I was fortunate to catch this show at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe. I bought the t-shirt just because I liked the Voodoo Vaudeville artwork and the woman who sold it to me recommended Skin of the Moon as very funny and "random" - well, I loved it. It all made perfect sense to me being a gentleman of a certain age; anyone who can dance the Timewarp and likes vampires, time machines and St. Trinians will love it too.
While queuing for the aptly-named Wildman Room, the Evil Master himself appeared before us in full makeup - I did a double take. (I felt sheepish to have been shocked, since I once shocked people in Canterbury when I wore a Robot of Death costume from Doctor Who.)
The beginning of the preformance in the darkened theatre was weird and scary and I hoped Espe would not run out screaming. Luckily we were in the back row behind two burly chaps which meant we did not share the fate of those foolish enough to sit in the front row.
Chris Cresswell has a sure comic touch and works well with Colin who is probably a woman. He has assembled a fine company and they should be given their own TV channel.
A highlight of the show is the 'notorious puppet oracle' Baby Warhol - have a question ready. I thought of a really good one the next day. Oh yes, and they played a bit of a Hawkwind song too so that's most of my buttons pushed.
If you are going to Edinburgh you must see this! *****
And the bar upstairs is still open after midnight, what more can one ask.
You'll never guess where I was last night! Hawkwind's Christmas party was a special gig at the Astoria in Charing Cross Road. Support was Spacehead, whom I missed by spending too long chatting in Borders over the road, and Man, the "Welsh Wizards". Man and Hawkwind did a US tour together in 1974. Yes, a long time ago, and now Martin Ace's son Josh is in the band on rhythm guitar with his father on bass, and someone called Richards on lead: very good. Richards also sounds a bit like Deke Leonard singing, it's the Welsh accent you see. They stomped through faithful high-energy versions of C'mon, Romain and Spunk Rock.
Hawkwind did a lot of crowd-pleasers as it was a party with only a couple of tracks from the new album, maybe because Lene Lovich and Arthur Brown were not present. Following a poll on hawkwind.com, the set included 7 by 7 and Upside Down (which I have never heard live before) with vocals from Mr. Dibs, also Brainbox Pollution and Psychedelic Warlords. Amazing! Robotic dancers in neon paint came on for Angela Android and reappeared, gambolling or capering as appropriate throughout. Hawkwind's lightshow has at last gone half digital, remaining an analogue hybrid. I've long thought they should use something like G-Force as a backdrop: well now they are, but still combined with glimpses of the the space art, film and graphics accumulated over the decades. Magic.
Really great music with Dave Brock playing a lot of guitar instead of noodling with the synthesiser. Alan Davey energetic as ever, Richard Chadwick on good form. (Who the saxophonist or keyboard player were I know not.) When the double live CD comes out, buy it.
Alan Clayson is performing on Saturday and Monday evening in the capital, and reforming the Argonauts after twenty years for a concert on the 3rd of December.
Update: great gig! Dark suited, the group played all the complex numbers with gusto. At 51, the bassist was the youngest. Alan Clayson himself, with a shock of white hair, has lost little of the brio and fine enunciation that I saw him display thirty years ago in a gig at the Torrington, North Finchley. I got the CD: recommended, especially if you like Robert Calvert with whom he shares a WWII nostalgia.
I'm feeling old myself now, having to take off my glasses to read the tiny print in the extensive liner notes in the CD. He's written lots of rock books too.
(Who was the support band? they were good, like to get some of their stuff.)
Day 4: We returned to the City of Arts and Sciences today to see the Museu de les Ciencies Príncipe Felipe. This is a huge building with a skeletal framework, which is covered with so much glass the window cleaner has a job for life. The best part of the museum is the interactive experiments on the lower levels, ostensibly for children, which are a lot of fun. As in all museums there are many exhibits not working but there is so much here it does not matter too much. We had fun playing with light and sound.
The main exhibition on the top floor was about genetics. A brave attempt to explain a big subject, with more interactive exhibits to engage the casual visitor. There are a couple of cafes inside the museum, the best one having a big hot buffet so get there early to sp. The other cafe has bare concrete walls so it is like being in a toilet.
The film we had booked to see in the Imax dome L'Hemisferic was Grand Canyon which was excellent. Each seat is reclined so you can see the film projected on the ceiling, the inside of the dome. Headphones carry the sound and you can switch them between languages. In the picture you can see me pretending to react to a fifty foot spider walking across the screen which sure enough happened later. It was spectacular. The Imax process gives a good sense of depth and perspective. The best parts were the early Indian settlers walking around their vertiginous paths, and a trip by canoe down the rapids.
We gave the Umbracle a miss and did not visit the impressive Palace of Arts (Palau de les Arts) because they are still building it.
30.10.77 at the Torrington.
Oke leaves.
Gis arrives.
Also present: Skip, Ade with EMI ciggy lighter, Hunwick with demo for Martin Brown - to join the band Quest. Yeah yeah yeah. Outrage were in the studio again today. Ade refuses to join the RAK label.
Skip recalcitrant. Gis excited about Paris. Ade will go wih us if we get as far as booking the hotel.
Steve Image arrives without shades or white shirt! But he is wearing jodhpurs. Skip has a MU Keep Music Live t-shirt. End of fashion note.
Also present briefly: Paul Louchnane, Linda Willett.
Skip: I've got a lot on my mind.
Gis: Get your hair cut!
Sugarman arrives wearing a red pullover - we toook the piss out of him - he enquires after Oke.
Bought singles by Elvis Costello, Roxy Music, Medicine Head, Laurel & Hardy, Jimmy C. Newman, The Clash, Sad Caf�, Sham 69 and Split Enz. The Enz single is still only 70p even though it's a twelve incher in a picture sleeve.
Noticed JP Records shop has gone. Gis has had a shave and haircut. "New Barnet is a lunchtime place".
Also present: Hops, Ian Millington, Maia Mastouki, Lee Marden, Paul Cox, Si Shaw, Francis Metcalfe, Bern, Mr. X, Mrs Craig (Lynette), Oke, Nat, Fresco, Debbie Goring, Skip.
Leave 20 minutes after closing time, when it is absolutely pissing down and run for the bus.
19:10.77 Dawley and Four Ashes.
20.10.77 Park Lane and Canal Works.
Map: 60p.
Notebook: 12p.
Two pints of beer: 54p.
(I visited four Ever Ready battery factories in the Midlands on these days. I don't remember much about it, probably due to a night out at The Boar's Head in Piggott's End where they served real ale which was a rarity then. I do remember wearing a green suit on one day which led to me being called a leprachaun - well, it was the 70s. In one factory there was the long furnace where they cooked the graphite(?) rods that go in the centre of batteries, and the scary firedoor on that building that would roll into place in case of any furnace problems. There was the manager who showed us around who shrieked "get on with your work!" at two poor Indian women on a production line who had dared to give us a cheery greeting. The "yellow submarine" that made PP9 batteries: it was completely automatic except for folding over the cardboard cover on each battery which had to be done manually. Factory work looks to be extremely dull and intimidating.)
Short skirts. Hair down to their waists. Orange and purple that doesn't match. All this smoking - air pollution! And those clanking great bells they wear around their necks! And those strip clubs in Soho! I bet half of them are owned by these young generations. And this Rolf Harris is one of the ringleaders! Have you seen his show! All those bare tummies! Disgusting. Wandering barefoot hand in hand listening to radios blaring away!
Yours disgustedly,
Emily
(I think this is an attempt at satire perpetrated in an English lesson)
(I, a small twelve-year-old boy, would have walked along Squires Lane in Finchley to my grandparent's house in Cromwell Road. I often went there with my brother to use my grandfather's workshop.)