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"Existence? Well what does it matter/I exist on the best terms I can/The Past is now part of my Future/The Present is well out of hand."

It is not really easy to put into words how wholly tired I am of existence now. How worn down. How distressed by the venality of the species and it's sheer glee at that choice. How exploited. How lonely. How ill; mentally, emotionally. How sick my reaction to this extremis of a world has made me. How vulnerable. How deeply angry I am at humans. How impotent in the face of monstrosity. How exhausted by trying (everything) positive in the face of the vast negative; like spitting on an inferno. How disgusted I am by the individual choices of slight personal convenience that others choose over anything even vaguely requiring the barest ethical effort. How horrified. How unhappy. How physically nauseated the constant struggle has made me. How damaged. How hurt. How appalled at the promotion and celebration of fleeting, instant gratification over anything of genuine depth; at the mocking of anything of depth. How frustrated. How disappointed. How heartbroken.

And how fed-up that there will still be some who see this and the first thing they think is "But..." because they are simply so much a part of the problem they are genetically incapable of getting the fucking point.

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ELTON JOHN: 1973 IN 1985

Assuming nothing bad - OK, nothing worse - happens  before next year, Elton John is staging his Gojira-carbon-footprint farewell tour, before hanging up the dayglo wardrobe and comedy face-furniture and putting his feet up with an endless supply of tea.

For most of its run, John Peel would present on his radio show, around year's end, the Festive Fifty.  This consisted of tracks voted for by his listeners from the past year,  fleshed out with session tracks also from the previous twelve months (usually).

On Christmas Day 1985, as a bonus, Peel included a rarity from exactly twelve years before, something seemingly very out of place in the line-ups of his shows at that time.  It proved stupidly popular.  As was his custom he added some commentary before and after each track to, on this occasion, provide some context.

On the 18th of December 1973 Elton John recorded this live session at BBC's Langham 1 studio for The John Peel Show.

John Walters, John Peel's radio show producer, had posited the idea and arranged the whole thing.  Though 'arranged' may give the ensuing drink-fueled event the illusion of being, in some manner, organised...

In attendance apart from Walters, Peel and of course Elton - and the specially hired upright pub piano (honky-tonk to any American's lurking) - were a few other BBC Radio 1 producers and hangers on and Teddy Warwick. Warwick was the Assistant Head and Executive Producer at Radio One and  was responsible for John Peel having his independence from the all-powerful "Playlist" which blighted and retarded daytime radio.

The session was atypical of Elton's pop output and perceived persona at the time and was a very relaxed occasion.  Liberties were taken.  Peel - "What fun we used to have in those days."

Broadcast a week later on Christmas Day 1973 during John Peel's radio show the session comprised four largely instrumental medleys, except for the last one. Which some of his more doe-eyed fans would probably wish had *remained* instrumental...

The Christmas Medley: Away In A Manger / Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer / White Christmas / Jingle Bells / The Holly & The Ivy.

The Dylan Medley: Blowin' In The Wind / She Belongs To Me / Mr. Tambourine Man

The Cockney Pub Medley: There's a Hole In My Bucket / My Old Man's a Dustman / Lily Of Laguna / Down At The Old Bull And Bush / Knees Up Mother Brown / Hokey Cokey

The Elton Medley: Daniel / Your Song

John Peel was a known hard-core Liverpool F.C. fan.  Elton was/is a known hard-core Watford F.C. fan, and indeed went on to part-own the club for a time.

Hence the "Watford Four, Liverpool Two - after extra-time" dig from Elton during the last medley and Peel's own "Midfield general" comment in this 1985 re-broadcast.

I was never a fan of Elton John's later stadium crooning.  The bewigged wind-candling, as it were, out of place, out of touch and clinging to mainstream populism.  Though, of course, that was his to do and why should he stick to what he did before?  Nevertheless, his early output was piano rock'n'roll that would make Billy Joel sick with envy.  And this small outing, which is adroitly skewed and fabulous, showed his genuine humour and an irreverence for his own work. Somewhat at odds with the public figure loved by the tabloids and celebrity magazines alike in later years.

Elton John 1973/85 John Peel Session, with commentary can be found here. Enjoy.

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Tom Baker calls Tom Baker (2004)

In notation of Tom Baker’s 83rd trip round the Sun here’s himself (Jon Culshaw) phoning himself on BBC Radio 4′s Dead Ringers in 2004.

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Sylvia Pankhurst's Stunt Double

The image is of Sylvia Pankhurst.

To most British people of a certain age Oliver Postgate is the voice of the narrator to The Clangers, Bagpuss, Ivor The Engine and many other short run animated series of note.  His biography, Seeing Things, is essential reading.

I have not read it.  I grew up with his voice, so when a friend sent me the audiobook of his biography read by the man himself I was entranced.  At three hours it is somewhat abridged of the print version but tells the tale well enough.  Certainly it opens up where this astounding man came from.

That would be the lineage of his grandfather the socialist firebrand politician George Lansbury and his equally, if not more forthright, revolutionary daughter, Daisy, Oliver's mum.

The attached audio is a vignette from his mother's history, as an active member of the Women's Suffrage Movement, which, forgive me for reminding you, was not a single party or organisation, but an aglommeration of several like minded groupings.

Sylvia Pankhurst was the daughter of Emmeline Pankhurst and sister of Christabel but was expelled by them from the Women’s Social and Political Union ("The Suffragettes") for essentially being too political.  Sylvia saw the connection between gender and class whilst Emmeline and her family were  - essentially - staunchly upper middle class British patriots who had one beef with the times.  Sylvia's eyes were a tad more open.  When "The Suffragettes" surrendered the fight for the vote at the outbreak of WWI to support the war effort Sylvia's own organisation carried on, ignoring the British imperialist war-machine.

This snippet documents one instance where Daisy Lansbury and Sylvia Pankhurst's stories intersected.

Should you by any chance wish to know more about Daisy Lansbury or Oliver Postgate, do let me know...

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Benjamin Pinkerton - Dark Matter S1 Closing Sequence (Fremsley Extended Edit/EQ)

Ben Pinkerton’s music from the end scenes and final credits of the un-named thirteenth episode of season one of TVSF programme Dark Matter.  Edited and re-EQ’d by me for something to add to my playlist.

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Perelandra, Trantor, Pandora, Byss...

Further to where Trump block-swamped fundraising e-mails.

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Falconberg

A recent online conversation prompted me to go digging for the text copies I retain of long-deleted online writings.  Unfortunately the pieces aren’t kept individually - I didn’t think ahead sufficiently; didn’t assume I’d be representing any of them - and instead languish in documents 200 pages long. So I’m having to spend time searching through likely candidates looking for specifics.  It’s not quick, but would be interminable if not for searchable terms.

This is a piece from a LiveJournal entry dated 5th October 2010, but the primary focus, that first photograph of Centre Point from beneath, was taken 21st May 2008.

Transition.

This is a photograph that can't be taken again.

It's Centre Point tower, in central London, as seen looking up from Falconberg Court. The piss-scented alleyway between what was, on the right, The Astoria and on the left the small, ancient flats behind and above various premises, including an electroclash club (latterly, The Ghetto), a tame sex-shop and some cheap takeaway joints.

I took it just before the barriers went up across the entrance-way to the Court (a dingy archway just out of shot of the bottom of the picture) and the equally dingy Falconberg Mews, behind and to the right of the point of view.

The alleyway and, especially, the often disinfected side-exits to The Astoria, were well known as central London's most popular outdoor toilet and indeed the permanent aroma attested to this. But it was a shortcut I often used into Soho Square or back the other way to Tottenham Court Road tube station. Particularly when, in 1999, I worked in the building directly behind the POV and could look from my first floor window straight up the alley and would often watch the rock bands of the time arriving at the back of the Astoria with their roadcrews to unload all their kit in the Mews. In particular I remember having to hack my way with a machete through the enormous and IQ-challenged, orange-boiler-suited queue for Slipknot just to get out of the place, when I'd worked late one Friday (as usual).

I recently found this [second] photo of what the area looks like now, during the construction of the new Tottenham Court Road Crossrail Station.

It struck me particularly because it is, essentially, the antiposition of the first. It's taken looking down from the top of Centre Point directly to where I was standing. For reference that was precisely where the base of the huge white construction crane is.

For those unfamiliar, to the right of the yellow traffic grid is Tottenham Court Road itself, to the left, between Centre Point and what were the older buildings starts Charing Cross Road. Above the crossroads intersection is the start of Oxford Street and below New Oxford Street. Eventually on the site of all this destruction, either side of the road, at the foot of Centre Point and over the older Tube Station will lie - allegedly - a great glass and steel Crossrail Station. Twenty years late, but, there you go.

It used to be, for quite a while after destruction/construction had begun, that if you went to Google maps and searched "Tottenham Court Road Tube" and then zoomed in on the result you could see what it used to look like from above. If you then selected streetview you could see the ironwork-capped archway entrance to Falconberg Court (under the Harmony banner) and the preliminary roadworks that kicked off before any property clearance started. Fortunately I kept screen grabs.

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Goodbye UK, but then you never really existed.

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“A world that will not grow less, but more merciless, as it refines itself”

To mark the self-inflicted foot-shooting that England (and I do mean England, not “UK”) has just perpetrated, here is the beautiful Ian Dury reading a pertinent extract from George Orwell’s 1984.

Taken from the BBC Radio 1 show Saturday Live, in 1984 upon the anniversary of publication.

An expanded version and more information can be found here.

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“Stephen Paul, David Morris”

Grammar.

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118

Early eighties Panini album/Smash Hits magazine unpeeled Bernard Sumner sticker.

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The Hood, 1985, 1986.

Howard Chaykin’s cover art for The Hood 12″ vinyl.

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Radioactive Chocolate Bar, c.1931. The German company claimed it made people younger! -  Lindsey Fitzharris