Desert Island Discs – Part 2

Desert Island Discs – Part 2

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Little Richard – Rip it up

For most people it is Elvis Presley who epitomises that Rock ‘n’ Roll rebellion but for me it’s Little Richard. Elvis was a imitator and interpreter of the R&B scene. People like Little Richard, Chuck Berry and Bo Diddley were the real innovators. They created something out of nothing.

Little Richard’s incredible Gospel edged voice and raucous style was the visceral rebellion of the fifties. It rocked the establishment, mobilised the kids and got things moving.

Little Richard was energy unleashed.

 

Phil Ochs – Cops of the World

 

Nothing changes. When Phil wrote this song about the ‘Cops of the World’ he was singing about the American invasion of other countries, the rape and abuse and arrogance of it. That was back in the sixties during Vietnam. We’d yet to see the delights of Afghanistan, Iraq and Libya.

Phil was a reporter and chronicler, an idealist and commentator. He wrote some delightful, insightful songs.

Cops of the World is one of them.

 

Billy Bragg – World Turned Upside Down

 

Billy was another of my social/political bards. When he broke onto the scene with his portable sound system and ragged, shrill guitar, he was like a breath of fresh air. His spikey songs, like Between the Wars, were thought-provoking and perceptive. His rough voice was just right and his passion was real.

He sang about what he believed in and spoke his mind. Not only that – but he could write a song or two. For me he followed in the footsteps of Woody, Bob, Phil and Roy.

I like my music with a cerebral/social content. Billy had the heart for it.

 

Linton Kwesi Johnson – Sonny’s Lettah (Anti Sus Poem)

 

Linton put poems to reggae music and became the bard of Brixton. His words illustrated the Brixton riots and put into patois the feelings of the beleaguered black community. He was eloquent and his rich voice painted pictures. They were pictures of anger and resistance, pictures of unleashed fury and they told the story of discrimination and disadvantage, of persecution and distrust and an establishment that was the enemy.

Linton, like Michael Smith, had an ability to speak in the language of the black minority and articulate their feelings in passionate music that was brilliant in its own right.

Sonny’s Lettah is superb.

 

Bob Marley – Redemption Song

 

Reggae was a minority music beloved by Mods before Bob Marley turned it into a global phenomenon. The great thing is that he managed to do that without pandering to the lowest common denominator and watering down his music or message. He has Chris Blackwell to thank for melding it to a harder Rock beat that gave it more balls but it was just as uncompromising.

Bob was one of those geniuses who could write a song that stuck in your head that also had content and meaning. He expressed complicated thoughts in easy to grasp language.

Redemption song is a master’s song. It looks at slavery and then towards an optimistic future without racism, where black people will reach their potential.

I think he will be proved right.

 

Buffy St Marie – My Country ‘Tis of Thy People You’re Dying.

 

Buffy was a full-blooded Native American Indian who was rightly proud of her heritage and wrote a series of excellent songs about it. These included Soldier Blue, Now That the Buffalos Gone and Universal Soldier. They are all good but pale before this incendiary epic about the lies and genocide perpetuated on the Plains Indians by the United States Government.

I discovered that Buffy was the only female I had in my top twenty songs. That made me think. I don’t think it’s sexism. I do like Janis Ian, Joni Mitchell, Joan Baez, Janis Joplin, Patti Smith, Glace Slick and many others but I admit to having a tendency to prefer male voices.

So Buffy has to represent all women and she does it admirably. This is a really strong song. They don’t come any stronger.

 

The Clash – London Calling

 

The Sex Pistols were brilliant but the Clash were better. They were all the intelligent Punks but that demeans the lyrical genius of many of the Punk outfits. Johnny Rotten was no slouch with words. He could be pithy.

The Clash were criticized at the time for moving away from the Punk ethos and developing the music into more complex styles. Who cares? This is brilliant music. Why categorise it?

It was a great shame that they split up and fell apart with all that animosity. They were a great band and London Calling, with its imagery of a post-holocaust world is brilliant.

 

The Doors – Unknown Soldier

 

One of the best bands to come out of America. Consistently brilliant. They melded Jim Morrison’s poems to an incredible music and were all masters of their instruments.

If Jim Morrison had not been so self-destructive with his drinking they would have gone on to do a lot more. I think his alcohol consumption sapped his creative spirit and fed his disillusionment. By the end he was fed up with the hype and falseness of the industry and despised the whole pantomime. He even despised his audience and doubted their motives.

I chose Unknown Soldier because the image of the theatrical mock execution is cemented into my brain from their Roundhouse performance. I love the antiwar stance and that song was superb musically as well.

 

The Mothers of Invention – Help I’m a Rock

 

At one point in time they were another best band in the world. Nobody comes close to the satire and creativity of Zappa. He refused to be labelled or put in a pigeon-hole. Frank was Frank.

He also had a superb sense of humour.

Help I’m a Rock illustrates that. It was an early Dada masterpiece that brought me to tears of laughter. Brilliant.

We’re Only In It For the Money was a later genius of an album.

 

The Kinks – I’m Not Like Everybody Else

 

This was the B-side of Sunny Afternoon I believe. I used to put this on in my bedroom, on my Dansette with the arm raised, and play it endlessly when I was fifteen. It seemed to sum up exactly how I felt about the world. All the angst, disillusionment and rebellion would pour out in that strident vitriolic diatribe.

 

The Beatles – Come Together

 

We seem to be in an age when it’s cool not to like the Beatles; to align with the Stones. But it’s not an either or. I love them both.

What nobody can argue with is the impact of their music on Britain and the world. Rock music was dead and Britain was a backwater before the Beatles came along. They blew the doors down and kick-started the corpse.

Not only that but they developed and progressed so that they were always at the cutting edge of what was happening. They led the way. The West Coast bands looked to them.

It is also now convenient to focus on the more Pop and twee element of their repertoire – like Yesterday. I prefer their more complex, harder edged material – Revolution, Tomorrow Never Knows, Glass Onion and Strawberry Fields. I prefer my acerbic Lennon to the sweet McCartney.

Come Together was Lennon at his most inventive. No nonsense.

The Beatles were rightly the greatest Rock Band to have ever lived for a large number of reasons. The major one being that they were unremittingly brilliant.

 

That concludes my paltry list. I’ve had to leave out so much!

If you enjoy my poems or anecdotes why not purchase a paperback of anecdotes for £7.25 or a kindle version for free.

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Poetry – Half a Brain

Half a Brain

 

We’re all born with half a brain.

The other half grows with love and care.

We neglect it at our peril.

Stunted brains may rip and tear.

 

All brain cells are nurtured

With cuddles, songs and laughs.

Every baby deserves a chance

With books, lullabies and crafts.

 

Neglecting our babies

Will stop their brains from growing,

Stifle their curiosity

So they won’t grow up knowing.

 

So many adults

Going round with half a brain

For want of a little loving

Their life went down the drain.

 

Opher – 12.11.2019

 

 

Minds are fragile things. Without proper love, nutrition and care they develop badly. So many people are left emotionally crippled with lowered intelligence.

Every child deserves the best start in life.

We are all so fragile.

I think that is why we live in such a violent, destructive and greedy society.

My desert island discs – Part 1

My desert island discs – Part 1

Rock RoutesIn search of Captain Beefheart cover537 Essential Rock Albums cover

My desert island discs

I was just listening to the radio today as someone was trotting through their desert island discs and telling me why they had selected their favourite pieces of music.

What an impossibility.

How could anyone limit their selections to so few? Music has been an integral part of my life. It reflects my views and feelings. It has helped develop my whole perspective on life. Right from the early days of my youth I have poured over lyrics and immersed myself in the emotion and wonder of music. It is a universal language. If I had to choose between music and literature for which has had the biggest effect on my development I think I would be hard pushed to decide.

Anyway – you will be pleased to know that the BBC has decided to do a special three hour Desert Island Discs just to accommodate my essential choices because they felt that they were so profoundly brilliant. Unlike with everyone else they are going to play all my selections in their entirety!

How about that!

It still presented me with huge dilemmas. What did I leave out! I’d need at least a thousand hour programme.

Anyway, they weren’t about to do that, though I think they were quite keen. I was forced to make decisions.

These are they:

Bob Dylan – It’s Alright Ma (I’m only bleeding)

 

Bob Dylan was that fulcrum point around which Rock Music turned. He not only brought poetry, stories and a different structure into Rock Music, he brought politics, meaning, social commentary and fury.

This is a song that sums all that up. The poetic imagery of birth and death, the wide vista, the anger at the plastic society and how we were all being knocked into shape, the hypocrisy and greed he described all seared themselves into y brain.

I could have chosen a hundred Dylan songs but this is the one that used to send my adolescent, rebellious brain into paroxysms of anger as I deciphered what he was talking about.

 

Roy Harper – The Lord’s Prayer

 

Another epic thirty minute song/poem that burned with passions. A commentary on society, a glimpse into the mind of a human being from a different age, a yearning for something more.

Again I could have chosen a heap of Harpers but this one can keep you occupied for a lifetime. The repeating musical coda provided by Jimmy Page’s guitar that sounds deceptively simple but is fiendishly complex.

A song to tease the mind on many levels and music that soars.

 

Stiff Little Fingers – Suspect Device

 

The best of the Punk Bands. The brought the Irish troubles into perspective. Their anger was channelled into raw statements of fury. Punk was a brilliant vehicle.

What was so good was the clever use of words coupled with the searing guitars, frantic pace and social message. It moved me.

 

Woody Guthrie – This Land is Your Land

 

Woody was a phenomenon. He was the first major songwriter to take that social stance and tell the stories. He was so clever.

I love this song, particularly with the often missing verses about private property and dole queues. It should have been America’s anthem.

Woody is an international treasure.

 

Jimi Hendrix – Voodoo Chile (Slight return)

 

And still no-one comes near to that genius of guitar prowess and excitement. I can’t help but wonder what brilliance we would have seen from him. His only limitation was his imagination. I have never seen anything so exciting.

Jimi epitomised Rock Music to me – the brash excitement, showmanship and expertise. Voodoo Chile sends shivers through me.

 

Nick Harper – The Magnificent G7

 

Nick is a brilliant song-writer who is different to his Dad. This is a beautiful, haunting, delicate song with a profound message.

Our leaders are only people. World policy is ultimately sorted by seven white men in the G7. They create the mountains of grain and countries of misery. Perhaps they could do it better?

What a clever song with such strong sentiments.

 

Son House – Death Letter Blues

 

The Blues is a favourite music of mine. I always go back to it and find it satisfying. I think I like the rawness and lack of sophistication most. It is authentic in a world of overproduced plastic. It is full of emotion and passion and tells the stories of a different life.

Son House was one of the originals. He taught Robert Johnson to play. Without him there might not be Rock Music. I was bowled over by Death Letter the first time I heard it. That was at Hammersmith Odeon on a Blues package tour – Son House was the star of the night at seventy nine years of age.

 

Elmore James – Shake Your Moneymaker

 

Elmore took the old acoustic bottleneck style and electrified it. What came out was a scorching sound that blistered your ears. He rocked before rocking was invented.

I would have loved to have spent an evening in one of those sweaty Chicago night-clubs bouncing to Elmore as he scattered those slide notes off the walls and decorated them with his anguished vocals.

Shake Your Moneymaker was a belter.

 

Captain Beefheart – Big Eyed Beans From Venus

 

I first saw and heard Captain Beefheart back in 1968. On that tour he blew my world apart. I had never seen or heard anything like it. He took the delta blues, dusted it with lysergic acid and created some cosmic blues that jangled your neurones.

I think you have to see it performed live to really appreciate the phenomenal synthesis of poetry, rhythms and music. The complexity and juxtapositions of guitar and vocals with that driving bass and drums plays tricks with your head. It was as exciting as Hendrix and that is saying something.

I was never the same agin!

Big Eyed Beans from Venus is one of Rock’s greatest songs.

Country Joe and the Fish – Who am I?

 

I think Joe McDonald has a claim to possessing the best voice in Rock Music. Not for its power but its clarity and quality. It is best heard on numbers like this introspective anthem and the anti-war dirge – Untitled Protest.

I thought this band was one of the most extreme, political and original to come out of the West Coast Acid Rock Scene. They epitomised what it was all about for me with their first three albums.

Who Am I? is a delicate song with depth and beauty. It sends me.

If you enjoy my poems or anecdotes why not purchase a paperback of anecdotes for £7.25 or a kindle version for free.

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Or a book of poetry and comment:

Rhyme and Reason – just £3.98 for the paperback or free on Kindle

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My other books are here:

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Thank you and please leave a review.

Poetry – Snakes and Ladders

Snakes and Ladders

 

There’s a game being played.

Some play by different rules,

While others are told what rules to play by.

 

If we dare to move

To a different tune

They create a cacophony

To drown us out.

 

For they have all the ladders

While we are left with snakes.

 

The games that I would choose to play

Have no snakes

And every square has a ladder.

 

But they play by different rules.

 

Opher 13.11.2019

 

 

My tax is calculated to the last penny but they are free to form companies and stuff their millions off-shore tax-free.

I am subject to the law but they employ lawyers to bend the rules, find loopholes and evade justice.

I, like the vast majority, use the public services, hospitals, schools and police but they pay to jump queues, get better service and enhance their privilege.

They influence the law with lobbying, bribes, promises and sweeteners. I am subject to the law.

Privilege buys a ladder to the heights.

They think this is alright.

I think it stinks.

The Voyage Part 6 – Ilheus Brazil

The Voyage Part 6 – Ilheus Brazil

We headed out of Recife for a day at sea on the way south.

Ilheus was different. While Recife was a major port and city catering for transatlantic commerce Ilheus was a small town whose claim to fame was the production of chocolate (now largely in the past). One of the beauties of being in a small ship was that we could get into the small ports. We were welcomed into the port by a samba drumming outfit who seemed to be dressed up in African cotton shirts. They were great.

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Ilheus had that same decaying colonial architecture that we’d seen in Olinda. We wandered through the town and looked at the electricity wiring reminiscent of Thailand and India. It hung in swathes across every building and formed great knotted junctions on every corner rather masking the gaudily coloured buildings.

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The centre of town was a square a hundred metres from the beach. The Cathedral dominated to one side and the theatre at another. Many citizens sat in the shade of the magnificent old fig trees while other folk did their best to extract cash from tourists. There were stalls selling cashew nuts and raw chocolate, a group of young men doing the acrobatic kick boxing/dance – Capoeira. Well I say doing. What I really mean is that the musicians playing a short burst while two or three put on a performance and then they demanded money from anyone who dared to watch. We watched. It was fun and looked very interesting and the musical instruments were weird. It was worth a dollar.

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There was also a very strange big black woman in a headscarf and big flouncy white dress. It was our first introduction to Brazilian Voodoo – Candomblé. For a small payment she would give you a blessing. It seemed perfectly mainstream. Voodoo sat alongside Catholicism. People seemed perfectly happy to come out of the cathedral and receive a voodoo blessing. They were covering both bases.

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The Cathedral was heaving with people all joining in with their hands raised palms upward. It always amazes me that the poorer and more deprived the people the more they put their faith in religion and superstition. The evangelicals were making a huge impact in Brazil. There were churches popping up all over the place with massive congregations.

The Cathedral was opulent and a great example of Portuguese architecture though not quite as typical as many. It looked a bit fairy-tale. I enjoyed it. But there were the ubiquitous clutch of beggars.

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Out in the cathedral plaza there was some guy whirling around with a huge hat. IHe didn’t seem to be taking money so I don’t know what that was about. I decided it was either some new religion or something for the tourists to wonder at.

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I wandered on the beach but, due to El Nino, it was a drab day. The beach was empty and did not sparkle.

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We headed out into the hinterland to get a small taste of Brazilian Atlantic rainforest. We saw a waterfall, some pretty birds (including a humming bird) and gorgeous flowers but I was disappointed to find so little life. You could not describe it as teeming.

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Poetry – The Russians Bought Brexit

The Russians Bought Brexit

 

So the Russians bought Brexit

And bought the Tories too.

Bringing in chaos and austerity

To the likes of you and me.

 

They want to depower the EU

And mess up our economy.

They are watching the results

With a great deal of glee.

 

The more our power wanes

The happier they will be.

So they are undermining everything

In the lands of the free.

 

Tories they don’t give a damn

As long as roubles come rolling in.

All they want is power

And use every means to win.

 

Opher 12.11.2019

Poetry – And never a question asked

Poetry – And never a question asked

 

And never a question asked

I’m on board a ship heading for South America – a two hulled Russian ice-breaker, full of old, and mainly fat, British people with minds to think but most with a propensity for trivia. Life on board is a round of games, fun, grumbles, indulgence and pointlessness.

They read, for the most part, trite rubbish. Around them is a huge ocean where life and death are played out before our eyes. It is not reflected in the literature.

We crossed the equator to the performance of a juvenile enactment of penance to King Neptune. The gods of the past, feared and respected, were now fair fodder for farce just as the gods of today will become.

It is 2016 and everywhere the global corporation is sucking the life out of the planet as society is guided away from the natural into the synthetic. All products have inbuilt obsolescence and an endless stream of new models. We have to replace the old. It’s a game of catch-up.

We are consuming the planet for a mad game. We are creating and nurturing desires for profit – for nothing more than profit.

.

And never a question asked

Safety, comfort and ease,

Is the mantra of the modern world.

Superficial, artificial and pointless,

Is the new way of things.

If anything dares to live……

If anyone cares to be different……….

And never a question.

 

Shallow pleasures

With laughter and jollity,

But no spirit or substance.

Light to the mind –

Easy to the taste –

Lest it disturbs thoughts.

And never a question.

 

No depth or meaning

To ripple the mind.

Purchasing and consuming

Are the only purpose.

Numerals on a loyalty card –

And never a question.

 

Opher 16.1.2016

Anecdote – Ray’s death and the warehouse

Ray’s death and the warehouse

At sixteen I managed to secure a holiday job working in a warehouse storing plastic products – bowls, bins and such. I was working for six weeks before going back to school and into the Sixth Form. For me the job meant that I could buy some much needed clothes and some albums. I remember buying some desert boots, elephant cord hipsters and a turtle neck. I felt like a real beatnik. For me the six weeks were an interlude to be endured. For Ray it was to be the rest of his life. He had left school. This was going to be his life. School days were over for him.

The work was tough but OK. The Lorries would come in stacked with boxes of plastic goods. We would form a human chain, under the strict eye of the foreman, and unload them. We would build the boxes into great stacks reaching up into the rafters, and the rafters were high – forty feet in the air. Every other row would be tied to secure it. We would be staged at heights throwing the boxes from hand to hand up into the air, standing on a platform of boxes at different heights. It was hard work but fun. The guys who had been working there a long time had bulging biceps.

There were all kinds of skives and japes. The ‘old-timers’ in their twenties, would skive off by hiding. Their favourite ploy was to take out boxes from the base to create a cave, crawl in, pull a box in to shut it off and have a kip where the foreman couldn’t find them.

Sometimes one of the huge high stacks would start leaning and we’d have to go up and tie it to the beams.

Once a worker was found asleep under one of those leaning stacks. The foreman cut the strings holding the stack and it tumbled down on top of him. It took us ages to dig him out from under the boxes but he was unhurt.

They used to play tricks on us new workers.

The other part of the job was to take the large stacks down and load them back on to other Lorries. To do that the string holding the stacks into a cohesive body, had to be cut. The foreman instructed me to cut the strings on a stack. He directed me to cut the string from the bottom rows and work my way up. Like an idiot I did. At the top I leaned over and cut the last string. I suddenly found myself teetering on a huge unstable pile of boxes tens of feet in the air above the composition floor. The whole stack went down with me in the middle of it. It terrified the life out of me but they all found it hilarious.

Two weeks after I’d left to go back to school Ray fell off a stack and fractured his skull. He never recovered.

Photography – The voyage – part 2 – Las Palmas – The Canaries

The voyage – part 2 – Las Palmas – The Canaries

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Me peering from the bows as we nose in

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Inside the church

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Butterflies, cacti and dragon trees

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The volcanic caldera

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View from the volcano

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Christopher Columbus’s house

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Heading out

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Heading in

 

After the Bay of Biscay the weather iproved, the sea calmed and they unlashed us from the mast!

They even took the metal plates off our two port-holes so we could see the sea and the sky.

I took position at the bows. We were heading for the Canaries. I watched for flocks of small yellow birds and listened for tweeting. It was impossible to hear over the throb of the deisel engine and splash of the swell.

The breeze was warm.

It was early morning when we nosed into the Canaries – a great volcanic island with exotic cacti, flowers and butterflies. Las Palmas was old and a bit decrepid. We headed off for the small pictureque towns and up the volcano where we peered into the caldera and took in the views over the island. We walked through the botanical gardens hunting dragon trees and butterflies. The birds hid.

Then we went back down to Las Palmas and had a cool beer.

Felt pretty good. People were friendly.

But Brazil beckoned; we had to get back on board and head off towards Cape Verde and beyond!

This was just the appetiser.

Poetry – Profits from Misery – A poem about profit at any cost.

Poetry – Profits from Misery – A poem about profit at any cost.

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Profits from Misery

I got up in the middle of the night with these words ringing round my head. I wrote them down in the dark. They are better in the dark. The light of reality does not make happy reading.

This world is run by the big corporations for profit. They do not care about human suffering, the pillaging of nature, death, misery, rape, torture, slaughter or the rape of the planet. All they care about is money.

It’s like a big computer game as they accrue their billions. Who has the best yacht? Who has the best penthouse suite? Who has the most wealth, most power, and most influence?

They bribe and control from afar. No government is immune. They fund the candidates they want elected. They buy up the media to tell us what to believe and who to vote for and they control the corruption.

Lying if all part of their strategy.

They blow it up and profit so they can build it up again. One big cycle of misery in which the 99.9% of us all swim.

Their faces are well hidden except when they buy a football club or two.

 

Profits from Misery

They are selling condoms to paedophiles

So they don’t leave DNA.

They’re selling missiles to maniacs

Who have the means to pay.

We’re best friends with Saudi

And Assad’s not such a bad guy.

Profit – that’s the reason why.

We’re selling bullets to psychopaths

And thumb-screws to bully boys

As long as they’ve sufficient readies

To pay for all the toys.

 

Profit from misery

They do not give a damn.

Children play in sewage

When it’s part of their big plan.

Screams are just the background

To the purchase of another yacht.

There are no holds barred.

They give it all they’ve got.

 

They’re selling bombs to the bastards

Who are murdering their own.

Electric prods to torturers

Who never act alone.

Stability’s the enemy

That’s no fun.

You cannot make good money

If they’re not killing everyone.

 

Opher 10.1.2015