Archive for May, 2011

First Person Singular

Sunday. Maybe Monday. It depends on how you look at it but that’s where I am. Sunday . Or Monday. Work – pictures are made , water drunk – nothing more interesting , and music has been listened to. Why not mention some of the music played this weekend ?

I have amused and confused friends by raving about Polly Harvey this week. Confused them by referring to her in conversation as Polly rather than PJ . Whose Polly Barry ? From Compton ? I’ll google her . If anybody has played Dry or Rid of Me this weekend I’d like to meet them. Astonishing artworks that have new truths and imaginative twists with an old art form that sound totally present and worthwhile . And even better memorable as performances with some very fine playing through out both on guitars and percussion. Should it surprise me that a West Country Girl can take an old artform and bend it perfectly to her own time and experience ? Probably not.

There is so much more to do in these little electric spaces . I really do hope that this is an important start to the summer.

Englands Guttering Candle

Even Later than Camouflage

A Joke

This Time

Threads and Worriers

A Fight for Attention.

All Things Considered

The monkeys chewed it over.

As we can see.

Off they all went.

Not the Mona Lisa for instance

Too tired to shout . Too poor to fight for attention

No countdown for this either.

Experimentaly yours . Sir Squilfore Shaker


Bedroom posters covered the walls and tops of tables where the Count lay dying . His splashed yellow and reds still wet and dripping as Guinivere dusted the book cabinet.

‘Oh say can you see’, she coninued ‘that which I can see ‘, and his eyes moved slowly in his strained sockets at the ceiling as he worried his lower lip with a stained tooth. This used to be where the work got made. This used to be where he played the harpsichord and drew smutty pictures for his own pleasure . All gone. All destroyed . A wayward missile measured the inches to pages and pages of flesh and bones and exploded.

The world contined to hear Guiniver and Guiniver only . And . From the trees small stars winked at the room and pitied the small paintings with woody photons smelling faintly of citrous.

Than Others.

Others were to follow.  Mostly about Fresh Air and The World in the Fresh Air and all thats in it.  While thinking about it the boy watched the Tyger video of the band singing Friends. A piece of music that only Martin Koerner had ever heard of. Because Martin has listed to pretty much everything and doesn’t sleep . Barely time for breath if you’re Martin . Or anythhing else come to that. Like – barely time to promote your own material eh Martin ?

The More There Is.

The more there is the more there is  might be a poor idea for a new post but could be pretty nifty for checking to see you you can follow a simple instruction from your site builder . So there we are. The more there is the more there is . And the better we all are for it. Maybe.  We don’t know but lets publish and find out.