland in miniature: Arran, over the September weekend. I hope we will be the only’ Weegies’ on the Isle. Just thinking how silly it is to remake the ‘Wicker Man’ one of my favourite films in the USA. Isnt that silly, it’s like making an American version of ‘Get Carter’! Oh, wait a minute, someone did!

Anyway the media has created mass hysteria. Last week some swarthy gents were taken off the Arran ferry. Were they speaking Arabic? No that was on a flight from Dubai to Manchester. I spoke to 2 students, who will be flying back from Dubai to Manchester to start University & there is a high chance they may speak Arabic on that flight. I should have warned them, I was talking to them in Arabic last week at the college. I will probably see then next in an orange jumpsuit on TV from Guantanmo Bay.

Good job they don’t check passports on the Arran Ferry. Mine would give even the slowest passport – official, much food for thought: Turkey, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan, and Saudi Arabia. If he looked closely at the Saudi cities & areas visited (assuming he could read Arabic), it would be orange jumpsuit for yours truly.

I hope they don’t ask me about my time working in prison, where I used to deliver books & tapes & talk in Arabic to Algerian prisoners, picked up during the last wave of mass hysteria.

I am reminded of the time I was held up by tanks in Greece during the Generals revolution or the long journey across the desert during the first Gulf War, or being arrested in Kabul for playing cards or the time I had to reverse the motor at 90 mph as 2 Bedouins pulled guns on each other & I had to get my wife & boys safe. Being a librarian does have some excitement!

I don’t want to harp on again about if we had our own country, we wouldn’t have all those enemies that Labour’s foreign policy has created.

‘Joy to the world was a beautiful girl, but to me joy meant only sorrow’. This Nilsson song keeps going around in my head from Nilsson - ‘Son of Schmilsson’ maybe it’s because Joy from the library has taken a few much needed days off. Enjoy.