Cosmic Debris – Frank Zappa

Posted on by Opher

Well Frank was always excellent at satire. The humour was brilliant and he could such take the piss out of anything from politics, sex and middle America to religion.

Frank always surrounded himself with quality musicians. I sure miss him. I’d love to hear his take on Trump.

The Muffin Men did a great version of this song the other night but I still rate Nick Harper’s as the best.

“Cosmik Debris”

The Mystery Man came over
An’ he said: “I’m outa-site!”
He said, for a nominal service charge,
I could reach nervonna t’nite
If I was ready, willing ‘n able
To pay him his regular fee
He would drop all the rest of his pressing affairs
And devote His Attention to me
But I said . . .
Look here brother,
Who you jivin’ with that Cosmik Debris?
(Now who you jivin’ with that Cosmik Debris?)
Look here brother,
Don’t you waste your time on me

The Mystery Man got nervous
An’ he fidget around a bit
He reached in the pocket of his Mystery Robe
An’ he whipped out a shaving kit
Now, I thought it was a razor
An’ a can of foamin’ goo
But he told me right then when the top popped open
There was nothin’ his box won’t do
With the oil of Afro-dytee
An’ the dust of the Grand Wazoo
He said:
“You might not believe this, little fella, but it’ll cure your Asthma too!”
An’ I said . . .
Look here brother,
Who you jivin’ with that Cosmik Debris?
(Now what kind of a geroo are you anyway?)
Look here brother,
Don’t you waste your time on me
Don’t waste yer time . . .

I’ve got troubles of my own, I said
An’ you can’t help me out
So take your meditations an’ your preparations
An’ ram it up yer snout
“BUT I GOT A KRISTL BOL!,” he said
An’ held it to the light
So I snatched it
All away from him
An’ I showed him how to do it right
I wrapped a newspaper ’round my head
So I’d look like I was Deep
I said some Mumbo Jumbos then
An’ told him he was goin’ to sleep
I robbed his rings
An’ pocket watch
An’ everything else I found
I had that sucker hypnotized
He couldn’t even make a sound
I proceeded to tell him his future then
As long as he was hanging around,
I said
“The price of meat has just gone up
An’ yer ol’ lady has just gone down . . . ”
Look here brother,
Who you jivin’ with that Cosmik Debris?
(Now is that a real poncho or is that a Sears poncho?)
Don’t you know,
You could make more money as a butcher,
So don’t you waste your time on me
(Don’t waste it, don’t waste your time on me . . . )
Ohm shonty, ohm shonty, ohm shonty-ohm
SSHONTAY

The Muffin Men at the Adelphi Hull – Photos

Posted on by Opher

Frank Zappa is sadly lost but this bunch do a pretty good job of keeping the music alive. They are not so much a tribute band as a unique interpretation.

If you want sacrilegious music played with good-time gusto and great skill, with that element of satire that made Zappa so great then this is your band.

A superb bunch of musicians. They got the audience up on their feet dancing, engaged the brain with the Zappa lyrics, were zany and did the music justice without being precious about it.

The highlight for me was a great version of Cosmic Debris.

The Immigrants at the Adelphi Hull – Photos

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The Immigrants are a seven piece Jazz Rock Fusion band and very capable and good they were too.

There were only six of them. Which was fortunate. It was already pretty crowded on that small stage. I don’t think they could have fitted anymore on. Ironically the one that was missing was the only actual immigrant in the band. He’d gone back to Argentina for the holidays.

The six of them did a great job. There wasn’t a single weakness. The drums, rhythm guitar and bass laid down a tight and complex rhythm for everyone to play off. The Jazz guitar picking was first-class and the organ and violin were extremely good too. It all gelled into a very sophisticated but highly enjoyable funky dance groove with classical touches. It was good to listen to, watch and dance to! Great stuff!!

Billy Bragg – “Saffiyah Smiles”

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Too many Nazis walking on the streets. One is too many. But as Woody Guthrie said – you kill fascism with education, reason and music.

Good to see in these times of need that Billy Bragg is back leading the charge. We need someone to stand up to this unpleasant tide of fear, hate and nationalism.

“Saffiyah Smiles”

Angry white men dressed like Elmer Fudd
Shouting something about soil and blood
A woman of colour steps out from the crowd
Does something to make us all proud

Just like Victor Hugo told
“To love is to act” and her act was bold
Bold as love, she made her stand
And with a smile took power from the man

Oh, don’t you know
We come together when Saffiyah smiles
All around the world
People come together when Saffiyah smiles

Cosplay Nazis marching in file
Hitler’s haircut is back in style
Resistance on the streets of Birmingham
And with her smile she disarms the man

Oh, don’t you know
We come together when Saffiyah smiles
All around the world
People come together when Saffiyah smiles

This is what solidarity looks like
This is what solidarity looks like
This is what solidarity looks like
This is what solidarity looks like
This is what solidarity looks like
This is what solidarity looks like

This is what solidarity looks like
This is what solidarity looks like
This is what solidarity looks like
This is what solidarity looks like

Roy Harper – Garden of Uranium – a song about alternative energy

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This is a song about the idiots who like to pollute with their radioactive waste when we could be harnessing the sun and wind. It was recorded in 1988 and fortunately we’ve come a long way since then. Roy was ahead of his time.

Nuclear power is a no no for me unless they solve how to deal with the waste.

We need clean energy and we need to look after this beautiful planet. Our children and grandchildren deserve it.

I first heard this in the studio on those amazing speakers and it knocked me out.

The Garden of Uranium

There’s fuel in a hand shake
And power in a smile
Energy to spare
And time to reconcile
In every blade of grass
And breath of air
A future sitting there
And you don’t care about the children
There’s plenty where they’re from
To populate the garden
Of uranium
There’s power in a sun ray
And travel on the tide
Hurricanes and storms
To saddle up and ride
In every wind of change
On any side
An idea to be tried
And you don’t care about the children…
And then there are the meglos
With power in their hands
Dumping lethal waste
In shallow pasturelands
Scattering suicide
Into the winds
And no one understands
And they don’t care about the children…

Roy Harper – Burn The World – an Epic Song.

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This is one of Roy’s epic songs. He wrote it in the mid-eighties and while it isn’t up to the same immense standards as his 1970s epics it still is a great piece. It comes in at 20 minutes.

When Roy first played it to me I said to him ‘that’s the next single then.’ He has a sense of humour and took that on board. He released the song as a single. One side was the studio version and the other side is live. Both are great. It always makes me smile to hear Roy mention that bit about the single on the live version.

Desert Island was a section of the song. Roy took it out and produced it into something else. Personally I think he could have done a lot more with the production of the whole song. It had more potential. The lyrics were great. It deals with the horrors of humanity and our slow rape of the planet. Why don’t we just get on with it and burn the whole fucking thing in one go – why don’t we burn the world? You know you want to!

Humanity has a thirst for cruelty, violence and destruction. We love it. We’re the most mindless bunch of apes.

ROY HARPER
Burn The World Lyrics

I. Burn the World
II. Change It
III. The Last Laugh
IV. My Home Is on the Water
V. Live in Peace
VI. Walkabout
VII. Desert Island
VIII. Burn the World (reprise)
Billy’s on the street
Grabbing easy meat
With furious claims
Somebody’s killed
Anger’s spilled
Vengeance’s flames
Robert’s on the beat
Looking nice and neat
For a one-sided fight
In his uniform
Looking to perform
With a flashing blue light
He doesn’t care
Anything’s fair
‘Cos he’s always right
As the flames of night
Burn equal right
In the wind
Whispering
Why don’t you
Burn the world
Sharon’s in a state
Coming home late
She’s got no escape
From Billy’s brute force
To intercourse
In a frenzy of rape
Both defiled
By the crowded wild
As the time bomb of hate
Modernises demise
As Robert dies
In the same hail of lies
His masters devise
And pretend surprise
As fiery cries
Begin to rise
Whispering
Why don’t you
Burn the world
Change it
Rearrange it
Derange it
In the name of burning spirit
The passenger on the planet
The guinea pig chasing sunset
To the last laugh he’ll ever get
Hahahahahahaha
O no I don’t believe it
The passenger guiding sunset
To the kill
To the kill
Fossilise it (my home)
To a standstill
Home is on the water
The rainbow warrior runs
Against the fashion passion(s)
Philosophies of guns
Where issues are invited
To front up savage fun
By the ignorant and spineless
Out of touch with ‘everyone’
Home
I wish I had an acre
Instead of just a slot
Somewhere that I could take her
Where the world could mean a lot
Instead of being cyphers
In a brave new council block
With endless empty neighbours
And an ever bolted lock
Home
And soon I’ll be taking my leave
Forever
Is it better to laugh than to grieve
When it doesn’t matter
Whether I am evermore
Or whether I am
Anymore?
Home
Gonna paint my room like a desert island
With yellow sand and blue lagoon
Invite you all to come and live there
One afternoon
It’ll be when no-one’s looking
More likely that not
We’ll close the door and turn the sky up
Find a good spot
Air fire water earth you were paradise
I’m sorry about me
I was under the impression
That you were free and easy
Gonna paint my room like a desert island
With clear skies and rising swell
Leave the creeps on the jaded horizon
In Wall Streets of Hell
I must say goodbye to the blindfold
And pursue the ideal
The planet becoming the hostess
Instead of the meal
Air fire water earth you were paradise
I’m sorry about me
I was under the impression
That you were free and easy
To plunder
Rubbish on the air
Everywhere
Blood pressure drives
Forests fall
At the beck and call
Of the cat with nine lives
The stratosphere
Can disappear
And have no effect
On the red of mars
Or the nearest stars
Or anything else
Except
The poems in the wind
Whispering
Why burn the world?
Unfortunately I can’t find a version of the song on youtube but you can buy it here for £9:

Al Stewart, Folk and Rock in Hull!

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The first time I heard Al Stewart was when I bought Jackson C Frank’s wonderful groundbreaking album simply call Jackson C Frank, in 1965. What a wonderful album that was. It was at the forefront of the British contemporary Folk Scene along with the likes of Bert Jansch, John Renbourn, Donovan and Roy Harper. It was produced by Paul Simon long before he was well-know and featured a young Al Stewart on second guitar on a couple of tracks.

I went on to frequent Bunjies and Les Cousins, as part of my merry experiences of the sixties, and came across Al Stewart many times and greatly enjoyed him too.

My main focus was the fiery Roy Harper with his incredible power and lyrics of social criticism.

Al was a force back in those heady days. At one point I remember Melody Maker pitting him against Roy in one of their silly campaigns. They loved battles between artists – Stones and Beatles being the prime one. I could not see the point. I liked them both. Sometimes I preferred one and sometimes the other.

While Al never met the heights of Roy’s barbed epics, he did produce some great songs and was great to see live. I still have all those great early albums and Al did me the honour of signing them all.

Al’s first album – Bedsitter Images – suffered from a poppy production but the next few did away with most of that.

From seeing him quite often in the late sixties and early seventies I went decades without seeing him at all. I had a family and didn’t get out so much. Al had a huge couple of albums (Year of the Cat and Time Passages) and was playing big venues and he’d moved to America.

So I was quite interested to see that he was coming to Hull. He was playing with Dave Nachmanoff on second guitar, who was superb.

Well forty five years had made a bit of a difference. He did not look the same – but then none of us do. But he was very relaxed, even though suffering from jet-lag, had a great chilled personality, a great laugh and came out with some wonderful stories about Robert Fripp, Jimmy Page and Bert Jansch.

The set was all songs from Year of the Cat onwards and I would love to have heard a few of those old Folk songs again, but you can’t have everything. You can never have everything can you? His songs, full of historical reference, were all of a high standard and were entertaining on many levels. I like a singer who engages the brain as well as the gut.

It was a great set. I thoroughly enjoyed it – much more than I thought I would. His charming personality shone through. His songs were well-crafted. His voice was still great. Dave’s guitar was an excellent supplement. We had a great evening.

Unfortunately we were not allowed to take photos but I did anyway.

I had a little chat with him afterwards. It was good to see him.

I couldn’t help thinking that he looked more like a bank manager than a survivor of the sixties underground Folk scene. Ho hum. What time does to us. But I’ll definitely look out for him again.

Thanks Al.

Life – A Poem

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Life

 

An interlude between oblivion;

An unreal sandwich in time;

A sojourn of something.

 

Can it be real?

When it is gone

Did it ever exist?

 

When there are no memories

And no witnesses left,

No eyes to see

Or brains to record,

Will anything have existed at all?

 

In this capsule of time,

This bubble of reality,

We wrestle with eternity

And it pins us to the floor.

 

Opher 28.7.2018

 

 

I think I was in my metaphysical frame of mind the evening in which I wrote this. Somehow the sound of one hand clapping was smitten with the sounds of trees falling in the distant forest.

There are times when I am sure this life is a dream. When we are all gone and there is no sentient life left in the universe to sense its majesty or delight at its wonders can it still exist?

It is this egocentric thinking that spawns religions. We cannot believe that such wonders exist if not for our own benefit. That is the folly of humans.

Back on Line!! Thanks Everyone! Here’s an update!

Posted on by Opher

I’ve been away for a couple of weeks looking after grandchildren! It’s been great!

But I’m back!!

Here’s what I am doing:

I’ve managed to  produce a number of new poems! I’ll be putting them out soon!

I’m working on my Sci-fi novel Conexion. I’m enjoying it.

I’m still not sure what is happening with the Nick Harper book. It is with Nick and still being laid out. Hopefully it will be out soon.

I’m having another look at the Roy Harper book. Roy didn’t like it so I’m giving it another look to see if I still like it. Hopefully that will see the light of day soon too.

Meanwhile I have come back to 600+ emails which are taking a bit of time to address.

Thanks for your patience!! I’ll get round to answering you as soon as I can.

Thanks for the books you have bought, the reviews you have made, the likes on the blog and all the comments!!! You give me a lot of energy! Thank You!!

Stiff Little Fingers/Bob Marley – Johnny Was

Posted on by Opher

I love this Stiff Little Fingers version of a great Bob Marley song.

Bob set it in Jamaica – an innocent victim of the gangster rude boys. Stiff Little Fingers transferred it to Ireland in the midst of the bloody troubles.

Both highlighted the supercharged emotion of a mother who has just lost her son to a senseless killing. It could be about any city, any gang-related murder. So tragic. So stupid. So unnecessary.

Bob Marley’s version was more mellow and laid back. He poured his emotion into the song. It was full of sorrow. Stiff Little Fingers added anger.

For me the strident duelling guitars and military drumbeat heighten the emotional impact. When are people going to grow up and get above this madness?

JOHNNY WAS(Marley)

Woman hold her head and cry
Cause her son had been shot down in the street and died
From a stray bullet

Woman hold her head and cry
Accompanying her was a passerby
Who saw the woman cry

Wondering can she work it out
Now she knows that the wages of sin is death
The gift of God is life

Oh, oh, oh, oh
Johnny was a good man
oh yeah

Woman hold her head and cry
Cause her son had been shot down in the street and died
Just because of the system

Woman hold her head and cry
Comforting her I was passing by
And I saw the woman cry

She cried, oh, oh, oh, oh
Johnny was a good man
Never did a thing wrong

Take it down

Johnny went out on a Saturday night
Never hurt anybody never started no bar room fight
Johnny never did nobody no wrong
Never hurt anybody never hurt anybody
Johnny was a good man
Johnny, Johnny, Johnny…

Johnny was a good man
(Repeat)

In a top floor flat in the middle of the night
There’s a man with rifle and Johnny in his sight,
I said oh no, we can’t let that kind of thing happen here no more
Oh no
Johnny, Johnny, Johnny…

A single shot rings out in a Belfast night and I said oh
Johnny was a good man

Can a woman’s tender care
Cease towards the child she bears

Johnny (Repeat)