Pitch Fever

Football was never meant to get a look-in on this blog. But it has now wormed its way in, because so many musicians seem to want to watch it.

After a rehearsal with a jazz quartet in Brighton on Saturday, the keyboard player persuaded me to join him in the pub. He had to watch Spain v France, and I had to have a drink. In the end, I think I watched more of the match than he did, and I didn't need anyone to tell me that it was a fairly boring affair. We had more fun talking to a holidaying couple who explained how Germany would win the tournament. They were German.

Sunday's rehearsal, with assorted rock musicians, had to finish early so that they could all get to homes or pubs in time to watch England v Italy. And somehow affected or infected by the previous evening's experience, I found myself listening to the match on the car radio on the way home. Mind you, I switched off before the end, and was content to find out the result the following day, so I'm not totally hooked yet.

Then, today, I had to attend a music tech event (basically, trying to sell music teachers on the use of iPads) in Brighton. And where was it held? At the new Amex stadium. Just seeing the football pitch got me quite excited. Maybe something strange is happening to me...

A Pauline Conversion

Michael Gove comes up with some interesting stuff, doesn't he? In the House of Commons this week he paid an 80th birthday tribute to the Oxford Professor of Poetry, Professor Sir Geoffrey Hill, "our greatest living poet". 


Labour MP Stephen Pound swiftly responded with: "I do not wish to distract the House in celebration of today’s birthday of one of our greatest living poets — Sir Paul McCartney..."


So is Macca a poet? He doesn't seem to be up there with Shakespeare or Dylan, or even Lennon.  But maybe he has, on occasion, been more than just a brilliant melodist. And whether you like it or not, the words of the 2,000-plus cover versions of his song "Yesterday" may well have touched more people more deeply than the collected works of all of the above.

This Could Run And Run

It's kind of inevitable that if you attend an end-of-year fine art show at Kingston University, London, that you're going to be confronted with an almost naked man painted white (and covered in graffiti) doing odd things against a white backdrop (covered in graffiti).

But Michael Azkoul not only managed to keep his performance piece going for six hours, he also managed to make it so entertaining that he almost always had a rapt audience.

And in between his running, singing, slow-motion martial artistry, lying perfectly still etc, he pulled off — best of all — a great sequence of improvised beats, using walls, floor, hands and feet. Bearing in mind previous post Short And Sweet, this was a lesson in the acceptable face of the drum solo...

Time Is Money

I've just received a most generous offer from Amazon of a £15 discount if I buy a watch priced at £75 or more. The only problem is that I don't wear a watch, I don't need a watch and I'm not convinced that many people need one.

Perhaps a watch says something about the wearer. But if you need a watch to say something about you, maybe that's all there is to say...

I stopped wearing a watch about 30 years ago. I was on a journey through Israel with a journalist from the Yorkshire Post and noticed his wrists were watch-free. I asked him why and he explained that you were almost always near a clock or some other means of telling the time — there was no point. I thought about it for a few days and decided he was right. The watch went. And the sky didn't fall in.

Now, with the ever-presence of mobile phones, laptops, iPads etc, who really needs a watch? Don't just save £15. Save £75 or more. Watches are a waste of time.

God Bless The Eagles

I really like the Eagles. There, I've said it. I don't care who knows. I think they've played some of the greatest rock music, written some of the best crafted songs and sung some of the finest harmonies.

In a roundabout way, I was reminded of one of their best lines when an old friend and newspaper colleague posted the fact that he'd finally been made redundant after 40 years by a company whose bottom line is... the bottom line.

Good old boys down at the bar,
Peanuts and politics.
They think they know it all,
They don't know much of nothing.
Even if one of them was to read the newspaper
Cover to cover,
That ain't what's going on.
Journalism dead and gone.

And rock lyric writing with any real meaning seems pretty much dead and gone too.

The papers and magazines are generally full of confectionery... and so is the music.

The Eagles may be jaded old rockers, but at least they bothered to write about America's ignorance, arrogance and greed, about what presidents really mean when they talk about "freedom", and about the quagmire of Iraq.

Which hip young songwriters with that kind of mass audience did anything similar?

Short Is Sweet

It's almost too good to be true... a drum battle between Art Blakey, Max Roach and Elvin Jones captured on video. Three giants who were not only a huge influence on the development of jazz, but who indirectly also helped change the course of rock drumming, thanks to the awe in which they were rightly held by some of rock's finest players.

But the video has a salutary moment for all drummers. While all manner of percussive ingenuity is being unleashed on stage, the camera pans across the audience and there, centre screen, is the face of a woman... who looks bored witless.

Someone once told me that people usually applaud at the end of a jazz solo because they're so relieved it's over. And that may apply even more to drum solos — of any kind.

Perhaps the best advice for drummers is: Keep calm and don't carry on.

Peter The Great

It takes a lot to make me laugh. And one man who can make me laugh — a lot — is Peter Searles (above). I last saw one of his one-man shows many years ago. And the first time I saw him was when I was camping at an arts festival with my kids back in the 1990s. He was so funny that we still laugh when talking about it now...

By complete chance, I met Peter again, for the first time in a decade, when I was helping out with the music at an end-of-term show at Crisis (the charity for homeless people) in London... and he was helping out with the drama.

He's still on the road and I (and my kids... now grown-up) are buying tickets to see him again. I would advise you that if you have any sense of humour, you should do the same.

Day Tripper

I recently went to Australia to do some features. It was a quick, packed visit and I was there for only five days. Everybody said it was a long way to go for such a short time.

Yesterday I managed to take that concept further and went to America for the afternoon. I flew to Philadelphia from London at noon on Saturday and got back into London at 10am this morning (Sunday).

Now, that is a long way to go for such a short time. It wasn't supposed to be like that, I should add. And this momentous waste of time was achieved only thanks to the US immigration authorities and the Department of Homeland Security.

The full story will be published before long...

Jack And John

It's always great to see Jack Bruce. But to see him playing a pub gig? That's beyond the wildest of rock dreams... Except that it happened this week at The Half Moon, Putney, when the pre-eminent bassist guested with the awkwardly named Staxs soul big band to raise money for the charity Medicinema.

Bruce's voice and bass were on absolute top form for joyous versions of Born Under A Bad Sign, White Room and Sunshine Of Your Love.

But what made the night for me was that also there in the audience was the legendary John Marshall (drummer with the post-Cream Jack Bruce Band who played on part of Songs For A Tailor, and all of the tracks on Harmony Row, both among the greatest of rock albums).

Try as he did to keep a low profile, John was soon identified by Jack fans and spent a good deal of the evening chatting to gig-goers who couldn't believe their doubly good luck.