At 21:03, rolling past Chamomile Street on the way to London Bridge, the city canyon is in shadow, but the sun still illuminates the crane tops and scrapers. We stop in our tracks and I pull out the Leica, shooting beams and angles. Itâs only a moment but it feels like magic, this play of light and shade on the concrete, steel and glass up above. At 00:47 the long train begins to roll through. It must be heavy because it makes the rails squeal, sometimes it sounds like singing, sometimes screaming, depending on the wind direction and the mood I guess. I donât know where it comes from, what it contains, or where it goes. But somehow, as I poke my head out of the window, the better to listen to the sound, it makes me feel more alive.
Melodica, a pair of socks and the Blue Rose Code I have been making the Melodica radio show for a year now. Here are some pics from the anniversary show. Blue Rose Code in session in the kitchen, making sweet intimate music specially for the show. And the socks that I wore for the making of the programme, hand knitted by Spilly Jane.
Saturday includes the customary trip to Rough Trade East to pick up booty for next week’s shows and general listening pleasure, and to view the Album Of The Week. It’s strange to see the albums that have been boxed in my kitchen for so long in an actual shop.
Melodica anniversary party at the Star Of Bethnal Green begins with Nikhil from Mixcloud on the decks and an art b/w through the window and ends, almost inevitably with a little dub and reggae from Coco, a rendition of happy birthday and the mildly embarrasing group photo.
No pictures, but gushing praise for Mayer Hawthorne, live at University of London Union; channeling the spirit of James Brown and the voice of Marvin Gaye through the body of Keith Haring; creating the most beautifully uplifting 21st century soul and bringing it all the way from Ann Arbor, Michigan to London, Europe. From bar one I am in love with the sound. I am watching the Jam at the Rainbow in â78; itâs the Style Councilâs endlesss Long Hot Summer; at times itâs pure holiday camp cabaret but I believe every word of Maybe So, Maybe No. At one point they break into ELOâs Mr Blue Sky and even that feels perfect, right now, right here, this man and his band can do no wrong. I am plotting and scheming in my head like I do at all great gigs; need a piss but canât miss this; thinking how good they would be at a festival, at my wedding, at my funeral; bouncing and shouting, jumping and screaming; this is life with meaning. This is live, so fragile, this is live, so shallow, so repetetive, yet each moment so special, so wonderful, so real; this is living with the colour turned up full, the amp on 11; plastic cup of warm beer and a bag of crisps for tea, who cares; this is living, loving, hugging, beautiful, beautiful music and right now thatâs all that matters.