Seb Palmer

Our contemporary era of solipsistic self-regard has got me too. Cataloguing the minutiae of my life, for nobody much besides myself. So far, so whatever. But will it all just fizzle out? Of course it will, eventually.

Meanwhile, bacon butty lunch, whilst watching snooker, with Chester over-grooming the base his tale into baldness.

The snooker is a marathon 35 framer, from 2011, ‘twixt John Higgins and a very young Judd Trump. Trump’s hair is a bit Indie/Emo! I doubt I’ll watch it all. Certainly not in one go! But it is relaxing. Hence the viewing.

Admiral paid out, finally, yesterday, on my car crash claim. I need to find ways of getting about to buy a new car. Got my eye on a Nissan Qashqai. Just need wheels to go look at wheels!

After my butties, and the nice hot cuppa I’m nursing now, that’s my primary task: get a new car! After, or as well as that… more selling of music gear; getting back out working; looking into money-saving schemes.

This is fun.

I’m glad, ‘cause finding anything else to watch makes my paying subs to the Evil Apple Empire – which I took out primarily for Masters Of The Air – that little bit more palatable.

It’s very silly, but quite a lot of fun. And I’m a big fan of fun right now. As I try to claw my way out of the tar pitch slough of despond.

Noel Fielding does indeed have ‘(?) charisma’ (I forget which brand of charisma it is he specifies; I’ll find out at some later juncture). And I really like Mark Heap (who also plays Robert Greene, Master of Revels and over-enunciating villain, in Upstart Crow), as Turpin’s butcher dad.

Apart from anything else, there might even be a local connection, something I always enjoy.

Aaargh!!! More stuff I want. And yet I know just accumulating stuff isn’t the way to happiness. Plus I’m totally broke. But I have to say, this looks worth having.

It’s the same team and the same publisher as the Bossa book I recently reviewed. I can foresee a similar potential issue. Inasmuch as there are few areas in music that pack the same kind of lunch as say Blue Note.

Some of the stuff coming out of this scene I love. Much of it I’m indifferent to, or don’t like. Some I loathe! But with such diverse music, that’s bound to be the case. And the same goes for the album cover design and artwork.

Watching this, on Amazon Prime. It’s quite interesting. One of the first notable quotes, from this record-breaking winner, is… ‘You can’t win’!

I’m interested not only because I love snooker, which of course I do. But because, like Ronnie, I’ve battled – am battling – depression, and other issues, such as addictions.

As an aside, the documentary was made by David Beckham’s production company, Studio 99 (or something like that?).

One very endearing moment is when a young Ronnie is asked ‘How big do you want to be?’ ‘Five ten’ he responds. Bless him!

It’s also interesting because not only do we hear about Ronnie’s highs and lows. We also hear about his family life. Although, whilst we see his young family, the modern versions are – at least so far – disembodied voices. I wonder why?

At about 25 minutes in, we hear more about Ronnie’s father. And how he wound up in prison as a convicted murderer. I’ve got a court appearance coming up. And I’m terrified. ‘Nothing can prepare you for that’, Ronnie says, of his experience. Ok, I haven’t killed anyone. But I still understand something of where he’s talking from.

As I’m typing this, Ronnie’s talking about how, when his dad was being sent down, he said ‘tell my boy to win’. It’s clear that the father/son bond here was incredibly strong.

I’ve tried to find info’ about his dad’s crime, and subsequent punishment. But it’s apparently near non-existent. I’m very surprised.

His dad had worked in the London Sex Shop industry. And was ultimately very successful. Meaning he could treat his family and kids very well, as far as money was concerned.

As Ronnie Sr. has it, when telling of the events that precipitated his downfall, he was just defending himself, from a two man attack. But who really knows? Esp’ with so little info readily available.

I struggled mightily, for example, to find any pictures of Bruce Bryan, the man who Ronnie sr killed, during a fracas at a nightclub in Chelsea. Bryan, a father of two, is alleged to have been Charlie Kray’s driver. Charlie was the elder brother of Reggie n’ Ronnie Kray.

The above newspaper clipping throws a bit more (and rather) different light on Ronnie Sr’s role in the events that lead to the death of Bruce Bryan. As Ronnie Sr tells it in the documentary, it sounds as he was set upon and outnumbered. Whereas the events as described in the newspaper portray him and his drinking buddy as the aggressors.

Ronnie Sr’s accomplice in the pub was one Edward O’Brien. Is this the same Edward O’Brien, an IRA terrorist known as ‘the Quiet Man, who blew himself up. (unintentionally), on a #171 Bus (a bus I was taking regularly around that time!)?

But, let’s get back to Ronnie Jr’s story… as well as the famous talking heads you might expect (eg fellow snooker players, his celeb mates, like Damien Hirst, and The Stones), there’s also some footage of him with his current partner, and his ‘talk therapist’ (Dr/Prof Steve Peters).

This documentary is nicely filmed, and well directed. Using imagery and sound to effectively convey moods. Sometimes dramatic, but often quite mundane. Such as the one above, with Ronnie in bottom-lit repose. Or Ronnie and Jimmy White having breakfast in a hotel!

About an hour in, we see him leaning out of a window, having a fag! I didn’t even know he smoked! This is also an oddly jarring moment, to me at least, relative to his other side – the healthy mind/healthy body Ronnie – the one goes jogging, overcame his addictions, and can be almost Zen, at times.

But let’s return to a more dramatic theme: the stuff about his relationship with his father. It’s fascinating. Ronnie Jr. was clearly indoctrinated for success, from early on. His dad epitomising both the encouraging and the ‘competitive dad’ (‘c’mon son’, vs. ‘you can’t beat me’!).

Ronnie Jr was really quite shy. An introvert. Prone to laziness. ‘I didn’t want to do the hard work. I still don’t want to…’ he says, rather revealingly, during a gym workout.

Whist we don’t see Maria (mum) or dad, but only hear them – at least this far (and I’m a long way in) – we do see a whole panoply of folk, from his fellow snookerists, to his aforementioned celebrity pals, Hirst, Ronnie Wood, etc. Damien Hirst has a few good insights. As one might hope and expect from an artist.

I have to be honest, I’m not taken with the ‘cockney geezer’ ‘ard man stuff. Unlike Guy Ritchie, I’m appalled, no enthralled, by the accent, the constant swearing, even the deliberate coarseness (belching!), etc.

One of the best parts of the entire thing comes near the end, when he bears Judd Trump in the final of the World Championship. That legendary man-hug, which in the official channels was inaudible, well… they were on mic for the making of this film.

And what one hears is quite interesting. It’s simultaneously a surprise, and – esp’ given what’s preceded it – exactly what you’d expect. It’s a weird combination of exalted highs and desperate lows. And – now this is a surprise – it reaches an apotheosis when he tearfully says, directly after the extended man-hug, to his partner and kids, ‘I can’t do this any more.’

The most revealing thing he says to Judd, I think, given the huge amounts of money involved in modern sports, and agreeing with Damien Hirst (who observes that whilst players might chase perfection – or the highs of success – what everyone else wants is drama) is ‘don’t let them burn you out… pick n’ choose; you’re too good to let these fuckers own you…’

I think Judd was getting a terrific life lesson in that moment. And Ronnie was letting it all out. ‘It’s fucking killing me’, he says, as he momentarily melts down. Phew! Talk about drama.

After all this, Ronnie Sr. finally appears onscreen, during the presentation scene. He’s saying to Ronnie ‘That’s it now, innit? You’re done now aren’t ya?’ But Ronnie’s recovered from his ‘can’t do this any more’ moment. Is that his main addiction?

‘You can’t win. There’s no end to it…’

Well, maybe that’s the nature of life. He reveals a ‘me against the world thing’ (‘I dunno where that come from’, he says, half-embarrassed. But he also seems to have found a way to be happy in himself. A large part of which – in the words of his final little outburst – consists in. It giving a fuck!

Amongst the torrent of raw sewage that Crapitalism not only allows but actively encourages the worse elements of our sick society to spew forth, in such grotesque abundance, I was vomited upon, via my email inbox, by the above.

A Trumpinator Bobblehead, no less. Aimed at so-called ‘US Patriots’. Or, in less Orwellian double-speak and more dictionary definition correct terms, racist amoral brainless right wing reactionary bigots. And/or fans of mind-boggling kitsch.

The idea of marrying the bloated Crapitalist’s head to an already extant Arnie Bobblehead is pure Crapitalist marketing heaven; thinks of the cost savings?

And there’s that wonderful tie-in: ‘I’ll be back’ is clearly the perfect slogan with which this amoral crypto-fascist can smarm his way back into the Whitehouse, despite clearly being both criminal, political insurgent, and utter moron.

I love how the above image – and I use the word love here in the same way Michael Jackson used the word Bad – ties in The Trumpinator’s preferred m.o. (shoot first, ask questions later NEVER) with the cosier, gentler plant loving, sensitive musical side of modern American fascism.

I’d like to suggest to the purveyors of this abomination – ok, it’s amusing considered as an efflorescence of kitsch; but, in truth, it’s terrifying for what it says about modern day humanity – that the images immediately above and below, culled (and I use that word very deliberately; it’s the kind of word lovely right wing types use to refer to the unfortunate and ‘unavoidable’ deaths of those they choose to murder by neglect*) from the first Terminator movie, might be better and more realistic settings for their cutesy Bobblehead death-machine.

* UK media grandee – formerly of The Independent, now propagandising for the openly Tory Telegraph – Jeremy Warner chose to use the word ‘culling’ in relation to excessively high death rates amongst older folk.

And this wasn’t an accidental faux-pas.

He also not only used the term ‘elderly dependents’ – a neo-liberal/neo-fascist euphemism for what Hitler and co, more honestly and more forthrightly, called ‘useless eaters’ – but prefaced his remarks with the ‘Not to put too fine a point upon it’ fig leaf.

Here’s exactly what he said, whilst comparing Covid with the early 20th C. outbreak of so-called ‘Spanish Flu’:

“Not to put too fine a point on it, from an entirely disinterested economic perspective, the Covid-19 might even prove mildly beneficial in the long term by disproportionately culling elderly dependents.” 

Jeremy Warner Daily Telegraph, March 3, 2020

Michael Rosen picked this as his ‘Horrific quote of the year.’ And I concur entirely.

Well… this is, to my mind, a positive development. A sign I might finally be emerging from the months of depression precipitated by the several less than welcome developments of the last year and a bit.

I’m watching videos on bass playing technique, tips, tricks, etc. I absolutely adore the double-bass. And I already owned and then had to sell one. I’ve been contemplating doing the same again. And I may still have to. But Lord knows I don’t want to!

I want to play the damn thing! And I want to start learning and practicing, with it and on it, in a methodical manner. Videos such as those I’m linking to in this post exemplify the kinds of things I want to start doing.

In the two above videos, first we have a lesson on using the thumb. Up until now I’d never even thought to use my thumb on the Bull Fiddle. I’ll come back to this in a minute.

The second video, with Rufus Reid, looks at the idea of playing on just one string. This links back to the thumb video, funnily enough. How and why? Because staying on one string inevitably makes one use the entire length of it, to get the full range of notes.

Reid refers to the territory beyond where the neck joins the body of the bass as ‘no man’s land’! It’s easy to understand what he’s getting at. Cole Davis’ video, and his use of thumb, are all about opening up no man’s land.

I also learned of the Simandl method,* which dates back the late 19th C. I’d not even heard of this before. What I’m enjoying about all of this, is a return of desire and motivation. After aeons of amotivational depression, I’m beginning to want to do stuff…

And to round off this post, the living legend that is Ron Carter. A young bassist, Brady Watt, who I’d not heard of before, spends some time with perhaps the greatest – certainly the most prolific and widely recorded – upright bassist of them all.

Time to enjoy!

* Find that here.

Wow! Great to see Arthur was taking this out live, as recently as 2019. I hope they (or someone, with Art’, of course) bring it to the UK soon.

A great group, of very hip looking and sounding young musicians (not found credits as yet), inc. a couple of vocalists, with Arthur himself directing.

Verocai sings occasionally, mostly scat type melodies. And he also plays a short but terrific acoustic guitar piece, the o Lt part of this concert that I didn’t recognise as belonging to his 1972 recording. Which is otherwise very faithfully rendered.

Makes one think about success in one’s own lifetime. Coming rather late, at least as regards his original solo career, for Verocai, and post-mortem for two-thirds of Uncle Walt’s Band, another artist(s) I’m enjoying recently.

I’d love one of these! Just for how they look. But looking online, they cost a bomb.

Techmoan mentions a guy refurbing one of these… poss’ this vid:

This guy clearly knows what he’s doing. If I took one of these apart, it’d most likely be terminal butchery. Plus I don’t even know why one would need or want to replace all those components (capacitors?).

My claymation Superfly Curtis has been entombed in an old plastic takeaway box for ages. And he’s been in the wars.

All that time in solitary confinement would be enough to make anyone lose their head. As cool as Curtis is/was, he eventually went that way.

His eyes had gone a bit boss, and his nose was flattened by the lunch-box lid. Not surprisingly, his posture was shot all to Hell. I did what I could for him.

‘Oh why hast thou forsaken me?’ he seems to be saying, in the above shelfie.

I want to make him a guitar and mic stand. But I might also need to make Curtis #2. As Curtis #1 is a bit floppy.

Something for your ears to chew on:

Oh dear… later the same day:

Listening to and loving this 1979 recording, by jazz harpist Dorothy Ashby. I have a couple of Ashby albums (Afro Harping, for example). But there’s a lot more by her that I want to check out.

So I thought I’d try this. And I’m not at all disappointed. This recording finds Dorothy and co taking the jazz train in a funky R & B direction, with a bit of pop and easy-listening thrown in.

There are woodwinds, strings, funky backbeats, and covers of numbers such as one of my favourite sambossas, ‘Canto d’Ossanha’, and even pop numbers like ‘By The Time I Get to Phoenix’, ‘This Girl’s in Love With You’, and a fab rendition of ‘Windmills of Your Mind’!

I guess this is exactly the kind of recording many ‘moldy fig’ jazzers felt was ushering in the decline or commercialisation of jazz. I can see what they’re getting at. But I have to beg to differ. Music, jazz as much or more so than any other form, continually evolves.

I personally love it. And the truth is that right from its inception, jazz would take popular songs of the day (often from musicals), and jazz them up. When Dorothy and co. do so, they do it beautifully. I love their jazz samba reading of The Beatles ‘Fool On The Hill’, which closes this album.

Open hearted open minded open eared listeners could do a lot worse than check out Dorothy Ashby in general, and this terrific album in particular. Love it!

There are a couple of sets combining several of Ashby’s earlier recordings, such as the one above, which can be had very cheaply. The four albums pictured on the cover are included, plus a few tracks from a fifth LP, Soft Winds.

Sadly the one below, from Fresh Sounds, is sold out (at least on their website). This one includes all the tracks from all five albums, inc. Soft Winds, and is remastered. I must have one of these two. Preferably this one!