Almost the end of the season

A busy week indeed and little time to attend to these pages. I’m pleased that the city club has signed the nuggety and combative scrum half Peter Richards from Wasps. Like Balding last term, he comes from a club which knows all about winning and competing fiercely so I hope he adds something special to our squad. Notably, he’ll be paid less than some of the big name scrum halves linked to Gloucester so we can strengthen elsewhere – hopefully full back, wing and second row.

I feel that Saracens will prove too strong for the noble Cherries tomorrow. Their side looks impressive in all departments. Damage limitation will be the first priority and any win will prove an almighty bonus for the lads. I look forward to watching Olly Morgan make his full first fifteen debut. I rate the lad. He was also very polite to me at Open Day which was mightily well received.

Patrice

Patrice Collazo has signed a three year contract and I am delighted. With a fit Vickery and a rampaging Azam causing mayhem, I look forward to a little more forward dominance next term. I am pleased we have young Nicky Wood as cover but the jury, for me, remains out on Powell and Sigley. Next year’s team and squad are gradually coming together. I shall sleep better once a hulking great lock has signed to complete the pack. Hopefully Mercier will put pen to paper soon too.

-ness x3

A combination of busyness, tiredness and illness (I spent most of yesterday in bed feeling ghastly) has kept me away from these pages. I blame ‘A Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou’. It really was dire.

A tip came my way recently: The Saturday edition of the Financial Times was a cracking read, full of features not pertaining to fiscal issues and with plenty of Arts and Culture coverage. Verily, I dipped my toe in its pinky waters yesterday and enjoyed. It’s certainly a serious newspaper, very weighty but worth the effort. However, only one page of sport… My Saturday Guardian is one of the week’s treats for me and will remain my pick of the papers. Good to try something else though.

I heard some Junior Delgado on the wireless this morning, on Radio 5 Live of all places. The fellow died earlier this month but was a respected roots reggae musician with a thundering, almost anguished vocal delivery. I thought it sounded fantastic and I note that today’s Observer Music Monthly also sings the guy’s praises. I’ve added his retrospective Original Guerilla Music to my Amazon wish list.

Awful Film at Guildhall

The Coles visited Gloucester Guildhall this evening to watch a ‘Blue Room’ showing of The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou. I can safely state that this was one of the worst films I have had the displeasure of encountering. Tomorrow, when less tired, I shall attempt to think of something positive to say about this hugely disappointing feature. Right now, I'm struggling. One critic (see link above) puts it perfectly: "The movie is so arrogant and self-satisfied that if it had genitals, I would kick them."

C30, C60, C90, Go!

A week or so ago I found, to my delight, another box of old tapes I haven’t played for a while, mainly stuff I’d transferred from vinyl back in the 1980s so that I didn’t have to cart a load of LPs up to my Sheffield student hovel. The inlay cards were a labour of love, track listings typed with two fingers to produce a lo-fi look which I enjoyed. I obviously had far too much time on my hands. Anyhow, in the car I have been playing lots of New Order (Power, Corruption and Lies and the blistering Lowlife album) as well as some Magazine (The Correct Use of Soap) and Wire (Chairs Missing). The Magazine sounds a bit dated now but the Wire stands the test of time with its staccato riddims and good old-fashioned quirkiness. Tonight I played The Pogues’ Rum, Sodomy and the Lash (now, there’s a firm of solicitors) and will devote tomorrow’s journeys to some bewitching Pornography (the 1982 gothic masterpiece by The Cure as opposed to a barrage of explicit images intended to arouse desire. Of course).

Collazo Hurrah

Patrice Collazo has been linked to a move to Gloucester and I would certainly welcome back the nuggety French prop. We need his type. Indeed we do. I suppose Collazo represents ‘what went wrong’ to a certain extent. The club’s inability to hang on to him and Delport and Mercier has cost us dear and says more about the coffers at Kingsholm than any deficiencies in Melville’s coaching style. His return would speak volumes about a potential reversal in fortunes next season. We need plenty of other signings of a similar quality to douse my fears.

I feel a bit guilty not including Power, Corruption and Lies (1985) by New Order in my Top Five albums list yesterday. I’ve been playing it to death in my car taking me back to an era when it was rarely off my old Sony turntable. It possesses a particular sound that resonates through all the tracks, a confident electronic groove that indicates a band that has found its collective feet and knows the kind of music it needs to make. It sounds fabulous. That flowery cover was great too.

If I was extending my Top Five albums into a Top Ten I’d also include along with the New Order opus:

Burning Spear’s Marcus Garvey (1975) – Pastoral roots reggae that mixes a sense of history, a sense of political injustice with some stunning arrangements. A beautiful record.

Blur’s Blur (1997) – The self-titled fifth Blur album recorded in Iceland and its sparse soundscapes reflect this. Graham Coxon’s finest hour – the guitar on this album is thrilling in its creativity. Blur grew up with this album.

The Go-Betweens’ Liberty Belle and the Black Diamond Express (1986) – Much like Pavement or Blur, I could have chosen one of three or four albums but Liberty Belle hits all the right spots. Ten compelling songs. Apology Accepted could well be the band’s most beautiful four and half minutes.

The Beatles’ Revolver (1966) – Hit me for six at the age of thirteen and a quarter of a century later I’d be hard-pressed to think of a more spectacular collection of pop songs.

Waxing Lyrical about Lyrical Waxings

Radiohead’s OK Computer was voted the best album of all time on Channel 4’s 100 Greatest Albums show last night and although it remains a wonderful album, Kid A, for me is the finest Radiohead recording, an electronic masterpiece that certainly repays repeated listening. A theme continues throughout the poll of more popular, mainstream albums being preferred to more critically acclaimed (by me!) alternatives. So R.E.M.’s Automatic for the People features ahead of any of the swaggering, epic first five albums by the Georgians. Blur’s Parklife is a cracking little album but Blur, 13 and Think Tank are far more challenging and intelligent. I think The Pixies’ Surfer Rosa – not on the list – is more relentlessly exhilarating than the lighter and poppier Doolittle and I know that S would claim Come On Pilgrim to be the finest Pixies record. And so on. Naturally I have been chewing over my Top Five favourite albums today. Here goes and in no particular order:

Boards of Canada’s Music the Right to Children (1998) – such a unique sound, a warm and comforting electronic brew evoking a strange but gorgeous Scottish scene. S and I have regular discussions about the genius of the middle three tracks: Kaini Industries, Bocuma and Roygbiv. A trio of belters!

Joy Division’s Closer (1980) – almost a concept album dealing with despair and death I suppose. We all know what happened next. This is beautiful music, utterly compelling from the first manic drum beats of Atrocity Exhibition.

The Fall’s This Nation’s Saving Grace (1985) – a post-punk meisterwerk, jerky and with angles Euclid would be proud of. The lyrics are among Smith’s finest, obtuse, cutting and witty as heck.

Pavement’s Slanted and Enchanted (1992) – Challenging stuff this and an album I really had to persevere with. Eventually the tunes start emerging from the ether and like muck, they stay stuck. A lo-fi work of art. A toss-up between this and Brighten the Corners for my favourite Pavement album. Winning me over are the mumbled and oblique Zurich is Stained (what is that about?) and the perfect pop gem Here. Firm yet intensive lobbying by D in the Iguana last Saturday - its all coming back to me slowly - also helped Slanted’s cause. I might go and play this one later.

Radiohead’s Kid A (2000) – I found out on the wireless this week that Thom Yorke and the Greenwoods have a huge Autechre fixation which helps explain the fractured pulses and dense atmosphere that permeate this fascinating piece of art. This is life-affirming stuff and, it has to be said, a lot better than anything by dear, dear Autechre.

Travelogue

A busy weekend in Manchester has drawn to a close and despite falling asleep a couple of times in the car on the M6 I still crave my bed and a good night’s kip. The heady scenes in Chorlton's Iguana Bar have taken their toll and make no mistake.

I am reading two books at the moment. Vikram Seth’s An Equal Music isn’t exactly a bundle of laughs but it remains a tender novel, certainly moving and thought-provoking. I’ve nearly finished it and am glad to have tackled some serious non-fiction as I seem to have read mainly biographies, memoirs and diaries of late. I guess Stuart Maconie’s Cider With Roadies is part autobiography, part memoir and I have relished its easy wit and honest appraisal of cultural life in Britain during the 70s and 80s. As a result of the last few chapters I have, this evening, added some Northern Soul compilations, the first two Human League albums and some Josef K to my bulging – quality and quantity! – Amazon wishlist.

Sound and Vision

The Guardian’s Alexis Petridis reviewed The Go-Betweens’ new album today and gave it five stars and an incredible write-up, full of praise and respect. If I were ever exiled and could choose the entire back catalogue of only one act, I would be tempted to take lots of Go-Betweens albums. Their songs are so melodically warm and lyrically are so knowing, intelligent and human. I can’t really believe I’m off to see them in Birmingham in a couple of weeks. This is a cool group. This is a cool group.

The Coles proceeded merrily to the Guildhall last night to view a cracking little film, Sideways. I must say that I thoroughly enjoyed the tale of two old college chums enjoying one last hurrah – one of them is due to marry - trailing through the golf courses, vineyards and eateries of California. The dialogue was fantastically written, the characters were well-rounded and believable and the plot managed to be both uproariously hilarious and tender and sad at the same time. I loved it. Even the notoriously uncomfortable Guildhall seats seemed less hard than normal.

I have neglected these pages for a day or two and that is because I have been busy doing stuff and, as a result of doing ‘other stuff’, been too tired to log on. Another day or two of neglect beckons as we are off to visit C, A and D in Manchester tonight.

Hitting the political trail

A tiring day I guess. I was up early to take my son to the Brunswick campus to attend a public (sort of) meeting where David Blunkett spoke and answered questions. I explained the British constitution to T on the way and told him that we were going to see a former Home Secretary. It was hard going explaining what MPs are and constituencies are and cabinets and ministers. We didn’t even start on the House of bleedin’ Lords. Blunkett spoke well but without a good deal of passion. His guide dog was beautiful. I wonder if we’ll be in tomorrow’s Citizen as there were lots of press photographers present.

Sorting wheat from the chaff, quizzical riff-raff and warblers and chiff-chaffs

Gloucester 15 – Leeds 33

Naturally I’m very disappointed with this result and the insulting performance that led to it. A part of me still holds with the view that the club’s demise is largely linked with our chairman hitting business difficulties and the city no longer remaining in the market for quality players to enhance the squad. I would argue that the current squad is nowhere near as strong as a top six team should be. Yesterday, only Forrester, Simpson-Daniel and, maybe McRae showed the skill and swagger I would expect from a Gloucester fellow. The rest were certainly not good enough especially Azam at prop (the boy Wood was a vast improvement in the second half), the lumbering Buxton in the back row, the shell-shocked and wan Goodridge and the frankly embarrassing Seti Kiole. Poor Jake Boer looked spent but at least tried. Mefin Davies didn’t do a great deal but surrounded by such chaff I guess it was tough. My main rage is directed at the foolish Eustace whose sin-binning was key. A potential five metre line-out was instead turned into an attacking platform for Leeds after the idiotic lock threw a punch after the home side had been awarded a penalty. My heart sank. His feeble attempt at a tackle in the lead-up to Leeds’ final try was heart-breaking too. Having said all this, I am beginning to have concerns about the effectiveness of Melville’s stewardship of the club and of the quality of Dean Ryan’s coaching. There are a few out of work coaches at the moment who might be able to improve the squad at Gloucester. Sadly though, I don’t think our chairman can afford to compensate Melville and Ryan. Sometimes I wish I didn’t care so much.

The Greyhound pop quiz was, as predicted, an unmitigated disaster. Contestants needed to identify 25 songs and artists and, naturally, Wire, Gang of Four and Vashti Bunyan didn’t feature too heavily on the rotund quizmeister’s playlist. Instead S and I had to try and recognise stuff by Westlife, The Artful bloody Dodger and other ‘acts’ – mainly uninspiring R ‘n’ B purveyors of pap I can’t remember the names of less than 12 hours later. It was shocking. Early on I remarked bleakly and with a perplexed air of resignation to S, ‘We should never have come here, should we?’ We gave up after a dozen questions, S dramatically ripped up our answer sheet and the pair of us sat making catty comments to each other for the remainder of the event. We were probably fairly pompous for about a quarter of an hour and I’m sure I heard S mutter a cuss bitterly under his breath at one point, scowling in the direction of a middle-aged foursome who should have known better. We both agreed that winning such a competition did not recognise knowledge of music, merely an acknowledgement that one embraced the mediocrity of the mainstream in one’s spare time. We were the true winners of course! Meow. The beer was good though. I have a slight ‘head’ today but nothing too painful.

I am playing ‘Chiff-Chaffs and Willow Warblers’ by Minotaur Shock (another artist not featuring too heavily on The Greyhound’s roster) as I pen this. S provided me with this recording yesterday. It is certainly what I would describe as ‘warm electronica’ and sits nicely alongside the likes of Prefuse 73 and, especially, the beatific Four Tet. It is only my first playing and I anticipate picking up more themes and melodies within the sounds in time. I am sure I am going to love it though.

Pop Quiz

S and I are entering unchartered waters this evening and trotting merrily to The Greyhound and entering their pop quiz. Naturally we go with hopes high and a slight swagger to our gait. We are bound to come unstuck as the questions won’t be about early Joy Division or Sonic Youth or Teenage Fanclub (although all pop quizzes should feature such acts and more besides) and we are bound to be slaughtered with some tosh about Beyonce or Aimee Mann or some other dreadful artiste. Still, you don’t win a raffle without buying a ticket. We shall have to think up a name for our team on the way. We normally call ourselves The Paygrove Puzzlers for the King Ted quiz but this is ever a last minute name and could be improved upon.

The rugby was dire today and I may write more tomorrow. I loved S2, passionate as ever, screaming at the Gloucester team, ‘Look me in the eye! Look over here!’ as the players sloped back next to us after another feebly conceded try. I admire his devotion to the cause.

Cookie Monster

I tried to post yesterday but Blogger wouldn't load, the awkward little scamp. Something to do with cookies which needed deleting. I rarely, if ever, eat biscuits over the computer but shall be more careful in future.

All eyes are on the General Election and I am studying the opinion polls avidly and feeling tangible nerves about May 5th. Part of me enjoys and relishes the build-up and the news bulletins and the jousting. Most of me, however, realises just how crucial forthcoming events are, not just for me but for my kids. I have a fierce desire for them to grow up in a caring and just society and the poll in a few weeks means a great deal. The choices seem pretty clear-cut to me right now.

A less important battle is this Saturday’s Gloucester vs. Leeds clash. I haven’t seen any of Gloucester’s last four matches so am not able to comment on recent form. I was horrified to see Stuart Barnes (who scoffed) and Dewi Morris both tipping bottom club Leeds to defeat the city at Kingsholm this weekend. Surely with McRae and Simpson-Daniel returning we should have enough nous and skill to vanquish? At this point of the season I am merely hoping to sneak Heineken Cup qualification for next season and to avoid any Wildcard atrocities. A win on Saturday will prove crucial for this ambition and hopefully selection will reflect this. I demand that only players wanting to wear the shirt are given the chance to play.

A Cracking Pair

This morning on BBC 6Music, Gideon Coe played French Disko by Stereolab followed by At the Chime of a City Clock by Nick Drake. If a finer and more diverse pair of recordings have ever been played back to back on British radio I would like to know. It delayed my shower by ten minutes as I stood in awe and wonder but it was worth it.

I would recommend Avebury standing stones. They are not on the scale of the towering Stonehenge stones but there are more stones and they are spread over a huge area. It is an imposing and mysterious place and with Silbury Hill, a giant artificial mound, yards away, the atmosphere of the surroundings is incredible. Just what were those prehistoric cats playing at? Avebury has a cracking vegetarian café too. Their Somerset brie and cranberry sauce sandwiches washed down with a rhubarb and apple juice were a joy.

Standing Stones

I shall not be attending tonight’s football match after all as the Coles are trundling down to Hampshire for the night and stopping off to admire the prehistoric delights of Avebury on the way.

Eastern European Extract

It was splendid to encounter earnest and engaging G at The Buzzcocks concert, younger brother of H who was probably my best friend in about 1978. Nostalgically, I recall whole Saturdays spent in the J household frantically contesting Subbuteo tournaments, getting into angry music like The Jam and The Boomtown Rats (the first album I ever bought was 'Tonic for the Troops' from the old Tesco on Northgate Street), reading Smash Hits and eating beans on toast for tea in front of Dick Turpin starring Richard O’Sullivan. Great days. G has moved back to Gloucester with his closely-cropped girlfriend of eighteen months, L, who hails from a former Soviet state. As the evening progressed G took me to one side and enquired keenly, ‘Hey Mart, what do you think of the Latvian then?’ I can state with no little confidence that I have never been asked that question before nor do I expect to consider a response to it ever again. What unusual phrasing!

I shall be popping to Stade Kingsholm tomorrow to watch our second team in action and anticipate watching, inter alia, Vickery, Simpson-Daniel and McRae in action. I sense that Melville might play Gomarsall at nine, an ignominious end to his Gloucester career and a bit of an insult if you ask me. At the time of writing I have absolutely no idea who Gloucester's opponents are.

You spurn my natural emotions

A little worse for wear today after last night Bacchanalia at The Buzzcocks gig at The Guildhall. The legends were on sublime form, no spiel between songs but plenty of energy and hit after hit after hit. Steve Diggle on guitar appeared to be loving the occasion and was full of smiles and joviality. Peter Shelley seemed more taciturn but song writing geniuses are allowed to be thus. Both men spat a good deal. Shelley drank from a bottle of water while the hearty Diggle supped from a pint. That sums the pair up nicely. I got my Promises which I had yearned for but S missed out on his Everybody’s Happy Nowadays. There have to be winners and losers at ageing punk gigs. Other highlights included a fizzing Ever Fallen in Love (With Someone You Shouldn't've)?, a cracking version of What Do I Get? that hit the audience for six and a dignified Oh Shit. It was a fine evening and I shall try to write more tomorrow when I return to full health.

I went to Asda today to buy some hoover bags and ended up buying a copy of 'The Band' by The Band. It cost £3.97, a bargain. Funnily enough I was discussing this album with S in Cafe Rene (my favourite Gloucester pub) last evening as I had especially enjoyed an extended feature on The Band in this month's Uncut. I haven't played it yet.

The cat's whiskers

Talking of thinking one is the cat’s whiskers, my heart sank the day before I left for France. Strolling casually down Eastgate Street I noticed Christo Bezuidenhout shambling up the road towards me. Oh heck. No clothes horse he. Clad in flip-flops, South African team joggers and a tee shirt he fitted in well among the bargain hunting hordes of Gloucester. After he had passed – and I kept my head down – I glanced over my shoulder to watch the open-toed behemoth admiring his reflection fondly in the BHS window. I felt for him. I wish it hadn’t ended this way.

Perhaps it is the feeling of spring in the air, perhaps it is foolhardiness on my part but I am beginning to feel a little more optimism about the city club. The away win against London Irish helped as the victory, admittedly ugly, was achieved without prima donnas but with a collective that cared for the club, the badge and the shirt and, by all accounts, were giving it everything irrespective of individual contractual positions and reputation. It cheered me. Little things make me feel better. Shane Drahm (over-rated) being signed by Worcester (a nasty little club) means that Ludovic Mercier is more likely to sign for Gloucester and I have resigned myself to the view that Gloucester RFC needs his booming peg and accurate place kicking next season. A piece in today’s Citizen talking up the talents of new teen centre Anthony Allen renders me further pleased. The article also mentions Ryan Lamb and, having seen him play, I am fully aware of the lad’s incredible talents. All small things but they have improved my mood. I wasn’t at the Northampton match but nothing brings me more sorrow than knowing that people aren’t giving 100% in a Gloucester shirt.