This wasn't the blog I was supposed to write. I was out and about in town, seeing friends for lunch. I was going to write a nice blog about catching up with friends and the joys and tears of finding out what has happened to your mates that you've not seen since before lockdown. But...
I really shouldn't let idiots annoy me as much as they do, but there are three types of people that annoy me more than anything and they are liars, charlotans and ignorant idiots who shout out views that are completely unsustainable and dishonest. Unfortunately, in the last day, two of these have managed to set my blood boiling. The first was Mr JD Vance, the man chosen by Donald Trump to be his running mate in the Election. He made some very inflammatory remarks about the state of London, the UK and it's Muslim population. This was followed by dodgy actor tiunred wannabe politician Laurence Fox, who tweeted that the only thing unislamic about London was the architecture and stating how glad he was to have moved (I am not going to give his views oxygen, you can find them if you are interested).
What annoys me most about these statements is that they are complete tosh. By chance yesterday, I'd planned to meet friends at the Artillery Arms, near Barbican and Moorgate for a boozy lunch (not the most Islamic of ways to spend a day off). Unfortunately, I've had the pleasure of sharing oxygen with Laurence Fox. A couple of years ago we had a family dinner at a restaurant on a boat in Paddington basin. Fox was there with a few of his right wing mates. They all drank copiously (I'm not criticising them for that, so did we) and then talked as loudly as they could so we could all enjoy their views. I found it highly inconsiderate as none of us were the least bit interested. They very much had the air of people who thought they were very important. Fortunately I underwent anger management counselling thirty yers ago so I managed to quell my urge to shut them up. Live and let live. If people want to shout nonsense loudly, how can I, as a singer in a punk rock band really object. but.....
What always surprises me when I go into London is the fact that it is such a great city and there are so many places that are amazing. The city has some lovely spots and great bars, pubs, restaurants and music venues. Unlike Mr Fox, I am glad we have a muslim population. They gives us our wonderful Indian and Turkish restaurants in Mill Hill. I had a kebab last night from the wonderful Mr Coban in Station Road. I'm not stupid, I know that a small number of people of Islamic heritage do not want to assimilate and some of these hold extreme views. However, every community has extremists amongst them and plenty of ex pat communities in the UK retain their cultural identity. My Irish and Italian mates are more than proud of their heritage. What makes London special is that we make it work and we all benefit. I genuinely feel that what really irritates the blinkered haters is that London is such a great place. For me, the assimilation of different cultures and styles gives us things such as the UK Ska and Reggae scene, Lovers Rock etc. It means that Mr Chowdry serves me a curry and a pint when I am hungry. It means that if I want a beigel with smoked salmon their is a great Jewish deli on the High Street. I'm not blind to the problems in London. It is busy, can be smelly and sometimes transport doesn't work. But this is true of any successful city. London has the problems because people want to live here. If I am in a part of London where I am in a cultural minority, I've never felt threatened, beyond the feeling I may get when I walk into a dodgy looking boozer in another part of town, where the residents are of the same cultural background as me, and are suspicious of someone who is not a local.
If people don't like London, live somewhere else and leave us in peace. There are plenty of places in the UK that are lovely. My brother lives in North Somerset near Bristol. It is lovely, peaceful and quiet. I love a visit but it is far too quiet for me. My Sister lives in Essex, by the sea. It is also lovely, but again I'd hate to live there. Horses for courses. People who don't know London, often don't appreciate it and don't know the good bits. I've made it my mission in life to discover the good bits. That's why I write the London Symphonies series on this blog.
After hearing Vance's comments, I too a few pics of the walk from Farringdon to The Artillery Arms. Here's the route
I did this walk every day for four years, it was the quickest route to my old office in Chiswell Street. This is the London I know and love. It is the one that these London knockers are seemingly ignorant of. If you want to slag off our city, first get to know it.
Free micro library on Charterhouse Lane
Shady gazebo in Charterhouse Square
A few historical notes in Charterhouse Square
Charterhouse Square
The Sutton Arms
The Shakespeare pub - Brutalist but good beer
The Barbican
City of London Information
The Welsh Presbeterian Church on Fann St
Memorial to the Hugenots on Fann St
Fortune Street Park with the Barbican as a backdrop
Fortune St Park Mural
Fortune St Coffee bar with an inspirational quote
Fortune St Park community noticeboard
Ladies of a certain age enjoy the sunshine in Fortune St Park
Memorial Bench in Fortune St Park
Fortune St street food market
The Artillery Arms
Beer!
The Artillery Arms inside
The Artillery Arms Bar
Smithfield Market on the way home!
Does this look like a the City that JD Vance and Laurence Fox are talking about? Old ladies chatting in the sun, pubs, greenspace? This was just what I snapped on my way from Farringdon to the pub. I walked this walk every day. The Barbican and it's environs are part of a very large council estate. This is the real London you never see in the news, on reactionary twitter feeds, etc.
Don't get me wrong, I love a bit of nostalgia, I write songs about the good times we used to have. But the truth is that I love our city as much today as I ever have done. The problem with our city is not the residents. It is the fact that there are too many greedy, vested interested all taking a slice and giving nothing back. Here's a song I wrote a while back, where I talk about the 'good old days and why it's gone wrong' , please have a listen.
When we started The False Dots back in 1979, one of the things that we didn't give any thought to at all was how long the band would last. About five seconds into our first rehearsal, I realised that this was something I really wanted to do. Unlike most bands, we didn't start playing covers, from day one, we played originals. We'd thtough the odd cover in, because the Clash played Police and Thieves by Junior Murvin, so bunging in the odd cover must be a cool thing to do, but this came later. I realised that playing your own tunes is a wonderful thing to do. For me, it was like the first time I kissed a girl I fancied. It was great. It never occurred to me that one day I may be 'past it' - to old to Rock and Roll. If you look at the music made fourty years before 199, we are in 1939. In the mood by Glenn Miller was the best selling record. In the UK, tunes like Run Rabbit were popular. Teen culture did not exist. For my Mum's generation (she was born in 1925), you went to school, then maybe got a job, got married, had kids and were a grown up. Social life was going to dances with your friends, or maybe the pictures. Her brothers got jobs in the building trade at fourteen and then were conscripted into the army. They had no pop stars as such, no music written by their peers, no Glasto or Reading.
By the time The False Dots were formed, we'd had more than two decades of teen culture. Teds, Rockers, Mods, Hippies, Skinheads, Punks etc had all had their era. For my parents, it was all a bit strange. My Dad once tried to advise me that if I didn't dress smart and shine my shoes, I'd never get a girlfriend. When I explained that 'things have changed since your day Dad', he called me an idiot. As various girlfriends turned up, he was bemused. Fast forward to fourty five years on. I am now the same as my Dad was in 1979. When I was that age, the concept of watching my Dad on a stage playing guitar and singing ska/punk songs would have simply been beyond comprehension. But here I am, doing just that and not only that, but my kids bring their mates, because they think it is good fun. As they've grown up with the band, it is not some bizarre mid life crisis. It is just me doing my thing. I like to think I'm pretty good at what I do with the band and I am blessed to be surrounded by talented musicians.
Most, but not all, of the bands and artists I see are of the same vintage as me. It is fair to say tha many have improved and are better than they were, if some of anarchic dynamism has gone. The songs still sound great. I was asked a couple of days ago "When will you pack it all in?". The answer is simple, when I stop enjoying it. This year, we've done ten gigs so far. The most since 1984! I'd set a target of 12. We have our album launch in November at The Dublin Castle.
I go through phases with my music. I go through phases where it is really easy to write songs, I go through phases where I obsess on playing the guitar and I go through phases where I just want to gig. Between 2022 and the start of the year, I was in a really productive song writing phase, but the well has run a bit dry at the moment. I am really enjoying singing with the band and have even considered getting a guitarist in so I can concentrate on this. I love playing the guitar, but have realised that you are really constrained by having a guitar and beings tuck in front of a static microphone. I think we could really up the energy if I could excape and take the mic off the stand. The only trouble is finding someone who fits the bill, The False Dots music is pretty unique and although it isn't hard to play, it requires a mindset that is a million miles from what most rock guitarists are expected to play. I am loving doing the gigs at the moment.
I have learned something over the last three years, since I stepped up to vocals. I had always assumed that my voice was simply not up to being the lead singer. When Allen was unable to rehearse in 2021, I was forced to stand in. What I learned was that I'd simply not written songs for my voice and my personality. I'd made a massive mistake in 1979, when Pete Conway left the band. Instead of taking the helm and doing stuff that would make us unique, Craig stepped up and we became a half decent new wave band like everyone else. The evidence was there, before my eyes. Ian Dury was not Marvin Gaye, but I love them both equally. Joe Strummer was not Mick Jagger vocally, but the Clash were beyond peer. Terry Hall of the Specials was not Frankie Valli, but the Specials were the best band I've ever seen. Suggs is not Desmond Dekker but havings seen both, I'd rather see them on the same gig bill than choose between them!
In short, there is a place for everyone in the wonderful world of music, if you have something unique, entertaining and exciting. I don't put myself in the same bracket as any of the above, but I do know that The False Dots are a band that can entertain a crowd, hold their attention and give them a good time. The forthcoming album is going to put what we've done out there and I believe that the people who've seen the band will love it.
Someone said to me a few weeks ago "Why do you do originals, it's not as if you'll ever make it now you are a pensioner". There are two answers, the first is that they've missed the point. It was never about playing music to get rich. It was and is about making this journey through life a little more fun. But then I thought about it. Actually, I think they are wrong. Although it probably won't be The False Dots that prove my point, as it's not a motivation, I think there are big bucks to be made for bands like ours. I got into punk because it spoke to me as a teenager. Now all of us are pension age, we have cash to splash and time on our hands. No one is writing music for us. Surely there is a huge opportunity to write songs, with our decades of hard knocks. Sooner or later someone will wake up to the fact that if you can play good music, be entertaining and write songs that people get, then you could clean up. Now I am not talking about writing songs about being a pensioner and playing golf (although I suspect if you got it right you'd be minted), I am talking about writing songs that people of any age can listen to, which give some sort of insight into life that only someone who has lived could write. Since day one of the band, my ambition ghas been to have a band that plays regular gigs at London's grassroots venues and records a records from time to time. Box ticked. Earning millions and having our own private jet was not part of the equation. I won't be chasing the big bucks, but I totally believe that sooner or later someone will and that will be a massive thing. For me, it would be nice to earn a few quid from it all, clear the mortgage and have a couple of decent holidays on the proceeds, but if I don't hey ho, life's been good.
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As I mentioned, The False Dots will be launching our album at The Dublin Castle in November. Here is a little song we wrote aboutthe venue, If you know Camden Town you might enjoy this. I think its a banging tune.
It has just been announced that Gareth Southgate has resigned as England manager. What a rollercoaster it has been under his reign. Two finals, a semi final and a quarter final. A couple of dodgy penalties away from a win against Italy in the 2021 Euro's. A team that was favourites to win in Germany and which certainly had the players to bring the trophy home. The achievements on the field were way beyond most people's expectations when he took over after the debacle of Sam Allardyce's short reign.
For me though, the biggest success of Southgate's reign is to make me feel proud to be an England supporter. Whatever you think of his football record, the way he conducts his business is exemplary. He clearly had the respect and support of the team. He brought the best out of some of the players, supported players on the receiving end of racism, in a way no other National manager seems capable of. He managed to rebuild the confidence of the players such as Saka, to the extent that they took penalties in a shoot out, following all of the obnoxious racism they received when they missed against Italy in the last final. He has transformed Harry Kane into Englands most successful striker by some distance. He has had faith in younger players. He has built for the future. If you look at Englands ranking now, compared to when he took over, that tells you all you need to know.
As an England fan, I hope that the next manager builds on the foundations Gareth has laid and takes us to the next level. As for the candidates? Jurgen Klopp and Graham Potter have been mentioned. I'd be delighted with either. But that is for another day. For today, all I want to say is Thank you Gareth, you've been a credit to England and you have made us all proud. Good luck in wherever life takes you now.
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I had planned to retire this song, but here's one more blast for old time's sake!
Yesterday was a difficult day. Someone nearly murdered Donald Trump and succeeded in murdering some poor chap who'd gone to watch him, England lost in the final of the Euro's and our 12 year old Labrador/Rotweiller/Ridgeback rescue dog is off colour. Of those things one is a devastating tragedy. Which one do you think I am referring to? I am of course referring to the poor chap who got killed in the crossfire by the would be assassin at the Trump rally. Trump got very lucky, he got a nick on his ear. I totally get that the method he got it was horrific, but he'll live and if anything the incident did him a favour at the polls. The poor bloke who died, has a family that are in pieces, yet it hardly gets a mention in the story. To my mind, the story is "man gets murdered at Donald Trump rally by deranged shooter". The shooter apparently got off seven shots, which implies a semi automatic rifle. In a sane rational world, there would be some debate in America of allowing unrestricted access, without checks, to such weapons. It is a miracle that the shooter only killed one person. I am not a fan of Donald Trump, but we have a ballot box for passing judgement on politicians we don't like and if we find ourselves in a minority, then maybe we need to look at ourselves, or the alternatives that like minded people have up. Of course I am British, I have no vote in America and we have strict gun control laws. These mean that the chances of me ending up suffering the same fate as the poor chap at the Trump Rally are pretty small. In Great Britain, we throw coffee over people instead. I don't condone the Farage assaults, but I think even Farage would concede that he'd prefer coffee to a bullet. I was chatting with an American friend about Farage and the coffee. They told me that it would never happen in the USA, because the security detail would shoot the assailant. It was a perspective I'd not really thought of.
When I went to bed last night, my mood was melancholic. I had a very odd and perhaps rather insightful dream. I often dream of my Dad when I am down. I usually get some insight into the problem of the day. Last night was no exception. For those who don't know me, my Dad passed away in 1987 at the age of 69. He was former RAF Officer and a WW2 bomber pilot. He was a staunch Conservative, a member of the Hendon North Conservative association and mate of former Tory MP John Gorst. He was also a business owner and a staunch Roman Catholic. As an Aussie, he also had a great sense of humour loved a drink and a chat. I miss him dearly, to this day. Whenever I have dreams with him, he is still alive and in rude good health. Last night, we were sitting in our front room, having a whisky and with him was his best mate Fr Bernard Traynor, an old, retired missionary priest, who passed away in 1981, but was a lovely bloke. We were having a good old chat, the sort that we'd have most nights at my parents house in the late 1970's. My Dad always had a massive interest in the news and would insist we watch News at Ten. He asked if the news was on. I said "Oh, someone tried to shoot Donald Trump, but he survived, I'm worried that it means he'll sail through the election". At this Dad and Fr Traynor burst into laughter. I genuinely have no idea what he'd have made of Trump, but I suspect he'd be unimpressed. Their reaction startled me. I said "what's so funny". Dad looked at Fr Traynor and said "Have you forgetten what we always used to tell you, the Lord moves in mysterious ways".
At that, my wife woke me up with a cup of tea. As ever I am deeply saddened to once again have my Dad ripped away from me. But then I thought about his comment. The more I thought about it, the more I realised that we don't really have any clue at all about what effect the bullet grazing Donald Trumps ear may have had on him. Back in 1988, I was run over by a car jumping traffic lights in Burnt Oak, doing 40 mph. The doctors said that they'd never seen anyone walk away from such an accident before (albeit very bashed up and suffering the effects to this day). In the two or three seconds between realising the car was going to hit me and it actually hitting me, I had a very strange experience. Time seemed to stand still and I saw everything with absolute clarity. I thought I was going to die, but I had no fear at all. I just had an overwhelming sense that everything was really alright and that it would be nice to see my Dad and other family and friends who had gone before me. Then a little part of me said "Jump". I jumped and the car bonnet slammed into me, I rolled across the bumper and me feet went through the windscreen. That was what saved me. From that moment, I've had no fear at all of death and I have had a lot less interest in material possessions, beyond what I need to get me through. Don't get me wrong, I like being comfortable, but a part of me changed and made me only really desire to make the best of my time here. I started to appreciate the beauty of the planet a lot more and to feel the need to speak out against those who disrespect this amazing world we live in. But I also understand that most people have not had such an experience.
Whish brings me back to Donald Trump. He has been saying that God saved him. I think most of us might be tempted to be a tad cynical, but what if Trump had some sort of revealation as the bullet whizzed through his ear. What if something changed in Donald Trump at that moment? You may be cynical, but who really knows what went on in his mind. I have never seen Trump as a spiritual man. He has always struck me as the embodiment of materialism, but such experiences do change people. Maybe the Donald Trump we will get this time will be a different Donald Trump. If I were a betting man, I'd not put money on it, but as my Dad used to say "The Lord moves in mysterious ways".
It is difficult making sense of this insane world. A world where we have the choice between Donald Trump or Joe Biden. Politically, I much prefer Biden, but it is pretty clear that he's losing the plot. He shouldn't be standing in the first place. As for Trump, it is a principle of British law that a man is innocent until proven guilty, but in a system where the highest judges in the land owe you one, it is hard to make a case for justice. But the one judge that Donald Trump can't outrun is the grim reaper. He literally dodged a bullet on Saturday, but he is an old man. Whatever may or may not have happened on Saturday, he will have been reminded of his own mortality. That can do strange things to you. Last year, at this time, I was preparing for a major operation to resolve my prostate cancer. Although it was unlikely that the operation would kill me, there is a chance, so I tried to get my affairs in order. I thought long and hard about what I wanted to say if the blog on the 8th August was my last. So I deliberately chose an important topic that was close to my heart. I realised that if the worst happened, it would get a lot of views. I deliberately did not write something that could be seen as being a prediction of something awful happening. To me it was important to emphasis that there was still work to do.
Tonight Donald Trump will address the Republican conference to get confirmed as the US presidential candidate. There is talk that he tore up his old speech and has written a new one. I am fascinated by this. There is talk that we'll see a new side to Trump. Will that be a Trump that discovers humility or will it be the Trump that believes he's indestructable. Over the course of history, we've seen both things happen, people have a 'wake up moment' or dodge a bullet or bomb and change. Sometimes it is for the better, sometimes for the worse. All I can say is that I sincerely hope that when I look back at this particular entry of The Barnet Eye, I can see what my Dad & Father Traynor were laughing about and can say "That didn't turn out so bad now, did it?". The alternative is really too horrible to mention.
But then again, people are a fickle lot. Just look at some of the things they are saying about Gareth Southgate after England lost narrowly to what was obviously the best team in the tournament last night. You'd think England had won ten world cups and seven Euro's the way some people talk about what we should be doing, rather than the reality that Iceland knocked us out of the tournament before Southgate took over. Whereas Trump sums up every trait I find repugnant in a leader, Southgate is a good guy who has done a great job. Funny old world.
If you enjoy reading my ramblings (and yes todays was a proper old ramble, wasn't it), then do me a favour and give my band a listen and a like on Spotify.
So here we are. England are in the second final of the Euro's in a row. I am unlucky enough to remember the dark years on the 1970's, when England didn't even get through the qualifiers for the World cup and sat at home as "Ally's Army" represented Great Britain in Argentina. I was unlucky enough to be going through my 'teenage football fanatic' phase just as we hit rock bottom. Between about 1973 and 1981, I went to just about every England home game. England had some of the finest creative players on the planet. Stan Bowles, Tony Currie, Charlie George, Alan Hudson, Rodney Marsh, Peter Osgood and Frank Worthington were the players who lit up Match of The Day. Brian Clough was recognised as the finest English manager of the day, taking Nottingham Forest to two European Cups with provincial team Nottingham Forest. That was at a time when you had to be Champions to win it. But none of these players and Brian Clough never got a sniff. The FA wanted workmen and yes men not artists and mavericks. So we watched boring dirge and early exits. By the end of the 1970's, music had largely replaced football for me as my no one interest. That is not to say I didn't love football, always have always will, but if I had spare cash to spend, I'd rather spend it on guaranteed enjoyment watching The Specials, The Ramones, etc than an evening groaning and getting cross as England struggled to score against the likes of Lichenstein (no I know we didn't play them, it is a figure of speech). 1977 was the year I discovered music. Here are the England games I saw at Wembley
At least we beat Luxembourg! Is it any wonder that When I saw The Ramones two days after we lost to Scotland, I decided that spending money on gigs rather than England was perhaps a wiser way to spend money. As my Dad would get me tickets from a mate who worked for the FA, I still went, but when his mate retired, I stopped going. I'd still watch the tournaments in hope, but it all that happened was I got cross, then sad. My mates went to the Italia 1980's Euros. They all got attacked by Italian thugs, then arrested and spent the night in the cells. England were in a group with Belgium, Italy and Spain. They drew with Belgium, beat Spain and lost to Italy. They were eliminated. Both Spain and Belgium were not the forces they are now in world football. My mates came back having had a very eventful holiday. I was rather pleased I spent the money on gigs, sadly they were so good, I really can't recall who I saw, but I do remember chatting with my mates when they got back. In fairness, they had a blast, not because of the football, in spite of it.
Although I played football regularly, I don't recall seeing an England match at Wembley between 1981 and when my son was old enough to go. When he was around eight and started to get interested in football (2008) we went to a few England games. This coincided with Fabio Capello and Roy Hodgson being manager. It was a pretty dire period. Not only that, but following the redevelopment, Wembley has become sterile and very overpriced. He decided that it was more fun watching Manchester City, so we decided that we'd spend our cash on that. Now of course, we watched tournaments at home. We'd get mates around, get excited as England had their inevitable false dawn of one good performance and then get knocked out. It just seemed to get worse. In 2016, when Iceland knocked England out of the Euro's, we appointed Sam Allardyce. Some thought that his up and under style may put the passion back into football. As a Manchester City fan and a lover of flair, I thought it was a disaster. Teams like Spain and Portugal were light years ahead of us. The concept that you'd win with a cynical long ball game was insanity. Allardyce lasted one game, before falling foul of a newspaper sting operation, whilst drinking pints of wine.
It seemed like no sane person would want to manage England. Who could England turn to in their hour of need? Step forward Gareth Southgate, initially installed as a caretaker. A man who had failed at Middlesborough. I quite liked Southgate. An honest player, who displayed a sense of humour, starring in self depreciating pizza ads after his infamous penalty miss. He also looks a bit like my mate Keith, so he must be OK. Appointing a caretaker seemed sensible, whilst England found someone, not only mad enough to do the job, but also good enough. Southgate steadied the ship. Results improved. At the end of his caretaker period, Southgate was appointred permanent manager. Despite the improvement, it seemed to me that England had reverted to the 1970's format of failure. Get a yes man and play dull pragmatic football and lose.
To mine and perhaps just about everyone else's surprise, in the 2018 World cup, England reached the semi's. Harry Kane won the golden boot. In 2021, England made the fina of the Euro's, the first time we'd made a final since 1966 and lost narrowly to Italy on penalties. In 2022, they were knocked out by France in the quarter finals, but gave a good account of themselves.
So here we are today, in the final of the Euro's again. Perhaps the nearest thing to a maverick left at home is Man City's Jack Grealish. I'd have taken him, but I am biased. The team is young and seem to have a sense of togetherness. They did not perform particularly well in the group stage, were lucky in the round of sixteen, but were the better team against the Netherlands. They were aided by some soft refereeing decisions, but as England have been on the end of some of the worst decisions ever (Hand of God, Ronald Koeman foul, etc), it is about time.
We face Spain, easily the best team in the tournament. Although Spain are a seriously good team, they last won a major tournament in 2012, so the current team is not full of players that have been there and done it (unless you count the UEFA Nations League). England have a team of players that could do it. When I look at the teams on paper, I should be far more confident than I am. With the likes of Foden, Bellingham, Saka, Palmer, Kane, etc we have the potential to destroy any team. The defence has played well and most of the goals we've conceded have been worldies. The truth is that Spain have played like champions in every game and we haven't. The truth is that we all know how Spain will play. They wil be very good indeed. How will England play? I haven't got a clue. We could win 4-2 or we could lose 8-0. I can't see Spain failing to score. I can't see Spain giving us any time at the back and I can see Spain punishing mistakes. However, I can also see that Foden, Bellingham, Saka and Kane could punish Spain and if they find themselves up against it, we don't know how they will respond, because they've not been in that position at all. I can normally make a prediction and be pretty spot on, but I've no idea at all how we'll do. I do know that if we try and sit back, Spain will destroy us. But if we go for it and play to our potential, we have nothing to fear.
Whatever happens, I genuinely believe that Gareth Southgate deserves a knighthood. He's had to take no end of stick. He's been a big factor in the development in a generation of amazing English footballers. But more than that, he's conducted himself with dignity. The way he's dealt with issues such as racism and hate has been an inspiration to all. He's brought a new culture to the England team. I went to see Dear England, a fictionalised account of Southgate's tenure earlier in the year with my football buddies. It brought home to me just what a good job Southgate has done. If we lose, he will be battered by The Sun and the other hysterical media. They will forget all of the papers he's sold for them. If we win, the titles will say "Arise Sir Gareth". In sport, the only thing that really matters is winning. Coming second is the first losers. That is the truth of being an England manager. For Gareth to be mentioned in the same breath as Sir Alf, he needs to win. If he doesn't, he will simply be the top of the pile of also rans. I hope he does. I bumped into one of our local priests this morning in Tescos. We briefly discussed Southgate. I mentioned that given his record, it is a shame that he doesn't get the recognition he deserves. He reminded me of what Jesus said in St Marks Gospel
‘A prophet is only despised in his own country, among his own relations and in his own house’; and he could work no miracle there, though he cured a few sick people by laying his hands on them. He was amazed at their lack of faith.'
And finally, all I can say is "COME ON ENGLAND" - here's a little number I put together for this moment
If you want to sing along, here are the lyrics
COME ON ENGLAND
Summertime is here again,
the Euros starts, let the football begin
I am fascinated by coincidences, nearly as much as I am fascinated by the vibrations that seem to emanate from certain buildings and places. When the two collide, it becomes a very tempting and intoxicating mix.
One such place is the Handel Hendrix museum at 23-25 Brook Street in London West One. Separated by two hundred years and a wall, these two musical genius's were next door neighbours in space, if not time. Their residence has been transfomed into one of London's more fascinating small museums. I went for a mosey around recently. I must confess Baroque music is not one I have ever really investigated. I think everyone who has any interest at all in music will know of Handels Messiah and many of us heard his composition Zadok the Priest at the Coronation of King Charles, but we only really hear it at such occasions, unless we are buffs for the genre.
As for Hendrix, a more modern musical genius who completely redefined the sound of the electric guitar. For me, Hendrix is a bit of an outlier in my musical tastes. I am not really a fan of heavy rock. When I was a kid, my big sister Valerie absolutely loved Jimi Hendrix. She bought a copy of Electric Ladyland on the day it came out. You can imagine the impact that had on me, but in truth, it was the cover rather than the sounds that fascinated me. It was only when I was researching for this blog, I learned that Hendrix didn't like the cover and wanted something else completely!
As a kid, I didn't really get his music though. I preferred the Ska tunes of the 1969/70 period. Hendrix seemed weird, wonderful and very exotic. Ska seemed to be the music of North London. I knew he must be pretty good, if Val liked him, but it didn't do much for me as an eight year old.
When Hendrix passed away, I interrupted my sister and her then boyfriend, trying to hold a seance to bring Jimi back from the dead. I thought it rather odd behaviour. She was convinced that such a powerful soul could not be confined to heaven and we needed him back. Sadly God had other ideas!
She made me swear not to tell Mum and Dad. She bought Rainbow Bridge, the postumously released album. There was one track on it that fascinated me, Room full of mirrors. There was a room at The Commonwealth Institute, that had mirrors facing each other, that fascinated me and I assumed that Hendrix felt the same. When Val finally moved out, I stopped listening to Hendrix. In 1977, when I got into punk music, Jimi fell even further off my radar. That changed one day when I was meeting fellow False Dot Pete Conway for a beer at The Railway pub in West Hampstead. I'd been listening to the Jukebox and when Pete turned up, I told him that there was a brilliant track on it that he had to listen to. I accidentally put the wrong track on. It was Crosstown Traffic by The Jimi Hendrix Experience. The pub was full of punk rockers, having a beer before going to the Moonlight Club. They were all gobsmacked by the sound. It is an amazing track, and Pete was rather inspired. We had a little spell of getting into Hendrix, who was very out of vogue with the hip crowd. It didn't bother me. Val had left Rainbow Bridge with me, so I gave it a good few spins when I got home.
For me, bands like the Ramones and the Buzzcocks inspired me to pick up a guitar and make music. Listening to Hendrix almost made me give up. The sounds he made were so unique. His style was so easy and you had to listen to a track a hundred times to fully appreciate all of the guitar nuances.
He was a genius without peer. I realised I could never get within a million miles of his talent. When the False Dots went on our Scandinavian tour in 1982, we found ourselves in a Henrdrix guitar master class at Pub Bastun in Aland. The guitar teacher played various tracks and then explained the tricks Hendrix used to get those sounds. One fact that stuck with me was that he said Hendrix didn't think he could sing until he heard the recording of Hey Joe. Andreas Gaggett of the Gaggett band, who supported us on the tour and was a good mate was also a Hendrix nut. He could talk for hours about Hendrix. I wondered if Andreas was still a fan and whether he'd visited. In the Museum, I found myself in Jimi Hendrix bedroom, restored to how it was when Jimi lived there. The air was less smokey and there was nothing on the turntable. There was a large contact sheet on the wall showing Jimi holding court in the room.
Another room had his record collection on the wall. This was the room that really fascinated me. I could spend all day looking at vunyl records. Jimi had around 100 albums in his collection. Bob Dylan being his favourite artist. Dr John was also represented as were the Beatles. There was also a good slice of Blues and Jazz artists. For me this was probably the most interesting part of the tour. There is also some wonderful memorabilia, including the first guitar Jimi played on arriving in the UK and video displays of Jimi speaking as well as some of his fans. There is one room with a large sofa, where you can watch people such as John Etheridge discussing his playing. It did remind me of the guitar class. There is an endless fascination amongst guitarists as to how you can get new and exciting sounds from your instrument. Jimi really did take this to a new level.
I think that in some ways, Jimi was so unique and such a one off that his legacy is impossible to quantify. Many rock guitarists nick aspects of his sound and recycle some of it, but I'm not really sure that this was the soul of Jimi. On Rainbow Bridge, there is a song called The Wind Cries Mary, that to me gives a far better insight into Jimi's nature. But we will never really know.
But Jimi is only half of the museum. Handel is the other half. I'd not have gone, had Hendrix not been his co-habitee, but it was equally fascinating. There were some rather strange resonances between the two men. Both ended up in London, having been born and raised elsewhere. One of the reasons why music in the UK is still light years ahead of the rest of the world is the way we assimilate the ideas and styles of musicians who move here. London has always been a city of immigrants and this has hugely benefitted our musical culture. I like to think we are more receptive to new ideas, new genres and crossovers.
Handel had been raised in Germany, moving to Italy then London, where he really made his name. Handel's father was a Barber-surgeon who worked for the Royal Court. He clearly understood what made Royals tick musically. For whatever reason, Handel clearly felt more comfortable in London than elsewhere.
His house was full of musical instruments. Unlike Jimi, who had a keen eye for the ladies, little is known of his private life, but it is known that he enjoyed good food. He reached a good age, unlike Jimi who only made 27 years.
One similarity between Hendrix and Handel, that I'd never had appreciated, was how they were innovaters in their use of instruments. Handel clearly would play around with them to form his ideas. In some ways, he was doing the Phil Spector wall of sound two centuries before Spector coined the phrase.
Hendrix also came to London to find his feet musically. He'd been a session player, before Chas Chandler of the Animals became his manager, at the suggestion of Linda Keith (Keith Richards girlfriend). Chandler brought him to London and steamed him up with bassist Noel Redding and drummer Mitch Mitchell to form the Jimi Hendrix Experience. He started hgoing out with Kathy Etchingham who he shared 23 Brooke Street with. Whenever I watch Jimi perform, the thing that really strikes me is how easy he makes doing impossibly complicated things on the guitar seem. Believe me, for most of us, it is so hard!
In Handels house there are some excellent exhibits as well as headphones which explain some of the innovations of his compositions. Although Baroque is not my thing, having some of the details of the innovative ideas in his compositions was fascinating. As a musician, it is always inspiring to get an insight into the mind of such such brilliant musicians. A thought occurred to me. He have photographs of Jimi in his room, but we can but guess as to what Handel's house was like, the wallcoverings, the tat of daily life etc. We live in a priveliged age.
What will I remember of this video in twenty years time? I had a mildly transcendental moment as I gazed upon Jimi's bed and the guitar on it, I was transported back to Aland and that guitar class. The thought occurred to me that when I was in Aland at that time, I would never have dreamed that fourty two years later, I'd find myself in Jimi's bedroom.
London is full of small, niche museums. It reaffirmed that I do need to explore more of them. When I started the London Symphonies series, this was very much the sort of place that I envisaged being a big part of the series. London Symphonies is not about reviewing museums, it is about identifying the spirits of our city that blow in the ether. I certainly felt that my visit to the Handel Hendrix museum discovered a few of these spirits.
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London Symphonies is a collection of vibes about London. Originally conceived as a music album by Roger Tichborne and Poet Allen Ashley, the concept has grown into a full multi media project of pictures, stories, videos and people.
