I first heard this - psalmody, they call it - during what they call the kirking of Inverness Council; the new council assembles in the town church, these strange unaccompanied psalms and anthems are sung, prayers are said and the Council marches to the Council House. Somehow, for no reason, we found ourselves invited to the official lunch and a tour of the building; we saw the room where wartime Churchill had convened his only extra-London War Cabinet and ate and drank like lords. But that shivery psalm singing, well, if you ever get the chance. Along with a Captain Beefheart concert at Warwick University; an Easter Sunday Mass more wailed than sung by ancient sopranos in Brittany and being suddenly surrounded, on an Orkney islet, by a Georgian choir, singing the sacred sites of the world, this Highlands psalmody was one of my life's magical musical moments. They will do some such for Kennedy, more than he deserves, less than he needs.
Tuesday, 2 June 2015
A HIGHLANDS EVENSONG.
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Very nice noise, Mr Ishmael. Definitely something maritime or insular about it.
And so much better than the Golfers' Blues which seems to have gone walkabout. A shocking din. Cyberspace passing its own judgment perhaps.
Somehow I got politics lad whilst first Mozzy got Mayor and I cried a little. "Somehow, for no reason" - yeah, no, not so much, They will show Kennedy respect as a man. Sir, you would have it no other but now we are amongst the admin of funeareal shite - a man has died.
He saved a million. He saved my kin, full of vigour, he saved my friends and they became deaf. I am a pisshead and I will shout Soothsayer till the coys fuclk the fuck off but numbers dude. Inevitable is a big number and i'm counting too much. It's all very well being smart but sometimes poltics is personal, principle, philosophical - there is a smart way through this.
Fuck 'im, the guy was a cunt :-)
It was but a hat-tip. mr mongoose, to mr mike's golfing-zen morning. I dreamt, in a recent midnight hour, that I had died and was being serenaded by a dark, if mellifluous power and woke to realise that it was the voice-over of a film's end credits, Loudon jumior, Rufus, camping his way interminably, it seemed, through a grotesque Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered, accompanied, though every over articulated. tremulous line and every unoriginal gay coda - they seemed endless - by a rabidly over-florid, look-at-me grand piano. zif you think Daddy makes a shocking din you should hear Rufus Wainwright.
It is the Highland Blues, this stuff, via the original Bluesman, King David. I am surprised that they voted in such strength for the Godless tribesmen bastards.
Lovely, thanks, and pictures too.
My late brother, mr dick used to mutter: All at once is where Infinity is. If that helps. You kinda remind me of him when you laugh.
I am glad you liked it, mr bungalow bill, I hoped you would, ragged but intense.
Ah screw it, we're all Scandanaviansaisins.
Brilliant song, shite video.
No (and with apologies), Mr DtP, most of us (here before the war - the war !) are R1Bs (apart from the Northern & Outer Islanders, that is, who have much Norse blood in them). Thanks for the song and the vid Mr I - I loved them both - I never made it to Lewis & Harris (Uig to Lochmaddy and headed south, across all those magnificent causeways to Barra - treasure island if there ever was one - if it wasn't for the fucking midges it would be heaven and I'd go back there). In the meantime (and dang me Mr I, if there was any justice in the world, they'd give you St. John of Peel's old slot, as it were, on Radio 1). But pending the flight of pigs, BB King, eat your heart out and move over for El Capitan, Don Van Vliet - or I'm a fucking Dutchman:
Sir, I yield.
I met him, mr sg, the Captain, and he was so much more yet so much less than you would expect; like Mr Mike Heron of tne Incredible String Band, van Vliet was a perfect blend of Grace and Charisma. I only met Beefheart the once and, indeed, I am not what you would call a fan, knowing only a couple of his albums, the main ones, but remain, decades later, convinced that God informed and participated in his performance. Heron, I met again, a few years ago, in Inverness and he is unchanged, brilliantly gentle, modest, though his art, decades on, chsrms and brightens the lives of millions.
John Peel. there is much for which I thank him, not a huge amount, really, I am much the auto-didact, but there is stuff, world and blues music, mainly, for which I am indebted to Peel
I will view the clip, and mr mark's, tomorrow, in the proper computer.
RiBs ? por favor?
Nothing to be yielded here, mr dick, no retreat, baby,no surrender.
Sorry - R1B, Mr I. Had my DNA done and I am one (as, like or not, are you and Mr DtP - remnants from Ice Age migrations):
I grew up on Peel, back in the late seventies, amidst all the punk stuff (much of which I liked and am still fond of) a few gems like Beefheart and Zappa (earlier proper Blues stuff too - I think that's where his heart was...).
Ah, so. Thank you. Ice Age Nomads. Cool.
Alexis Korner was the warmer presenter and less esoteric than Peel, more mainstream, urban and country blues. Dropkick Me, Jesus, Tbrough The GoalPosts of Life, that was one of his. I loved his Sunday night programme.
Lots of vintage Beefheart performance, over there, all his musicians make BB King look like the Bay City Rollers.
The Wainwright sprog is a poor lad - damned if he does and damned if he's not quite good enough to. It is anyway the batard side of the family.
Earlier talk of Scandanavians reminded me of this:
The Tribesmen should be careful of what they wish for and awaken:
Strangeŷ reminiscent of 'Solaris' (the original Russian version - not the shit remake...) in places...
Damn! Duplication & spelling mistakes. What would Professor Fuck say? Must be time for bed...
Saw it,the other night, Valhalla Rising, on the telly, it was Ok, interesting, owed a bit, I thought, to The Navigator, need to see it again.
He'd be worse than damned if he opened his mouth round here, would Rufus, and his fucking sister. Loved his mother's work, most of it, but she oviously neglected him.
Actually she did, saw a documentary about his rising star, some years back, and she was awful, Kate, pushy showbiz mum, giggling at his serious drug use and promiscuity, darling. Still think, nevertheless, that Talk To Me Of mendecino is divine.
A curio. This man caught a picture of red deer swimming in unlikely Scottish seas.
The Cornish coast is a really unlikley Scottish water, mrs woar, maybe the poor chap was fleeing the Tribesmen, as would any sensible animal.
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