News has reached Medd Towers that stellar intellect Kim Kardashian has this week called the Apollo 11 moon landing a hoax. Buzz Aldrin the oldest living American astronaut doesn't take kindly to that kind of talk. Aldrin, the man who followed Neil Armstrong onto the surface of the moon, is a highly respected, much decorated, NASA & United States Military hero. Kim Kardashian, on the other hand, is a skank.
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Never one to shy away from shameless self promotion, did I tell you I wrote a song about the moon landing? It's called One Small Step...
Hot on the heels of 2015's Chip Off the Old Block, my new single I'm Doing Fine is now available on Spotify. It's a sprightly little thing; clocking in at 3:27 it makes a perfect (soft boiled) egg timer. Give it a listen. Tell your friends to give it a listen. If you haven't got any friends then play it to the cat. That's what I'm gonna do. Completists among you who may not be familiar with my back catalogue might like to begin with 2012's Pickering Place. It's a doozy - four JM originals and a Slade cover (really). Anyway, here's the shiny new thing:
John Medd - I'm Doing Just Fine (2025)
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I told the story of I'm Doing Just Fine and how it came about here.
Despite being such a relatively short book (more a novella than a novel; 207 pages and a word count of roughly 40,000) Orbital was always destined to have a huge impact. And so it came to pass - winning, as it did, the 2024 Booker Prize. I remember saying at the time it would be a book I'd return to often. In pretty much the same way Andrew Smith's Moondust knocked me sideways, so Samatha Harvey's fifth novel, despite its brevity, is still resonating with me long after I finished reading it.
It was also the inspiration for one of my newer songs. I wrote One Small Step last September and recorded it last week (along with I'm Doing Just Fine), and I've got to say I'm blown away with the sound Phil Cooper has achieved. His remarkable production and (almost) angelic backing vocals have lifted the song in a way I couldn't imagine when I was driving down to Bristol last Monday morning singing it in the car.
Since my surgery I get asked all the time 'How are you?' or 'How are you feeling?' To which, in the early days of recovery, I would recite, chapter & verse, precisely how I was feeling (and until quite recently that was mostly likening my current status to that of someone who has recently been hit by a truck). Then, for good measure, I'd also list of all my past, present and future hospital and clinic appointments. Pretty soon I realised that not only was I boring the person who was asking the question, I was boring myself. So now, whenever anyone asks me how I am, I simply reply: 'I'm doing just fine.' I've even written a song about it.
A huge thank you to the supremely talented Phil Cooper (below) who not only produced this recording but also made me sound like I knew what I was doing.
(On the back of my recent BlogCon25 Q&As, Alyson & C, between them, have been vox popping our fellow bloggers and have presented me with a number of their questions! (The tables are well and truly turned. I'm sure Robin Day never suffered such a fate). So, as Alyson said in her covering email, "this is a guest post from your blogging pals." Even the title of today's post is hers, nothing to do with me! - JM)
I think we can all agree that John is the least anonymous of any of us in our little corner of the blogosphere. Bit by bit, however, he has cleverly and sensitively drawn the rest of us out from the shadows, and what with the Swedey McSwedeface gallery, and the three meet-ups in the real world, many of us are now a lot less anonymous than we ever intended - but what a joy it has been, and for most of us a completely unexpected bonus from this hobby of ours. Covid got in the way for a couple of years but without John's persistence BlogCon22 would never have got off the ground and for that we thank him. BlogCon25 is not far off now - who would have thought ten years ago such an annual event would be on the calendar?
We've all been enjoying his recent Q&A series with BlogCon25 participants and affiliates. Now it's his turn to spill the beans, the questions coming from bloggers north, south, east and west. Over to you John.
From Charity Chic:
What would be your Desert Island Disc record and book?
As a devotee of BBC's DID I'm assuming CC is asking me which of my favourite eight discs I'd rush to save from the waves on my desolate island? Having a constant diet of just eight discs would be a kind of torture in itself, let alone just one. Therefore, as big a Beatles nut as I am I wouldn't feel the need to have any of their stuff with me as every note, every hook, every verse, chorus and melody are hardwired into my skull; I hear them even when they're not playing if that makes sense. So I'll go with something that won't grate every time I hear it (providing I get rescued before too long!). And that disc would have to be Blockbuster by the Sweet. My book? That's easy. The complete works of Magnus Mills. I can reread his novels and short stories and always find something new in there.
From Ernie:
You are commissioned to present a travel series called 'Medd on the Med'. Where do you head for first and why?
I'm reliably informed there are 33 cities on the Med. I'd like to spend a few days in each one and go round them all in alphabetical order (much to my producer's chagrin) - starting in Alanya in Turkey and winding up in Vlorë in Albania.
From C:
As you know, I do like your taste in shirts. Have you always been a fan of unusual and striking designs and are there any particular characters whose sartorial style has inspired your choices?
Why, thank you! Nope, I just buy shirts I like (and fit). Back in the day, I used to love Pop 84 and Disciple shirts; these days they can be from goth shops, charity shops, Ebay. I'm not proud! Many moons ago, whilst watching Have I Got News For You, I was chuffed/put out (in equal measure) when I saw Paul Merton wearing a shirt I'd recently bought in Madrid.
From Khayem:
What, when and where did you first perform as a musician to an audience, and why that particular song?
It was the early 90s and I was performing in a trio called The Three Daves (don't ask). We played a local beer festival in a big tent to a crowd who were nearly as drunk as we were. I was on vocals, guitar and percussion. We did a load of Beatles covers but for some reason I can only remember Across the Universe.
From The Swede:
The old time machine is on its way out I'm afraid. I've tried turning it off and on again to no avail, it's basically kaput. It has two seats, but only three still operating settings and just enough juice left for you to make use of one of them. Which do you choose?
(a) A journey back to 1972 to witness ELP play Trilogy in its entirety, exclusively for you and a guest, (b) A similar trip to 1974 to be in an audience of two while Sweet play Sweet Fanny Adams from start to finish, or (c) To 1978 where Generation X will bash through their debut LP for the delectation of you and your +1.
The supplementary question is of course, just who would be your +1?
Oof! This is tough. So when you say a performance just for me and my +1 you mean like a soundcheck? Sorry to be pedantic. Three very appealing scenarios but I think I'd have to plump for the Sweet; I never saw the original four piece with BC so, yeah, it'd have to be SFA. My +1? It would be my good friend Steve. Even now, rarely a week goes by where we don't talk about the Sweet. (FYI - if I'd have gone for Gen X my +1 would have been Riggsby. We did see them at West Runton Pavilion together in '78 when they essentially did the setlist you mention (it'd be great to relive it). And if I'd have set the coordinates for ELP then the Swede would have been riding shotgun with me.)
The Sweet - Blockbuster (1973)
From Alyson:
We all know you have a great love for photography and taking artistic shots. What was the first camera you bought with your own money and what did you first take pictures of?
As a teen I had an instamatic that I took everywhere, including Charlton in 1976 when I saw The Who. Then came a cheap and cheerful 110 film camera - quality was poor but I was only snapping cars and girlfriends so it didn't really matter!. It was only when I discovered 35mm SLR photography that I 'got serious': I bought a clunky East German Praktica MTL3 which was virtually indestructible. Not long after I also got my first Olympus XA2 (point and shoot) which meant candid photography became so much easier.
From Martin:
You write, you make music, you take photographs... if a Faustian pact was offered that promised widespread critical and commercial acclaim in one of those fields but at the expense of having to completely give up the other two, permanently, would you take it? And, if so, which field would you choose to be a star in, and why?
You flatter me, Martin! However, I only profess to be a jack of all trades. Neither my writing, my photography or my music, I feel, (with a couple of exceptions*) is good enough to warrant plaudits. I'm just happy that 1. I still enjoy doing all three and 2. (Sometimes) others seem to enjoy it too.
* That said, there are a couple songs of mine I would really like to see 'out there' i.e. with someone else singing them. Maybe one day...
From Rol:
Imagine the Beeb bought your script about Lennon & McCartney back in 2009, and as a result, Sir Thumbs Aloft himself invited you round for tea. What would you talk about? Would you be embarrassed to meet him? Would you try to think up some questions nobody had ever asked him? What would you wear?
Good question(s)! I'd try not to be a fanboy, but it'd be hard. I think I'd like to talk to him about John and Stuart Sutcliffe: the best Beatle stories, for me, are of those early days in Liverpool and Hamburg when they were being managed by Allan Williams. I'd probably wear my Monkees tee shirt.
From Swiss Adam:
My question is in honour of the Manchester's 90s dance music magazine Jockey Slut who used to close every Q and A with this question...
Have you ever ridden a horse?
Yes. And it didn't end well.
Thanks, John, for your entertaining series of Q&As and thanks also for taking the time to answer our questions above. I think we all knew the Sweet would put in an appearance.
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(Thank you, Alyson. And to all my inquisitors! Just a quick footnote: remind me, TS, when we meet up, to give you a copy of the owners' manual for the time machine. It probably just needs its annual service - JM.)
I finally got round to reading a brilliant book that's been on my shelves for more years than I care to remember. 'Duel - And Other Stories of the Road' is a collection of short stories that loosely fall under a banner, I'm calling, Auto Noir. It's a collection from 1987 curated by William Pattrick and is crammed to the rafters with cracking good reads, all paying homage to the road and the vehicles thereupon. Charles Beaumont, Roald Dahl and Stephen King are all in there but it's Richard Matheson's masterpiece from 1971 that gets top billing: Duel first appeared in Playboy magazine (and anthologised for the first time here), tells the story of one man driving to a sales meeting on a very ordinary day & being stalked by a crazed tanker lorry driver on the open road in California - in broad daylight. Like the film, Stephen Spielberg's first ever movie, it's utterly compelling. And very chilling. Unlike my California road trip in 2022. And James' in 2020; both recorded for posterity above.
The crudely cropped Facebook screen grab says it all really. A collection of my photographs will be on display at The Abdication in Nottingham for the month of March. We're having a launch next Wednesday 28 February from 7pm. All welcome!
It's all about me (2)
I'm fascinated by AI. Fascinated with what it can do. Fascinated with what it might be able to do in the future. And fascinated (actually, make that slightly worried) about how it will affect us all going forward.
I know I often ask you to indulge me (thank you) and here I am asking you again (you love me really). A little earlier I 'asked' Bing (other AI portals are available) to 'write a blog in the style of John Medd.' This is what happened:
“A Musical Odyssey: From Eno to ABC”
Today, let’s embark on a musical journey—a voyage through soundscapes that resonate with nostalgia and innovation. Buckle up, dear readers, as we traverse the cosmos of melodies and memories.
Two Enos for the Price of One
It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything on the long-running Monday Long Song thread. Let me rectify that today. In 1983, Brian Eno and his brother Roger joined forces with producer Daniel Lanois to create a spectacular soundtrack album. The occasion? To commemorate a planned film celebrating the Apollo space program. One track from this celestial symphony stands out: “An Ending.” It’s not only part of that album but has also found new life in other films, including “Traffic” and “Trainspotting.” Yet, never quite like this. Clocking in at 57 minutes, I present to you Monday’s Long Song:
🎵 Brian Eno & Roger Eno - An Ending (1983) 🎵
Watch on YouTube
And while we’re on the subject of Brian Peter George St. John le Baptiste de la Salle Eno, who among you would like to behold one of his sexy Eno signature limited-edition turntables? It might seem pricey at £20K, but I dare say it’s a bargain (assuming I subsist on tinned baked beans for life and live in my car). Feast your eyes on this sonic marvel:
🎶 BRIAN ENO, “Turntable” (2021) 🎶
!Eno Turntable
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If you were stopped on the street tomorrow and asked to name three bands that dominated the singles charts in the '80s, your trio would likely include Spandau Ballet, the Police, and Wham. But let’s not forget ABC—the architects of infectious tunes and chart-topping hits. According to my trusty Guinness Book of British Hit Singles, ABC spent nearly 90 weeks on the charts between 1981 and 1990. Impressive, right?
But ABC wasn’t merely a singles band. Their albums were treasure troves of musical gems. So why did it take me forty-odd years to witness their live performance? A good question—one I can’t quite explain. Nevertheless, fate intervened, and on Tuesday, I broke my duck. From my vantage point in Row A of the Upper Circle, I witnessed a masterclass in showcasing 40 years of tune-smithery.
The formula was simple yet sublime: the Southbank Sinfonia (a 35-piece orchestra conducted by Anne Dudley) teased us with a five-minute classical snapshot in the first half. Then, the band took the stage, playing the “ABC Songbook.” Hits like “When Smokey Sings,” “The Night You Murdered Love,” “Be Near Me,” and “Viva Love” filled the air. After a twenty-minute interval (just enough time for a white Magnum ice cream), it was time for the main course—the groundbreaking debut album:
🎤 Lexicon of Love 🎤
They played it in its entirety, and the crowd knew every word by heart. For those in the stalls, it wasn’t their first rodeo. Martin Fry’s voice held up, and the 2,000-strong audience provided a perfect backdrop for any notes he dared to tackle.
Anyway, dear readers, that’s my musical escapade for today. Until next time, keep your ears attuned to the symphony of life.
— John Medd
P.S. If you’re curious about my dotage and other musings, feel free to explore my blog. And remember, even monkeys fall out of trees.
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What did you think? I can see what it's done: it's stitched together two of my recent blog posts, changed some of the text around and given it a formal beginning and end (something I don't always bother with). As I was watching it 'type' in real time - the whole thing took less than 30 seconds - I thought to myself 'I'm redundant!'.
The news coming out of Gaza isn't good. The indiscriminate loss of life on both sides is nothing short of heartbreaking. And what are they fighting for? Religion? Land? Territory? Power? Who knows. As long as I continue to draw breath I have no earthly understanding as to why anyone would chose to pick up a weapon and kill his fellow man. I'm currently watching Once Upon Time in Northern Ireland and to see the deep rooted hatred that fuelled Catholics and Protestants alike over 50 years ago (and, in some cases, still fuelling them now) defies comprehension. What would the big man upstairs have to say if we were to put a call in?
The Chi-Lites - There Will Never Be Any Peace (Until God is Seated at the Conference Table*) - 1974
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Speaking of God. I was at a rather lovely beer festival yesterday (yes, I know, all beer festivals are lovely). But this one was being held in a rather spectacular church. An imaginative way of utilising a building that probably lies dormant six days of the week. And if I felt in any way uneasy about strapping a few on in the House of the Lord (which I didn't, but let's for argument's sake say that I did) then this note in the front of yesterday's Festival Programme written by the Parish Priest, would certainly have allayed any fears I may have had:
"So why allow beer in church? Well, the church has had a long history in the creation of beer, and some of the finest beers in the world are still brewed in monasteries, and so we always start our festival by blessing the beer -
'Bless, O Lord, this creature beer, which thou hast designed to produce from the fat of grain: that it may be a salutary remedy to the human race, and grant through invocation of thy holy name; that, whoever shall drink it, may gain health in body and peace in soul. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.'"
Amen, indeed. I'll drink to that. And, indeed, I did.
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You may or may not be interested to learn that I have a new collection of photographs published this week. It brings together for the first time many of my favourite images; from Art Deco buildings in Dublin to palm trees in Los Angeles. It's called Battersea & Beyond and can be ordered directly from yours truly for £9.99 + shipping. (PayPal or Postal Order!)
Ping me an email - john@johnmedd.com - if you'd like a copy. I'll even sign it if you so desire.
* I very nearly went with Nick Lowe's version; stripped down and stark. As you'd expect.
It's Friday evening in a sleepy Lincolnshire market town. Pop Medd is playing host to his two sons - they're jetting in from nearby Nottinghamshire and Rutland - and making up the quartet is his grandson - training it all the way from Greater Manchester. It'll be the first time all four of them have been in the same room since January 2016 - that's five and a half years in anyone's language. Added to which it's the first time young James has had a beer in Grantham on a Friday night; his last visit being his grandma's funeral back in July '15.
So what brought about this multigenerational gathering of 'lads' - age range 31 to 85 - all bearing the same four letter surname? As has been touched upon round these parts previously, apart from me and James (my son, Pop's grandson) we Medds are not what you'd call tight knit; not by a long chalk. However, I think, deep down, we all wish we probably were; it's just that nobody wants to admit it.
And was the night an unqualified success? No, not really. But it was good fun nonetheless. There was plenty of laughter - mainly at Pop's expense - he was (quite literally at one point) the fall guy. Did the two brothers bicker; yes, of course they did. But, and here's the thing, they both regretted it deeply afterwards. Always the way. Bloody drink. But James was the glue that kept the whole thing together; if he reads this he'll probably say "was I?", but his presence probably kept the evening on the rails.
Best gag of the night? Well, that would be mine - obviously: in one of the many hostelries we frequented the subject of where we'd be dining later was discussed: it was decreed that we'd go to a Nepalese restaurant called Everest - "So that would make this place Base Camp," I said. These are the jokes, as Ronnie Scott used to say.
My duck curry was perfect. The taxi back to Pop's was eventful. And the Mario Lanza and Jimmy Young on the sterogram fitted the mood at the end of the night perfectly. We'll skip over the last bit when the brothers tried to turn everything serious over too many tumblers of whisky and fast forward instead to 9am...
After a Full English, and hugs all round, we parted company, still bleary eyed, with flimsy promises about "doing it again" and "not leaving it so long next time." Maybe, let's wait and see shall we?
I was made aware this week of a rather significant (and genuinely newsworthy) anniversary: My childhood hero Dennis the Menace has just celebrated a significant birthday. Apparently, young Dennis first graced the hallowed pages of The Beano on 12 March 1951, so I make that 70 years. And because he arrived as a fully formed 10 year old that would make him 80 if he's a day.
I began reading about the naughty schoolboy's scrapes in the late 1960s when I was a little bit younger than him; though, I've got to hand it to him, he's aged a lot better than me.
Along with The Dandy (for my younger bro) I remember both comics dropping on our doormat religiously every Thursday morning. Looking back I don't think my parents cancelled the subscriptions at the local newsagent till both my brother and I were well into our teens; I would often find dad poring over one or the other in his favourite armchair, guffawing loudly. Happy Birthday, Dennis!
I've been chronicled. It was all very painless, I can assure you. Let me explain - over the last couple of years filmmaker Steve Oliver has been chronicling local musicians for an online series of short films he puts up on Youtube under the banner The Random Sessions. Shot in one of Nottingham's finest watering holes the format couldn't be simpler: three tunes (two originals and a cover), a couple of beers and a bit of inter-song chit chat and, hey, before you know it, Episode 89 was in the can. A big thank you to Steve - it was great fun to do.
Once again I'm looking forward to combining two of my favourite pastimes - music and beer: I've been added to the bill at Nottingham's Bar 71 on Sunday 25 August. It's a Bank Holiday, so the atmosphere should be quite special.
Bar 71 is a thriving community micro-pub a mile or so from the city centre (and conveniently a mere hop, skip & a jump from where I live). The incomparable Paul Carbuncle is compering the event and headlining too. I think I'm on at 5pm. Promises to be a great day.
A collection of my photographs is currently being exhibited at A Room Full of Butterflies in Nottingham. A big thank you to Andy Welch at the gallery; Andy thought my 'Bio' was too self deprecating, so has asked me to have another go and big myself up. We'll see.
A Room Full of Butterflies
632 Mansfield Road
Sherwood
NOTTINGHAM
NG5 2GA
P.S. 30 April 2019. So, this is how my (revised) Bio. reads:
John Medd
John has been photographing people and places all his adult life. This collection brings together six striking images that capture the colours and textures of life in a city - and beyond. His work regularly appears in his vibrant blog - Are We There Yet?
John lives in Sherwood, and in winter can often be seen photographing puddles. www.johnmedd.com
I know I'm six foot tall. I've been six foot since I turned 16. It says six foot on my passport. Just because the nurse at my local GP surgery recently clocked me in at 5'-11" does not mean I'm 5'-11". No way Pedro. If you look carefully at the above photograph (taken on Saturday at James and Janni's wedding party) I'm kinda leaning in - and down - at the same time. James is not a seven foot giant - he is a mere 6'-4". Just to set the record straight. And, to set it straight even further, dad is not taller than me. He must be standing on a book, or something. Must be.
I'm glad I got that out of the way.
A big thank you to my friend Adele who texted me earlier this evening and put a smile on my face. I'd sent her the photo and she replied back:
They call it shameless self publicity; those Mini Cards that Moo are so good at come in really useful. I use them as tags for Medd's Bread. I slip them into birthday cards and CDs. I put them on pub notice boards. I slide them into new paperbacks at Waterstones. I even leave them on trains.
They cost peanuts and you can put as many designs and photos on them as you like. The ones you see here have that picture of my mother in London, the interior of a rather exclusive private members club in Soho, and the new Are We There Yet? mast head - designed by James. I know, I'm shameless.
Chiggins1emailed me yesterday. He sends me an annual year end round-up Best Of compilation CD2 every Christmas; has done since Radio 1 could still be found on the medium wave. 'I see you've moved back to the fair city - give me your address and I'll chuck it in the mailbag. P.S. I hope 2017 has been a vintage year for you(?)'
As I was replying I remembered writing a wistful post3 almost exactly a year ago. (Interestingly, since writing that particular piece, it is still being viewed over fifty times a day.)
December 2016 was a very interesting month, for all sorts of reasons; even then I had a feeling that the early part of 2017 could shape not only the rest of the year, but also a life far beyond. Maybe I was viewing the future through some sort of prophetic kaleidoscope, but I knew this year would be, maybe not vintage, but pivotal. Even a blind man on a galloping horse can see that the tone of Even Monkeys Fall Out Of Trees is more upbeat since I made the move back down to Nottingham earlier in the year.
Here's a song I first played with James when he was living in Leeds. I have posted it up here before, but as I've started dropping it in my set again, I thought I'd share it one more time.4.
1. Chris Higgins. His passport says he was born in Ashby-de-la Zouch. And he once auditioned for a part in Byker Grove. He may only admit to one of those statements.
2.He knows I'll never ditch my CD player.
3. Did I say wistful? It was certainly one of the shortest pieces I'd ever written. Around that time I was like a man on a desert island waving frantically at the sky. And out to sea. I was writing RESCUE ME! in large letters in the wet sand. Every day. 4. You're the One: it's from two Decembers ago - Dec. 2015.
Although they never asked me to appear in any of their advertising campaigns, damn you Roger Daltrey, Kickers were definitely my footwear of choice in the late seventies. I also had a penchant for white baseball boots - they looked good with drainpipe jeans. There will be photographic evidence of me and my size nines somewhere in the archives, but in the meantime I'm more than happy to let Messrs. Daltrey and Stewart take centre stage.
Carl Hetherington has presided over all my recordings since 2012. Pickering Place and Chip Off The Old Block were both recorded at the congenial Oakwood Studios - on the outskirts of York - with Carl at the helm. Not only is he a fabulous producer (his knob-twiddling skills are legendary in this part of the world) but also a fine piano player.
We recorded three songs just before I went to Madrid – Hey Hey Hey, Days Like This and Fool. Fool is one of the saddest songs I’ve ever written. And that’s saying something, by the way. I asked Carl to tinkle the ivories on this one and in so doing I think we’ve succeeded in really swathing it in melancholia.
After another harmonious session in Oakwood last week with James and producer Carl Hetherington, I left the studio with a totally reworked version of You’re The One in the can. The previous take that I’d used for my Chip Off The Old Block album earlier this year was a very spartan affair; which, to be fair, is how I play it live. But when I saw the upright piano standing in the corner, looking very unloved, I knew James would have to add some keys. So, with just a five minute run through before the red light came on, The Number One Son was able to introduce some subtle flourishes to the song I wrote about nine months ago.
We've not done the Matthew Street Festival in Liverpool for a couple of years now; setting up base camp in the sweaty confines of The Cavern for two whole days and gorging ourselves on every eclectic variation on a Beatles tune you could ever wish for. Some turns even throw in solo stuff (though I don't recall ever hearing anyone brave enough to cover Back Off Boogaloo), even the odd Rutles homage.
That said, another gap in proceedings always seemed to be The White Album. For some reason 1968 doesn't loom large in Liverpool - if you gave me a pound for every time we heard a Bungalow Bill or a Martha My Dear we still wouldn't have had enough to buy a packet of crisps between us. I'm hoping if we go back next year the balance will be redressed.
I found this on Youtube (where else?) lurking in The Beatles aisle. I'd pay good money to see this fella. Maybe he'll be there in 2016. Nice hat btw.
