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Whatever happened to Soft Machine? (15/01/13 21:04:17) Reply
    Soft Machine used to be the band of Kevin Ayers and Robert Wyatt. I never liked the music until they became jazzy with karl Jenkins (now classical) instead of psychedelic.

    Now there is a new incarnation with John Etheridge on guitar. Some might enjoy it.
    Song of Aeolus from the Softs album is barely recognisable in this live version - but great anyway IMHO.


Re: Whatever happened to Soft Machine? (23/01/13 00:03:26) Reply
    I got a cd. quite rare i think Elton Dean at the
    BBC. It was given to me by my poet friend.

    Robert Wyatt, well shipbuilding. Our lives are made of cliches. Mine is any way.

    My poet friend worked with Elton Dean.
    I think I gave a cd of him when I met you e.

    I might not remember correctly.

    It happens sometimes. ;-)

    And now another friend has died. And I can't call because the family have cut the phone off. People eh?

    I laugh and I laugh deep.

While we are around... (23/01/13 00:19:37) Reply

    Nothing to do with anything.

    Take me now! Take me now!

    It is funny how time plays its tricks isn't it friends. Of how it levels.
    Even the best of us. And the worst of us.


    Wait a minute! e! is that you? In the front row? In broad daylight!
    Great songs transcend the writer, they transcend the audience.

    But you knew all that anyway.

Re: While we are around... (23/01/13 16:51:37) Reply
    I wasn't at Springsteen - but I was here


Re: Re: While we are talking about Knopfler (23/01/13 19:30:22) Reply
    I love the way he is held with such contempt by the cool and the great of the music world.

    That guy can not only play guitar (ok it's no secret he is a virtuoso), but he can write and he can sing (albeit a limited range - it's not his fault - it's a physical thing)..

    I'll never forget hitch hiking around Bahrain with this in my pocket:

    And my good old Arab friends would always stick it on. Driving like a mentalist down the budaiya highway. Air smells of Camomile. Life feels good. When you are 15 and gorgeous.

    I did some research and it turns out that where I lived was the kingdom of Dilmun as spoke about by Gilgamesh in the oldest known poem in existance.

    I always wondered what that big fucking well was doing there in the middle of the desert.

    Some people questioned whether Dilmun actually existed. And if it did, where was it? To find the actual archeological remains with relics..
    A bit like growing up and playing where the first railway lines in the world were maid. I've had a funny life really.

    I'll try to dig out those academic papers about the findings at Saar (where I used to live) and it being the centre of the Dilmun civilisation. They are quite recent, well in the last 10 years or so. I have them bookmarked somewhere.

    Anyway, I don't think the Arabs that gave me a lift really knew about this either, it would have been impossible for them to know.

    And there it was under our noses and the wheels of our little motor bikes.

    I can still smell the camomile of the desert.

    Ah well, rambling like a rose.

    Have one of these before I go:

    I used to drive down it when I lived in Putney. Would pass the tree that
    Marc Bolan drove his mini into. Lots of scarves and stuff.
    I met Mickey Finn's mother too when I lived in Crystal Palace, a bitter and
    twisted old alcoholic bitch you didn't mess with.

    And then there were our meetings with Tony Visconti...

    Too much.

    All the best.

Cars and The tunnel of love (24/01/13 19:27:02) Reply
    I played it in the car in December 1982 when I drove from TromsÝ to our new home in Oslo (wife and child went by air).
    First stop
    In the morning the car was frozen and would not start - but I had expected it and had with me 3 liters of synthetic motor oil (Mobil SHC) - horribly expensive at the time - and an adjustable wrench to open the crankcase lid. After I had overfilled the engine with this wondrous oil it started like an angel.

    A Civic 1976 - my first car; bought it new. Rotten construction. Rust trap.
    Never Honda again. I won't forgive them.

Ah, the T(Rusty) Honda Civic... (30/01/13 21:18:16) Reply
    could never understand why the old man traded in his Buick for one of them.

    And with the salty sea air, well, you know....

    After I had overfilled the engine with this wondrous oil it started like an angel.

    Are you sure you didn't take a glug or two just for the journey, like?
    Just saying. You don't seem the type, but you can't be too careful these days...

    NO SMOKING! said the sign above the door. And it was enforced with an axe. With good reason.

    Ah well, all is well that ends well!

Buick? (30/01/13 21:58:47) Reply
    Sounds more like Cuba than Bahrain. Or Wales.

    Oil swiggers are the same everywhere.

Oil swiggers are dirty fuckers (01/02/13 00:11:52) Reply

    Pass the can old chap.

Re: Oil swiggers are dirty fuckers (05/02/13 21:53:03) Reply
    swiggin' in the riggin'

A quiet angel is passing by, vroom vrooming... (31/01/13 13:09:35) Reply
    The Love for a big junk of moving iron can only be seen in the eyes of the beholder.

    Would you see mine for my lovely ZŁndapp Bella and, for ... ?

De Bello Gallico (n/t) (31/01/13 18:24:45) Reply

the french have a word for that (01/02/13 00:19:19) Reply

Gett'n' old, that's what we are (23/01/13 16:59:12) Reply
    'nuff said.

    "He's long gone, but the echo if his laughter will remain."

    Quite an epitaph, isn't it.

Bit of a state (01/02/13 00:04:21) Reply


    eh eh eh!

The Gig (25/02/13 17:53:14) Reply
    seeing JJ Cale play his Casio.

    No, I wasn't there.


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