Johnny, David & Bruce

Johnny Pearson, anyone? The name conjures up a formidable centre half; a journeyman who turned out for QPR, Luton Town, Bournemouth and latterly Wimbledon. He would probably have picked up a couple of U-21 caps for England along the way. And then the inevitable calf injury that forced his early retirement from the game. All very plausible but, alas, incorrect. Johnny Pearson was, as I'm sure many of you already know, a musician's musician. Band leader, arranger, composer - he was Mr. Top of the Pops for fifteen years straight (1966-81) conducting the TOTP Orchestra. One of his many other claims to fame was being one of KPM's foot soldiers - writing and recording quality off the peg library music which often ended up being used for TV themes and or incidental music. I listen to his stuff often and am constantly blown away by the range and diversity of his recorded output. In this his centenary year I'd like to drop a couple of his tunes that everyone will know. First up, who can forget Sleepy Shores. 1970s goggle boxers will know it as the theme to Owen MD but, as any crate digger will tell you, it really is a stand alone loungecore classic. 

Johnny Pearson & His Orchestra - Sleepy Shores (1972)

The second one I've chosen harks back to a blogpost I wrote earlier this week. It features on a KPM compilation titled Children and Animation. It's less than two minutes long and, as the makers of Mary, Mungo and Midge quickly worked out, it was a perfect fit for their newly commissioned kiddies' programme.

Johnny Pearson - Mini Walking (1969)

★ 

Every now and again I read something written by one of my fellow bloggers that either upsets or troubles me. One such post written a couple of days ago c/o New Amusements. NA spoke with genuine affection for bass player and original member of The Jam, Bruce Foxton. It's well documented that Bruce is not in the best of health. In fact he's bowing out after nearly fifty years in the business. NA then threw in one of Bruce's songs he wrote for the band, News of the World. Bruce was not a prolific songwriter but every now and again he hit the motherlode. And with a promo video featuring Battersea Power Station as a backdrop, what's not to like? Also it gives me an opportunity to put up another image of BPS; this time it's a Hockney-esque interpretation of south London's mot iconic structure.  

★

Johnny Pearson (1925-2011)

David Hockney (1937-)

Bruce Foxton (1955-)

H2O

February - from the Latin februum, meaning purification. I said a little while ago I'd be posting one or two pictures on the first of every month during 2023 and, sure enough (this time with a water theme, no matter how tenuous) here's Month 2's selection. (In case you missed January, look no further.)

The photograph below was taken in Leicester a couple of weeks ago on one of my photo excursions (just me rocking up at Nottingham station with nothing more than my camera and a rucksack (with a book and a chocolate bar) jumping on a random train and seeing where I end up. The fountain in a city centre square was backlit by the sun and really caught my attention; as did the pub just up the road where I repaired to a couple of minutes after this image was captured. More on The Blue Boar I'm sure in future posts...

My second photograph will probably comes as no surprise. Last Thursday's visit to the capital was special. For lots of reasons. I'm in the middle of writing up a few words and will share with you in the next few days, I'm sure. In the meantime, here's a photo of Mother Thames taken from the top of a certain power station in SW11.

Helping me out with this month's photo challenge are a couple of my favourite bloggers: Alyson and C are not only great virtual friends, but real - in the flesh - friends who I was privileged to spend time with last year in Edinburgh at BlogCon22.

Alyson first - 'A bit twee but it was dusk and we spotted these swans on a flooded area of the local golf course - loved how the light hit the water.' Twee? Not a bit of it; a brilliant photo, Alyson. Thank you.

C is a fabulous artist and illustrator. She says 'Here's a piccy for your photo theme - my little much loved water pot (I call her Potula) - where I dip and rinse my paintbrushes every day.'

Perfect, C! Just what I was after, thank you so much.

...

Hall & Oates - Family Man (taken from their 1983 album, H2O)

Pigs preparing for take off

I'm excited, I don't mind telling you. Tomorrow I shall be jumping on the 9:50 to London St. Pancreas to spend some long overdue time in the capital. At 1pm, all being well, I should be 109 metres above the ground standing atop one of Battersea Power Station's iconic chimneys. BPS had been stood empty for many, many years yet has always been a pivotal part of London's ever changing landscape. It's been under construction, on and off, for the best part of 40 years, but is now, seemingly, the latest shiny new slab of real estate with a postcode to die for. And, no, I'm not expecting to see turbines in the grandeur of its once Art Deco Turbine Hall. I'm not quite sure what I will find in the space now occupying same - I shall have to report back. There will be pictures; heaps of pictures. 

Lights Out

I heard today about the passing of Storm Thorgerson aka Mr. Hipgnosis. He's obviously best known for the iconic sleeve design of Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon (and quite rightly too), but his canon goes far deeper than that. When I wrote a Sleeve Notes piece for Classic Rock magazine a few years ago, remembering UFO's Lights Out album cover, I grabbed a few words from Storm as well as interviewing Phil Mogg, the band's vocalist. Mogg was typically vague, only remembering two geezers (him and Michael Schenker) wearing overalls in Battersea Power Station. Thorgerson on the other hand, while admitting it wasn't the best cover they did for the band (try Force It - the one with the taps) saw a sleeve not without a certain charm: 'where vanity meets industrial design.'

UFO - Lights Out - 1977

The number of the counting shall be 3

When the late Stephane Grappelli recently turned up in EMI's vaults lurking on Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here, it was likened to finding The Holy Grail. Grappelli had been working in Abbey Road Studios at the same time as the Floyd and was asked to come in and play with the band. Upon the album's release they said he'd been lost in the mix; more likely Gilmour and Waters had a fight about whose idea it had been and then dropped the veteran jazzer's deft solo altogether. Shame it's taken over 35 years to resurface.

(Grappelli comes in, beautifully, at 3:06)