Let's push things forward

There's been a lot going on of late; not all good, I'm afraid. And as much as writing has helped me in the past to work through life's occasional road bumps, this time around I found it was more cathartic to just put my pen down and clear my head. I'm sure after the dust has settled (this week is shaping up to be a pretty momentous week) I'll be able to put it all into some sort of context and maybe even share some of the details. Maybe. In the meantime, what really helped defog my brain was getting away with the Number One Son for our latest boys trip. In keeping with the 'B' theme of our previous three outings  (Belfast '23, Brighton '24, Blackpool '25), James & I pitched up in Bournemouth on a baking hot Thursday afternoon and had an absolutely splendid time. We walked miles (pulling in a bit of psychogeography along the way), sampled the local grog, threw a lot of frisbee on the beach, enjoyed some excellent meals, played pool in Poole and still had time to catch The Unthanks at the Lighthouse Theatre. More to follow, I'm sure (not least the amazing San Remo Towers).  

The boy's back in town

Just got back from an amazing four days away in Dublin. It'll probably come as no great shock to learn that Dublin is my favourite European city; since 2016 and the whole Brexit shitshow, the affinity I have to my maternal home (on both sides of its border) has just got stronger and stronger. 

So, I thought it would be cool to wrap a little holiday around the Unthanks gig at the Liberty Hall Theatre on Monday night; and so it came to pass. Fifty minutes from East Midlands Airport and I was rubbing shoulders once more with fellow Europeans. Everything seemed to fall into place. From the first day when we caught the opening of a visiting Andy Warhol exhibition at the Hugh Gallery (over 250 original pieces including some of his most iconic* work to his earliest pencil sketches when he was still finding his style) to the fascinating conversation I had with our taxi driver on the way back to the airport.

Anyway, you know the griff, time's too tight for gushing reviews; here are my Match of the Day highlights with a few snaps thrown in for good measure.

Best pub. Oh, come on, really? OK, well, it's a toss up between John Kavanagh a.k.a. The Gravediggers, Neary's, The Flowing Tide and The Confession Box. And tI'm barely scratching the surface. But if I had to choose one, I'd go Gravediggers. Run by the same family for seven generations it's a pub that defies anything and everything to do with the modern world. And I got to meet the actor currently playing Peter Pan at the Gate Theatre. 

Our digs were on Camden Street: home to plenty of bars, music clubs and restaurants, but I must mention a fabulous independent book shop Last Bookshop (with an equally splendid coffee shop out back) and a splendid camera shop run by a fella called John Gunn who has been operating from the same premises for 43 years. A delightful man who kindly allowed me to take his photograph.

As you can imagine, eating out is a huge deal when you'e away, so two very quick shout outs to Sofia's - the best breakfast caff in Dublin bar none (their Full Irish takes no prisoners) and Montys of Katmandu whose Nepalese food was, to quote Greg Lake, "spectacular, spectacular.''  

Best non Warhol exhibition of the holiday - American Portrait Photography at the Irish Museum of Modern Art. This sculpture typified their equally sculpted gardens.

Best 'graffiti' - that's easy. PHIL!

Best train journey; the great little train journey from Dublin's Connuolly Station to Greystones - a small seaside town an hour down the coast.

The building trying its hardest to look like Battersea Power Station. Ah, that would be the distillers Roe & Co. (Exquisite brickwork btw.)

The best Art Deco building in Dublin. Archer's Garage, as was. Here's the back story. (That's right, not all is at it seems.)

Two quick asides. The best vintage car spot and the best front doors in Dublin. The car was easy - this classic Citroen with its engine idling outside Benneton was a photo op I couldn't pass on. And the doors. Let me tell you about Dublin doors: I could spend a whole month photographing nothing but the front doors of Dublin. Seriously. Every style, type, size and, yes, colour. Here's four off the bat, but I could easily have posted a hundred and four.

And finally, the main event. I've seen the Unthanks a couple of times now (and indeed I've been lucky enough to have met them) but I always knew seeing them in Ireland would be special. And it was. Very moving. Very uplifting. Very intimate. Almost spiritual. As you might expect, it was a sell out (I think I blagged the last two tickets) and everyone in the room, I know, was as transfixed as I was, such is their stage precence. So, no, I wasn't going to break the spell and take their photograph. Nobody wants to be that guy.

* Sorry, C!

It's been emotional

''Sorrows Away''

I've been racking up a few gigs just lately; after a dearth of live music for nigh on two years I can't begin to tell you how good it feels to be back out there in the pubs, clubs, theatres and concert halls lending support to as many bands bands and artists as I can - musicians who all had the rug pulled from under them so unceremoniously back in March 2020.

And since getting my gig legs again I've found that a lot of  the shows I've been to have almost bordered on a spiritual experience; not least when Ian Prowse came back for an encore and sang Does This Train Stop on Merseyside at The Adelphi in Hull a few weeks ago; just the sound of the opening chords was enough to tip me over the edge; I absolutely lost it. By the end I was an emotional wreck. Rachel Unthank was the same at Nottingham's Albert Hall last month when the 800+ audience began to sing the chorus of their brand new song - Sorrows Away - back to her and the band; she was sobbing uncontrollably. I knew exactly how she felt. 

Whether or not I'll fall apart when I catch the Hanging Stars later in the year is anyone's guess. I literally only discovered them a handful of days ago yet can't stop playing them. Their latest album Hollow Heart is sumptuous. I think it could be the most perfect collection of songs I've heard since Revolver. Yes, it really is that good.  

The Hanging Stars - Heavy Blue (2021)

More Cunning than the Raven

Moose Allain regularly appears on my Twitter feed. His cartoons put a smile on my face most days. A must when wading knee deep in imbecilic rants from the POTUS; not to mention right wing ramblings from several of our own swivel-eyed loons.

So, crows. What's the story morning glory? And just how do you tell a crow from a raven? Well, look no further. Proof, if proof were needed, that 'Are We There Yet?' also has a charter to inform, educate, and entertain. It can also shoehorn a song from the fabulous Black Crowes into any blog post at the drop of a hat. You're welcome.

The Black Crowes - Remedy (1992)

A lighthouse; or two

"What time are you on tonight?", I asked her in the pub. "We're on at half eight, but Tim's on at half seven - he's really good, I think you'll like him." So said Rachel Unthank when I saw her in the Prince Rupert, just round the corner from the Palace Theatre on Friday evening. She'd just sound-checked and was with her sister Becky and the rest of the entourage having their tea.

I'm sure I'll wax lyrical about the headliners (and my chance meeting with an Unthank) - I may link to my gig review in the local rag. I might even post the photo of me and Rachel.

But, for now, I'm just gonna put this up here: I did get to the venue for half seven. I did see Tim. And, yes, he is really good. Thanks for the heads up, Rachel.

Tim Dalling - Two Lighthouses

Blue Bleezin' Blind Drunk

Unaccompanied, as they are

Pubs. And music. Surely two of the most pivotal things in life; in mine anyway, don't know about yours.
Before they became the Unthanks*, Rachel Unthank and the Winterset could walk into pubs in Sydney**, casually stand at the bar, and belt out folk standards like this. Don't you just wish the Hero of Waterloo was your local?

Rachel Unthank & the Winterset - Blue Bleezin' Blind Drunk

* A bluffers guide to the Unthanks. And last seen at Medd Towers here.

** A helluva way from Northumberland. Some people don't mind travelling that little bit further to get a decent pint.

King of Rome

Julie

I very nearly back-heeled Carrington Triangle last night; it was a foul evening, but I closed the front door behind me, turned the collar up on my coat and strode out. And I'm so glad I did.
I knew there was something about Julie when she walked in the room about ten minutes or so into the session. She sang a couple of songs including The King of Rome from Dave Sudbury's enchanting book, and I knew I had to ask her to join our choir. She has an an absolutely fabulous voice, and I was bowled over right from the off.
During the interval I introduced myself and found out we share a real passion for making bread - Julie runs a community bakery - and actively promotes the connection between singing and baking. Please take a look at her blog Eat Bake Sing - you'll be amazed at what she gets up to. She also invited me to one of her workshops, so can't wait till we organise that.

King of Rome was a pigeon, owned by a Mr. C. H. Hudson, who won a race from Italy to England in 1913. He flew, bless him, all the way from Rome to Derby, a distance of 1,001 miles. No surprise that only 62 of the 1,200 released birds made it back to Blighty. The little fella lived to a ripe old age and died in 1958. He's subsequently had a radio play written about him, and been immortalised in print and song.

Here are two quite different versions of the song. The first, sung unaccompanied by Lucy Ward, is how you'll probably hear it in most folk clubs:

The Unthanks (I have rather a soft spot for the Unthank sisters), on the other hand, give it the full brass treatment courtesy of the Brighouse & Rastrick Band. Excellent versions both.

Not forgetting little Poppy-May

Magpie

Sorry, I couldn't help myself: Susan Stranks and a real magpie

It won't have escaped your notice that Detectorists is back. TV archeologists will I'm sure, in years to come, if they're not already, be citing Mackenzie Crook's small screen masterpiece as, probably, the finest comedy drama of the 21st. century; amongst the ringpulls and scaffold clips that lie beneath the surface of the Radio Times, Detectorists is a bona fide treasure. The goldest of gold coins. The buried city. The Holy Grail.

And just when you thought it couldn't get any better, Episode 1 ended with this. I won't set it up for you - you'll get it; please just watch (and listen). And fall in love with it like I did.

That's right, 'Magpie' by the Unthanks. Has a soundtrack ever fitted a television programme so perfectly before? I don't think so.
Here are the fabulous Unthank sisters on Later, playing the full extended version.