M1-41 Metabolist

M1-41 Racing Poodles "Danielle Dax, the sexy punkish diva was on Fripp’s arm the next time we met in 1980. It was in a black hole style club under the Westway in London. I was there to see a concert by Metabolist and decide if I should invite them to participate in Miniatures. I did, with pleasure, on hearing their angular distorted motorik sounds."I claim the right to use the above quote (and its three links) as it is taken from my own blog post two years ago on Robert Fripp. He seemed to be out and about a lot that year (1980) so it was no surprise to see him at the Metabolist gig, as they, along with This Heat, seemed to have recently acquired a reputation for their particular style of hard-edged distorted beat music. I remember noticing with some pleasure how the darkness of the music and the venue was delightfully offset by the bright blonde presence of Danielle, who had an almost English rose look. This was before she transformed herself into a powerful, charismatic psychedelic Amazon - belied that night by the adorable soft golden peach-fuzzy bumfluff I noticed above and below her petal-like mouth. Alright, Morgan - down, boy! The origin of this band's name is not known to me, however I would be surprised if it did not come from the post-war Japanese architectural movement - evidence of which I still see at times in modern Tokyo. One such building, indeed an icon of the movement, is the Nakagin Capsule Tower in Ginza, which was, amazingly, built in just 30 days. It's pretty dilapidated now, but unbelievably, one of the capsules is available for an overnight stay. The Tower contains 140 capsule-style living units, aimed at bachelor salarymen, which feature a wall of appliances including a kitchen stove, a refrigerator, a television set, and  - how cool is this - a reel-to-reel tape deck. Which brings us nicely back to music.Metabolist's entire output, recorded in their short career of 3 years or so, consists of just one album, three singles, three cassettes, and of course their Miniatures track. They released most of these recordings on their own Drömm label (which sounds like drum, looks like German, and is apparently Swedish for "dreaming"). Nothing seems to be on release any more, so it's down to scouring ebay and similar places ( if you want to pick up the real vinyl or tape.As usual, youtube comes to the rescue for the frustrated Metabolist seeker, and I have found what is probably at least half of their output there. Videos do not seem to be available, so may I suggest suggest watching this video with the sound turned off, (there are subtitles) while listening to Metabolist's feisty fractured funk.Gleanings are far and few on the old internet re this band, but Atlantis Audio Archive has perhaps the most info in one place - descriptions of their cassette releases "Goatmanaut" and "Stagmanaut," free downloads of a 10-track live recording, and quite a bit re what the members have been up to since. A page named feuilleton has detailed descriptions of their music and a complete discography.For computer music buffs, Simon Millward has become an expert on Cubase music sequencing software and VST synths, and has written several books on the subject.Oops! Just discovered that some of their music IS actually for sale - a 14-track collection on CD, right here. Good to know! To whet your appetite further, here's a brief summing-up from another site that offers 20 of their tracks for free online listening:Metabolist were a UK experimental group forming in January 1977, consisting of Malcolm Lane (guitar, synth, vocals), Simon Millward (bass, vocals, synth), Mark Rowlatt (drums, percussion) and Anton Loach, with Jacqueline Bailey dedicated to designing the band's record covers in a Suprematist style [click the following to enlarge] ...... their sound honed on the repetitive minimalism featured in post-punk and krautrock, with tints in lo-fi Magma-esque passages sneaking their way in through pronounced bass lines.NOTE: you will be delighted at the alternative version of "Racing Poodles," their Miniatures track!!!Next up: Just wait 137 years...Read/Leave Comment

M1-40 Dave Vanian

`M1-40 Night Touch Notting Hill Gate, December 1980. The day started out like any other. I got up around 7am, and folded the nattily-constructed wooden bed up into the wall, thus converting my bedsit into a studio. Quick shower and a cup of Japanese green tea, then off for my usual 2-mile morning walk. Down Linden Gardens, along Bayswater Road, crossing it at the first entrance to Hyde Park, then a 600-yard stroll due south in an almost empty park, the traffic noise receding gradually, until I reached the Round Pond. There I sat for maybe 15 minutes, enjoying watching the ducks ducking. "Ducks. They just Duck. They don't try to be anything else. Why can't people be more like that?" - was the thought that usually passed through my mind at this point.Unfortunately geese are equally pure in thought and deed. Geese like to goose. More often than not, after I had been sitting there for a few minutes, a goose would waddle out of the pond and come up and goose me viciously in the shin - presumably demanding food. Ouch! My reverie interrupted, I started the return walk back to my fifth-floor flat. No lift, only stairs. Arriving a touch out of breath at the top, I would head for the comfort of my sofa and a twenty-minute meditation. Then a simple breakfast of cereal with bran, soya milk and dry fruit (keeps you regular) and plenty more tea, after which I'd start work by answering some letters (remember those?). That done, I'd get on with whatever recording project I had on the go.Today was a bit different - I had to prepare for a party I was giving tonight. As usual I had invited anyone and everyone I thought would like to come - old school friends, rock stars, record company people and journalists, and since around 1976, a goodly number of punk rockers. Ever since it got started, punk had delighted me. And if they were honest and not spouting the "any rock musician more than 5 years older than us is an OLD FART" routine, quite a number of punks were fans of my previous band Mott the Hoople. So I got to know quite a lot of this new breed of fiercely independent, edgily creative folk. During its short existence (a little over a year) I went to the punk Mecca, the Roxy Club in Covent Garden, at least once a week. I would stand there relaxed, drinking in the mayhem around me, along with the flat warm beer they served, glimpsing the occasional visiting Zep or Floyd. In between manic sets by bands like ATV, Chelsea, Wayne County & The Electric Chairs (with whom I would play and record later), and The Damned, DJ Don Letts would spin the deepest dub music I had ever heard. A stunning combination of two different cultures, reminiscent of my Mod days ten years earlier when sets by The Who and other white mod bands would be interspersed with the finest black soul/funk hits from Stax and Motown.I'd known The Damned almost since they started up in 1976. The link was a staunch Mott fan, Laurie, who Dave started going out with not long after the band formed; they would marry in 1977. Laurie is a chatty, utterly likeable New Jersey girl who sported what seemed to me to be a stylish, slightly vampiric version of the 70's L.A. look - black leather'n'lace, thick black make-up and black nail polish, superhigh heels, fingerless gloves, etc... No wonder Dave (whose stage name he extracted from Transylvanian) fell for her.For their marriage they were resplendent in full vampiric black outfits, particularly striking as it was held in one of the most boring, dreary city halls imaginable, located in Acton, West London, complete with boring, dreary councillor officiating. Richard Strange (singer of Doctors of Madness) was best man - at the last minute he was instructed that a tie was required, so he improvised with a page from a copy of Womens' Own magazine found in the waiting room, stuck on with chewing gum:Silver skull rings à la Keith Richards were exchanged. At the back of the hall stood a small bunch of skinny, surly looking lads who didn't say anything. I wasn't sure why they were there. "Who's the interesting-looking one with the big glasses?" I asked someone. "Some new singer - calls himself Elvis."Evidence:It was perhaps not a brilliant idea to ask Dave's bandmates Rat Scabies and Captain Sensible to decorate their car for the honeymoon drive. Newly dubbed the Fang Mobile, it is said that the liberal coating of chili sauce applied to the roof peeled off a good amount of paint:Still, domestic bliss ensued:They stayed together almost 20 years - pretty good compared to most musicians' marriages I know. Laurie expanded her clothes sense into a fashion business which she still runs, converting vintage clothing into elegant 21st-century outfits.The Damned impressed me with their early Nick Lowe-produced records on Stiff, definitely a cut above the yobbish thrash of most punk bands (which I also enjoyed - not a criticism). They were the first punk band to release an album, and the first to tour in the USA, where their high-speed rock had a big influence on West Coast hardcore punk bands. In spite of their music having an effect somewhat like being machine-gunned directly in the eyeballs, Dave was always a charmer and very gentlemanly and easy to get along with. Perhaps he got that way by getting all his aggressive tendencies out onstage. I was delighted that he decided go more towards door-creaking horror for his miniature. Listening to all the miniatures when they came through my letter box was always a pleasure, but particularly so in this case as it was so surprisingly different to his work with The Damned. The band, of course, as we now know, went through various lineup changes and reunions, always with Dave at the helm, and are now, almost 40 years since they started, playing in such places as Argentina and Brazil, and receiving various awards and having documentaries made about them. Punk acquires respect. A good thing? Your answers on a postcard please...That party of mine? It was, as expected, packed with a brilliant mix of characters - dare I say a Mott-ly crew? So much so that it spilled over into the flat next door, to which my kindly Korean lady neighbour generously agreed. Dave wasn't there this time - although he and Laurie had graced in grisly fashion my fancy dress party on New Year's Eve 1978:However, the guitarist from the original lineup of The Damned, Brian James, did show up. I'd always liked Brian, too - another gentleman punk. By this time he'd left The Damned and played with Iggy Pop, Tanz Der Youth, formed Brian James Brains, and would soon play with The Saints and create a kind of punk supergroup, Lords of the New Church.By about 2am, the party was building to a typically manic peak, and the constant barrage of loud music was finally starting to put paid to my trusty Wharfedale studio speakers. They were distorting horribly, so in order to enjoy the music at its undistorted best - and still at brain-frying volume, Brian and I both donned headphones and were dancing round each other like dervishes. Finally the speakers cracked up completely - and I suddenly had a bit of a crackup myself. I felt an irresistible need to escape the madness of what would be my last London party ever, and go somewhere quiet and be alone and have a calm think. Some new, or perhaps old, long-neglected desire was stirring in me. It seemed that this was An Important Moment and I needed to go somewhere luxurious and comfortable. So I changed into my one and only suit, walked quietly away from my own party, headed for Bayswater Road again, hailed a taxi and drove to the Ritz Hotel in Piccadilly. The next morning, on waking to a sumptuous breakfast of porridge and kippers served under silver domes, I knew with certainty that it was time to go to India, possibly forever. I called my close friend Iain McNay, boss of (still prolific) Cherry Red Records, and invited him to the Ritz Cafe so I could share my news with him. But that's another story...*** Special thanks and hugs to Laurie Glendon Vanian and Amanda Austin for the priceless photographs!Next up: Racing poodles...Read/Leave Comment

M1-39 Bob Cobbing & Henri Chopin

M1-39 Refreshment Break"Vive le vin!" (10 times) then  "J'ai bien mangé!" (3 times) are the words spoken by (I'm pretty sure) Monsieur Chopin, while Mister Cobbing huffs, puffs and sort of scats rapidly. It may be the other way round - the main thing is, it is obvious that these two performers are great collaborators and doubtless staunch friends. It's also obvious that this track (unlike my original description above) is in fact, not just non-verbal- or sound-poetry, but an enthusiastic ode to the joys of wine and food - with great deal of suitable lip-smacking throughout.They're both gone now. Henri passed on aged 86 in 2008 (this page of obit comments includes a mention of Miniatures at the bottom), having as a teenager lost his two brothers in World War II - what must have been an unbearable tragedy (and what to say about the Nazi labour camps and death marches he endured - then off to fight and catch malaria in Indonesia in 1948?). He was a pioneer of using tape recorders to modify sound and speech, with a predilection for lo-fi, distorted audio. Extraordinarily prolific, he is described on his Wikipedia page as "poet, painter, graphic artist and designer, typographer, independent publisher, filmmaker, broadcaster and arts promoter - Chopin's work is a barometer of the shifts in European media between the 1950s and the 1970s." He wrote several books, published an avant-garde magazine for 16 years (wherein he featured luminaries such as Brion Gysin, William Burroughs and members of Fluxus), and is known for his numerous graphic poems (aka "dactylopoèmes") created on a typewriter. You can hear (and buy) two of his guttural works here.The only one of the two poets that I met was Bob Cobbing, a genial, almost medieval-looking portly, bearded gent. Bob's wartime experience was less harrowing, as he was a conscientious objector (as I would be). He left us in 2002 aged 82. Bob was also extraordinarily prolific, not just as a poet but as an organiser of things avant-garde and influential, such as the extraordinary bookshop/arts lab/cinema/gallery Better Books which was strongly inspired by the beat poets' gathering place in San Francisco, City Lights Bookstore. Indeed, one of the first places Allen Ginsberg visited in the UK was Better Books. As the previous link shows, Paul McCartney was a friend of Ginsberg and may also have visited Better Books (he certainly visited the Indica Gallery & Bookshop, created by another Better Books manager, Barry Miles - it was also where John Lennon met Yoko Ono).Bob was the founding father of the Writer's Forum - an independent  publisher and writers' network which published an astounding 1000 books and pamphlets in the 50-plus years of  its existence, and is till very active today (pity about the slightly unfortunate choice of URL). Apart from running his publishing firm, teaching children to explore poetry and sound, holding innumerable workshops, writing,  printing, organising forums and events, Bob also found time for creating works involving voices and musical instruments in groups like Bird Yak and Konkrete Canticle. In short, he was a pillar of British counterculture.If there are any of you out there who still don't know one of the best resources for audio, video, text, photos, anything that can be downloaded, especially rare out-of-copyright material, let me heartily recommend archive.org. Both Bob and Henri are well represented there - indeed just reading the lists (and short descriptions) of their material is mouth-watering. One item on Henri's list caught my eye: a 70-minute history of sound poetry with numerous examples by such luminaries as Gertrude Stein and Kurt Schwitters. I haven't heard the whole thing, yet, but I'd be very surprised if it didn't include a man who's very name sounds like it might be the beginning of a sound-poem: Jaap Blonk. I can't think of a nicer way to honour and thank Bob and Henri's pioneering work than by sharing this more recent, cheerfully stimulating celebration of the human voice. Next up: Hammer Horror, punk-style...Read/Leave Comment 

M1-38 Martin Chambers

M1-38 A Swift OneQuiet-methodical, angry-powerful, or loony-happy? Drummers often seem to fit into one of these three categories. Seems like the photo above makes it pretty clear which one Martin Chambers fits into. Just so we know where we stand, though, here are some examples: Quiet-methodical: Charlie Watts, Sly Dunbar. They get their head down and keep the groove always in the pocket, no flash, but solid as can be. Angry-powerful: John Bonham and Ginger Baker. Scary guys to meet face-to-face (have done) but amazing powerhouses of blockbuster, thunderous beats. And in the loony-happy bunch, along with Martin, the inimitable Keith Moon, (met him too - a lot!) hilarious wrecker of stages (and sadly, of himself in the end) and even, a bit, our lovable moptop Ringo.I'm no bleedin' journalist, though. I know from being interviewed countless times how often music journalists love to put people, music, things in general into categories so it makes for hard-hitting, easy-to-assimilate copy. Martin and all the above-mentioned drum giants are no categorisable cartoon characters, and I am sure that all of them at times have felt (and  played) the multitude of conflicting emotions we all feel. But when back in the mid-70's I first saw Martin play with a little known band called Cheeks, along with Verden Allen, my keyboard predecessor in Mott the Hoople, I knew that here was one wild man with great technique and loads of humour. His eyes looked ebony black but sparkled with endless fun and energy, and he had one cymbal set so high that he had to stand to hit it, so he was up and down, on and off his drum stool throughout the show. Definitely the centre of attention and the man to watch in this band, even though guitarist James Honeyman-Scott (who went on to form the Pretenders with Martin and play the blindingly brilliant solo in this song) was riffing magnificently on the same small stage.In 78 The Pretenders hit the ground running, and from the first of numerous gigs I saw them play at The Marquee, I knew that here was, not a good band, but a great band. On more than one occasion I hinted strongly that they'd be even greater with a keyboard player. There was one reggae-style number they played which (I thought, and told 'em so) cried out for some thin reedy XTC/E.Costello-style organ. Oh well. They seem to have managed quite well without it/me.Sadly, very sadly, after having scored several hits including their marvellous UK #1 "Brass in Pocket" half of the band - Jimmy and Pete - both lovely chaps and great players - were dead due to drugs.  It was now down to Martin and singer Chrissie Hynde to pick up the pieces and soldier on, which they did, magnificently (see wiki for the whole story) . Various members (including Martin as well as Johnny Marr and Andy Rourke of The Smiths) came and went over the ensuing decades, but when the band were inducted by Neil Young into the Rock'n'Roll Hall of Fame in 2005, it was only Chrissie and Martin who stepped up to accept the award. They then played a blinding set kicked off by Martin's thundering drums, several orders of magnitude more powerful, fun and REAL than many so-so reunions one hears at these events.The band's website currently shows nothing but Chrissie's new (and first) solo album. So I can't say if the band have performed since they were the featured attraction at the Singapore Grand Prix in 2012. But you can be sure that Martin has been busy, as one of the most in-demand session drummers around. Another Pretenders website has a large archive of videos where you can see Martin in action.The Pretenders were just spreading their wings (pun intended) when Martin recorded his miniature track. Like Ariel Bender in Mott the Hoople. I bet that Martin was the main source of fun and laughter in the studio and on the road. But imagine Chrissie trying (for example) to sing with a straight face after hearing Martin's utterly hilarious (and possibly in certain points bearing a small degree of scientific authenticity) recitation.  It was quite a bit longer than the edit I made for Miniatures - one of the most difficult edits I had to do, as the hilarity never let up. He of course was playing the drums while he yelled ornithologically - no namby-pamby overdubs here! For those listeners who may not quite understand Martin's delightfully rich Hereford accent - here's the transcript:Now! There's a bird called the swift - it's [a] very enjoyable creature. Eats flies. And it can sleep on the wing. Amazing! Amazing that! Sleeps on the wing. And it can fly, like, at different angles because it, like, it’s one of, you know... Eh, what I’m trying to tell you is, like, the wings, the wings beat at different speeds. And when the wings beat at different speeds they, like, go [in] different directions somehow. It’s got a wingspan of about 7, 8, 12 inches - somewhere near. In the nest they have little funny things which, like, catch onto the backs of them. Now, they’re called parasites. They got six legs and they look very ugly. They ruin the life of the swift. The swift is capable of flying [at] at least 80 miles an hour. In a dive, it’ll probably get up to 120. I’ve had enough. I wanna drink!Mott the Hoople's drummer, Dale "Buffin" Griffin had almost single-handedly kept the band's flag flying devotedly for over three decades since the late 70's, producing (and writing the sleeve notes for) numerous reissues of the band's albums as well as collections of rare demos and live tracks, many on the Angel Air label. Therefore it was poignant, to put it mildly, that when the band finally got together for their 40th anniversary concerts in London in 2009, Dale was unable to play more than the encores, having been diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease. The obvious, and only choice for a substitute drummer was Martin - born in the same town as Mott's founder, and good friend of the band since before they began. Of course, friendship was not the only reason - Martin also happens to be absolutely on a par with Dale talentwise (for me Dale is THE best drummer I've ever played with, bar none), and doubtless he knows most of the Mott material as well as he knows a drumstick blister on his palm.It was one of the most moving sights I've ever seen on a rock stage, Martin encouraging Dale to play his best at those encores (which he did), keeping his eyes pinned on his fellow drummer as the two bashed out stomping rhythms together - Dale actually remembering some cues and fills better than Martin. Amazingly, during those 5 nights at Hammersmith, Dale was on occasion not able to recognise me and his other old bandmates and friends offstage - but when Dale was onstage he was ON! Such is the power of music. And such is the power of Martin's passion for music and for his friends and for just sheer energy and fun and The Beat. Long, long may he keep on bashing!Next up: I ate well...Read/Leave Comment

M1-37 Michael Bass & Ellen Tenenbaum

M1-37 A Miniaturisation of Bartok...What marvellous names, thought I. Michael Bass - might he be related to the the film titles sequence genius Saul Bass, a towering figure in motion pictures of the 50's and 60's? "The Royal Tenenbaums" were several years away (22, actually), but back in 1979 Ellen's redoubtable European surname reminded me of the evergreen Christmas Carol, "O Tannenbaum." Anyway, the two mystique-laden names sailed gently across the Atlantic to me in Notting Hill, on a rising tide of Bartokian marimbas topped with a froth of soprano vocalese.The original work is a sparkling, fiery piece that must have absolutely thrilled (or in some cases horrified) listeners at its debut performance by the composer (his wife on 2nd piano) in 1938. Bartok later orchestrated it and the new version was the last performance he ever gave before dying of leukaemia in 1945. Michael and Ellen have cunningly dovetailed the start and end of the 3rd movement in this delightful miniature.This post is rather like what Wikipedia would call a "stub" because Michael and Ellen come under the MAYHEM category (Miniatures Artists You Haven't Even Met - the "you" being me) and I can only scrabble around on Google, etc., like any other nerd, to ascertain what they have been getting up to since (or before) Miniatures. All I found out was that Michael has just two albums (released 1978 and 1979 on Random Radar Records,  the first one dedicated to Philip K. Dick) listed on discogs.com. Ellen has two less than that. So, I can only hope that they are leading rich creative lives away from the harsh glare of public scrutiny. Good for them!They generously trusted me to create their poster image (see above) based on the text they sent me. Being utterly untalented as a painter/drawer, I scribbled at random with a marker on some blotting paper, then turned it over to show the reverse side, and got busy with the Letraset.Random Radar also released a Lol Coxhill album in 1979 which inspired me to hook up with Lol the following year for a similar ambient collaboration. The label was started by Steve Feigenbaum who since 1984 has been running the thriving and equally left-field label, Cuneiform Records.Anyway, thanks again to Michael Bass and Ellen Tenenbaum for this little gem - I love  hearing witty, radical re-arrangements of existing pieces of music, especially when it's the radical new one I hear first, before seeking out the original and marvelling at the transformation that has taken place. On Miniatures the same sort  of delightful shape-shifting happened with The Residents, my track, Pete Challis, Robert Wyatt, Stinky Winkles, David Bedford, Neil Innes, and R.D. Laing - all of whom have already been covered in this blog and can speedily be found and enjoyed via the Search window at the top-right. Enjoy!!!PS - this just in courtesy of Steve Feigenbaum of Cuneiform Records: "Ellen and Michael were a couple when they recorded this [their miniature], but they have not been a couple for at least 3 decades. I don't know what happened to Ellen. Michael became a science teacher and teaches high school science at a private school. He is married and has two sons. Once in a while I run into him at the grocery store."Next up: a pretend ornithologist...Read/Leave Comment

M1-36 Zazou

M1-36 Do Tell UsErik Satie has, I have mentioned probably too often, long been a hero of mine. Like Robert Wyatt, Ivor Cutler, and so many of the Miniatures artists, he has created his own unique world which combines humour, modesty, and eccentricity with a sharply intelligent sense of beauty and a kind of affectionate philosophy. One of the first albums I made since my move to Japan was "Inside Satie" - a collection of improvisations on Satie. Long before that, I had always kept an eye (and an ear) out for interesting cover versions of Satie, as well as for any artists or bands who seem to embody his spirit.ZNR were just one such band, with their minimal surreal sketches in sound. Of course they had the immediate advantage of being French. They were one of the first French artists I had discovered who appeared to operate in that wide unexplored no-man's-land between the great French pop and chanson (Piaf, Trenet) and the more academic, rarified world of Debussy, Messaien, musique concrète, etc. They were my peers, around my age and ability, and with similarly limited resources, experimenting with sound and music in just the way I like.I discovered them through Recommended Records, run by Henry Cow's drummer Chris Cutler, and as soon as I came up with the Miniatures concept, they were on my list. After I invited them to join the project, the two members of ZNR, Hector Zazou and Joseph Racaille immediately offered to make one track each rather than a joint track. That felt like a bonus to me!Not long after, I had the chance of a trip to France, to go to a new music festival in Reims (Festival Musiques Nouvelles / Rock In Opposition, April 18-20, 1980). ZNR played at the festival, and once it was over I asked if I could pay Hector a visit. Not only did he generously let me stay in his Paris home, but asked me to collaborate with him in his upcoming concert. During our one brief rehearsal, he asked me to play the piano "ironically" - so I froze uncomprehendingly for a minute, then played a little quieter. On the night of the show one of the singers turned up in a full cowboy outfit yet sang in a rather operatic tenor voice. I could see that Hector's proclivity for musical mixing-and-matching, and stories far removed from his suburban Paris environment, was already fully in evidence. He was in transition from a music journalist into a wide-ranging music producer, and evidently his communication/arranging skills improved exponentially, judging by the stellar gathering of musical luminaries he worked with in the coming years. [the above photo relates to the remarkable 1983 recording Noir et Blanc by Zazou/Bikaye/CY1, which has been described as sort of the sound of young Zaire meets Suicide at the grassroots of dub. It then launches into an aural adventure that takes in many, many things...]As with many of the Miniatures artists, we lost touch for quite a while due to my various travels, however, once established in Japan, I became aware of Hector's musical projects via the 1992 album "Sahara Blue" - which had an impressive number of collaborators, including John Cale, Lisa Gerrard and Brendan Perry of Dead Can Dance, Gérard Depardieu, David Sylvian, Bill Laswell, Ryuichi Sakamoto, and Tim Simenon. Released on the admirable and still very active Belgian independent label Crammed Discs, its packaging was a stylish list of the participating artists. (Aside: I emulated this idea when it came to designing the cover for "Miniatures 2" - however the record company who released it in Japan were astonished, saying "why would you put all the artist credits on the front? normally they go on the back!" so for that market the credits were removed from the front cover.) After seeing the "Sahara Blue" cover (especially the back) I realised that Hector had been very busy in the years since we had met, establishing a strong rapport with artists from all over the globe, in all genres of music. It was as if he took an album like Miniatures and managed to smear or erase the gaps between the tracks and layered the various kinds of music over each other with remarkable skill.This was how Hector continued his career, blending the past and the present, the ethnic and jazzy and electronic, as exemplified in the numerous albums listed in his excellent, informative Wikipedia entry. Among his subsequent collaborators - a veritable Who's Who of music - are Björk, Siouxsie Sioux, Suzanne Vega, the Balanescu Quartet, Mark Isham, Marc Ribot, Harold Budd, Peter Gabriel, Sandy Dillon, William Orbit, Laurie Anderson, Jane Birkin, Asia Argento, and Miniatures artists Sainkho Namtchylak, Tokiko Kato, Jane Siberry and Robert Fripp.In 2008 I tracked down Hector's manager in order to settle some minor business matter, and received what felt like a rather distraught email saying that Hector was gravely ill in hospital. It turned out that he was in the final stages of cancer, and soon, on September 8, tragically young at 60 years old, he left us.Just weeks later, his last album was released, a richly-layered meditative blend of mainly Indian instrumental improvisations transformed by Hector's painterly use of electronic effects.But one more album appeared in 2011, presumably one that he had left un- (that is to say, almost-) finished. I am listening to "The Arch" as I write. It is a collaboration with the Eva Quartet - four female singers from Bulgaria. Such singers are obviously already capable of creating deep and uplifting emotions in the listener, with their thrilling clusters of dissonant-consonant harmonies (as Crosby, Stills and Nash discovered when they had only just got together, listening to the mid-60's "Music of Bulgaria" album on Nonesuch). Hector, though, does here what he always did best - transforms superb regional music into a much wider, global expression of human love, pain and hope - uniting us in the oneness we so need to feel and be reminded of again and again. In a word - mercy. Merci!Next up: mallets for Bela.Read/Leave Comment

M1-35 Ivor Cutler

M1-35 Brooch BoatThe last time I saw Ivor was in the mid-80's, as I was walking somewhere near Hampstead Heath in North London. He was his usual cheery but slightly self-absorbed self, and on spying me he lobbed a friendly wave and a merry hello from across the street. It had been a few years since we'd last met, when I had recorded him and his lonely harmonium in his slightly gloomy little flat (address above) with walls hung with African textiles. I remarked on how well he looked, really in the pink, and he immediately replied "Bach Flower remedies" - pronouncing "Bach" with that lovely soft Scottish brogue of his - "You're in a bad mood and you want to be in a good mood, drink the right one and you're fixed up in a trice," he enthused. Personally I wondered if it was the brandy they are usually dissolved in that really did the trick.Hugh Laurie had a cuppa tea, a bicycle ride and a jolly good laugh with Ivor around the same time, as shown on TV. Punk rock label Rough Trade had just released Ivor's album "Gruts" and Methuen, an established high-quality firm (Kipling, Wilde, Einstein, etc.)  had just published his book of the same name. Typical of Ivor's effortless way of straddling diverse categories.Flash forward to 2010 - and I am on stage at Superdeluxe, Tokyo's coolest arts/music club, delivering a potted history of Miniatures. It really was potted, because the rule at Pecha Kucha Night is that you have to present whatever it is you are talking about by showing 20 slides for 20 seconds each. This remarkably simple concept has gone seriously viral. It was started by Superdeluxe boss Mark Dytham and his colleague Astrid Klein as a modest showcase for architects in 2003, and is now a regular event in (currently) 687 cities worldwide. Anyway, one of my slides featured Ivor and several quotes by/about him (click to enlarge):A man of many parts, Ivor played numerous roles in his 83 years: teacher, comedian, cartoonist, writer, poet, raconteur, singer, and um, pavement artist (see top of page), etc... Here's a very partial 1978 biography he sent me, which I collaged onto the Miniatures poster - I am sorry a bit of it got covered up by Neil Innes' son (click to enlarge):Perhaps his most well-known role was in The Beatles' "Magical Mystery Tour" where he played Mr. Bloodvessel. When it came to collaborators, his taste was impeccable. He is featured on Robert Wyatt's classic "Rock Bottom" album from 1974, taking over the second half of the last track "Little Red Robin Hood Hit the Road." A personal favourite of mine (I was fortunate enough to know both the gentlemen involved) was his marvellously spooky version of "The Dong with the Luminous Nose" orchestrated by the brilliant jazz arranger Neil Ardley.Looking for Truth with a Pin is a BBC documentary about Ivor, featuring his mates Paul McCartney, Billy Connolly, and numerous others, wondering at his uniqueness, his humour, his sadness at the unfairness of life that speaks to us all."The King's Penny" was how he rather irritatedly described the £1 cash advance royalty I sent to each Miniatures artist when putting this album together. Most indies labels when they offer a £1 advance as the legal minimum required for a contract don't actually pay it. I did. Actually. Ivor was the only one who returned it, in a bit of a huff. But as soon as I explained that I was in fact a one-man operation and basically skint, he was all friendliness and compliance.Jeremy and Dan are Ivor's sons and are doing a sort-of brilliant job maintaining a "slightly inperfect" website under Ivor's dictum, "If a job's worth doing it's worth doing badly" (their quote, not mine - wink). There you can see lists of Ivor's many books and CD's, read a long Ivor bio, and enjoy a different Ivor quote each time you go there. Today's quote was:"NONSENSESTUPID OFKIND THISFOR SUCKERA AM IAGAIN ONCE, BLAST"Befriend A Bacterium, next time you're feeling glum. Ivor did - he always had a way to pull himself out of the doldrums (to help others do the same, he had surreal sayings printed on little sticky labels that he would randomly post in public places). In the 50's, before he taught at Summerhill, the famous free school, he left a conventional teaching job where he refused to carry out corporal punishment, and on his last day there he cut up his tawse (look it up) and handed the pieces to the kids. By golly, I'm glad we met. Thank you, Ivor.Next up - he wandered in a blue desert.Read/Leave Comment

M1-34 John White

M1-34 Scène de ballet John's "non-monumental music" - which I had the good fortune of hearing several times in various ensembles - was a great solace and inspiration for me during the chaotic days of assembling Miniatures and re-assessing my own music direction after an exciting but exhausting 12 years of drink-sodden rock. On several fondly-remembered occasions I found myself sitting in some tranquil,  but adventurous London venue listening to long, spacious layers of notes from bands that often featured a combination of soft warm low sounds (e.g., tubas) and deliciously cool percussive high sounds (e.g. vibraphone, marimba). There was sweetness, modesty, spirituality and quiet English humour emanating from these minimal pieces - much like the man himself, who was invariably polite, warm and welcoming whenever we met.It was only later  that I found out that John was continually, quietly beavering away at his record-breaking collection of piano sonatas (here's #95). By 2010 he had written 175 of them (as well as 25 symphonies, 30 ballets, and a stream of highly eclectic incidental music for the theatre. His long and illustrious career (though I am sure he would never describe it as that) also included dashing off a collection of short pieces as background music for the Miniatures launch party, played by himself, fellow Miniaturist Gavin Bryars, and Dave Smith. The trio played, yes, quiet long low sounds and high percussive sounds - plus a spot of harmonium in the middle. This music has finally seen the light of day as bonus material on the 2012 reissue of my and Lol Coxhill's "Slow Music" album.John's early record releases include one of Brian Eno's Obscure Records series, "Machine Music" from 1978. This delightful record includes "Drinking and Hooting Machine" where John, Eno, Gavin and others blow into bottles - a sound I have always loved and still experiment with in pubs.I have to say my favourite LP featuring John and Gavin is the sublime "Hommages" from 1980. Here's a lush yet minimal piece entitled "My First Homage." Once you have delighted to that, let's go and visit the man himself, in his home.Next up: "If something is worth doing, it's worth doing badly."Read/Leave Comment

M1-33 Trevor Wishart

M1-33 Beach DoubleThe original concept of Miniatures (before it was simplified to a simple one-minute time limit) was to take an existing long piece of music and shrink it. Miniaturise it. Drastically, preferably. Trevor is one of the few who did exactly that (others on Miniatures 1 include Roger McGough, David Bedford, Fred Frith, Neil Innes, Ken Ellis, Alejandro Viñao, Bass & Tenenbaum, Neil Oram, Pete Seeger - though your opinion may vary). His "Beach Double" is a super-condensed version of the 20-minute site-specific (on a holiday beach, that is) "Beach Singularity" - a piece for a small brass ensemble plus a lot of taped sounds. The full-length 1977 version is still out on CD here and in audio-only on youtube (plus a cheerful snippet of video of the 2005 performance on Scarborough Beach). It included Soft Machine and Third Ear Band cohort Lyn Dobson on saxophone. The previous link shows the rare 7-piece lineup of Soft Machine playing energetically in 7/4. The other sax player is Elton Dean, from whom, of course, Sir Elton John got his name.Back to Beach Singularity. Audion Magazine gave it an excellent review which included this: "The otherworldly feeling created feels like a by-product from an early David Lynch film, not least the cacophonous deranged Beach Boys' 'Surfin' USA' and Wurlitzer dance-hall organ! The bonus Vocalise is an edited version of a solo performance by Trevor Wishart at the Recommended Records shop in March 1991, and adds another amusing touch to the proceedings. Someone once asked me why Trevor Wishart hadn't gained the same seriously acclaimed notoriety as his European counterparts. The thing is that eccentric maverick lunacy and the serious avant-garde don't go together (too proodish those high-brows you know), but Audion doesn't mind - lunacy's welcome here!" Ah, now I remember why I asked Trevor to climb on board the good ship Miniatures.Five years or so later, Trevor climbed on board the good ship IRCAM (moored in Paris then - it still is) and was commissioned to create a piece using their state-of-the-art electronic music studio, based, like much of his work, on voices, extended singing techniques, processed voices, and so on. With his usual gung-ho spirit he helped initiate the Composers' Desktop Project so that many other composers working in other locations can now have powerful music processing software available on their computers.Trevor is still extremely active, as his info-packed website shows. It even has an "Availability" page showing you which days he is free for the entire rest of the year. Hurry before he runs out. In April 2013 he ran out to Northwestern University, Illinois, USA, for this audio piece (in a darkened room) called 'Imago" - which he introduces (in a lit room).Next up: Quietly breaking records...Read/Leave Comment

M1-32 RD Laing

M1-32 Tipperary It was all down to Ronnie Scott, really. As founder and owner of the legendary jazz club, Ronnie had always kept his doors open for a wide variety of music, including the more adventurous types of jazz, blues and rock. As long ago as 1969 I had had dealings with him when he agreed to put on a concert by the oddly-named Igginbottom, a band whose first album I had co-produced. Hailing from Bradford, Yorkshire, this gifted young jazz-rock quartet happened to feature a guitarist who would in an amazingly short time become a world-acknowledged master of fusion music - Allan Holdsworth.So it came as no surprise to read in the club calendar one day in 1979 that a soon-to-be-featured artist was the renowned anti-psychiatrist RD Laing, reading his poems (which had already been published in the book "Knots" and "Do You Love Me?") over a bossa nova guitar and percussion accompaniment. Having already read his poems and also his books "The Divided Self" and "Sanity, Madness and the Family" I was inspired by his work, and excited by the possibility of being able to meet him and invite him to participate in Miniatures. On the evening in question, I boarded the tube to Soho with great anticipation. Luckily, I arrived early and was able to have a word with Ronnie (not the club boss; Ronnie was what RD was called by his friends) before the show, and gave him a quick verbal description of the concept of the album, including mention of several artists that he might know - Steadman, Coxhill, Nyman, etc.I felt a warm hand on my shoulder a few minutes after the performance was over. I turned to see a smiling Ronnie (RD, that is) saying "I'll gae it a whirl." Delighted, I got his address and set up a date to go and record him at his home in Hampstead, North London. The house was a large, impressive, all-white building with a spacious lounge boasting a grand piano. I had no idea what Ronnie was planning to do, but expected him to read one of his poems. "I think I'll play a wee bit o'piano," he said genially, so I set up my microphone close to the instrument and sat by my tape recorder waiting for him to start. He doodled a few chords and arpeggios and I could immediately sense that he was very comfortable with the instrument, perhaps not a real  pro but certainly an accomplished amateur. His playing had a sort of casual drawl to it very like the way he spoke - both giving one the impression that he was slightly, contentedly, drunk.Once he got into the swing of it, and had settled on the World War I classic "It's a Long Way to Tipperary" as the tune he would play, his son Adam, 12 years old at the time, came and sat next to his dad, playing a small bongo such as one would buy at a souvenir shop on the continent, and singing the odd phrase from the song in a light, shy voice. I sensed a camaraderie between father and son that touched me, particularly as I hadn't had a dad since my parents divorced in 1966. Whether I was mistaken or not, (judging by later reports of the Laing family life, and a marital separation little over a year after my visit), it felt like a good day in the Laing household. His warm and welcoming wife Jutta had already made a nice cuppa tea for me, which certainly eased my slight tension at being in the house of such a legendary figure (one who I had no doubt could see right through my confident façade into the heart of my deepest neuroses, gulp!).After the recording was done, a matter of maybe 15 minutes or so, I started packing up my gear and Ronnie said, with noticeable relish in his voice, "Ah, six o'clock, time for a wee drink. What'll ye have?" I was interested that someone would want to regulate their drinking to a certain time of day like that, and wondered if it was a method by which to avoid the temptation of drinking at all hours of the day, perhaps a problem he'd had to deal with himself. We agreed that red wine would be nice, and a bottle was duly brought out and he took me into the next room, a kind of den with a large stereo system and a thick red carpet. As he poured the wine, Ronnie told me that he was very proud and honoured at having just been asked to write an introduction to a new edition of the I-Ching. Apparently he wrote several drafts, but I don't know if it was ever published.Brazilian music seemed to be a passion with Ronnie, as he pulled out one LP after another of same, quaffing wine at a fair rate of knots while I sipped. The music was indeed tremendously emotional and lyrical, and as the evening progressed it obviously got to Ronnie more and more. Finally he was curled up on the carpet in a foetal position, his face in a rictus of euphoria, saying" It's fantaaastic, can ye not FEEL it? ... incredible... from the heart... from the soul... BRILLIANT...!" By this time I felt he'd lost me; perhaps to keep up I should have downed far more wine, like I used to in my young days (ha! here I was aged 29 and my hard-drinking days were already over, while this man of 51 was still thrashing it). So the kind of heart-to-heart chat I had secretly been hoping for didn't materialise, and I decided to bid my extraordinary host goodnight and head off home to edit the tape.The next and last time I saw Ronnie was at the Miniatures launch party, which he kindly agreed to attend. Perhaps unfortunately for him, it was an afternoon tea party with nothing else to drink, and few people that he knew, which may explain why he left early. I can still see him walking energetically down a sunny street in North London with a Miniatures LP tucked under his arm. A fine and fond last memory of this remarkable man, who was daring, generous, kind - and flawed, as all we humans are.It was only ten years later that I read with some sadness that Ronnie had suddenly had a heart attack and died while playing tennis. About twenty years after that, when I was trying to track down his next of kin to let them know of the re-issue of Miniatures, I encountered more sad news - his son Adam had recently died alone, his body found in a tent in a bleak corner of the Balearic island of Formentera, surrounded by empty vodka and wine bottles. This article is a fine tribute to Adam and also contains lengthy commentary re his father's life and family. Well worth a read.Love? It's a knotty subject...Next up: Fancy a double? On the beach?Read/Leave Comment