#olympia brass band

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Price takes Nikolai to a gig and gets more than he bargained for.

cw: sexual content towards the end.

Price stood on the outskirts in the standing area of Liverpool's Olympia stadium tracing back the decisions that had led him to this moment. He clutched half a pint of the worst lager he had ever tasted in one hand, his fingers bending the plastic inwards under a tense grip, while the other hand remained deep in the pocket of his jeans, turning his flat keys over and over.

Nik had thrown the flyer down on his desk about a month ago, and those big brown eyes had been turned onto their pleading setting immediately. Laswell likened them to the eyes of her barrel-shaped black Labrador; big, loyal, soft, irresistible. Price had asked her whether her wife knew there would soon be a third in their marriage and she'd thumped his arm hard enough to leave a mark. "Liverpool, this is where you live," Nik had said, stating rather than asking. "Can you help me book this?"

Nikolai could fix you a handgun in Liverpool no problem, replete with silencer and enough hollow point ammunition to create a very bad night for the Merseyside police force, but booking and attending a gig was apparently too much. Price had snagged up the flyer, squinted at the band name as if he had a chance in hell of recognising it, and then agreed.

Because why the fuck not? Brass were pressuring him to book some leave so they could tick the 'monitoring mental health and well being' box on his performance management, so it was as good excuse as any. You can kip on my sofa, he'd said, I can cook a better sarnie than the Premier Inn.

Nik's entire face had lit up. "Good! And you can come with me," a single beat of breath, "or I might get lost." There has been no time to argue the point because Garrick had knocked and entered, only to be scooped into a hug with a boomed, "Gaz, my brother, good to see you!" and the Russian-shaped whirlwind had disappeared.

So Price had done just that. He'd booked two tickets at the same time as his annual leave - three days should get them off his back - and put it out of his mind.

Not that there would have been much time to mull it over; they shipped out on a week long recon mission the following day, and the fallout that followed had taken up the rest of the time. Before he knew it, he was sitting on the train with Nik opposite, watching the British countryside sprint by in a blur of green and grey, drinking a beer and playing cards.

Being around Nik was easy. It wasn't just that he didn't take up energy to entertain, or require a certain mask from Price, it was more than that. Like he slotted into a part of Price's psyche built precisely for him, and Price felt happier when he was there. Laswell said it was like Nik removed the stick from Price's arse as part of his exfil service and Price had told Laswell to fuck off.

They had spent the afternoon mooching around Price's gaff. Not much to see really, but Nik had been fascinated by the dusty family photos on Price's wall and asked after every face; mother, father, sister, two nieces, a nephew, grandparents. He'd wanted to know about them all.

Then, with an hour and a half to go before Olympia's doors opened, they'd got changed for the evening. Price had thrown on the only shirt he owned that didn't come from the bargain bin of a Mountain Warehouse or the Army Surplus catalogue - a Ralph Lauren his sister has bought him one Christmas instead of the much preferred fishing-themed memorabilia - and stepped out to be confronted by Nik in a Slayer cut off tank that showed off the sides of his torso in a way that made Price feel hot under his designer collar.

"You look," Nik had said, studying Price carefully, head tilting to the side with a wry little smirk, "ill-prepared."

"And you look like Ozzy Osbourne took some steroids so I reckon it evens out." Nik had laughed at that and thumped Price's chest, and in the next moment they were sitting in the back of a taxi, Nik talking through the set list with the same excited gusto he did when pawing over a new bird in the hanger. Price was just glad he had remembered his Loop earplugs and couldn't help but smile along at Nik's excitement.

After drinking together through the support band and watching Nik grow gradually more and more restless, Price had sent him into the pit. He stood watching Nik from afar - "your shirt is too nice, captain, you stay here and finish your beer, I'll be back," - a man ten years his senior, orchestrate what the lead singer was calling a Wall of Death. More, more, further. Don't be a pussy! And then they sprinted at each other to the crescendo of a shredding guitar. Jesus fucking christ. Price lifted his lager to drink and then hesitated; he was pretty sure he'd felt something wet slosh over his face and shoulders, into his drink, and he couldn't be sure it wasn't piss, so he put his inordinately expensive and shit lager down on the nearby bar.

The last gig he had been to was at fifteen, a year before he joined the service. 3rd November 2000 at Wembley in London; the Smashing Pumpkins. He remembered it so clearly because of the hiding his father had given him for not only hitchhiking his way to London, but stumbling home off his head on cheap vodka the morning after. There hadn't been any Walls of Death at the time.

Nik stumbled out of the melee that had followed the wall's demise just as the song ended, and a line formed down the centre of Price's brow. A knot twisted in his belly, and a little further down, at the lumbering mess of a man that approached. His tank clung to the curves of his chest, darkened with sweat, his usually neat hair ruffled and erratic, the sheen on his arms and collar bones reflecting the strobe lights and drawing Price's eye. A shiver of something that felt far too fucking much like longing ran down his spine.

"You're bleeding," Price said dumbly, his throat tight. His gaze settled on the split in Nik's lip and the blossoming bruise on his cheekbone.

"Eh," Nik huffed, wiping a smear of blood on the back of his hand. "The other guy looks worse." There was that feral little grin. The same grin Nikolai wore in the field when shit had gone Pete Tong but they had still come up golden through sheer grit, dumb luck and the precise application of violent savagery. It set a fire in Price's chest, made something feral and untamed rouse from slumber, and suddenly there was an itch beneath his skin.

"Damn fuckin' right," Price replied, reflecting Nik's grin back at him. A breath passed between them, something unspoken and wild as their eyes met. And then there was a strong hand gripping his jaw, another on his hip, pushing him into the wall behind him. His back hit home, knocking the air from his lungs, and his fists bunched in the sweat-soaked material of Nik's shirt as Nik's lips pushed to his. The coppery taste of blood mixed with cheap beer and cigar smoke, and every sane thought fell out of Price's head, replaced instead by a maelstrom of chaos centered around the feel of Nik's tongue, the softness of his lips, the demand of his teeth and the rock hard bulge that ground into Price's hips.

Price was sure his moan would have been audible but for the thump and scream of the music. Nik kept that grip on his jaw as he damn near plundered Price's mouth for what he wanted, but the other hand left his hip to push against the wall, clenched in a fist near Price's head. When they pulled apart, Price sucked in a strangled gasp of air and Nik pushed his face into the scruff of Price's beard. "Ty prekrasen," Nik breathed, "ya tebya hochu."

Price had been practicing Russian. He still couldn't read it, but even if he hadn't understood the words or the low growl in Nik's voice, the hunger in Nik's kiss on his neck would have communicated his meaning just fine. "Bloody hell," Price arched against the hard line of Nik's body, fists shaking. "Yeah. Fuck. Wait..." He shoved Nik away, just a fraction, but held onto his shirt with the same desperation. Caught in the conflict between what he wanted and another part of him that had been wounded once before. "I'm not your three a.m. shag, Nik. We clear? I don't do that. If this is--if this is what this is, then no, look at me, you hear?"

Nik let out a burst of a chuckle, eyes soft as he met Price's gaze. "John, you are and always will be my everything." He was drunk enough to struggle around the 'J' in Price's name, defaulting the zsho- inflection, but his eyes were clear as he said it.

"Fuck," Price responded, eyes wide, and Nik kissed him again, slower this time. When he stopped, Price was shaking.

"And you?" Nik breathed into his lips.

"Not here, not... I can't hear myself fucking think."

"Then home." Nik pulled him from the wall and soon they were navigating the corridors crowded with drunks and staff into the night. The cool air bristled over Price's skin, but it did little to cool the heat in his body, barely able to keep his hands off of Nik when they fell into the back of the cab. Nik sat contentedly, the backs of his fingers stroking up and down Price's forearm as he watched the city speed by.

Price's hands shook as he shoved the key in the door of his flat, and he turned just in time to be crowded across the threshold by Nik's chest. The door slammed shut and they tumbled onto the beaten up old sofa padded out with a spare duvet and pillow. Nik tore into Price's clothes remorselessly, thirty-ish quids worth of buttons skittered under Price's coffee table as the shirt was k.i.a. It didn't matter, because the feeling of Nik devouring his chest, scrubbing his stubble into sweat, hair and cologne with a deep, guttural groan, was worth every shirt Price owned and then some.

They fumbled and wrestled out of their clothes in search of skin. Nik worked his way down Price's body, wrenching his jeans and boxers over his thighs to lick a long stripe up the hard line of his prick before swallowing it in one. A strangled noise broke from Price's chest as he buried a fist in Nik's hair; the responding moan that vibrated in Nik's throat sent pleasure licking up Price's spine like tongues of flame. Nik kept him teetering on the brink, pulling away with a soft pop to work his way back up Price's body and squirm out of the baggy cargo shorts far enough to free his own cock. He took them both in one big hand and rutted forward, grabbing at the arm of the sofa behind Price's head for purchase.

Slicked by their precum and Nik's saliva, Nik fucked them both into his palm with enough pace and force to make the old sofa creak. He leaned down to kiss the moans and whimpers from Price's mouth in between growled pants of want, slipping in and out of Russian, English and some of the other eight languages he knew, like his brain had short-circuited and was spinning out. Fuckin' hot, is what it was. One of Price's hands joined Nik's, if only to feel the silky iron of his prick against another part of him. He squeezed tighter as his pleasure crested, balls pulling tight, and spilled between them.

Nik practically fucking purred with delight, thrusting against Price's spent cock until he grunted in discomfort before pulling away. No fucking way Price was letting him keep the upper hand; he snagged Nik's shorts and used them to yank him up until Nik's cum-slick cock hung over his face. His palm gripping one plentiful arse cheek, he sucked Nik into the back of his mouth, encouraging him to thrust in with a firm squeeze and low growl.

If Price had thought Nik had been loud before, the act of fucking Price's face had unearthed a whole new vocal range. Nik moaned, growled and panted like an animal, fisting Price's hair as his balls settled against the bristles on Price's chin. Price's throat spasmed, his chest ached, his damn eyes watered, but fuck he wanted Nik buried in him forever. His fingernails bit into the flesh of his arse, his spent cock flicking with interest across his belly, as Nik staked his claim. It took only a handful of deep thrusts before Nik hit his peak, buried to the hilt and spilling down Price's throat with a euphoric shout.

His grip loosened in Price's hair and he withdrew slowly, cock still twitching as it drew over Price's tongue. He replaced his prick with his mouth, kissing the taste of himself on Price's swollen lips with a bone deep moan, before lapping at the tear tracks on Price's cheeks.

At some point, Nik must have moved them to the bed, because Price resurfaced from his haze with his face on a thick, furry chest and a strong arm around his shoulders, the bedsheets draped up to their waist. Nik traced vague circles on Price's bicep, half lidded eyes unfocused as they stared at the ceiling. "I meant it," Nik said, clearly sensing Price's return from his post-fuck delirium. "Everything I said."

Price swallowed hard. How did you respond to that? Nothing in his life so far had prepared him for Nik's devotion. "I know," he murmured. "I... Me too. For a long time."

Nik shifted, rolling Price onto his back so he could look down into his eyes. "Then we make it work."

"Nik... Our lives, we... Shit could go upside down real bloody quick."

A finger pressed over his lips. "I specialise in upside down, captain."

"You just put your prick in my throat and you're still going with captain."

Nik shrugged, lopsided grin slipping back into place. "It is hot. Maybe I will fuck you in your uniform next time, hm?"

"Presumptuous, Nik..."

"Maybe over your desk." Nik sank down to kiss Price's neck.

"Cleaning lady would have somethin' to say about that."

"She is not invited. I do not share." A nip against his throat, and Price arched into Nik's chest.

"Fuck, okay... Mate, you're rabid."

"Hm, only for you."

Fuck. Only for you. Price closed his eyes as Nik's hand slid beneath the blanket. Yeah, fine, they could make this work. They could have this. They deserved it, this one thing, and fuck did Price want it bad.

[freddiemercurylegendabovelegends]

Today, on November 10th, 1978 - Queen Story!

"Jazz" album released in the UK

👉 The seventh studio album

➡️ 12/12/1978 - Circus Magazine

🔸In praise of ‘JAZZ’

The boys conjure up a bizarre junket by Mark Mehler

On Bourbon Street, in the heart of New Orleans’ fabled French Quarter, the sign reads, “Bob Harrington-Chaplain of Bourbon Street.” Upstairs, the freelance minister administers to the wicked minions below, while across the street, the Hotsy Totsy lounge features naked women parading across an oak bar from dawn to dusk, and next door, the “X-rated Shop” specializes in scatological posters and joy sticks.

This is Freddie Mercury’s favourite American city, where the Mississippi ends its majestic flow and zealots with big dreams fight a losing battle against hustlers, procurers, and all purveyors of sleaze. It is Freddie Mercury’s favourite city because the lead singer and bucktoothed front man of Queen is, above all, an actor. And in New Orleans, anyone can be anyone they want to be. Tonight, October 31, 1978-Halloween-Freddie Mercury and Queen have flown in 80 reporters from the U.S., Europe, Latin America and Japan, to see a show and be a part of a show at the same time. The third concert on Queen’s 28-city U.S. tour is in the ornate Civic Auditorium. Above the stage are listed the names of the mighty: Shakespeare, Michelangelo, Cellini, Durer, Gounod. Out of the soft blue and green lights and smoke, Freddie Mercury struts like a rooster, striking ballet poses, under an astral guitar blare that neatly skirts the sharp edges of rock & roll. The melodies are undistinguished, but the constant tempo changes of “Bohemian Rhapsody” and “We Will Rock You”, keep an audience awake for nearly two hours of uninterrupted music. The lighting show is one of rock’s most ambitious. Eerie purple lights shine out over the heads of the audience, making their hair seem cloudlike and inanimate. At the midpoint of the show, a smaller stage is lowered from the ceiling and 400 lamps meld into the sheer white plane of curtain light. Freddie is a whirling dervish, dominating every corner of the stage.

“Some people call this song ‘Spread Your Legs’, he tells the audience, introducing ‘Spread Your Wings’. “And I like it that way”.

Starting out in black sequins, he comes out for the first encore bedecked in orange hot pants, dancing around like Peter Pan. For the second encore he’s wearing a revealing, white body stocking. As he wails ‘We Are The Champions’, his voice warbles with mock emotion, and he grasps the microphone for support. At the apex of the triumphant denouement, the top executives of Elektra Records, who have sat smiling throughout the show, arise as one and walk out. Moments later, the show closes with a taping of ‘God Save The Queen’. Body and soul spent, Freddie ambles off stage, drained and spark-less. But Halloween night in New Orleans has just begun.

Back in the ballroom of the Fairmont Hotel, over 400 people have gathered to await Queen and much on a sumptuous table of hors d’oeuvres, such as Oysters Rockfeller and Shrimp Creole. A Dixieland band plays uninspired jazz jingles, until, shortly before midnight, the Olympia Brass band comes marching through the hall accompanied by Queen-the mercurial Mercury, the winsome Brian May, the puckish John Deacon, the velvety Roger Taylor. Suddenly, like a giant circus orchestrated by a deranged ringmaster, a legion of strippers, vulgar fat-bottomed dancers, snake charmers, drag queens, and bizarrely festooned revellers, begin to strut their stuff before the assembled masses. Freddie Mercury is besieged by hungry autograph seekers, groupies and fame-worshippers. People begin shielding their clothes, as an ever-imaginative photographer snaps Freddie signing the bare backside of a willowy transvestite. Freddie begins sucking on his giant overbite nervously, and by 2 a.m., he is mercifully gone. Brian May, who seems to be the true organizer of the night’s carnival, is cornered by persistent Japanese newshounds. “It’s wonderful,” he keeps saying. “It’s so nice to be back.” As the evening wears on, epicene men and butch women act out charades of power that would have embarrassed Hemingway. Three obese black women in g-strings do a pathetic bump and grind, and another female participant amuses a small gaggle of onlookers by putting a cigarette in an unlikely place. People leave to check out the scene on Bourbon Street and drift back to the party like cigar smoke. At 4 a.m., a Queen security guard, haggard and irritable, inquires when it will all be over. “Queen wants the naked disco dancers going to dawn,” informs his partner. And it does. The following day, Queen reappears at a press conference at Brennan’s, one of the French Quarter’s most elegant restaurants. Again, it is Roger Taylor and Brian May who dominate the conversation, as Freddie Mercury seems vaguely preoccupied. The subject of all this is ‘Jazz’, Queen’s new album, which contains no jazz. “People think we take ourselves a lot more seriously than we actually do,” says Roger Taylor. ‘Jazz’, Queen’s reunion with former producer Roy Thomas Baker, offers ‘Mustapha’, an up-tempo Hebrew rocker; ‘Fat Bottomed Girls’, a song that owes a lot to Pure Prairie League’s ‘Amie’; and more indulgent rhapsodies like ‘Jealousy’ and ‘Bicycle Race’, with its topical references to Star Wars, Jaws, and Superman. The ad campaign, like everything about the Band, goes to the limit of good taste: 11 bare-chested, major-league-yabboed women racing bicycles.

“It’s cheeky”, admits Freddie, “naughty, but not lewd. Certain stores, you know, won’t run our poster. I guess some people don’t like to look at nude ladies.”

Freddie, 32, was born in Zanzibar and educated in India, and was a childhood table tennis and hockey prodigy. He studied art and became a graphic designer and illustrator, having given up piano lessons in the fourth grade. But he continued singing, fronting his first band at 14 and forming Queen with Roger and Brian in 1970. After the routine easy grilling, Mercury is cornered outside. “You seem to be removed from the character up on stage. Is that really you?”

“No,” says Freddie, “of course it’s an act.”

He denies pandering to gays; or for that matter, to anyone. He hints at a quiet, restless man who needs to step outside of himself for ego-stimulation.

“I have fun wearing all those costumes,” he says. “I can really cut loose up there”.

Freddie is then swiftly ushered out, and again, Brian May is left behind to field the endless questions of the Japanese. The two-day junket, painstakingly directed by and for Queen, ends with a few straggling journalists eating Bananas Foster and being more cynical than usual. Outside, on Bourbon Street, a folk singer entertains an empty house of red velour seats, affirming that a falling tree makes a sound whether it’s heard or not. Which conjures up something Brian May had said about Queen constantly seeking “direct communication with our audience.” For all the words that describe Queen’s trip to New Orleans, direct is surely not one.

[kulturegroupie]

Jimmy Page and Robert Plant at a party at Cosimo Matassa's Jazz City recording studio, May 14, 1973.

Before they left New Orleans, Atlantic Records boss Ahmet Ertegun threw a party for the band at Cosimo Matassa's Jazz City. Soul food comprised the menu that night and all of New Orleans' best R&B and rock legends would perform: Willie Tee, Art Neville and the Meters, Ernie K-Doe, the Wild Magnolias, Snooks Eaglin and the Olympia Brass Band. Rauls helped coordinate that party and remembers the event like it was yesterday.

"They didn't need some ritzy ballroom", he says. "Just going to a funky, soulful recording studio in a beat down part of New Orleans and to meet the guys they grew up listening to–they were in seventh heaven. Willie Tee was still alive, Ernie K-Doe was there, Professor Longhair–all these guys were former Atlantic artists that Ertegun had a relationship with. To bring them out at Cosimo's party, it gave the band a woody."

Davis writes of the party in Hammer of the Gods, "John Paul Jones played organ while a stripper bumped and grinded on the tabletop. Jimmy and Robert watched in awe as the elder statesman of rock and roll strutted their stuff."

[pwlanier]

A CASED PAIR OF 40 BORE PERCUSSION RIFLED TARGET PISTOLS BY GASTINNE RENETTE ARQR DE L' EMPEREUR A PARIS, NO. 941, DATED 1856.

with browned octagonal swamped sighted barrels chiselled with vine foliage within a gothic framework around the muzzles and the breeches (small areas of light pitting), signed in encrusted gold on the flats, struck beneath with the serial number, the date and initials 'GR', chiselled case-hardened breeches decorated en suite and stamped beneath with the barrelsmith's mark, the initials 'GR' crowned in an oval, chiselled tangs decorated with foliage on a matted ground and incorporating the back-sights, flush-fitting locks chiselled en suite with the breeches and signed in script within a shaped panel, fitted with matching hammers, detents and blued triggers, ebony half-stocks finely carved with neo-rococo scrolls, flowers and shell ornament on a matted ground over the fore-end, the same design centring on a vacant escutcheon and fluted over the butts, engraved case-hardened mounts comprising trigger-plates, spurred trigger-guards and moulded pommels all decorated en suite with the locks, case-hardened barrel bolt escutcheons, and some early finish throughout: in original fitted ebonised case, the exterior of the lid inlaid with brass bands, a central foliate panel and the crowned initials 'CL' beneath the coronet of a Marquis, the interior lined in blue velvet, the lid with the gilt maker's name and coat of arms (compartment lid damaged, areas of wear, the lid forced and lock damaged), complete with accessories including 'G & J. W. H. Fireproof' white metal flask, bullet mould, turn-screw, nipple-wrench and loading rod, 26.7 cm barrels

The firm of Gastinne-Renette was one of the leading target and duelling pistol makers in Paris during the 19th century. They won medals at the Paris exhibitions of 1839 and 1844, as well as holding appointments to Napoleon III and the King of Spain. Duelling lessons were still available at the firm's premises in the Champs-Elysées until the outbreak of the First World War, where it is still represented to this day. The champion shot, Walter Winans devotes a chapter to "Gastinne-Renette's gallery in Paris", in The art of Revolver Shooting (1911), where he concludes 'in regard to galleries where one can get pistol practice, that of Gastinne-Renette in Paris stands easily first, and not only is it lit up in the best style for all sorts of shooting, but the weapons supplied are the best in the world'.

Olympia Auctions

[gravalicious]

Willie Birch - Olympia (Old Timer with Saxophone) (2002).

Source:: Matt Sakakeeny - Roll With It: Brass Bands in the Streets of New Orleans (2016)

[hmgn3]

24-September 散財記録

01(sun) ・Ninjaman / Target Practice (1991, used LP) ・A Friendly Islands Christmas (1981, used LP) 14(sat) ・Flue / Vista (1983, used LP) ・Heiner Goebbels & Alfred Harth / Der Durchdrungene Mensch/Indianer Für Morgen (1981, used LP) 15(sun) ・Swallow / Body Horror (2020, used 12inch) ・Ulterior / 15 (2008, used 12inch) ・Pudel Produkte 1 (2005, used 12inch) ・Gary Young / Hospital (1994, used LP) ・Au Bal Antillais (Franco-Creole Biguines From Martinique) (1988, used LP) ・The Scene Is Now / Total Jive (1986, used LP) ・Joan Wildman & Richard Lottridge / Something New (The Unique Sounds of Jazz Bassoon) (1984, used LP) ・The Olympia Brass Band / The Olympia Brass Band of New Orleans (1971, used LP) 16(mon) ・Butcher Bear / Don't Save Yourself (2016, used LP) ・Charles Hayward & Michael Prime / Wash.Rinse.Spin/Osculation (2000, used 12inch) 19(thu) ・Negative Gemini / Body Work (2016, used LP) ・Mocky / Mickey Mouse Muthaf*..#s!! (2004, used 12inch) ・Alis EP (2003, used 12inch) ・Paul Bley & Scorpio / Paul Bley & Scorpio (1973, used LP) 21(sat) ・Les ANARCHO / OKANE WO MOYASOU (2013, used LP) ・渚十吾 with lakeside / Topo Topo Topo El Topo (2000, used 7inch) ・市松サウンド細工 / ドッケンシマウマ (1998, used 7inch) ・Pagtas / Mew! D.J. (1997, used 7inch) ・マウスピース / PEACE! (1997, used 7inch) ・Kain / The Blue Guerrilla (1970, used LP) 22(sun) ・Alexandre Kittel & Heddy Boubaker / Merci-Merci (2016, used 12inch) ・Archie Pelago / The Archie Pelago EP (2012, used 12inch) ・Pookiesnackenburger / Just One Cornetto (1982, used 7inch)

[lboogie1906]

Sidney Joseph Bechet (May 14, 1897 – May 14, 1959) was a jazz saxophonist, clarinetist, and composer. He was one of the first important soloists in jazz, beating trumpeter Louis Armstrong to the recording studio by several months.

He played in many New Orleans ensembles using the improvisational techniques of the time. He performed in parades with Freddie Keppard’s brass band, the Olympia Orchestra, and in John Robichaux’s dance orchestra. He performed with Bunk Johnson in the Eagle Band of New Orleans with King Oliver in the Olympia Band. He was touring and traveling, going as far north as Chicago and frequently performing with Freddie Keppard. He traveled to New York City where he joined Will Marion Cook’s Syncopated Orchestra. The orchestra traveled to Europe; upon arrival, they performed at the Royal Philharmonic Hall in London. The group was warmly received, and he was popular. He discovered the straight soprano saxophone and developed a style, unlike his clarinet tone. His saxophone sound could be described as emotional, reckless, and large. He often used a broad vibrato, similar to what was common among some New Orleans clarinetists at the time. The session was led by Clarence Williams, a pianist, and songwriter, known at that time for his music publishing and record producing. He recorded “Wild Cat Blues” and “Kansas City Man Blues”. “Wild Cat Blues” is in a ragtime style with four 16-bar themes, and “Kansas City Man Blues” is a 12-bar blues. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

[labellenouvelle]

BEIGNET BOWL

A vintage 1984 pamphlet for the BEIGNET BOWL , going on on the Sugar Bowl weekend.  Great graphics , a cool piece of NOLA nostalgia ready to be framed and displayed. 

Item No. E4932-2

Dimensions: 11″ X 9″ approx.

List Price: $ 25

504.581.3733 / t

info@labellenouvelle.com / e

[megandoeschallenges]

Day 287 || A song you would use in a soundtrack to go with a funeral procession.

I couldn’t think of one specific song that I’d use... but I think everything that New Orleans does for big funerals is 100% ideal and perfect. Gimme that jazz parade.

[cardest]

New Orleans playlist

Hungry for some po boys? Feeling the Mardi Gras vibes for this weekend? This is the ultimate NOLA playlist, right here. Play the songs here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-iHPcxymC182dTlE-Gii6ZOO5ZrN1Z1T

Louisiana and New Orleans, all in the one awesome playlist. If there are songs I left out, let me know and I can add those. Or come meet me at Le Bon Temps Roulé  and we’ll listen to this NOLA playlist together with drinks.

LOUISIANA & NEW ORLEANS

001 Bob James - Take Me To The Mardi Gras 002 Earl King - Ain’t no city like New Orleans 003 John Lee Hooker - goin’ to Louisiana 004 Crowbar -  Wrath Of Time By Judgment 005 True Detective - Theme (The Handsome Family - Far From Any Road) 006 EyeHateGod - New Orleans Is The New Vietnam 007 The The Meters -  Chicken Strut 008 Paul McCartney - Live And Let Die (from Live And Let Die) 009 The Rolling Stones - Brown Sugar 010 Lucinda Williams - Crescent City 011 King Hobo -  New Or-Sa-Leans 012 Concrete Blonde - Bloodletting 013 Down - Underneath Everything 014 True Blood Theme Song (Jace Everett - Bad Things) 015 Corrosion of Conformity -  Broken Man 016 The New Orleans Jazz Vipers - I Hope Your Comin' Back To New Orleans 017 Willy DeVille - Jump City 018 Left Side - Gold In New Orleans 017 Necrophagia -  Reborn through Black Mass 018 Johnny Horton -  The Battle Of New Orleans 019 Dr John - Litanie des Saints 020 Foo Fighters - In the Clear 021 Redbone - The Witch Queen Of New Orleans 022 Jucifer - Lautrichienne 023 Danzig - It's a long way back from hell 024 Harry Connick, Jr. -  Oh, My Nola 025 The Gaturs - Gator Bait 026 Jon Bon Jovi - Queen Of New Orleans 027 Cyril Neville -  Gossip 028 Carlos Santana - Black Magic Woman 029 Gentleman June Gardner - It's Gonna Rain 030 Eddy G. Giles - Soul Feeling (Part 1) 031 Tool - Swamp Song 032 Beasts of Bourbon -  Psycho 033 Seratones - Gotta Get To Know Ya 034 Chuck Berry -  You Never Can Tell 035 Grateful Dead - Mississippi Half-Step Uptown Toodleoo 036 Pale Misery - Hope is a Mistake 037 Exhorder - Homicide 038 King James & the Special Men - Special Man Boogie 039 Chuck Carbo -  Can I Be Your Squeeze 040 Amebix - Axeman 041 Tomahawk - Captain Midnight 042 Waylon Jennings - Jambalaya 043 Heavy Lids - Deviate 044 Red Hot Chili Peppers -  Apache Rose Peacock 045 Necrophagia -  Rue Morgue Disciple 046 Johnny Cash -  Big River 047 Albert King -  Laundromat Blues 048 Meklit Feat Preservation Hall Horns - You Are My Luck 049 Le Winston Band  - En haut de la montagne 050 Dr. john - I Thought I Heard New Orleans Say 051 Down -  New Orleans is a dying whore 052 Samhain -  To Walk The Night 053 Creedence Clearwater Revival -  Green River 054 Southern Culture on the Skids -  Voodoo Cadillac 055 Bonnie, Sheila -  You Keep Me Hanging On 056 Warren Lee -  Funky Bell 057 Elf - Annie New Orleans 058 Cannonball Adderley - New Orleans Strut 059 Doug Kershaw - Louisiana Man - New Orleans Version 060 Willy deVille  - Voodoo Charm 061 The Animals -  The House of the Rising Sun 062 Porgy Jones -  The Dapp 063 Lost Bayou Ramblers - Sabine Turnaround 064 IDRIS MUHAMMAD - New Orleans 065 John Lee Hooker - Boogie Chillen No. 2 066 Hank 3 - Hillbilly Joker 067 Nine Inch Nails -  Heresy 068 Talking Heads - Swamp 069 Irma Thomas - I'd Rather Go Blind 070 Mississippi Fred McDowell -  I'm Going Down the River 071 Dee Dee Bridgewater   - Big Chief 072 Dr. John  - Creole Moon 073 Agents of Oblivion -  Slave Riot 074 Steve Vai - Voodoo Acid 075 Saviours -  Slave To The Hex 076 Kris  Kristofferson -  Casey's Last Ride 077 JJ Cale - Louisiana Women 078 Cher - Dark Lady of New Orleans 079 LE ROUX - Take A Ride On A Riverboat 080 The Melvins -  A History Of Bad Men 081 Floodgate - Through My Days Into My Nights 082 Opprobium - voices from the grave 083 Quintron & Miss Pussycat - Swamp Buggy Badass 084 Child Bite - ancestral ooze 085 Sammi Smith - The City Of New Orleans 086 The Explosions - Garden Of Four Trees 087 Bobby Boyd - straight ahead 088 Bobby Charles - Street People 089 Wall of Voodoo -  Far Side of Crazy 090 Rhiannon Giddens - Freedom Highway (feat. Bhi Bhiman) 091 Elton John - Honky Cat 092 Serge Gainsbourg - Bonnie and Clyde 093 Fats Domino - I'm Walking To New Orleans 094 Cruel Sea - Orleans Stomp 095 Down -  On March The Saints 096 Danzig -  Ju Ju Bone 097 The Neville Brothers ~ Voodoo 098 Megadeth -  The Conjuring 099 Miles Davis - Miles runs the voodoo down 100 Elvis Presley - King Creole 101 Led Zeppelin - Royal Orleans 102 The Lime Spiders -  Slave Girl 103 BIG BILL BROONZY  -'Mississippi River Blues'   104 Kreeps - Bad Voodoo 105 Dirty Dozen Brass Band -  Caravan 106 Kirk Windstein -  Dream In Motion 107 Eletric Prunes - Kyrie Eleison - Mardi Gras 108 Merle Haggard - The Legend Of Bonnie And Clyde 109 Corrosion of Conformity -  River of Stone 110 THE ADVENTURES OF HUCK FINN (MAIN TITLE) 111 Zigaboo Modeliste - Guns 112 ReBirth Brass Band - Let's Go Get 'Em 113 Inell Young -  What Do You See In Her? 114 Jimi Hendrix - If 6 as 9 (Studio Version) Easy Rider Soundtrack 115 Deep Purple -  Speed King 116 Exhorder - The Law 117 Crowbar -  The Cemetery Angels 118 A Streetcar Named Desire OST - Main Title 119 WOORMS - Take His Fucking Leg 120 steely dan - pearl of the quarter 121 Tabby Thomas - Hoodoo Party 122 Black Label Society -  Parade of the Dead 123 Dwight James & The Royals - Need Your Loving 124 Abraham Lincoln Vampire Hunter (2012) The Rampant Hunter (Soundtrack OST) 125 PanterA - The Great Southern Trendkill 126 Ween - WHO DAT? 127 Earl King - Street Parade 128 Ernie K-Doe - Here Come The Girls 129 Dejan's Olympia Brass Band ~ Mardi Gras In New Orleans 130 Body Count -  KKK Bitch 131 Goatwhore - Apocalyptic Havoc 132 C.C. Adcock - Y'all d Think She Be Good To Me (from True Blood S01E01) 133 The Meters - Fire On The Bayou 134 Dr. John - I Walk On Guilded Splinters 135 Balfa Brothers - J'ai Passe Devant ta Porte 136 Ween - Voodoo Lady 137 King Diamond -  'LOA' House 138 Creedence Clearwater Revival - Born On The Bayou 139 Dax Riggs -  See You All In Hell Or New Orleans 140 Professor Longhair - Go to the Mardi Gras 141 Dixie Witch -  Shoot The Moon 142 Ramones - The KKK Took My Baby Away 143 Fats Waller -  There's Going To Be The Devil To Pay 144 Mississippi Fred McDowell -  When the Train Comes Along with Sidney Carter & Rose Hemphill 145 Treme Song (Main Title Version) 146 Tony Joe White - Even Trolls Love Rock and Roll 147 Nine Inch Nails -  Sin 148 Exodus -  Cajun Hell 149 NEIL DIAMOND - New Orleans 150 James Brown - Call Me Super Bad 151 Jimi Hendrix -  Voodoo Child ( Slight Return ) 152 Allen Toussaint - Chokin Kind 153 Dash Rip Rock  - Meet Me at the River 154 Hawg Jaw- 4 Lo 155 Hot 8 Brass Band - Keepin It Funky 156 Hank Williams III - Rebel Within 157 Dejan's Original Olympia Brass Band - Shake It And Break It 158 Jelly Roll Morton -  Finger Buster 159 The Royal Pendletons - (Im a) Sore Loser 160 Little Bob & The Lollipops - Nobody But You 161 Gregg Allman - Floating Bridge (True Detective Soundtrack) 162 Michael Doucel with Beausoleil - Valse de Grand Meche 163 Dolly Parton - My Blue Ridge Mountain Boy 164 Othar Turner & the Afrossippi Allstars – Shimmy She Wobble 165 Jucifer - Fleur De Lis 166 Soilent Green -  Leaves Of Three 167 Ides Of Gemini -  Queen of New Orleans 168 Betty Harris -  Trouble with My Lover 169 Lead Belly - Pick A Bale Of Cotton 170 Candyman Opening Theme 171 Goatwhore - When Steel and Bone Meet 172 Acid Bath - Bleed Me An Ocean 173 Pere Ubu - Louisiana Train Wreck 174 Walter -Wolfman- Washington - You Can Stay But the Noise Must Go 175 Alice in Chains -  Hate To Feel 176 Body Count -  Voodoo 177 Live and Let Die - Jazz Funeral 178 Smoky Babe -  Cotton Field Blues 179 Professor Longhair - Big Chief Part 2 180 Lewis Boogie - Walk the Line 181 James Black - Theres a Storm in the Gulf 182 The Balfa Brothers - Parlez Nous A Boire 183 The Jambalaya Cajun Band - Bayou Teche Two Step 184 The Deacons -  Fagged Out 185 Thou - The Changeling Prince 186 Black Sabbath -  Voodoo 187 King Diamond -  Louisiana Darkness 188 Doyle -  Cemeterysexxx 189 KINGDOM OF SORROW - Grieve a Lifetime 190 Hank Williams III - Louisiana Stripes 191 FORMING THE VOID - On We Sail 192 BUCK BILOXI AND THE FUCKS - fuck you 193 Down in New Orleans - The Princess and the Frog Soundtrack 194 Trombone Shorty & James Andrews  - oh Poo Pah Doo 195 Whitesnake -  Ain't No Love In The Heart Of The City 196 The Dirty Dozen Brass band - Voodoo 197 Joe Simon - The Chokin' Kind 198 Down -  Ghosts along the Mississippi 199 AEROSMITH  - Voodoo Medicine Man 200 Nine Inch Nails -  The Perfect Drug 201 The Byrds - [Sanctuary III] Ballad Of Easy Rider 202 The Iguauas - Boom Boom Boom 203 PJ Harvey - Down By The Water 204 Louis Armstrong - Do You Know What It Means To Miss New Orleans 205 Dr John - Right Place Wrong Time 206 ESTHER ROSE - handyman 207 Lightnin Slim - It's Mighty Crazy 208 Slim Harpo - Blues Hangover 209 Irma Thomas - Ruler Of My Heart 210 WEATHER WARLOCK - Fukk the Plan-0 211 Superjoint Ritual - The Alcoholik (Use Once And Destroy) 212 Stressball - dust 213 Trampoline Team - Kill You On The Streetcar 214 Xander Harris - Where’s your Villain? 215 Dukes of Dixieland - When The Saints Go Marching In 216 Kid Congo & The Pink Monkey Birds - Su Su 217 Danzig - I'm the one 218 EyeHatteGod - Pigs 219 Hank Williams Jr - Amos Moses 220 The Cramps - Alligator Stomp 221 Crowbar - The Serpent Only Lies 222 Shrüm - drip 223 Thou  - The Only Law 224 DR. JOHN - Babylon   225 Garth Brooks - Callin' Baton Rouge 226 Wild Magnolias - All On A Mardi Gras Day 227 NCIS New Orleans TV Show theme 228 Skull Duggery - Big Easy 229 Harry Connick Jr. - City beaneath the sea 230 Elvis Presley - Dixieland Rock 231 Tom Waits - I Wish I Was In New Orleans (In The Ninth Ward) 232 Neil Young - Everybody's Rockin 233 Philip H. Anselmo & The Illegals - Delinquent 234 CORROSION OF CONFORMITY - Wolf Named Crow 235 Widespread Panic - Fishwater 236 Lillian Boutté - Why Don't You Go Down to New Orleans 237 Bryan Ferry - Limbo 238 Scream - Mardi Gras 239 EyeHateGod - Shoplift 240 Better Than Ezra - good 241 Duke Ellington - Perdido (1960 Version) 242 Bob Dylan - Rambling, Gambling Willie 243 Big Bad Voodoo Daddy - sAve my soul 244 Le Roux - So Fired Up 245 Concrete Blonde - The Vampire song 246 Boozoo Chavis - Zydeco Mardi Gras 247 Idris Muhammad  - Piece of mind 248 Les Hooper - Back in Blue Orleans 249 Doug Kershaw - Cajun stripper 250 DOWN  - Witchtripper 251 Soilent Green - So hatred 252 Professional Longhair - Big chief 253 Willie Nelson - City Of New Orleans 254 Tom Waits - Whistlin' Past The Graveyard 255 Brian Fallon - sleepwalkers 256 Patsy - Count It On Down 257 Into the Moat - The Siege Of Orleans 258 Bruce Cockburn - Down To The Delta 259 Jello Biafra · the Raunch and Soul All-Stars - Fannie Mae 260 Exhorder - Asunder 261 Cane Hill - Too Far Gone 262 The Slackers - peculiar 263 Crowbar  - A Breed Apart   264 COC - Wiseblood 265 Necrophagia - Embalmed Yet I Breathe 266 EYEHATEGOD - Fake What's Yours 333 Alan Vega - Bye Bye Bayou 666 DOWN  - Stone the crow

I don’t beads by the way! Hit play here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-iHPcxymC182dTlE-Gii6ZOO5ZrN1Z1T

[blackkudos]

Sidney Bechet

Sidney Joseph Bechet (May 14, 1897 – May 14, 1959) was an American jazz saxophonist, clarinetist, and composer. He was one of the first important soloists in jazz, beating trumpeter Louis Armstrong to the recording studio by several months. His erratic temperament hampered his career, and not until the late 1940s did he earn wide acclaim.

Biography

Bechet was born in New Orleans in 1897 to a middle-class Creole of color family. His older brother, Leonard Victor Bechet, was a full-time dentist and a part-time trombonist and bandleader. Bechet learned several musical instruments that were kept around the house, mostly by teaching himself; he decided to specialize in the clarinet (which he played almost exclusively until about 1919). At the age of six, he started playing with his brother's band at a family birthday party, debuting his talents to acclaim. Later in his youth, Bechet studied with Lorenzo Tio, "Big Eye" Louis Nelson Delisle, and George Baquet.

Bechet played in many New Orleans ensembles using the improvisational techniques of the time (obbligatos with scales and arpeggios and varying the melody). He performed in parades with Freddie Keppard's brass band, the Olympia Orchestra, and in John Robichaux's dance orchestra. From 1911 to 1912, he performed with Bunk Johnson in the Eagle Band of New Orleans and in 1913–14 with King Oliver in the Olympia Band. From 1914 to 1917 he was touring and traveling, going as far north as Chicago and frequently performing with Freddie Keppard. In the spring of 1919, he traveled to New York City where he joined Will Marion Cook's Syncopated Orchestra. Soon after, the orchestra traveled to Europe; almost immediately upon arrival, they performed at the Royal Philharmonic Hall in London. The group was warmly received, and Bechet was especially popular. While in London, he discovered the straight soprano saxophone and developed a style unlike his clarinet tone. His saxophone sound could be described as emotional, reckless, and large. He often used a broad vibrato, similar to what was common among some New Orleans clarinetists at the time. On July 30, 1923, he began recording. The session was led by Clarence Williams, a pianist and songwriter, better known at that time for his music publishing and record producing. Bechet recorded "Wild Cat Blues" and "Kansas City Man Blues". "Wild Cat Blues" is in a ragtime style with four 16-bar themes, and "Kansas City Man Blues" is a 12-bar blues.

In 1919, Ernest Ansermet, a Swiss conductor of classical music, wrote a tribute to Bechet, one of the earliest (if not the first) to a jazz musician from the field of classical music, linking Bechet's music with that of Bach.

On September 15, 1925, Bechet and other members of the Revue Nègre, including Josephine Baker, sailed to Europe, arriving at Cherbourg, France, on September 22. The revue opened at the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées in Paris on October 2. He toured Europe with various bands, reaching as far as Russia in mid-1926. In 1928, he led his small band at Chez Bricktop in Montmartre, Paris.

He was imprisoned in Paris for eleven months. In his autobiography, he wrote that he accidentally shot a woman when he was trying to shoot a musician who had insulted him. He had challenged the man to duel and said, "Sidney Bechet never plays the wrong chord." After his release, he was deported to New York, arriving soon after the stock market crash of 1929. He joined Noble Sissle's orchestra, which toured in Germany and Russia.

In 1932, Bechet returned to New York City to lead a band with Tommy Ladnier. The band, consisting of six members, performed at the Savoy Ballroom. He went on to play with Lorenzo Tio and also got to know trumpeter Roy Eldridge.

In 1938 "Hold Tight, Hold Tight (Want Some Seafood Mama)", commonly known as "Hold Tight", was composed by Bechet's guitarist Leonard Ware and two session singers with claimed contributions from Bechet himself. The song became known for its suggestive lyrics and then for a series of lawsuits over songwriter royalties.

In 1939, Bechet and the pianist Willie "The Lion" Smith led a group that recorded several early versions of what was later called Latin jazz, adapting traditional méringue, rhumba and Haitian songs to the jazz idiom. On July 28, 1940, Bechet made a guest appearance on the NBC Radio show The Chamber Music Society of Lower Basin Street, playing two of his showpieces ("Shake It and Break It" and "St. Louis Blues") with Henry Levine's Dixieland band. Levine invited Bechet into the RCA Victor recording studio (on 24th Street in New York City), where Bechet lent his soprano sax to Levine's traditional arrangement of "Muskrat Ramble". On April 18, 1941, as an early experiment in overdubbing at Victor, Bechet recorded a version of the pop song "The Sheik of Araby", playing six different instruments: clarinet, soprano saxophone, tenor saxophone, piano, bass, and drums. A hitherto unissued master of this recording was included in the 1965 LP Bechet of New Orleans, issued by RCA Victor as LPV-510. In the liner notes, George Hoeffer quoted Bechet:

I started by playing The Sheik on piano, and played the drums while listening to the piano. I meant to play all the rhythm instruments, but got all mixed up and grabbed my soprano, then the bass, then the tenor saxophone, and finally finished up with the clarinet.

In 1944, 1946, and 1953 he recorded and performed in concert with the Chicago jazz pianist and vibraphonist Max Miller, private recordings that are part of Miller's archive and have never been released. These concerts and recordings are described in John Chilton's biography Sidney Bechet: The Wizard of Jazz.

With jobs in music difficult to find, he opened a tailor shop with Ladnier. They were visited by musicians and played in the back of the shop. In the 1940s, Bechet played in several bands, but his financial situation did not improve until the end of that decade. By the end of the 1940s, Bechet had tired of struggling to make music in the United States. His contract with Jazz Limited, a Chicago-based record label, was limiting the events at which he could perform (for instance, the label would not permit him to perform at the 1948 Festival of Europe in Nice). He believed that the jazz scene in the United States had little left to offer him and was getting stale. In 1950 he moved to France, after his performance as a soloist at the Paris Jazz Fair caused a surge in his popularity in that country, where he easily found well-paid work. In 1951, he married Elisabeth Ziegler in Antibes.

In 1953, he signed a recording contract with Disques Vogue that lasted for the rest of his life. He recorded many hit tunes, including "Les Oignons", "Promenade aux Champs-Elysees", and the international hit "Petite Fleur". He also composed a classical ballet score in the late Romantic style of Tchaikovsky called La Nuit est sorcière ("The Night Is a Witch"). Some existentialists in France took to calling him le dieu ("the god").

Shortly before his death, Bechet dictated his autobiography, Treat It Gentle, to Al Rose, a record producer and radio host. He had worked with Rose several times in concert promotions and had a fractious relationship with him. Bechet's view of himself in his autobiography was starkly different from the one Rose knew. "The kindly old gentleman in his book was filled with charity and compassion. The one I knew was self-centered, cold, and capable of the most atrocious cruelty, especially toward women." Although embellished and frequently inaccurate, Treat It Gentle remains a staple account for the "insider's view of the New Orleans tradition."

Bechet died in Garches, near Paris, of lung cancer on May 14, 1959, his 62nd birthday, and is buried in a local cemetery.

Bechet played a jazz musician in three films, Serie Noire, L'Inspecteur connait la musique and, Quelle équipe!

His playing style was intense and passionate and had a wide vibrato. He was also known to be proficient at playing several instruments and a master of improvisation (both individual and collective). Bechet liked to have his sound dominate in a performance, and trumpeters found it difficult to play alongside him.

On June 25, 2019, The New York Times Magazine listed Sidney Bechet among hundreds of artists whose material was reportedly destroyed in the 2008 Universal fire.

Awards

DownBeat magazine Hall of Fame, 1968

Discography

Singles

"Texas Moaner Blues", with Louis Armstrong, 1924

"Cake Walkin' Babies from Home", with Red Onion Jazz Babies, 1925

"Got the Bench, Got the Park (But I Haven't Got You)", 1930

"Blues in Thirds", 1940

"Dear Old Southland", 1940

"Egyptian Fantasy", 1941

"Muskrat Ramble", 1944

"Blue Horizon", 1944

"Petite Fleur", 1959

[lostinurbanism]

Olympia Brass Band. New Orleans. Photograph as part of the Hogan Jazz Archive. instagram.com/blvckvrchives

[thelasttraintoarcady]

GABI GARBUTT - A PORTRAIT

"....the inferno of your spirit sparks in deadly release, our souls fly up like lanterns and they crash down at our feet...."

To those of us who frequented the music pubs of Camden, certain venues out East and the London poetry den Y Tuesday, such lyrical flights by Gabi Garbutt are not unusual, as she is no stranger to our stages. We've seen her charming pixie-punk form flitting before us like the secret love sprite of William Blake and Patti Smith, with songs sung in her own unique English accent shaped from living in London, Gloucester and London once again. To many of us, this just what music needed, an authentic songsmith who's words really take you somewhere.

One always sensed she looked set for a major breakthrough to the big time but never quite got the breaks. Undeterred, she honed her craft wrote what needed to be written and was never afraid to jump up on any platform and try out a new song. There was a false start at the next level for her previous band  The Sticklers, who's show in Manchester supporting the Libertines fell through at the last minute when Pete Doherty had a prolonged panic attack the night before in Camden. The van was unloaded with glassy eyed disappointment and the gig never rescheduled, the promise of something in the future with the Libs then seemed a far off horizon and a breakthrough elusive. Events that night seemed to take the wind from the sail of her band of the day, and they soon dissolved but it seems Gabi never stays down for long.

Although blessed with a huge lust for life, It's clear from her lyrics that this girl is no stranger to the world of those haunted by the "black dog" and songs such as 'Somebody like you' give vivid description to such episodes  " Riding my bike to the heart of the night, hard to believe I nearly gave up on life, the doing or dying not the moping and crying, endless conversations between the floored and the flying "  Gabi, daughter of a Chilean refugee is made of strong stuff though and disappointments were put aside as she relocated to a co-op on Golborne road out West, and looked for a new, fresh direction for her exceptional songs, Helped by her partner Dan Fatel and the multi instrumentalist Sean Read who has worked with such diverse figures as Dexy's midnight runners, the Manic street preachers and the Pretenders to name but a few. A new sound and more flexible band was hatched, Gabi Garbutt and the Illuminations entered the world.

The poetic verse we've come to expect from Gabi remained much the same but the songs now came with punchy, catchy choruses that anchor the songs to everyday life and championing the redemptive power of love. The slick rhythm section tends to include Stephen Gilchrist who some may recognise from Graham Coxton's band among others but this line-up is fluid, with Callum McQuattie on the album but Dan Fatel taking up the bass on a recent tour of England with legend Edwyn Collins, who alerted to Gabi's talent by Sean Read not only invited her on tour but offered access to his Highland studio for her to complete her debut album. Alec Sala from Martha Reeves and the Vandellas completed the brass section and Dexters Jimi Scandal ever present on lead guitar with his his inimitable style and catchy guitar lines mixed with ambient mastery and with Gabi of course, on rhythm.

Now adorned in glittering gold eye make up and eastern exotic tops, Gabi sparkles in the lights  like the elements in the songscapes, where symbols splash into lyrics “..the sky broke up the coast line in flashes of light, it's all burning and waving..." while the Brass section glows in the volatile, nocturnal forays where nature itself seems agitated into excitement by Gabi's passing, with lyrics veering like a modern, urban John Clare or John Dee - for poetry is ever present in these songs. The rivers and oceans seeming to represent both sunken sorrows and sanctity.

Gabi's journey takes us on wild bike rides to Autumnal places where there's "...a lake all draped in flames, with Angels bursting from the bronze and calling out our names..."  on to abandoned carousels, swooping on the wings of love for some slower, tender moments in 'Bright Tiger eyes' where the singer slings the guitar over her back to sing the lyric or in  'Tales from the undergrowth' with it's almost Velvet Underground simplicity of sound. Birds form a important part of the band's fully formed mythology, with Robins, Ravens and Pigeons, her "urchins of the sky" seemingly the winged avatars of a sense of hope and freedom ever present in these songs.

There is a fascination too with Barcelona and the style and duende of Southern Spain, with songs such as Lady Matador bringing it all home to Soho and a new one "Lady of Seville" penned with Libertine John Hassall for future release. This is not all exoticism though, far from it as so many songs buck the trendy to celebrate the mavericks, the down trodden and those about the streets of London who dare to be different in a world intent on harnessing all to the dreams of the few.

The Libertines honored their promise with a support slot on their seaside tour, which impressed the men of Albion sufficiently to invite the band on part of their European tour, supporting in the legendary Paris Olympia, with her name up in bright neon where the names of Piaf and Brel had once hung, and then on to Germany where Cologne, Munich and Berlin were introduced to her Illuminations. There may be some kind of collaboration with Pete Doherty in the pipeline too, loose plans were hatched in Berlin.

Irrepressible, Gabi's still up for the acoustic gig from time to time too, playing a different set in Dublin, Belfast and London recently. Among those songs you'll find "Never Never" a song inspired by both Vincent Van Gogh and Robert Quinne, the fractured guitar player of the Voidoids and also a unique paeon to childhood hero, puppeteer Jim Henson of Fraggle rock, Muppet and Labyrinth fame. As I write, the Illuminations are renting the airwaves on my radio, with the latest single "Heat of the machine" filling the room. The debut album "The discredited language of Angels" is now out in most formats and now I come to think about it, I really can't think of a better one this year. As one BBC6 DJ said the other day "this will be amongst the best new tunes you hear all day, all week and possibly even ever".

Steev Burgess ( lyricist with John Hassall and the April Rainers)

https://gabigarbutt.bandcamp.com/releases?fbclid=IwAR2lmpLvf_b2prbrsVxTjZIz10cigDwdZn0QvK5nY65yhaGz_d8K12hUYL8

[tearmann-safehaven]

LF RP (Zalera): Clara Murdoch [updated]

    ▁ ▂ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ 𝕮𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖆 𝕸𝖚𝖗𝖉𝖔𝖈𝖍 █ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▂ ▁

         ▁ ▂ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕭𝖆𝖘𝖎𝖈𝖘 █ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▂ ▁

Age: 22, but appears to be closer to 19 Birthday:  32nd Sun of the Fifth Umbral Moon Race: Hyur Midlander  Gender: Pansexual demiromantic Marital Status: Canonically single Multi-ship Friendly!

         ▁ ▂ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ 𝕬𝖕𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊 █ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▂ ▁

Hair: 

Age 6: Clara’s auburn hair is lightly braided out of her face, but still loose. It hangs in well-groomed curls, shiny and luscious. She brushes it diligently every day before her father, Elrich, plaits it out of her freckled face.

Age 14: Her hair has lost most of its curl, due to being so dirty. She pulls a few bunches of hair out of her face, but has little time to groom it. 

Age 16: Clara’s hair is somewhat sorter, badly chopped, and tied back into a tight braid. A few strands still hang in her eyes.

Age 18: Her curls have come back and are typically swept off onto her shoulder

Age 20: She keeps her locks tied back into a sloppy bun, with many wispy strands in her face.

Age 22: Clara’s hair is cropped into a short, functional bob. 

Eyes: Clara’s eyes are a startling, mawsitsit green, with thick lashes and naturally pinkish eyelids.  

Height: 5′2′‘

Build: Lithe and slender, much like a willow tree 

Skin: Pale, freckled 

Distinguishing Marks: 

Face Claim: Dalila Barbieri

Voice Claim: Emma Watson

Singing Voice Claim: Méav Ní Mhaolchatha

Common Accessories: Clara wears her late parents’ wedding bands on a chain around her neck. The bands have been fused into one ring and she always has them close to her heart. Her left arm is replaced with a brass magitech prosthetic that can be detached for servicing.  She can also be found with her Triple Triad cards, a set of weighted dice, and a dinged pewter flask, usually filled with mulled whiskey. In her pocket, she keeps a small package of jerky to feed to her falcon, Olympia. 

Clothing:

Daily wear: During a typical day, Clara wears a loose, black crop-top, with a short sleeved leather jacket over top, unbuttoned. She wears rumpled black trousers, cut off at the knee, and a pair of black lace-up boots. If she’s working, she also wears a black mask to cover her eyes.  

Winter wear: In winter, or areas such as Ishgard, Clara wears a warm pair of velvet leggings, a cozy poncho, and warm woolen hat. Her feet are covered by leather boots and her hands are covered by leather gloves, with her string-fingers exposed. 

Formal wear: For more formal occasions, Clara wears an almost metallic brown coat, with decorative pauldrons and a warm fur collar. She has a matching set of trousers and heeled boots, with a bronze circlet worn on her brow. 

Style of fighting: Clara’s fighting style is a veritable hodgepodge of technique, as she was never truly trained in any real practice. She relies on her small stature and swiftness in melee combat, preferring to run dizzying circles around her opponent until they run out of energy or to strike when they are least expecting it. In ranged combat, Clara is a nearly flawless shot, able to strike down a dragonfly with a sling stone. Her favored combat style, however, is simple and effective; slip in, take the kill, and leave, without anyone being the wiser. As long as it gets the job done, she’ll go for it, even if it means disrobing in front of her opponent (something she has done on several occasions). Weapon(s):  Slingshot, daggers, poisoned sewing needle, brass knuckles, bow and arrow, pistols, rapier 

             ▁ ▂ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ 𝕻𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖑 █ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▂ ▁

Profession: vigilante, bard, rogue Hobbies: Dance, music of all types, writing poetry, cooking Languages: Common, a small bit of Ishgardian and Bakapulaen (mostly just swear words) Residence: the Black Opal Birthplace: the Midland Wind Patron Deity: None Fears: Claustrophobia, strangulation, 

          ▁ ▂ ▄ ▅ ▆ ▇ █ 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖓𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 █ ▇ ▆ ▅ ▄ ▂ ▁

Spouse: N/A Children: 

Rosie Murdoch (daughter, desc.)

Parents: 

Elrich Murdoch (father, desc. - merchant sailor) 

Rosanna Murdoch (mother, desc.)

Severine Murdoch (step-mother, desc.)

Siblings:

Misato Otsuka (paternal half-sister),

Miophax Murdoch (step-brother), 

Isine Murdoch (step-sister)

Other Relatives: N/A (but open to rp partners becoming them ^^)

Pets:

Olympia (falcon)

Downy (chocobo)

Mittens (coreul kitten) 

Powder-Puff (happy bunny)

Player connections:

Vhett Rhevy ( @hunterofphoenix)

Sigward “Cid” Locke ( @lockeff14)

Jurien Ashur ( @jurien-ashur)

Cyril Stacey ( @lordofcrowns)

Seina Kurokiba ( @the-ruby-rogue)

Damien Takayama ( @unkemptandtired)

Misato Otsuka ( @misato-otsuka)

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Extroverted / In Between / Introverted Disorganized / In Between / Organized Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded Calm / In Between / Anxious Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable Cautious / In Between / Reckless Patient / In Between /  Impatient Outspoken / In Between / Reserved Leader / In Between / Follower Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic Traditional / In Between / Modern Hard-working / In Between / Lazy Cultured / In Between / Uncultured Loyal / In Between / Disloyal Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

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Smoking Habit: She has a cigarette on occasion, when extremely stressed.  Drugs: rarely Alcohol: Clara seems to be a petty heavy drinker, however she uses the notion to get more information from people. It takes a lot of alcohol to get her to lose her inhibitions, but she plays herself as a lightweight and uses the advantage of others thinking that she’s too far gone against them in the long run. Sex: Clara definitely enjoys sex. She’s known for her one-night-stands and often doesn’t talk to the person afterwards. She uses it as a form of distraction from the difficulties in her life and usually doesn’t care much what others think from that perspective. 

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The Maiden of Death: Clara commandeered own vessel alongside her childhood friend, Vhett, in order to start hunting down slave vessels. Join the crew of The Black Opal or come under attack by them.

Liberator: Enslaved? Trapped? Perhaps Clara can find you on a liberation mission.

The Gardens of Death: Clara’s moral compass, in her opinion, is relatively black and white. Anyone who takes another person’s freedom doesn’t deserve to live. Slaver and slave owners beware, she has no qualms with killing you.

Keep Your Enemies Closer: Clara has plenty of enemies, considering her profession. Are you hired muscle? Maybe your employer wants to teach her a lesson. Need a nemesis? Clara may just be your girl.

Childhood Friends/Acquaintances: As the daughter of a traveling merchant, Clara spent most of her childhood (from infancy to about nine years of age) traveling between towns and city states. She was a friendly girl, very bright and witty, and had an easy time making friends. If you would like your character to be involved in her childhood in some way, shoot me a message!

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1. Ask before integrating my characters into your character’s story. I’m usually very open about it, so just shoot me a message.

2. I do RP gore, abuse, violence, assault etc. but not just to do it. It needs to have a purpose. Know that there is a chance that I will take a break from dark subject matters if I need to, occasionally without warning.

3. Writer’s block is a bitch, please give me time.

4. Chances are, if you ship it, I probably will as well. Just hit me up ^^

5. Role-playing romance does not mean I want an OOC relationship.

6. Please do not randomly message me explicit things, it makes me extremely uncomfortable. I don’t mind ERP, but I prefer it to be coordinated beforehand

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Discord: @small ham man#8767

@crystalxivrp​ @mooglemeet​ @ffxivrpdatabase​

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                    ↤↤↤↤↤ 🅣🅡🅘🅖🅖🅔🅡 🅦🅐🅡🅝🅘🅝🅖 ↦↦↦↦↦

Born to merchant captain, Elrich Murdoch and his wife, Rosanna, aboard their merchant vessel, the Midland Wind. Due to complications with her pregnancy, Rosanna died shortly thereafter, leaving Elrich to raise Clara on his own. He was a doting father, giving Clara all she could ever want. As a child, Clara took dance lessons in Costa del Sol, music lessons in Gridania, and gave to the poor in Ul'dah. 

In Limsa Lominsa, six-year old Clara met Aela Moha, a half-Raen girl, about a year older than her. The pair became best friends, with Elrich even offering to adopt Aela. During her time in Gridania, she met Jurien Ashur, the son of a local baker. The pair didn’t get along quite well, with Jurien constantly teasing Clara. They went on a few childish adventures together, including one in which they rescued a trapped chocobo chick. Little did Clara know, the cocky Jurien was nursing a crush on her. 

Elrich eventually bought a home in the Lavender Beds and remarried an Elezen woman named Severine, adopting her two children, Miophax and Isine. Despite his marriage, Elrich continued to travel the realms with Clara, until one fateful trip, when the ship was caught in a violent storm. The Midland Wind's crew perished, with nine year-old Clara as the only survivor.

After floating for several days in the tiny longboat, Clara was picked up by a crew of fishermen. She was dehydrated, hungry, and barely conscious, and spent the next week under the care of a healer, before being sent back to Gridania. Upon her return, Severine treated her with disdain, going as far as to say that she wished Clara had died as well. The Elezen woman encouraged her children to bully Clara, who was still mourning the death of her father. Severine did little to hide her distaste of Clara and confined her to the attic. Clara quickly became the family errand runner and servant, learning harsh lessons at the hands of her step mother and siblings.

As Clara grew older and more beautiful by the day, her stepbrother Miophax began to make advances towards her, only to be spurned at every turn. He grew more and more angry at each refusal, eventually violently beating, then fourteen year-old, Clara and throwing her down a set of stairs. From then, Miophax's attention towards her became more obsessive. Isine, on the other hand, was far more secretive of her violence towards Clara. An aspiring alchemist, she often tested various potions on her stepsister. While Miophax was violent and Isine was insidious, Severine herself was domineering and cruel, and found joy in finding new ways to punish her stepdaughter for the slightest indiscretions.  

On Clara's seventeenth birthday, Isine gave Miophax a potion which he used to drug and rape Clara. The trauma resulted in Clara giving birth to a daughter, who she named Rose Ella - after her mother and father - who had severe defects, in addition to being born prematurely. The baby was sickly and Clara often pleaded with the Conjurer’s Guild to help her, but they refused, sighting it as the Will of the Elementals that the child die.  Rosie eventually passed away due to health complications, but Clara blamed herself and swore off motherhood entirely. Shortly after, Clara took Rosie’s body deep into the Shroud and buried her in a dress that she had sewn, when a member of the Conjurer’s Guild approached her. Mad with grief, she attacked them, stabbing them to death, before tossing the body in a river and collapsing, horrified at what she had done.

When she returned home, she was completely changed. Gone was the friendly, funny girl who had trailed her father from city-to-city, and in her place was a sullen, silent young woman. Her emerald eyes were haunted, she became ill often, and moved in autopilot. Clara no longer talked back to her stepmother, simply did all that was asked without contest. 

One particular day, a storm came in, and Miophax had beaten Clara severely. Severine sent the girl out into the storm to collect ingredients for Isine’s potions anyway. Hours later, she was found by her childhood friend, Jurien, shivering and feverish in the shroud, with a diremite stinger in her back. Jurien then took her to his home and, with the help of his family, nursed her back to health.

With Clara often ill or injured, Serverine eventually turned to slave labor and purchased Vhett Revy, a male miqo'te about the same age as Clara. He and Clara became fast friends, eventually close to lovers. Clara helped Vhett to escape from Severine and would bring him food where he hid in the Central Shroud, until Miophax caught her sneaking out. When she refused to reveal her friend's location, Severine allowed Miophax to beat her to unconsciousness and leave her alone in a ditch.

Several days after, once infection had set into her wounds, Severine brought Clara back home, revealing that she had found Vhett and had plans to separate the pair for good. She first attempted to wed Clara to a wealthy widower from Ul'dah, but when Clara refused, she sold her instead to a brothel in Limsa Lominsa and told Vhett that she had been killed by her new husband.

In the brothel, Clara became bitter and cynical, before Vhett appeared, having been searching for her since ending Severine's life. The pair escaped and worked together to build a ship, which they christened the Black Opal (<<Opal>> FC, Zalera), and began seeking out and raiding slave ships, then freeing their prisoners and either burning or holing the ship. 

After being caught in a fire-fight between ships, Clara employed Sigward “Cid” Locke to repair it, eventually leading to the pair having a relationship. After further work, Clara cut her hair short and took on a vigilante persona. 

While climbing the mountains of Ishgard, Clara found her arm trapped between a pair of icy boulders. She sent Olympia, her falcon, to look for help, and was forced to amputate her arm. Locke later constructed a magitech prosthetic for her.