As reported here (second item), I've bought a new PC with all mod cons.
And here it is
I'd be lying if I said that everything had gone completely smoothly. Nothing ever does. There was a misunderstanding over which operating system I wanted, but that was sorted out without any difficulty. Then the machine wouldn't recognise the floppy drive (yes, I am old fashioned - so sue me), but that was down to a loose power connector and sorted out pronto.
This setup is more compact than the old one, largely because I now have a combined printer/scanner, rather than have them separate as before. That means that the router now sits on the little shelf by my feet.
Another thing this PC is is quiet. You see, the CPU fan on the old one packed up after just over four years, and I thought that I'd buy a more powerful one to drop the temperature down. Unfortunately, I'd failed to take the extra noise level into account, and my last two-and-a-bit years of home computing have taken place to the accompaniment of what sounds like a DC10 going by. Now I find myself looking under the desk every few minutes just to check that the new one is running.
It's also fast. So it should be with a 4200 AMD dual-core. A bit of a change from an 800 Duron!
I haven't had time to check out all the functions of the printer/scanner/copier, nor do very much with burning DVDs or the like, mostly because I've been trying to get a home network set up between the newbie and my veteran Windows 98 PC. So far, I've got both machine talking to the router, and the XP machine can access the share on the 98 one, but do you think I can get the 98 one even to ping the new one? Nada, nowt, zilch. Probably just a firewall setting, so I'll persevere.
The video capture card hasn't come into play yet, because I need a cable to connect it to my VCR and I haven't got round to buying one yet. Then I can get a load of old video onto disk.
So, let's hear it for Mick and his team at Micro Plus in Wrexham!
I don't think I've seen my feelings on the issue of remembrance better expressed than by my old friend Alex akaThe Plainclothes Clown:
(Note: I've corrected the spelling and toned down the language a tad: I think the dear boy got agitated!)
"Look, let's get this straight, okay?
"Not all of us are going to join the military and go out there and Defend Our Land. Ever. And you know why?
"Because we're too [...] busy trying to be the spirit of our land.
"We are singers, dreamers, people who laugh at inappropriate times, dancers, sorcerers, freaks, clowns. We are bakers, door to door salesmen with a target to achieve, teachers, commuters, PAs, bosses, thugs, workers, unemployed, nutcases, geniuses, the downtrodden, the valiant.
"We are civilians. We also fall doing our bit for society. We keep it going while the soldiers are going out there killing people trying to do their job of keeping their society going.
"When [...] do we get our names on a wall? When [...] do we get the day that people come to a memorial and say "For the people who kept the values we fought for, like humour and love and peace and freedom, by living those ideals instead of throwing them away?"
"All I'm saying is, honour the fallen tomorrow yes. But don't lose your heads in the thunder of war drums and the rattling of [...] sabres!
"I just had it today. They were showing a film, for kids, and in the middle of it is a recruitment advertisement for the armed services.
I've mentioned before my admiration for Steve Tilston as a musician, as a songwriter and as a man.
With a thirty-six-year recording career behind him (with many more years to come, one hopes), Free Reed Records have now made him the subject of one of their famous box sets.
Entitled Reaching Back - The Life And Music Of Steve Tilston, it contains four full-length CDs (and I mean full-length - the shortest disc clocks in at just a few seconds under 75 minutes), plus (if you're quick about it) a bonus disc (of which more anon), making a total of nearly six and a half hours of recordings.
So, what do you get for your money here, then?
Well, there's a general theme to each disc. The first one, Who Made Up The Rules? (the four discs are indivdually titled after lines in Steve's songs), kicks off with Lifescape With Guitar, an instrumental which weaves together a number of melodies from his songs, which is followed by a line-up of tracks from his first twenty years of recording. Most of these are the original versions, but some (like Reaching Out, one of his most anthologised numbers) are re-recordings done specially for this album. Rest assured, though, that throughout the set these reworkings stand tall in their own right. Some of the singing on the earliest songs is a shade too near to Donovanian whimsy for comfort, but the lad was just starting out and could be forgiven an awful lot, especially in the context of what he has done since.
Highlight track: Reaching Out
Disc two, He Took Most Delight..., concentrates mostly on Steve's nineties output, starting with the ground-breaking Of Moor And Mesa (1992), and taking in his solo work, his collaboration with his then-wife Maggie Boyle, and his work in the trio WAZ. So here we have The Naked Highwayman (not the only one of his songs to be mistaken for a traditional one), a reworking of another classic, Slip Jigs And Reels, and two of his longer songs, both telling stories of the Americas, Coronado And The Turk (about the Conquistadores) and The Turncoat (So Far Away) (about the War Of Independence).
Highlight track: Let Your Banjo Ring
The third disc, Staring At The Time, brings us more-or-less up to date, comprising largely of material from his Solorubato (1998), Such And Such (2003) and Of Many Hands (2005) albums. So we have the contrast between, for example, To Bits And Back (Black Dog), which dates from a time of great upheaval in his private life, to the celebratory Rare Thing, plus the driving (in both senses) I Need A Cup Of Coffee, the Greek-flavoured The Dewy Ones and the jazzy Totterdown.
Highlight track: Willow Creek
Disc four, Do What You Please, consists largely of Steve Tilston doing cover versions - something he's often done in concert, but seldom if ever in the studio. The effects are, to be honest, mixed: there's his successful rescue of The Leaving Of Liverpool from the Spinners singalong fate it had previously had to endure, and two collaborations with the poetic genius Les Barker: the superbly sardonic War Horse Town, which describes an attitude of blue-collar middle America in times of war abroad in a way which Springsteen might envy; and the very different Dipsticks And Seals, where Our Hero - ever averse to taking himself too seriously - sings Barker's parody of Slip Jigs with all the commitment he shows to his original. Much of the rest of this disc is worthy enough, but fails to enthrall in the way that Tilston's own material would (although he makes that sneering bore Bob Dylan's A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall tolerable, even at a length of over seven minutes).
Highlight track: Rhapsody
The bonus disc does not get its title from any of Steve's songs: however, as they called it Bringing In The Steves, perhaps it should have done. What it contains is a selection of cover versions of his songs by other people. As with the fourth disc, the result is patchy: the veteran Americans Steve Gillett and Cindy Mangsen's version of Waterhole is superbly atmospheric; the equally legendary Jez Lowe's version of All In A Dream is lively in a different way to the original; Chris Smither's take on Can't Shake The Blues sounds like the real deal; and the version of Tilston's tribute to his friend Peter Bellamy Down Falls The Day by Grace Notes (which includes Maggie Boyle) is beautifully moving. Unfortunately, the disc also contains a version of These Days by Pete Morton which makes that uplifting song of hope sound like a cry for help; a leaden version of The Naked Highwayman by Fairport Convention; and the final two tracks of the set are Dolores Keane's overwrought version of The Night Owl Homeward Turns and a take on The Proud Man by Robin Williamson and his wife which is, frankly, just bizarre.
Highlight track: Down Falls The Day
There are a few niggles about the packaging: the otherwise magnificent 100-page book included could have done with some more astute proof-reading (some avoidable typos, and the obvious omission of part of the paragraph referring to Brook Williams), and some of the credits information is inconsistent between the book and the disc inserts themselves (this is especially true of the bonus disc, although to be fair they were racing like mad to finalise the track listing on that, what with so many people wishing to contribute their own cover versions). Apart from that, the book (by Nigel Schofield) is a fascinating read, tracking Tilston's long career, his influences and subsequent influence in turn, together with insightful and revealing quotes from the artist himself and from others.
So, is it worth splashing out £40 or more for this box set?
For all the quibbles, I can give an emphatic "Yes" to that question. Steve Tilston is a major talent, and has been for a long time without ever really getting the wider exposure that talent has deserved. Although this box set will appeal mostly to the cognoscenti (even those who us who already have much of the material contained in it), it should also interest anyone interested in fine songwriting, performed with great skill and charm.
Reaching Back can be bought from a number of sources, but why not cut out as many middlemen as possible and order it directly from Steve Tilston's own website?
...Another two get ripped off their hinges and replaced.
Say what you want about Wrexham County Borough Council (and I have said it - frequently), but they can get the job done when they put their minds to it.
Having put in double glazing (in about 2001) and central heating (three years ago - ye gods, is it that long ago?), today they came and gave me new front and back doors.
They were sorely needed, believe me. I mean, this is what the old back door looked like:
(It was in more or less this state when it was put in about fifteen years ago. That's why I never bothered painting it)
And this is what the front door looked like:
(Bloody wood had warped and let the draught in something chronic)
So, at about 8:20 this morning, one of the guys the Council had contracted to do the work turned up and started jemmying the old wooden doors and their frames out and putting the new uPVC ones in position for his colleague to fit them.
He turned up at about 9:30 and set about the job. He had a lot of trouble getting the front door to shut properly (I could have told them that, as this house is over eighty years old, nothing about it is exactly in true anymore), but eventually his expertise got there (although he admitted that he didn't know quite how he'd solved the problem), and the back door was straightforward by comparison.
After applying the sealant, fitting all the trim (and refitting the chain, because some cross-threaded twit at the factory had put the bracket on a part of the frame which would be embedded in the wall), cleaning and making good, they'd finished by 11:40.
And a very fine job they did as well, as you can now see:
Unfortunately, I've forgotten the name of their company, and didn't get their own names, but if you read this, guys, you're a couple of true professionals!
You might be able to see the little spy-hole in the front door. The thing is, as the front step is a good two to three inches below the door level, if anyone of less-than-average height knocks on the door, I won't be able to see them. One of my elderly neighbours has a slightly different problem, as she is too short to look out through hers at all.
Now I just have to remember to lock up properly before I go out...
I don't usually have a lot of time for Jeremy Paxman. He does tend to exude an air of superiority and arrogance which is not always matched by his talent.
He can, however, hit the nail firmly on the head at times. This time, it was in his MacTaggart Lecture at the Edinburgh International Television Festival.
His criticisms of the way television is run today, its obsession with trivia, its superficial coverage of important stories, and the supine, egregious cowardice of its management, strike a chord with those of us who have despaired at the way this important channel of information and culture has been sidetracked into low-quality, ratings-chasing banality (for my take on all this, see here).
You can read Paxman's lecture here (in .pdf format), or here (if you want the .html version; although this is an 'edited' - i.e. slightly censored - version).
I won't bother you with what I might have been searching for when I found this, but I'm glad I did.
I'm reminded of some of the great Far Side cartoons of Gary Larson, combining as they do a slightly (or very) bizarre image and often surreal descriptions.
Today marks the 70th birthday of one of the most remarkable people I've ever known.
Well, when I say known, I have to admit that I've never actually met this guy, never actually spoken to him. I know him (definitely not in the biblical sense!) in the sense that has become common nowadays, in that we contribute to the same Usenet group; namely, that redoutable tangle of threads, alligators and chocolate that is alt.fan.pratchett.
Rocky Frisco is (or has been) a musician (his first paid gig was 50 years ago, and he is currently regular keyboards man in J.J. Cale's touring band), an actor (a late development, hence he's played quite a few old men!), a jewelry maker, a motor-racing driver in Canada (Minis a speciality), and a political campaigner (a Libertarian with an unswerving commitment to that fine document the United States Constitution).
I don't agree with his position on some of these subjects, but I gladly recognise and appreciate that all he does, he does with honesty, integrity and humanity.
So happy birthday Rocky: may your shadow never grow less, and may your songs never end.
This is usually the time of year when I present you with yet another selection of my Hundred Best Tunes.
Well, not this time.
Truth is, I'd got bored with it. Well, that and the fact that the same old stuff was coming round time after time.
So, as I turned 45 last Saturday, I thought it was the ideal opportunity to do something different. So here is my list of 45 45s - singles which mean something special to me.
As trailed here (near the bottom of the piece), I've had an article published on the prestigious Transdiffusion broadcasting history website. It's about Stop The Week with Robert Robinson, a programme broadcast on BBC Radio 4 for eighteen years up until July 1992, and which I listened to almost every week for the last twelve years of that run.
If you're interested (and why should you be?), the piece in question is here.
My thanks to Kif Bowden-Smith (Transdiffusion founder and co-editor) for his interest and encouragement. Be warned! There may be more where that came from!
I'm no great lover of country music. In fact, for the most part I cordially detest it. I've only got to hear one whiny note from a pedal steel guitar and I want to nuke Nashville.
Sometimes though, exceptions have to be made for exceptional cases. This is one such.
That Johnny Cash should even contemplate covering a song by Nine Inch Nails is, at first sight, peculiar. One can imagine few points of contact between The Man In Black and one of the enfants terribles of recent rock music. That Cash should cover what is perhaps Trent Reznor's most introverted and personal songs seems stranger still.
Yet it must be remembered that Johnny Cash was the eternal renegade, way back to the 50s and 60s, the years of his hell-raising, his famous prison concerts, the drugs, the spiritual crises. So perhaps such a laying bare of the soul is not out of keeping. And this is what we hear with Rick Rubin's sparse production - little more than guitar, piano and That Voice.
Moving enough in itself, but Mark Romanek's video takes it to a whole new level of intensity. Here we see an old man, physically frail but with an intense force of spirit, giving what appears to be a last defiant shout against the dying of the light, in which all that had gone before, all the accolades, all the messy stuff of human existence is seen as worthless.
In fact, there was no 'appears' about it. The candid footage of the flood-ravaged House Of Cash museum, the juxtaposing of the ailing Cash in 2002 with footage of the wild years, the shots of his family; all this was to end, and soon. His beloved wife June died in May 2003, and Johnny followed her less than four months later. Their home burned down a month ago.
I first saw the video completely by chance late one Friday night on BBC2, when it featured in a documentary about Cash. The beautifully stark honesty of it made me weep then. It still does now.
Now you've read this, scroll back up and watch it again.
(The shortage of updates on this site - which, I assure you, has not
gone unremarked upon in certain quarters - is due to my spending much
of my time on the redesign: still due in June)
Forty to fifty years ago, Tom Lehrer provided
the musical and comedic counterpoint to the staid, comfortable, sated
self-image that the USA had of itself.
Lehrer gave up writing in the early 1970s, saying that "awarding
the Nobel Peace Prize to Henry Kissinger has made political satire
obsolete". Since then, what passes for music-based political satire
in the US has tended to be lacking in any real bite, polish and
technique.
There are always exceptions, however. This man is one:
Roy Zimmerman is, to me, something of a genius. Songs which combine
a keen satirical power with a lyrical technique which recalls Lehrer at
his best.
Visit his website. Listen to
the song samples. Particularly, watch the videos.
After over a week of being housebound following my fourth viral
infection in six weeks, I managed to drag myself out of doors this
morning to go into Wrexham. Well, it was either that or have no money
for a few more days.
I came back with this:
My 5½-year-old 15" Relisys CRT is finally on the way out
(after some real hammer down the years, I might add), and I didn't get
myself anything for Christmas, so why not now?
This is an Acer AL1716As 17" TFT, bought from Micro Plus Computers
in Wrexham for just under £130.
There's a big perceptional difference between the image on a CRT
and on a TFT, though (especially as the TFT allows me much finer
resolution), so nothing looks quite 'right' just at the moment.
Raves Archive 2007
