Panic attack in a park in Nottingham*

With August practically over I for one will not be shedding any tears to see the back of this month. Unfeasibly tropical weather (I wasn't built for these temperatures), a day in A&E (don't ask), and preparing for a showdown (ditto) have all played their part. Now, more than ever, my erstwhile reliable method of counting three good things that have happened each day before going to sleep has certainly been tested to its limits.

Though, in fairness, it hasn't always been dark at six: Luna came back; Notts County have had a decent start to the season, and I wrote a new song. Oh, and on Monday just gone I had a double header: Broadway were showing Tony - based on the chef and writer Anthony Bourdain's infamous memoir 'Kitchen Confidential' - a terrific film (even if you're not a foodie) starring Dominic Sessa and Antonio Banderas.  And then straight into Rough Trade for an intimate gig and album signing with Antony Szmierek - I predicted great things for Antony back in January and with this new album Decoding Birdsong (as you can see below I asked him to sign it for James) I think I've been proven right. He's coming back to Nottingham in October with his band as part of a UK/European tour. I'm there.

* Where today's post title came from (0:38) - Antony talked about it quite candidly mid-set...

A walk in the park

Walking through St. James's Park, one of London's eight Royal Parks, is never not an experience to savour. After the Saturday afternoon jostle thru Covent Garden and Piccadilly Circus, this most tranquil of gardens provided the necessary counterpoint to the hot and humid trek that had begun some 15,000+ steps earlier after a boozy lunch in King's Cross. And to have a local Sherpa on hand as our guide (he knows London boozers even better than me), we then, very conveniently, landed on a very exclusive subterranean cocktail bar on the far side of The Mall. Located beneath Café Francois in SW1 I think I can sum up Franks in eight words - they certainly know how to make a negroni. Thank you to David & Lisa and James & Natalie (and, of course, Jenny) for a beautiful day.

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).  

A New Order

A couple of Easter parish notices for you. James asked me last week to join him on a little musical side project - compile a playlist no longer than 40 minutes whereby the first track is track one on its respective album, the second track is track two on its album and so on. He said that some otherwise disparate tracks just sit really well together when they are conjoined in this way. I have to concur. This my effort:

John Medd - Everything Appears to be in Order 

 

And this is James'. If you find yourself kicking your heels this Bank Holiday weekend why not have a go yourself? Other streaming providers are of course available. Indeed you may want to dig out an old blank C90 and do it that way; whatever floats your boat. 

James Medd - Everything in its Right Place

 

...

A new blog was launched this year by renowned geographer Alan Parkinson. It goes by the moniker World of Music and it really is most bodacious. Alan's always on the lookout for guest bloggers who would can intertwine music and geography in some way. If you feel you can give him a dig out I'm sure he'd love to hear from you. My piece on Lost Venues was published yesterday. Feel free to have a gleg. You'll find Alan's contact details there too. Happy Easter!

We soared over Lidl

James had put me onto Scott Lavene. His music is captivating. His lyrics are sublime. I finally got the chance to see him at the end of January and at the merch stand I bought a couple of trinkets and asked him to sign them 'To James'. I said I liked his songs. He said he liked my coat. Five minutes later walking through town to catch my bus a familiar voice shouted "Your card payment didn't go through!" I weighed him in and we chatted a while. We had our picture taken. He walked back to the venue. I walked to the bus stop. We'd had a moment. 

★

Scott Lavene - A Bus in July (2025)

I was living with a Moroccan armed robber

And a crackhead lawyer from Finchley

I'd given up on booze and downers 

Given up on fag burns and cuts 

But the worst drug of all was love 

So I'd given that up too

And one day in July I was on a bus that was hotter than a Greek dogfight 

With a carrier bag full of custard

The bus stopped and she got on board 

Big eyes, big floppy hat

And as she walked up the aisle I felt something I hadn't felt for a while 

The only spare seat was the one next to mine 

She smelt of second hand books and newly washed hair 

She said 'Is that a bag of custard?' I said 'Yeah' 

She said 'It's hot in here, isn't it?' I said 'Yeah' 

She said 'You're a man of few words, aren't you?'

I said 'I just go a bit weird around beautiful women' 

And then our eyes met and we both started floating out of the door

Up, up and away over Boscombe 

For a while now I'd been determined not to fall in love

But as we soared over Lidl, I knew I was fucked 

We spent the night talking, cooling off in the river 

By the moonlight I could see tiny fish It was just turning midnight when we kissed 

And nine months later we had a baby 

And it was that baby that truly saved me

There's a sky that's full of lonely stars 

And an ocean filled with sunken hearts 

Then one day you can catch a bus 

And fall in love with someone new 

Fall in love just like I fell for you

Laureate in waiting?

As is traditional, James compiled his Best of '25 for me just before Christmas and once again this year-end mashup is an eclectic musical smorgasbord which I'm finding most agreeable. I told James when he came up this weekend for his mum's birthday that I'm particularly taken with Antony Szmierek - so much so that I'm now also devouring his debut album Service Station at the End of the Universe which came out in February. It's an astonishing piece of work that ticks so many of my boxes, not least the artwork which depicts Forton Services in a snow globe!. I'm subsumed by his deft staccato vocal delivery - reminiscent of The Streets/Mike Skinner; imagine what Simon Armitage would sound like if only he'd got a beatbox for Christmas. 

Antony Szmierek - Service Station at the End of the Universe (2025)

 

On the road

Just back from our mini jaunt around the UK. Four gigs in four days. Time to decompress. Thank you again to Steve - my travelling companion and best friend - for what I call the heavy lifting; I sorted out the digs but he did all the driving - some 700+ miles. This tour was was special for me. My way of reconnecting with the world after having lost my mooring earlier in the year. And who better to come away with than my old mucker.

So, a very emotional and spiritual journey. My travelogues in the past have never been wordy; never been flowery. So why change the habit of a lifetime? I'll tell you where we stopped and where we saw the band(s) and, hopefully, the photos will give you a sense of the atmos.

Hebden Bridge, 53.74°N / 2.01°W. Driving up from Nottingham and we're getting our money's worth out of the wipers (it was to be a familiar tale over the next few days). Our billet is a rather boujee Air BnB on the edge of town. We had a couple of drinks in The Albert (a.k.a. The Wellington in BBC's Riot Women), followed by pizza at Sam's, before taking a short stroll to the Trades Club. Last time I was here I nearly got into an altercation with Jah Wobble. Moving on. We were here for the first of XGenerationX's gigs on their whistle stop UK tour. The band were amazing and played a blistering set. We met Mark Laff & Elizabeth Westwood (see my signed poster) afterwards and told them we'd see them tomorrow night north of the border.

Now this project wouldn't have happened without the extraordinary Mark Laff. So much more than a drummer. A band leader if you will, and a bloody nice bloke. He stepped up to the microphone a couple of times during the evening and you could see this meant a lot to him.

Elizabeth was a sweetheart. I was admiring her from afar; though, as you can see, not that far...

It was a genuine surprise to see this man - James Stevenson. He wasn't on the posters; Elizabeth said they didn't know if he could commit to the tour. But at the eleventh hour he gave the thumbs up; after the flyers came back from the printers.

Time to mention my friend Richard a.k.a. Riggsby. Between leaving the gig and walking back to the digs my phone buzzed. Richard had sent me pictures of the band with me looking on taken less than an hour earlier. Richard was texting from his home in San Diego - some five and a half thousand mils away. "Look what I just found on Facebook," he said.

Speaking of Riggsby - this is the letter he got from Generation X's Fan Club back in 1977 c/w a signed photo of the band.

Glasgow 55.86°N / 4.26°W. We broke the journey in Lancaster for some brekka before wending our way. However, we got stuck in the mother of all tailbacks on the M6 during which we played Quixx and ruminated if the band were stuck in the same jam; turns out they were. Eventually got to the Argyll Hotel, not far from the venue; took a stroll thru the Botanic Garden and happened upon a student pub that sold Bellhaven Black and haggis pie. Result. The Òran Mór is a magnificent little club - basically it's the crypt of a church. Another tub thumping set. Elizabeth was wearing Stewart tartan, Steve Norman, on the other hand, was wearing his pyjama bottoms. An hour and a bit and it flew by - this is high octane stuff: the ferocity they put into these songs is phenomenal. The drum intro alone into Rock On would finish off a man 40 years younger.

Speaking to James afterwards and he told us about being in Gen X and touring the final album, Kiss Me Deadly. He also told us that time was tight putting this tour together and that thy'd only rehearsed for three days & was still trying to get his chops round Derwood's guitar part on 100 Punks! 

Time to give young Herbie May a shout out. He's the support for the whole tour and was not phased one iota. He's got some great songs in his armoury and should go far. 

Newcastle 54.98°N / 1.62°W. A quick detour via Moffat for brunch before bombing across to Newcastle. We were stopping in the Travelodge and enjoyed some sensational beers in The Crown Posada and The Wobbly Duck. Just time for a shit kickin' curry down a little side street before jumping in a cab to the other side of the river. Elizabeth had clocked us and whilst thanking everyone for coming out asked who had to go to work tomorrow. "Not these two" she said pointing at me and Steve. Grabbed another quick word with Mark at the end of their set and he confirmed he has had a bust up with Derwood, hence his (ex?) mate wasn't on the tour. 

I'd been looking forward to our breakfast destination for the longest time. We both had grilled kippers & poached eggs (the Breakfast of Kings) at the Quay Ingredient - a caff I'd introduced Ernie to at BlogCon24. 

Leeds 53.80°N, 1.55°W. And so back to West Yorkshire. I told Steve we were hooking up with a blogger friend of mine. We weren't. My James hadn't seen Steve in at least five years (probably longer) and was the surprise guest. Our hotel was opposite a beautiful boozer called The Highland Laddie. A couple in there before we cabbed it to The Adelphi. Walking from the bar to the snug we clinked glasses before James, unannounced, sat next to Steve and said "Alright?" Steve's face was a picture.

To The Brudenell. No pics of House of All, I'm afraid. Six men on stage who all look like me is not what people want to see. Instead I'll show you the support band, Loose Articles. They were terrific. And much easier on the eye.

Maybe I'd just caught HOA on a bad night, but they just sounded perfunctory. Even with, wait for it, three drummers. And Martin Bramah was reading his lyrics all night. Not a good look. A quick post-gig drink in the bar and James Uberated back to the station for the late train back to Manchester. Steve and I too bid a hasty retreat and made our way back to The Holiday Inn. I was jiggered and slept like I'd never slept before. A Full English and plenty of tea next morning and it was time to head home. As you can imagine we deconstructed the trip on the way back and agreed to do it again next year: pick another band and follow 'em round the country. It's the only way to travel.

Time doesn't exist, yet it controls us anyway

James called it. He told me last week when when we were up in Whitby: One Battle After Another is the film of the decade and that I had to go and see it. On the big screen. And to be quick about it (new releases don't hang around at cinemas like they use to). 

And he was right; of course he was. I snuck into my local art house cinema for the penultimate screening. When a bunch of revolutionary misfits ('French 75') headed up by Leonardo DiCaprio are forced to come out of hiding and get the old band back together, what unfolds is a nail-biting caper loaded with suspense and hilarious one liners all wrapped up in a tightly wound screenplay (based, loosely, on Thomas Pynchon's 1990 novel Vineland). No surprise that Rotten Tomatoes loved it. Even the car chase. The supporting cast which includes Sean Penn,Teyana Taylor, Benicia del Toro and Chase Infiniti are superb and, between them, both they and this highly charged movie should absolutely clean up when awards season comes around. If it's still showing where you are you should really go and see it. You'll thank me, I promise you.

One Battle After Another - Official Trailer (2025)

Takes me back to the place that I know

A few days away with the Number One Son and his betrothed had been on the calendar for ages but still it managed to creep up on me unawares. I love it when long weekends do that. Despite the weather not always being clement and the fact we were a man down for the first night, we still had a fine old time. Though we will be back in the Spring when the weather gods will, hopefully, get their shit together and all squad members will be 110% fighting fit. Natalie had never been to Whitby before so we showed her the sights, including: the slots, The Abbey, The Black Horse and the Passage to India. The top photo is her and James walking down the one hundred and ninety nine Abbey Steps. And the photo below is one Natalie took of us on the beach at Sandsend (thereby recreating a shot of the Medds taken in, roughly, the same spot in 2014).

The final day of our trip became quite emotionally charged when we bumped into a friend we'd not seen in eight years: it transpired that Adele has not been enjoying the best of health lately and has a number of serious operations lined up. As always in these situations I didn't really know what to say. I hope I said the right things but all I really wanted to do was hug her tightly. So that's what I did. Here's the last picture I took of her when she came to visit us not long after we'd moved back to Nottingham in 2017. I hope everything works out, Adele. J x.

Bracing

Father

Just back from my latest road trip with James; it concluded our trilogy of recent B-town expeditions (Belfast in '22, Brighton in '23 & Blackpool this year.) In keeping with second letter in the alphabet status, Blackpool was, in equal parts, base (some may say broken), brash and (very) blustery. 

(Number One) Son

But none of that mattered: we'd come to see Richard Hawley at the Tower Ballroom - the most beautifully appointed concert hall that really does take your breath away. Unlike the last time I saw the ex-Longpig and friend of Jarvis Cocker, I managed to stay awake for the whole gig. (Though to be on the safe side I stayed out off his eyeline in case he recognised me from that fateful night in Bradford.)

Suffice it to say the craic was good and we had an excellent few days away (we always do) and sampled various local brews, Indian Street Food and of course traditional fish and chips. And we walked fucking miles (something I would've struggled with this time last year). You won't be surprised to learn that discussions regarding next year's trip are already under way.

Richard Hawley Official · Coles Corner

Fortune sides with him who dares

'Little John' BlogDoll not to scale

Virgil Tracy, probably the most complex¹ of Jeff Tracy's five sons, is (or will be²) the pilot of Thunderbird 2. TB2 is the huge³ freighter that carries International Rescue's ingenious heavy engineering equipment⁴ in any one of the six interchangeable pods housed in its underbelly. I mention this because for Father's Day this year James gave me a beautiful Corgi diecast model of Thunderbird 2 (c/w the pod housing Thunderbird 4). And I absolutely love it.

Virgil (who was named after Virgil 'Gus' Grissom - one of  Project Mercury's Mercury 7 astronauts) arrived on our (still black & white) screens in 1965 as a fully formed 24 year old and is the second eldest, after Scott - TB1's handler. He was originally voiced by American actor David Holliday who himself was a rather talented individual - his CV comprises stints on Broadway including West Side Story & Don Quixote Man of La Mancha, and, closer to home, on British telly, Coronation Street (he played Tom Schofield, a great nephew of Ena Sharples!). It's not documented if Holliday also tinkled the ivories.

Virgil Tracy - Dangerous Game⁵

 

¹ A very physical character but also a gifted artist and musician (and as you can see above, a none too shabby lounge pianist).

² Thunderbirds was set in 2065, 100 years in the future.

³ TB2 is 250 feet long, stands 60 feet high and has a wingspan of 180 feet. It's fucking massive.

⁴ Including various magnetic grabbers and, every young boy's favourite, the Mole. 

⁵ Played, obviously, by the one and only Barry Gray.

 ★

Virgil (70BC-19BC)

Virgil Grissom (1926-1967)

David Holliday (1937-1999)

Virgil Tracy (2041-)

Jachtschepen

A couple of things to mention today: doing the rounds on the blogs in the last few days and I see there's been a lot of talk of (and love coming in for) Boz Scaggs. Something of a cornerstone on this blog in particular, Scaggs is a name that appears on one of my precious few bucket lists: artists I need/want to see live before it's too late. 

Two of Scaggs' biggest hits (on both sides of the Atlantic) Lido Shuffle and Lowdown are both from his 1976 yacht* rock classic long player Silk Degrees. Obviously back in the mid 70s no-one was aware that forty years later the YR tag would be affixed to an album that went 5x platinum in the States and silver in the UK. And both aforementioned bangers Scaggs co-wrote with his then keyboard player, David Paich. Paich would soon jump ship (yacht?) and form Toto (a quintessential YR outfit): he went on to pen Hold the Line, Africa and Rosanna - three bigger YR tunes you'd struggle to find.

But enough of Toto. Take a look at this beautifully deft version of Lowdown - unfortunately the YouTube algorithms are not allowing me to embed it.

 ★  

Today is the Number One Son's birthday. James is 35. Fuck me, where does the time go? (Answers on a postcard); which means it must be nine years since I wrote this - my memories of the momentous event that took place on 8th February 1990 - and Boz Scaggs' cameo appearance. James and his girlfriend are currently in Madrid, so I won't see him till next week. Happy Birthday, James! x 

 ★

As my recovery continues apace the BlogCon committee are tentatively planning our latest sortie. It's looking like #BlogCon25 will convene in Bristol in early June. I'm in the throws of writing some mini profiles of BC25 attendees. This will take the form of a none too strenuous Q&A c/w a Swedey McSwedeface (a.k.a. a mug shot). If you fancy joining our merry little band please feel free to get in touch via the comments section below. 

 ★

*Susie Dent Corner - as you know I love the derivation of words. Did you know that the word yacht comes from the Dutch word jacht meaning hunt? And jachtschepen was the name for narrow, light and very fast sailing boats that the Dutchmen deployed to itercept larger and slower fleet. Everyday's a school day. Just don't google Urban Dictionary for their take on the word. You're going to aren't you?