I don’t want to be one wave in the water…

So I got to the beach a day before everyone else and there I was walking on the sand as sunset was getting close. I was strolling along and all I could think about was a Plague of Lighthouse Keepers by Van Der Graaf Generator as I approached the mournful lighthouse disappearing into the mist.

It would have made sense if I had taken a picture of the lighthouse but it was too far away and misty so here are some pretty rocks.

It was truly beautiful as I strolled and thought about that song, I have to admit I am not that familiar with it so couldn’t really figure it out and I had deliberately left the headphones at the house to enjoy the sound of the beach. Sometimes there can really be too much noise in your head or at least your ears for your own good.

I had walked about 5 miles along this long beach when I noticed this was happening. I looked around and realized I was a long way from where I should be. I had also not taken note of any landmarks, that would make sense in the dark. Immediately I panicked, I was convinced I was going to die here on this idyllic Oregon beach. Or be captured by natives and perhaps forced to drink micro-brews and eat organic produce. At some point some person would discover my phone next to a stew pot and look at the last picture. So here is what it would have been if that had happened.

About this time I figured I should turn around and walk back or I would never hear a Plague of Lighthouse Keepers. It’s a monster of a track by the way, probably way too overindulgent but that can be fun.

I was helped back by my neighbor who I recognized with his camera and tripod on the beach as I ambled back in the near dark.

 

They know who they are…

Some artists have a hold over us. Either it’s a period of time or an ability to connect with us on a level that is so real, close, uncanny even that it is as if they see into our deeper darker recesses. It is something that goes beyond an admiration for the music or poetry, it’s something that talks for us not to us. This type of artist has not just written a song we love but has a whole catalogue of material that connects with us and can make us pause.

This is what I was thinking as I pre-ordered three vinyl reissues by Roy Harper, Flat Baroque and Berserk, Stormcock and Lifemask, I saw them advertised a couple of days ago and managed to hold out for some time, actually about three days. Eventually crumbling and hitting the order button to finally shut the voices in my head up. These three albums are part of my history, my growth as a human being and at times almost an obsession.

They are not the only Harper albums that have a hold on me. They are however three albums that are astonishing in their ability to make me pause and listen. But more of that for when they arrive I guess.

I have been looking for a copy of Stormcock I could afford for a long time. The reissue of all three is slightly less than good copies of Stormcock are selling for so what’s to lose really. Now I am trying to figure out how long I have to wait until they are in my hands.

They are here if like me you can’t resist: Harper albums.

Harper is not particularly easy to like. A deeply flawed individual, arrogant, abrasive, haunting and brutally honest he can be a difficult listen. My experience of him in person has always been positive, the few times I met him he was incredibly kind to a somewhat gushing and flustered fan, luckily for me. So how does that go with his writing and his reputation for unpredictability, I have no idea.

As I sit here and listen to his last album Man and Myth, I realized something. Harper is one of the few mainly acoustic musicians that needs to be played loud and very loud at that. Which when you consider this is an album that is looking at life from the perspective that time is running out is pretty amazing. The music is big, all encompassing overwhelming almost. It is at times delicate, brutal and terrifying. Simultaneously incredibly intimate and fearlessly public. Harper like his music at the best is a force of nature. He is often seen as a folky but has as much in common with Zeppelin and Bowie in the drama and grandeur of his music. He is also one of the few musicians of any genre that has truly managed o integrate the orchestra into his work.

It seems at some point he has influenced many musicians who went on to greater success because they were willing to compromise. He however, forever uncompromising remains the ultimate obscurity and underground sensation. Lauded by many of his contemporaries and current musicians he continues to forge his own path and stand alone as a truly unique force in music.

Over the years I have sat and pored over the lyrics, searching for truth about the man and the human condition. Sometimes shaking my head at the lunacy of the whole stupidity of the music and lyrics or smiling at the cynicism and then in the very next track marveling at his ability to capture the fragility of life in a way that hits you in the gut and then he writes something that may shock and cause you to pause, closely followed by moments of beauty in a fragile song recounting the end of a relationship.

So what have I taken form Harper? Well I stopped wearing a watch, I always tell my love that I love her and I always try to speak my mind, sometimes when I should shut up. Also if it’s good turn it all the way up and don’t worry about the neighbors they need some culture.

 

The to be be played pile…

It’s become a problem, it keeps getting bigger longer and may be a little out  of control. The relative cheapness of used vinyl if you are willing to search and it being garage sale season and the joy of low bidding on eBay has resulted in this problem. Also more driving for work the last couple of weeks has taken me past new thrift stores that call out to me as I pass by.

I think this is a 1st world problem and may explain why as a teenager I was a tribal music listener. Most teenagers financially being in the 3rd world although privilege wise firmly routed in the 1st. I find myself buying records that as a younger person I would have sneered at, hence the Sky album I picked up yesterday and two Firm records and the Big Country as well as The Knack. These are all albums I would only have listened to if forced to a number of years ago, or if they were accompanied by the fairer sex.

Maybe this maturing of my listening is caused by a mellowing with age or the apparent increase in disposable income has allowed me to wallow in my addiction and ignore the tacit agreement I had with my beloved that I would slow down the buying of vinyl. More than likely however I am more secure in my willingness to listen to the more pop section of the world. Mainly as it is no longer really pop but has achieved some more respectable that may include the word classic in it’s title.

Unlike most addicts I have not hidden my problem as it is hard to sneak in with new albums when your wife is sat right there. So in the last week here is the haul in all it’s glory and shame for all to see, there are a few missing as they are no longer in the to be played stack having moved to the  listened to and filed away. I do have to wonder if there are some I will never listen to again however.

Somewhere only in my mind and not really in reality are in the to be sold or given away file. They include the duplicates and the inferior copies sonically as I have to admit I have not allowed me to go down the rabbit warren of which issue I have as that way lies madness. It was however very nice to pick up those Pentangle albums.

I am not you I am me…

What does a grown man do when his family goes to Central Oregon leaving him home alone? Obviously he gets out his most ridiculously fun album and plays it as loud as his ears can stand. Then he realizes this album is 31 years old and well enough said.

Live Chronicles may not be the greatest Hawkwind album, it is however a fine album that captures at least the sound of what happened at the Liverpool Empire in 1985. The smoke the dancers the narration and the in my mind immortal Tony Crerar who was secure enough to paint himself white and wave a large black sword around for almost three hours. I loved it so much I think I saw it in Manchester and Preston as well.

The Chronicle of the Black Sword was something of a return to form for Hawkwind in the 80’s, although to be honest the early part of the decade had some great songs on dodgy sounding albums. It has a return to the Eternal Champion concept and Moorcock even helped out.

Live Chronicles is superior to the studio effort, it has some wonderfully loopy narration that ties the whole thing together man, just like the rug in the Big Lebowski. It is populated with mostly newer songs but Magnu and Master of the Universe turn up dutifully, Brainstorm is referenced in there and Assault and Battery is on the CD but never made the album for some reason because we really needed Moonglum instead. Side 3 and 4 are when things really kick of with the wondrous Choose Your Masques and things descend into Hawkwind mayhem until Moonglum when you get to use the toilet. The whole album has Huw Lloyd Langton noodling like an ADD heavy metal Jerry Garcia, sometimes a bit too much but in general well.

I am sure the evening began for all three nights at the Swan Inn on Wood Street drinking Old Peculiar and Owd Roger to fuel ourselves for the travails ahead, whether that was a walk to the Empire or a train to Manchester with the requisite cans of Special Brew before the ceremony of a Hawkwind show. The evening probably ended right back where it began at the Swan unless it was too late and then the Freewheeler awaited.

This was the look the cat has on it’s face for the duration of the album, I think this constitutes a recomendation.

 

You’ve got me tied, tied…

Loud guitars, big hair and a look as tough as well as tough as several young men wearing denim and leather can look.

Don’t think too much just splay your legs lean back and play  good time rock’n’roll. It’s been a recipe successful for The Stones, The Faces and countless other bands full of young men with enough testosterone to think they are dangerous and irresistible.

At the end of the day who doesn’t like straight up backs to the amps, foot on the monitors rock music. Which adolescent doesn’t want to strum a loud guitar with her/his pals and play senseless music objectifying the world and simultaneously convincing themselves they are actually going to get laid every day of the week.

Hence the Georgia Satellites moment of fame and glory with a great first album from 1986. They made two others  but I have never heard them and don’t think I need to.