Tag Archives: music

Violet Immortal (RIP Prince)

14 May

His Royal Purpleness and Cat c.1988

Hey vio-let bro,
sonic blurring,
mind funk whirring,
guitar spurring,
beaux – 
I think I must love you;
 for my age, I’m too young
 don’t fit in my school;
still I know a star 
 when it’s earth far flung –
 you’ve learned me the notion of cool.

Hi, lavender youth,
 wink me a grin.
Sky spirited
no limited
kin,
 guitar guild that light hymn;
 sing high melody prose,
violet peach and rose.
Triksy dip trip-hip,
lofty kick split pose,
your deadliest darndest caper choose.

Dance on royal mate,
 street slick smarting,
flash glow hearting,
ace pro axing
great;
bizzle wizzle, punk twirl
tassle twizzle whip furl,
you fearless easy
 pre Beyoncé girls,
shout too loud new world,
work them celestial drums and keys.

And though later years,
love proved dimming
fascination,
and paisley poems
rare
seemed no inspiration
of yours my favourites still:
the cheer cavalcade,
twice timed octic raid,
love God geek, text speak,
omnipotent transcendent thrill.

Shut up already,
dude man divine,
so headily,
freak – tatstically,
fine?
But though your mortal frame
no longer leaps nor lights,
 ‘til the very end
your songs will be friends,
their lush faiths suspend
Zion forever, in my life.

Sign o' the Times

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Fantabulous 2010

29 Jan

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted anything  here.  It’s taken me weeks to get “back to normal” after a bout of flu over Christmas. Better late than never though. 2010 was a funny, tough old year but there were some huge highs:

1.Making some amazing new friends + the awesomeness of friends and family in general.

2.Easter camping by the sea in Wales.

3. Rufus Wainwright’s performance of “Songs for Lulu” in a 17 foot black train behind a freaky art installation of his eye. See link.

4. Watching “Cav” win his first 2010 stage (five) of Le Tour de France. See link.

5.Walking round a French medieval town in the pouring rain.

6. High up in the stands @ Wembley Stadium,  listening (and crying like a wimp) as Muse performed “Starlight.” See post.

7. Biffy Clyro’s amazing rendition of “God and Satan,” on the same night as above @ Wembley Stadium.

8. Going to hear British Cellist, Steven Isserlis live – an incredible experience.

9. “Discovering” wowsome, awsome rock: Biffy Clyro and Foo Fighters and My Chemical Romance. Link.

10. Christmas spent doing next to nothing –  just sitting on the sofa watching bad films = bliss.

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The Stars Will Shine, The Sun Will Rise

16 Jun

Photo by Muse admin

 

Love these new photos from Muses’ video shoot for Neutron Star Collision.  They gave me a great big shot in the arm – the light is fantastic.  It’s dark but the light is shining through, like a gigantic exploding star. Wow, I thought, the stars will shine soon, the sun will rise.

My life seems to be falling apart – but I’m still writing, (up to Chapter 30 now and beyond) and there’s such fabulous music around, I can’t help but smile.

Photo by Muse admin

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Don’t Give Up. You Will Succeed.

10 May

The caption on my fridge.

All things considered, it’s been a rough few months. I haven’t felt connected to anyone or anything. Been writing madly, as if trying to write myself out of a hole. Which I think I am, maybe: miserable weather, endless doubt and confusion about what I’m meant to be doing or if I’ll ever be good enough, crippled back, stomach bug that won’t go away, things ending, choppy relationships.

In the midst of my bad back crisis, I blagged a lift from Mr. F and staggered up the steps to City Hall to see Mr. Wainwright.

It resembled nothing so much as an elaborate funeral for his beloved mother, Kate McGarrigle (who died in January.) The lights were dim, we were told not to applaud and there he was, sliding silently onto a bare stage, seventeen foot train trailing behind him, feathered, be-jewelled, grieving. His accompaniments were fiercely complicated, like mini piano concertos, as though he was trying to make it as hard on himself as possible, his voice rose and soared to reach impossible notes, showing no signs of strain. A giant eye – his – appeared on the black screen behind him; at one point tears began falling from it.  The eeriest hush, laid across the audience.

Photo by Kasia Bobula. Shot at the Sadler’s Wells Theatre in London.

That night those songs were in my dreams. I felt calmer than I had in weeks, which is quite bizarre.  How can something so melancholy create happiness? I don’t know but I’ll hold that thought.  Mr Wainwrights’ new album is “All Days are Nights” but I’m renaming it: “All Nights are Days.”

When things are rubbish, I’ll think of it. How does the saying go? “The darkest time is just before the dawn.”  Isn’t it when you’re on the verge of breaking through into your dream that you hit rock bottom? Or to put it another way: “Never, never, never give up.” (Winston Churchill.) What a mess we’d be in now if he had! So anyone out there who’s struggling with their dream (self included) :Don’t give up.

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A Blown Amp and The Obsession of “The Big Six”

14 Oct

glorious!And gorgeous!

After the over excitement about “The Resistance” (during which I managed to blow up the amp) I’ve been brought swiftly down to earth. I’ve got my nose firmly back on that grind stone.  It’s painful!

Think I’m becoming an obsessive.  Have been staring at the computer for so long can barely string two sentences together when I do finally stumble downstairs for some caffeine.  I’m also forgetting who I am again. Ru? Luke? Boy? Girl? Sane or disturbed?

I’m putting together what I call “The Big Six” (chapters), which are the heart of the novel. The heart of “State of my Heart” – ha! These chapters are much darker even than the previous ones. Black as midnight.  What’s to become of Luke?

I’ve given myself until Christmas to get to find out. I don’t know if it’s a good idea. October to December= dark nights + bad weather= trying desperately not to succumb to depression. But I know I have to. This book: HAS TO BE FINISHED!  I’ve been doing it long enough to not want to tell anyone how long.

Wouldn’t it be fab if these chapters had the same effect on people as “The Resistance” had on my amp?  (BTW, it didn’t stay broken for long. A cool guy down the road fixed it for a very reasonable sum. So I can crank up the music LOUD again.)

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Are holidays an excuse to behave badly?

17 Aug

I haven’t done a lot of writing over the last few weeks, but then I have been away. Well, for one week, at least. Got a few things to confess to, I’m afraid, (other than a lack of words.) I’ve been getting into some terrible habits. Have been having extra long breakfasts reading (chick-lit). Have had crisps for lunch! Whole chocolate bars in the afternoon! Half bottles of wine in a couple of hours (not until the evening, I might add.)  Not surprisingly, I’ve put a few pounds back on.  But this isn’t the worst of it. What could be worse? Have I been reading “The Mail” at breakfast? Curry for lunch? Drinking whole bottles of wine in the day? No, no, and no. It’s more terrible than that. A perfect summer read

In a giddy holiday fit sister M and I decided to download John Barrowman singing Barry Manilow’s “Somehow I made it through the rain.”  And if that wasn’t bad enough, I immediately suggested we download the entire album. I kept playing it. Every single flipping day of the holiday. At least once.  I had I realized, heart sinking, grown attached to it. I was sickened. I felt sullied, somehow. I’d always prided myself on my musical taste. Well I had, until that week.

But after finally getting back down to some serious writing this week, has good sense prevailed? Can I simply put it down to a bout of holiday madness? Had I fallen for it in the way some people frantically download the most cheesy dance track simply because they had a fab holiday in Ibiza?

The perfect summer soundtrack, ladies! (And gents.)

Well, there’s no way I can write to it! Though I thought it was a (tackily) cool album to have at playing our barbecue the other weekend. (Mr F. was far from impressed. He found the rhyme “…by the others who, got rained on too”, and the duet with Michael Ball,  two particularly low points.)

You know, I no longer feel so disappointed in myself.  Isn’t summer after all, an excuse for us Brits to let things hang out? Have a bit of fun when the sun is shining? Everyone is allowed to let things slip once in a while. Hey, I feel a song coming on…

“I made it through the rain; I kept my world protected, I made it through the rain, I kept my point of view…”

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Low lows and high highs: Chapter Seventeen and a Rufus Opera.

20 Jul

Low lows, and high highs.

I was suffering from exhaustion last weekend. It took an incredible amount of stamina to finish chapter seventeen, and after it things seemed to collapse. Like a tour rider on a tough ascent, I’d put in a superhuman effort to get to the finish.  Now I knew it was time to go onto the biggy, the heart of the novel, chapter eighteen, where Luke gets swept up in something that alters the course of his life (and music) forever and which will ultimately, try to destroy him. I couldn’t start it, though. I simply didn’t have the energy to rev up the writing machine again.

In the middle of this stupid wipe-out, I got an unexpected shot in the arm. I went to see Rufus Wainwright’s opera, Prima Donna. The plot is roughly as follows: ageing opera singer, Madame Saint Laurent has lost the power to sing, and is goes on an emotional (musical) journey back through her life to recall why she can no longer hit the high notes – (God, the similarities between this and Luke Joseph’s life struck me hard, several times during the performance.) It’s a bit freaky.

A good razor for a pretty boy.

Prima Donna was some experience: exquisite melodies, awesome singing, fabulous stage sets and I was (almost) moved to tears at the end of the first act when Philippe, Andre and Marie lament Madame’s sad appearance and urge her to rest. By the time it ended (with plenty of fireworks,) I was bursting with energy. The place was buzzing. Dear Rufus appeared on stage at the end (unfortunately I missed his grand arrival at the theatre) to take his applause with the singers. Please though Rufus, ditch the beard –  you don’t need facial hair to be taken seriously. Prima Donna rocks!

It’s also been a pretty good week for our boys in the tour. Well for Bradley Wiggins, at least! I felt rather sorry for poor Mark Cavendish, having his points mercilessly taken away like that. He looked as if he was going to burst into tears.

Tour Winner?

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