Bright Ambassador Adoring

Well now, I received some very welcome news today - one of my favourite bands of the last fifteen years are getting back together after having been on a break since 2011. Pure Reason Revolution were my band from about 2005 onwards. This band were pivotal in getting me back into music after other concerns (mortgages, decorating, DIY, idiotic in-laws, my dad's death and life in general) had led me away from it in any meaningful sense in the previous decade. At the time I was with a long term partner, she was the kind of person who would ask "Haven't you got enough records now?". She was a teacher who had an arty disposition so I would never have dreamt of saying to her "Haven't you got enough pens now?"

Go back fourteen years, I was bored working the late shift one night. This was the time when Mark Radcliffe had a late night show on Radio 2 that ran from 10pm to midnight. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I love Radcliffe as a broadcaster and I think his shows are always worth listening to. This night he just happened to say "I'm going to play a record now by a band called Pure Reason Revolution. This record has got echoes of Pink Floyd all over it. In fact they studied at what used to be called Regent Street Polytechnic which is where the members of Floyd met each other. I'm going to play an edited version of their new single, which lasts for over nine minutes, which is why I'm editing it. It's called The Bright Ambassadors of Morning". He was right about being influenced by Pink Floyd, the title even riffs off a line in Floyd's Echoes. I vividly remember how Radcliffe introduced the record because in the early days of catch-up radio, I revisited that part of the show over and over again during the following week just so I could hear this music which I felt had been written specifically for me. It pushed all of my buttons. I just loved everything about it: the different sections, the harmonies, the drums, the huge riff, even the length of it. This record changed my life. I just had to have this record as soon as possible. I knew that no record shop around here was going to stock such a niche thing so I tentatively made my first purchase from Amazon (sorry, I knew not what I was doing). A few days later a CD single of The Bright Ambassadors of Morning fell onto the doormat. I couldn't believe I now actually owned this piece of music and wouldn't have to listen to it over the internet (how times have changed, eh?). This record became my obsession, I needed to know everything about this band and find whatever else they had out there. This being 2005, MySpace was all the rage, so I set up a profile and found PRR. Turns out that PRR consisted of some friends from Reading (some of whom had been to the old Regent Street Poly) and one of them had been a member of a band made up of schoolgirls called Period Pains who got a bit of press coverage in 1997 when John Peel made their anti-Spice-Girls single his record of the week. And guess what, through MySpace, I found that other people out there liked this band too. Who knew? That was my first foray onto any kind of social media.
So what now? I had to have whatever else this band had out on release. So the CD of their one-off single for Alan Magee's post-Creation label Poptones, which was called Apprentice of the Universe arrived. And what do you know, that track and all the 'b-sides' were great too. This band were hitting the spot for me. A few months later, when they were getting ready to release their debut album The Dark Third, they were out on the road supporting Manchester prog-metallers Oceansize, so I just thought, sod it, I'm going to see this band (she didn't want to come, of course). So I did. On my own. My first time at Nottingham's Rock City in what felt like donkey's years. And they were great. And I got to the front. And I bought everything else they did after that (two more albums) and saw them twice more. One of those times was on their farewell tour, sadly. But I didn't need to ask permission to go because by that time I'd split with the teacher and was living on my own in a flat and had met the woman who was to become my wife who means everything to me and who shares my passion for music and performance. Which kind of felt like a natural end for the band from my point of view - they'd shown me another way, I followed it, was all the better for it and made a massive change. The power of music had pulled me back in. I had left a relationship that was going nowhere because if you love music as much as this, why would you be with someone who asks if you have enough records? Or be with someone who has absolutely zero interest in the things you're interested in? Besides, I was fed-up of being on my own all the time, at home (both her job and her hobby trumped everything) and at gigs.

Anyway, The Bright Ambassadors of Morning, then. I know it's not everyone's cup o' tea but surely if you love music then you know how it feels to totally connect with something (at the risk of sounding wanky). Here's the video for it, which was on the "Enhanced CD" (remember them?) single. There's a scene in Gregory's Girl where Gregory's sister orders this fluorescent green milkshake thing in Wimpy and she explains that the best bit is just before it hits your tongue, in short, the anticipation. Waiting for that moment. That moment for me hits at about 8m 30s in this video. You're just waiting for it - the headbanging section. The anticipation is better than the moment. You know its coming and that feeling is better than anything else. And that's music for me.



And here they are performing it on the German TV show Rockpalast:



So that's it, they're back together. I can't wait to hear what they have in store.

And now you know why I'm Bright Ambassador.

Radio, radio

I don't know if you recall but last August some damn fool gave me an hour to play some records that I'd bought from charity shops on the radio. Well that was an experience that I really enjoyed and what do you know, the radio station in question run training days for complete and utter wannabes like me to produce and broadcast an hour of a radio over a six hour course. So when the inevitable question came from family members at the back end of November "Whaddya want for Crimbo?" (well what does a man in his mid-late forties want? Socks? Hankies? No thanks) I asked if they could chip in for this training day so I knew that I was going to get something I really wanted.

After emails back and forth with the guy who runs the station, a date was decided for March 1st. The day came and I find myself in the Levenshulme area of Manchester ringing the doorbell of a former library which is home to the station. Inside I met Jason*, our trainer for the day, along with my fellow trainees Freya and Luisa. A tour of the studio while the station was playing a mid-morning automated playlist was followed by us recording our own voices and learning about operating a fader on a training laptop. Then came the production part of the day where we had to decide what kind of two hour show we wanted to produce. So we decided on each of us having our own thirty minutes followed by thirty minutes of what some would call, ugh, "chat 'n' choons". Luisa decided she wanted to make a show with music related to fashion as that was her bag. Freya, an Aussie, was there for radio experience because she had been working in TV and wanted to transition to the wireless so she decided to theme her show on Australian music that might be unknown to a UK audience. I decided that mine should feature music from Manchester, basically because I'd taken two hours' worth of music and was looking for a label to hang on it.
To cut a long story short, zero hour of 5pm arrived and we were on air. Only having one studio Nicky,

who was on air before us with her regular show, very kindly played a long final track to give us all time to get in the studio to set up and sort ourselves out. We decided to let Luisa and Freya go first as Luisa, in particular, was quite nervous, so she could get her solo segment out of the way.

6pm arrived and I was on. Well, I had a blast and you can hear the results in the link below. Stick around because after thirty minutes you can hear me pontificate on subjects ranging from fast fashion (of which I'm an expert...NOT! Ho-ho!), Australia's participation in Eurovision (I chose that topic) and, as it was a Friday night, is British pub culture on its knees? After only knowing each other for six hours or so beforehand there was much camaraderie and willing each other on because we all kind of clicked.
It's a bit of a cliche but the two hours flew by and we were saying our goodbyes and going home. I'd recommend it to anyone, it put a real spring in my step for the next couple of weeks and, if they were offering it to paying punters, I'd participate on All FM's thirty hour radio training course which goes more in depth into stuff like Ofcom regulations, legal stuff etc. If only I'd taken up the chance to do hospital radio when I was at school...oh well.

*Jason is also a regular presenter of Charity Shop Classics so it was nice to finally meet a voice I'd got used to hearing coming out of a radio. And he was brilliant.

New Boots

Tracks of My Years Part 3: Nancy Sinatra - The Boots Are Made For Walking

The last time I did one of these was in 2015 so I suppose I'd better get back on track with it. If you don't remember (and why would you?), these are songs which I remember really leaping out of the radio at me when I was a kid and somehow shaped my musical taste. And in a lot of instances they frightened me. This is definitely one that frightened me.
The sad death of the Wrecking Crew drummer Hal Blaine this week helped remind us of the amount of excellent work he did. One of those songs he played on, These Boots Are Made For Walking is a record that both fascinated and scared the living daylights out of me as a child. For some context, among records like The Runaway Train, The Laughing Policeman, The Laughing Gnome (and all manner of other records with the word 'lauguing' in the title) and Nellie the Elephant which would get played week in, week out on Radio 1's Junior Choice in the 70s and early 80s, Nancy Sinatra's most well known song would also always get an airing. I think the record both enchanted and frightened me for a variety of reasons. First, there's that slightly off-kilter descending double bass part that leads into the verse. Secondly, this person wants to walk all over you in their boots. Why would she want to do that? Of course at the time I was too young to realise that she wanted to metaphorically walk all over you in her boots (although I'm led to believe that people literally like to be walked on in boots). Thirdly, she talked about matches. Now, I was always taught that matches were never to be touched*, so what's she going to do with those matches? Isn't it all rather dangerous to be playing with matches? She'll burn herself. Put. The. Matches. Down (as before, it was metaphorical matches she was playing with. Again, that bit was lost on me). Fourthly (is that a word), she actually talks to the boots. "Are you ready boots? Start walkin'" Are these magic boots? Wow.




*A message that was lost on my sister who once tried to set fire to our wooden garage. Think she might be something of a pyromaniac as she would often light matches and watch them burn down to nothing. And she taught me that trick of flicking your index finger in and out of a lit candle. There were a lot of power cuts in the late 70s.

The Spirit of Radio

A few months ago I was asked by the people who run the Charity Shop Classics show on a Manchester community radio station called All FM if I'd like to be a guest presenter for their show. Charity Shop Classics is a show I've been listening to for quite a while now and it's fair to say that I love the concept of the show and the music we hear which is presented by good people. So I took it as a great honour that I was asked to contribute with my USP being that every track played, bar one, was purchased from my local Oxfam Books & Music store in my hometown of Newark. It took a few months to get together, what with one thing and another but the results were on air yesterday. My links at times leave a bit to be desired but I enjoyed doing it, which is kind of the point. You can hear the results in the link here:
https://www.mixcloud.com/CharityShopClassics/charity-shop-classics-show-202-listeners-choice/

Fed up

Sorry about the break, but I have got a life you know, one where I do a proper job instead of staring into a computer all day.

Anyway, Radio 2. I normally hate those wankers who spraff off about their favourite radio station like they own it - I think I've blogged before about Radio 4 listeners - but what's going off at Radio 2? As it's one of the few channels I can get on my radio at work I tend to listen for most of the day. For a start they put Graham Norton on to 'dep' for Chris Evans. He made a balls up of it, not radio fodder at all. Then they go and announce him as the replacement for Jonathan Ross. Who decided that? A deaf person? And what is this show going to consist of? I think I know: him fawning and giggling all over crusty old actresses from the bloody 1970s no bastard's heard of for years, if at all. Gemma Jones, anyone? No, me neither.

Theses tossers at Radio 2 had already incurred my wrath for cutting Radcliffe and Maconie's ace show from four nights to three - then replaced them on night four with Jo Whiley. I realise La Whiley's too old for Radio 1 now (even though Westwood's well into his 50s), but why knock down a perfectly good show so that she can come on and introduce Paul Weller at the BBC theatre for the umpteenth time? (I don't like Weller either, more of him in a future post)

Then over the past week we've had a brace of announcements. For a kick off that walking car crash that is Richard Madeley has announced that he's in talks with Radio 2 'bosses'. I'm hoping he'll be on one of those Sunday morning shows where he reviews the Sunday newspapers, which'll be okay by me because there's nothing more inclined to get me to turn off the radio than listening to some lazy DJ going through newspapers (unless it's Sarah Kennedy which is always fun-for-all-the-wrong-reasons. Especially as last week she read out an article on 'funny' place names and mentioned a place in America called Spunky Puddle which flew straight over her head. Funny how she didn't mention Shitterton though. Or Racistdrunktelegraphreader-on-the-Wold).

And this week we've had to suffer the indignity of Chris Tarrant doing Steve Wright's show. Jesus, I never thought I'd say this but come back Wright, all is forgiven. The fork-throwing funster's interview with Simple Minds' Jim Kerr on an ISDN line was cringeworthy. Get off Tarrant, you're shit. Yeah, you heard, SHIT!

Enough of that, unlike the rest of the UK population between the ages of 35 and 45, I didn't watch that Boy George thing because I hate both Culture Club and so-called New Romantics. If I never hear Karma Chameleon, that Hurt Me thing or that shocking War song again it'll be too soon. I tire of the rose-tinted spectacles everyone of my generation sees the 1980s through. Mind you, I reckon the three greatest albums of the decade were Metallica's Master of Puppets, Slayer's Reign in Blood and Talk Talk's Spirit of Eden. Hardly Pelican West or Deep Sea Skiving, are they? And not a Roland synthesizer in sight.

The drums then. Cor, I had a great time last week. We got into drum fills. I think I'm going to be of the drumming school that twats it as hard as they can because they like to make a noise, a bit like Dave Grohl, not a bespectacled 'thinker' like Bill Bruford. Talking of thoughtful drummers, there was a great one on Young Musician of the Year this week. She played a thing by Frank Zappa, which, as you can imagine, was a little avant garde. She showed amazing restraint, I just like to smack the drums and cymbals. My tutor's asked me to come up with a drum solo ready for next week. Horror of horrors, a drum solo! Not a horror for the bastard playing it though. Tee, and indeed, hee.

I leave you with one of my favourite tracks from my new favourite band. They are *shhh, whisper it * nu-prog. Run for your lives! The drumming on the whole album is immense though, not that anyone reading this will actually play that video of course, but hey-ho, I like it, it's your loss etc...

I've been undressed by kings, and I've seen some things a girl ain't s'possed to see

I gather there's a show on Radio4 called I've Never Seen Star Wars. I've never heard it of course because it's a comedy show on Radio4, and it's hosted by a smug twat called Marcus Brigstocke. I think it's quite a good premise for a show (Even though the guests are the usual Radio4 crowd. Sandi Toksvig anyone? And who the hell's Jan Ravens?), so I thought I'd do my own 'I've never...'

Here goes. Some are by choice, some aren't, some are because the opportunity's never arose. You decide which is which:

• I've never seen Star Wars or an episode of Star Trek.



• I've never heard I've Never Seen Star Wars.



• I've never eaten a Bounty bar.



• I've never been in control of any kind of boat.



• I've never ridden a motorcycle.



• I've never been on a rollercoaster that throws you upside down.



• I've never been to Spain.



• I've never seen an episode of The Simpsons, The Sopranos, Casualty, Holby City, The West Wing, The Wire, 24, Hollyoaks.



• I've never heard I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue, Desert Island Discs, Just a Minute.



• I've never bought anything by The Beatles.



• I've never been to a fancy dress party.



• I've never had a gin and tonic.



• I've never seen The Godfather, Citizen Kane, Schindler's List.



• I've never eaten Marmite.



• I've never been to a classical music concert.



• I've never been in Harrod's.



• I've never spoken to anyone famous while they were still famous.



• I've never read anything by JK Rowling or JRR Tolkein.



• I've never skied.



• I've never been involved in a car accident.



• I've never seen a stripper.



• I've never built a bonfire.



• I've never parachuted/bungee-jumped.



• I've never tried a Class A drug.



• I've never been fishing.



• I've never kissed in the rain.



• I've never fired a gun.



• I've never been to me (and I haven't been to Paradise either).

Life in a shite East Midlands town

Thanks to a heads-up by the mighty Woo, I've just been listening to this. It's a great listen, fucking hilarious in fact.

What I loved was his disdain for Long Eaton. All small East Midlands' towns must be like that, I know it's the same here. The way he says that nobody wants to do anything is spot-on. If I go out into town for a drink on a weekend you see the same faces that I saw when I first started going into town drinking in the late 80s.

And the whole "Luke 'Aines!? Oo the 'ell's ee when ee's at 'ome?" kind of attitude still exists too. I told my family members I was going to see The Mighty Boosh live and that was "The Mighty Boosh!? What the 'ell's that when it's at 'ome?"

And I've just had a woman on the phone who was looking for my business to service my car call me 'ducky' at the end of the conversation. "Thanks, ducky". Er, shouldn't that be "Thanks Mr Ambassador?" (Even though that isn't my real name, clearly, but you worked it out, right? I mean, you're not from Newark).

It makes my head want to crumple inwards like a slowly deflating balloon.

Underneath the Archers

I've never really liked radio drama. I think this is because when I was very small I had the trauma of listening to something called Waggoner's Walk on Radio2 every day during Pete Murray's Open House show. I don't remember much about it apart from the the way there always seemed to be a lot of whisky decanters being clinked against whisky tumblers (they certainly drank a lot down Waggoner's Walk). I found out later that the actors couldn't even be arsed to learn their lines, they used to read straight from the script. Surely the least actors can do is be bothered to learn their lines? And the sound effects always bugged me because I'd listen and think to myself - after watching radio sound effects men seemingly every week on Jim'll Fix It - 'hmmm, that's someone walking on a tray of gravel.....yeah, that's a turn-handle thing which makes a noise like the wind...okay, that's not a full-size door, it's a little mini one...and that's the someone banging a jug of water against a bathroom tumbler, they always have to bang the jug against the glass, it's the sound effects man's law...'
So imagine my shock this week when I realised that I've started listening to The Archers. I was going through the dial at work the other night looking for something to listen to and up popped The Archers. It reminds me of when Emmerdale was called Emmerdale Farm in that absolutely nothing happens. Take Wednesday night's episode, it revolved around a family making some marmalade and hilarity ensued over a jam thermometer. The other storyline was about a lad teaching, what I presume to be his girlfriend, to drive. The whole thing, despite the lack of action, is strangely listenable. I thought it was going to get a bit interesting last night, someone was waiting for the test results to come back 'all clear'. What was that, a story involving the Big C or someone with a dose of gonorrhea? No, they were waiting for test results on bovine TB. Great! I love it when you watch or listen to some kind of serial and have absolutely no clue what's going on.
But where is Ambridge? The accents are all over the shop; one character, Ruth, has an accent that's part Scot, part Geordie and part Somerset. Unless her dad moved her around a lot as a child of course.
I've also taken to listening to Front Row, which is on directly after The Archers. The thing is Mark Lawson sometimes does it and I always find my enjoyment of Mark Lawson is tempered if I can't see his big jowly chops bobbing around every time he nods his head.

I dropped off to sleep at work again yesterday. For about 15 minuted this time. I'm seriously going to find myself at the source of a creek called Shit sans paddle if I get caught. Much as I hate my tedious job I really can't afford to lose it, especially with the jobs market the way it is. Perhaps it happens because I'm ill, didn't Arthur Lowe have that sleeping illness where he'd drop off to sleep mid-conversation? Or perhaps I'm like that green iPod-wearing triangle on the BUPA ad which keeps dropping off to sleep on the way to work. Or perhaps my job's so mind-numbingly boring at the minute I can't help myself. Who knows? It needs to stop, I know that much.

One of the few upsides of working shifts means that next week I'll be leaving work while most other people are still on their lunch breaks. I think I might go to the pictures in the afternoon next week. I might go and see that Frost/Nixon, despite Miachael Sheen. It's years since I've been to the pictures on a weekday afternoon, I'll probably be the only one there. Anyone care to join me? Thought not...

Here's a song which Radcliffe and Maconie played an updated and remixed version of last night. The updated version contains the line "Just because you have a blog doesn't make you a journalist". A genius piece of work in my book.

To cut a reformation short, I lost my mind

Of course one of the things I love about working late shift is that I can listen to Radcliffe & Maconie on Radio2 of an evening. I tuned in last night for the first time in ages and it really is a show full of delight. What a musical selection: The Yardbirds, Split Enz, David Bowie, Rush (yay!), The Divine Comedy, Nick Lowe, Marvine Gaye, Radiohead, Fleet Foxes, Lily Allen and Iggy Pop, amongst others, all got an airing last night. As well as a three song set by Adrian Edmondson's band, The Bad Shepherds. They play folk covers of punk and new wave songs; last night's set featured songs by The Clash (even an anti-Clash fan like me got a load of enjoyment from hearing I Fought the Law on the uilleann pipes and bodhran), Kraftwerk and Wreckless Eric.
I know I bang on about the R&M show sometimes but they really are worth listening to if you're disenchanted with the telly of an evening.

The R&M show last night mentioned this story about Spandau Ballet getting back together. I keep banging on about 80s reformations too, but why do this? Everybody knows that Hadley and Gary Kemp hate each other so it's so nakedly about earning loadsa cash it makes me sick. Here's the most telling quote from that small article: "It would be a great, fun comeback and very lucrative for the band." Just take out the words 'great' and 'fun' and you're getting there. No doubt the fortysomething fans'll be queueing up for tickets. Don't go, you're only encouraging them.
I'll give Hadley the same advice I gave Midge Ure a month or so ago: don't do it Tony - you can be crap on your own without four other kilted and tartan-tea-towelled-bedecked mongs as well.

What's...

... that you say, 'what's getting on my wick at the minute'? Well, I'll tell you:

• Terry Wogan and Aled Jones's Christmas single - Two of my least favourite people singing one of my least favourite songs. Is it the law that all charity singles have to be shite? Can't somebody make a decent one? Apart from Mark Radcliffe's take on Right Said Fred and Alex Lester's My Brother, of course.


• Iceland adverts - I know this is like shooting fish in a barrel as they feature Katona (a woman who quite clearly needs some professional help) and Nolan, but why does their food always look so deeply unappetising? Prawn Spoons anyone? Thought not. They're seemingly obsessed with prawns.


• 'Quirky' indie rock bands - Step forward The Wombats, Scouting for Girls, The Hoosiers etc. They're like A Tribe of Toffs for the early twenty first century. The sort of people who say 'Ooh, I'm a bit mad, me'. Go away.


• Steve Wright's Old Woman - There's so much wrong with the Steve Wright show that I won't go into all of it, but I'll start at Old Woman. Old Woman is one of his ker-azy afternoon posse, a woman who is made to read things out even though she quite clearly has trouble forming her own sentences, let alone reading. Is also paid to laugh like a drain at anything 'Wrighty' says. I once heard that it is actually Wright's mother.


• Kirsty MacColl and The Pogues - Regular readers will know that both the acts share a place in my heart, but Fairytale of New York gets on my pip. It's the only Christmas song that people who like to think they're still vaguely 'with it' own up to liking. The sort of people who rush out and buy Coldplay albums. From Waitrose. It's okay to like Christmas songs like Greg Lake, Mike Oldfield, Gary Glitter etc.


• Carol Vorderman - Sick of hearing her drone on about being dropped from Countdown. It must've been terrible for her to hear the news that her pay was being cut to a mere £100,000 pa just for picking a few letters out of a box and doing a quick bit of mental arithmetic. Never mind, she could always get herself one of those debtbuster loans she's been hawking on telly to life's less fortunates. Probably not as nice as she makes out she is.


• People who say 'a few quick hellos' on the radio - I like listening to Ken Bruce's Popmaster, but everyday you get at least one contestant who likes to say 'a few quick hellos' to 'my lovely wife Joannne - she won't be listening 'cos she's at work but hello anyway - my kids Jordan and Gemma, Dave and all the lads at work - Oi oi! - Mum, Dad, Joanne's mum and dad, everyone at The Cock Inn, the lads on the football team and anyone else who knows me'. I know a lot of people, and I'll tell you this, there's some of them I don't like, so why would I want to say 'hello' to them via the radio? And why do these people think that millions of people up and down the country are interested in hearing a load of random names read out? If they wanted to hear their name on the radio they should have entered Popmaster themselves. In fact, you can almost hear the relief in Ken's voice when a contestant just signs off with a 'goodbye' without 'a few quick hellos'. DJs, please stop people saying 'a few quick hellos'.


• Graham Norton doing Eurovision - 'Nuff said.

Hooray!

Just a quickie before I go, this is excellent news he's far too undervalued in my book. Euro '08 606 was a joy thanks to him.