All Sorts

I note that the new advert for BBC4 extols the virtues of that classy channel with DJ Shadow playing in the background.

My ticket for Wales vs. Ireland has been confirmed today so I’m keeping my fingers crossed that both teams remain unbeaten in the interim. Wales should defeat Scotland in Edinburgh and it depends on which France pitches up in Dublin whether or not Ireland continue their run. Seemingly every Grand Slam decider features either France or England or both so the possibility of two Celtic nations fighting it out is mighty.

The childlike enjoyment of Abdel Benazzi spotting himself on the Stade de France big screen and waving gaily like a big kid was counteracted 24 hours later by a scowling and glaring Roy Keane manfully attempting to stare out the camera as his large face appeared on Lansdown Road’s oversized telly. It takes all sorts.

Acceptable Result

Newcastle 27 - Gloucester 27
A rare draw and a result I would have happily accepted before kick-off especially as Gloucester secured a rare four try haul (only the third of the season) and acquired a useful three points from the fixture that cascades the city club to fourth place in the league. Disappointingly a missed conversion cost Gloucester a win and the full five points and I hope the lads don’t rue this too much come the end of the season. By all accounts Luke Narroway had a stormer on the flank in place of Jamie Forrester who has picked up a rib injury; I do appreciate the young talent we have waiting in the wings and would love to see Olly Morgan. Ryan Lamb and James Merriman given a similar chance as Narroway before long. Well, we now have Northampton, Leeds and Saracens at home and London Irish and Sale away and I can think of tougher runs-in for the club. I would feel confident of picking up three home wins and, maybe, one away victory and this might prove enough for fourth place in the league and European qualification that is so crucial for morale and coffers. A Powergen Cup victory would prove a more exhilarating route to Europe and I would relish a home win against Bath next weekend, especially as (famous last words…) I would fancy Gloucester to beat either Leeds or London Irish in a Twickenham final.

I don’t really care two hoots about England and am pleased that Ireland beat them today to make this year’s championship rather exciting with both the Irish and Welsh chasing long overdue Grand Slams.

Quiet Saturday

A quietish day. The Welsh win against France was wonderful and thrilling and held me on the edge of my seat throughout. I’m not the most patriotic person but, nevertheless, I am keen for an Irish victory tomorrow against England. I am fairly sure I’ll be at the Millennium Stadium for the Wales/Ireland clash and I would relish a Grand Slam decider. What an occasion that would be. I fell asleep during the Scotland vs. Italy match despite my intention to watch Gloucester target Chris Cusiter like a hawk. In the bits I did catch he passed well and appeared sharp and clever. We'll have him.

Have relaxed today and done little of note. I have made a tape for the car - Franz Ferdinand on one side and Gang of Four Peel Sessions on the other. Guitars are back in chez Cole although I have been revisiting DJ Shadow’s The Private Press a fair bit over the past few days. Endtroducing remains one of my favourite albums, a sublime mix of samples and fusions, and while The Private Press, the follow up, doesn’t hit its heights, it remains a worthy and intelligent hour and a bit of instrumental hip-hop.

I felt in touch with the modern world

Radio On was indeed a bleak moving picture but I did admire its monochrome despair. Listening to loads of Joy Division obviously pays off: I appreciated this film. No a good deal actually happens and even the anticipated elements of the thriller genre failed to materialise. Yes, the lead character, a London DJ, travels to down the old A4 to Bristol to investigate his brother’s unexpected death but, ultimately, we only witness the journey and a few fleeting and uneventful scenes where he looks through his sibling’s flat and meets his girlfriend. We get to watch plenty of old-fashioned pints (Double Diamond!) in old-fashioned pubs, fragments of conversations with strangers and other reasonably humdrum happenings. If one relishes characters dolefully gazing out of high rise windows onto damp city streets and plenty of mournful lying in unkempt beds in dank, dark apartments then this is the film for you; both activities feature heavily.

The soundtrack was peerless and I have been playing Kraftwerk’s Radio-Activity and The Man Machine today as a homage to Radio On and its post-punk, electronic ambience. The opening shots feature an exploration with a hand-held camera of the dead brother’s flat - he has expired in his bath and we fleetingly glimpse his corpse - to David Bowie’s Helden, the German version of Heroes. It works brilliantly and the inclusion of songs by Wreckless Eric, Ian Dury, Lene Lovich (yes, that song) and the aforementioned Kraftwerk all complement the images atmospherically.

E. Collins

Well, I feel a little sheepish because on seeing the Ceefax headline, ‘Pop star Collins seriously ill’ I swiftly - a little too swiftly, perhaps - tapped in the required three digit number to find out what had happened to dear old Phil. Alas, Edwyn Collins has suffered a brain haemorrhage and is very poorly indeed. This is rotten news. Being an old Orange Juice fan, I think an awful lot of Collins as an artist and always enjoy his laconic and witty off stage presence too. I hope he’s able to recover but it does sound bleak.

I've added The Fire Engines' 'Fond' to my Amazon wish list this evening. I confess the Collins news set this in motion.

Walk in Silence

As a young man I immersed myself in post-punk and could often be spotted sloping miserably around wearing a long mac. Radio On, ‘the definitive post-punk, long mac movie’ should, in that case, be right up my street and I look forward to watching it tomorrow at the mighty, mighty Gloucester Guildhall. This is a film, shot in monochrome (what else?), that follows a young fellow as he travels to Bristol to find out how his brother had died. It is 25 years old and has recently been revisited by the British Film Institute. It appears to be rather a bleak piece that paints a striking landscape representing the early Thatcherite era in all its murky uncertainness. Any road movie featuring Swindon has my vote. The soundtrack, featuring Low period Bowie, Kraftwerk, Lene Lovich, Ian Dury and Wreckless Eric is, by all accounts, a joy. Now where did I put my old grey mac?

Talking of soundtracks, it appears that Nathan Barley featured a bit of Gang of Four last Friday, namely the classic I Found That Essence Rare. Good taste Morris!

A small afterthought from Saturday’s triumph against Bath. I was delighted to see Oliver Morgan stood in the Shed as I walked past. This is a fine young rugby player indeed but one who always impresses with his maturity and articulate ways. He was a pleasure to chat to at the Open Day last summer and it came as no surprise to witness him among Gloucester fans nattering away quite happily. Also in the Shed was Jim Breeze, just in front of us. I wonder what he made of Gloucester’s current crop of wing three-quarters.

For purely historical purposes I must point out that today’s musings were tapped into the computer while listening to the Everything But The Girl retrospective - as opposed to ‘Greatest Hits’ - Like The Deserts Miss The Rain which is the perfect blend of the band’s early bed-sit melancholia (now, where is that old grey mac?) and more adventurous bass and drum twiddling from more recent years.

What's the buzz, cock?

Lots to buy tickets for and I must get into gear and organise myself. Top of the list are The Go-Betweens who are playing at Birmingham Academy in May. I have never seen Messrs Forster and Maclennon live and am so keen to do so this year. A new album beckons and it will be amazing as anything by The Go-Betweens always exudes utter quality and beauty. A couple of gigs at The Guildhall are, if not ’musts’, then certainly ’ought tos’ : Mick Jones and Tony James (going by the awful name Carbon/Silicon) is soonish while on All Fools’ Day The Buzzcocks hit town. I note that Steve Diggle and Pete Shelley are still going strong but my research so far doesn’t tell me whether ex-Smith Mike Joyce is still touring with the band. I anticipate a night packed with two minute gems. I’m not really one for ‘Greatest Hits’ albums but The Buzzcocks’ Singles: Going Steady ranks with the best.

36 Months

I am thrilled that two of Gloucester’s key players have signed new deals. Andy Hazell and ‘Lord’ Alex Brown embody professionalism for me. The pair rarely, if ever, have poor games, always put 120% (this year's 110%) into all aspects of their game and are true ambassadors for our great club. My pleasure that folk are signing three year deals is unbounded. Surely this indicates a desire to keep important players at the club as long as possible and to bed down a backbone to a smashing team and squad. I note that along with Hazell and Brown, Mike Tindall, Terence Sigley and Peter Buxton have all signed three year contracts. Hurrah!

One job is for Melville to find a big, ugly dude to partner Brown but I would like the number 15 shirt to be filled satisfactorily for next season too. I would retain Goodridge as a squad player and I admit he has enjoyed a decentish run of late. I just feel other teams don’t fear the nipper who isn’t quite of the class required for an aspirant top-three side. Reports that Percy Montgomery may be leaving Newport are interesting. He would prove a shrewd signing for the city. I know I would welcome the Springbok’s experience and attacking verve in the famous stripes and will watch the situation with interest. We seem to be linked with so may players at moment, a vast improvement on the past couple of years when the club has not been able to recruit as powerfully as many of us would like.

Faith Restored

Gloucester 17 - Bath 16

I confess I lost it at the end. It has been too long since I had experienced that singularly Kingsholm-based emotion that encompasses relief, joy, tribalism, loyalty and a myriad of other sensations. Snatching unexpected victory from the jaws of defeat helps. Stir in Ingredient X - a long-term immense snarling dislike of the opposition - and you glimpse a catalyst. But when Brad Davies took the ball between the 22 and 10 metre line, a fair bit to the left of the posts, stroked it elegantly so it soared straight through the uprights, my celebration was fulsome and bordering on the primeval. It was truly marvellous. 17-16 to Gloucester against the arriviste hordes from shamateurville. Heck, it felt good.

Leading up to the drop runs a series of events that gives it edge and extra meaning, extra poignancy. Gloucester, two points down, survive onslaught after onslaught, a key man down against a heavy mob of a front five intent on cascading over the home try line. A scrum in our favour eases the tension but, then, a penalty on the 22, a hoof up field from the alert and quick-witted Gomarsall and suddenly, with 40 minutes played, a chance, a line-out in enemy territory. Game on. A glance around the terrace told me the crowd were up for it too and sensed a glimmer of a hope, a chink in the Bath armour. Line-out won, the ball spreads left and forwards. All concentrating hard now. The terrace voices passionate but focussed. No mistakes Glos, just retain the bloody thing. Keep it tight. Play the percentages. Repay our loyalty lads. You owe us all. Amid the murky exchanges, the ref spots something and raises an arm. Penalty to Gloucester. No huge cheer; too much concentration. My fear now is that nobody will fancy it and it’ll go wide. D screams, ’Kick it into touch!’ His fear and mine is that an extended advantage will peter into nothing. However movement left. Davies wants the thing and screams for swift ball. It arrives at pace and the leg swings. I can see the arc of the ball now. I was right behind it as it curved over the bar. Never in doubt. Never in doubt. It was one of the most beautiful sights I’ve seen this year. Well played lads. You proved you wanted this and my faith is restored. This is what sport and following your club, your team is about.

I guess, ‘at the end of the day’, it was just four points accumulated to glide us away from the bottom of the pile and a consolidation of Gloucester’s position in the constipated mid-table swell. It meant a good deal more than that yesterday. My hopes for next season are stronger and keener now and I know that if the club recruits ‘Gloucester players’ (as opposed to any man jack) we shall reap plenty of success and fine times. Wood for Bezuidenhout was more than a tactical switch. Young talented kid who wants it badly in for exalted superstar who maybe doesn’t: as a metaphor for how I want the club to think and express itself this is hard to beat. A man with a broken arm wants to play on and leaves the field only after he has dashed around and exhorted his colleagues onto further efforts: this is what I expect and it reassures.

I enjoyed my after match beer with S and C very much. Not one of us had supped at The Greyhound for about 15 years - even though it is fairly close to my home. They serve fine ale though and S and I are tempted by next weekend’s music quiz.

Much as the Mastermind theme in my youth meant Sunday night - and, my word, it used to depress the life out of me - my Sabbath evening now means Stuart Maconie’s Freak Zone show on BBC6 Music. Maconie’s selection is ever eclectic and is rarely an easy listen but enough gems emerge to render it worthwhile. I still get a kick from hearing new sounds, stuff one would never dream of hearing on more mainstream stations. I’m also looking forward to a Punk and New Wave special from ten o’clock tonight hosted by old Fall starlet Marc Riley.

Too

I feel too emotionally drained to report on Gloucester’s win versus Bath today. I shall write more tomorrow.

Kevin White Mentioned at Earlies Gig

The Earlies, Hem and Martha Tilston at St. Georges Hall, Bristol 17.2.05

Oh, I did enjoy this evening. The Bristol musical cognoscenti - and, my word, they looked impressive with their furrowed brows and ironic, iconic fashion sense - were out in force for two of the most impressive bands around. To witness Hem and The Earlies on the same bill was really delightful; both acts play understated, intelligent music and, this should not be spake with embarrassment, good songs, good songs, good songs. Hem play alt.country apparently. Not an expression I relish but their offerings are tinged with a forlorn and melancholic Americana (I won’t use that word again) driven by pristine musicality (you simply can’t beat a steel slide gee-tar) and framed by Sally Ellyson’s soaring vocals. They sounded beautiful and my only regret was that they didn’t play too many numbers from the fragile Rabbit Songs long player. Playing newer stuff is laudable though but, heck, those Rabbit Songs are wonderful. I was, however, transfixed.

The Earlies were sensational. I’m playing These Were The Earlies as I pen this and I allow myself a wry smile as I contemplate my fine fortune at watching the merry band of minstrels in action last evening. Musicianship is the new rock ‘n’ roll and these boys can play. The only caveat is that musicianship must move the listener, create art and not just reach high levels of technical accomplishment. The Earlies succeed. They moved me. Sweeping and rather sweet harmonies, a touch of electronica, studied orchestration, beautiful melodies and ability to crank the amps up to eleven at the right moment: The Earlies manage all this and rely not an iota on image or cool. They simply play crafted music. I really admire them.

Martha Tilston was alright.

I note with interest that The Go-Betweens are playing the Birmingham Academy in May. I must spring into action and organise tickets as this band are probably the one act I need to see above all others. I could probably make a very fine case for them being the best pop band of all time.

After last night’s concert I asked S who he believed to be the worst Gloucester player of all time. I was unprepared for the onslaught that followed. I obviously touched a nerve and looked anxiously around the beatific surrounding of the St. George’s Hall as S let rip. Gentle concertgoers didn’t deserve an angry man in the corner ranting - quite coherently, it has to be said - about failed footballers. It was mainly wingers that raised the fellow’s ire: Tai Glassie, Dave Timmington, Raphael Saint-Andre, Mark Nicholson, Eral Anderson, Robin Saltmarsh. I had recently overheard S and C discussing, on the terraces, the paucity of former centre Ben Maslen’s all round skills so wasn’t surprised that he was on the hit list. There was a charming and unexpected mention for late-period Kevin White. What is it about Gloucester and wing three-quarters though? Answers on a postcard….

Andrew Hazell has signed a three year contract at Gloucester. This is fantastic news especially as the locally born loosie was being courted, it seems, by Sale. Gloucester will rise again.

Note: It you type ‘Tai Glassie’ into popular search engine Google, this humble weblog emerges as the second highest rated website. I find this wildly amusing.

Apologies

I apologise to Seti Kiole. The worst ever Gloucester player remains Herve Gregoire-Mazzocco.

I suppose I'd better go to the rugby again....

My thoughts are turning slowly to Saturday and the visit of Bath. It seems Jake Boer may be making way for James Forrester in the back row and I hope that, in what will prove an almighty scrap, we don’t miss the skipper’s relentless hard work too much. I actually feel sorry for the honest Boer and sense a touch of desperation in Melville’s decision. In the past two or three years Forrester has provided me with some of the most exciting rugby I’ve seen from an individual in the famed stripes but the jury is out this season; his fitness and commitment don’t quite seem high enough. I hope Seti Kiole has played his last game for Gloucester for the wise heads of Malone and Barkley will cruelly expose him if he is selected on Saturday. Mark Foster is four times the player the Tongan will ever be and should play in his stead if necessary although I suspect Simpson-Daniel and Garvey will wear 11 and 14. As things stand I believe Kiole to be the worst player I have ever seen represent Gloucester although I will give that some careful thought over the next day or so.

Further research throws more light on The Fall playing Twister at Cheltenham Town Hall. It transpires that it was both the first and last time the band played that very fine track live. We were lucky indeed.

A rumour without a leg to stand on will get around some other way.

Well there are certainly plenty of Kingsholm rumours doing the rounds at the moment. By all accounts, the return of Mercier is a done deal and I suppose if the Gloucester pack is strengthened this may prove a positive move as we shall certainly expect to play a good deal of football in the opponent’s 22. Whether attractive, running rugby is the winner if Ludo dons the cherry stripes again, well, time will tell… A trio of scrum halves have been linked to the club too. Ryan Powell from Cardiff has been capped by Wales and remains third choice behind Peel and Cooper. I know little about him. The most intriguing name mentioned for next season’s number nine shirt is the Scottish youngster Chris Cusiter, a current media darling and many pundits’ tip for a Lions berth later this year. In my view Cusiter remains unproven but it may prove a delightful gamble if he does join Gloucester. Haydn Thomas of Exeter has also been mentioned in despatches. By all accounts, Gomarsall is leaving and has not been offered a new contract. The other names mentioned as potential signings are Lesley Vainikolo, the Bradford Bulls winger, Simon Shaw, the Wasps and England lock and John Yapp, the Cardiff and Wales prop. I would welcome all three to the club. We need new blood. It is crucial, meanwhile, to re-sign Alex Brown and Andy Hazell as both key players are out of contract.

I spotted Christo Bezuidenhout in Tesco’s yesterday. He cut a doleful figure, limping and shambling scruffily around the store in such a melancholic manner that I felt like approaching him and enquiring, ‘Where did it all go wrong, eh, Christo, me old mucker?’ I didn’t though. I have rarely seen a fellow dwell so long at the instant soup range. The gnarled former Springbok finally plumped for Tesco’s own brand French Onion soup-in-a-cup and I really hope he enjoyed it. All in all and pound for pound he’s proved the biggest disappointment this season. I named my Kingsholm Chronicle FXL team after the blighter too. Bizarrely enough, Brad Davies was in the Longlevens branch of Tesco's Express the evening before. He didn't appear to linger at the instant soups. A lesson for us all maybe?

The borrowed CD amnesty continues. S called to let me know that he still has my copy of Cypress by jangle-masters Let’s Active, a band any worthy Gloucester-based music fanatic would have seen keenly supporting The Smiths back in the mid 80s at the Leisure Centre. Heady days.

All those whose mind entitles themselves...

I downloaded a whole album off an internet website today and, verily, it is a lovely treat. I have been browsing, somewhat gleefully, a Fall website, not the superb official one, but a statto’s dream called The Fall’s Track Record. This has been lovingly compiled and includes loads of information that I didn’t really want to know until I logged on for the first time, last night. For example, all The Fall song writing credits are searchable via databases, one can learn where and when the first time each Fall song was played live as well as all the songs that the band has recorded but never played in concert. Every song the band has ever created has been listed alphabetically with bags of information about each and there is also a section listing John Peel’s Festive 50 entries. It inspires awe. I was almost moved to tears - but not quite, ok? - to ascertain the knowledge that I, and numerous comrades of no fixed hairstyle witnessed the first ever live playing of Twister at Cheltenham Town Hall in 1987. I can’t believe the band has played neither Vixen nor The Steak Place live. Uncanny.

Anyhow, back to that download. A lot of Fall message board regulars decided to produce a loving tribute to, for me and many others, The Fall’s finest long player, This Nation’s Saving Grace. Various individuals and groups, including Fall tribute band (yes, there is one!) The Hideous Replicas, took a track each and recreated it in their own style. It works. This is a labour of love and that helped, obviously, as does the sense one has that those involved all have talent aplenty. There are less guitars than the original but the new versions are intricate and multi-layered and use electronics warmly and intelligently. I particularly enjoyed a rousing Paintwork and an earnest Gut of the Quantifier but all tracks are worthy of mention and I salute the project wholeheartedly. You even get a cracking CD cover as part of the download. I’m just thrilled that people are channelling their creativity in this way in this day and age. It gives me hope, it really does.

Killer Bs

I spent a lazy day yesterday reading books and newspapers and watching rugby but I felt no guilt as I reckoned I deserved a fallow period of ennui and mellow contemplation. I did rouse myself to stroll round the house, visit all my various listening posts and gather all my CDs together. I then had a huge sort out of my collection and placed all my discs on the dining table in separate alphabetical piles depending on the artist’s name. I noted, with interest, that ‘B’ was by far the largest pile thanks to my loyalty to Blur (and, heck, they deserve my ongoing patronage), Boards of Canada and Belle & Sebastian. My double live Burning Spear CD helped ‘B’’s cause no end as well as cameo roles from, inter alia, Vashti Bunyan, The Blue Nile and The Be Good Tanyas. Well done, ‘B’. After my letter by letter sorting I placed all CDs back in my IKEA cabinets only to discover that all my Christmas and birthday presents as well as other purchases has meant that I require a new storage unit so the likes of The Waterboys and XTC sit forlornly atop the right hand unit. My message to Messrs Scott and Partridge: worry not, I will soon purchase a resplendent storage space worthy of your boundless talents and song writing acumen.

I have collated the eight CDs that S has leant me over the past year or so and will return them this week with warmth, humility and gratitude. I think I have had three of his XTC recordings for, well, about 18 months now. However I believe he borrowed my copy of The Dead Kennedys’ Give Me Convenience or Give Me Death about five or six years ago and I think he was graciously presented with my Gang of Four Peel Sessions album not long after that. But who’s counting?

I woke early this morning with a migraine, the flickering spectrum of doom impacting on my dreams and slumber and rousing me towards the medicine cabinet at 5am. I inserted my headphones and tuned into some BBC7 treats, not least Garrison Keillor's Radio Show which always proves a whimsical and gently humorous listening whenever I have stumbled across its quaintly old-fashioned Americana. It is a welcome antidote to the worst excesses of the greed, selfishness, boorishness and arrogance that I normally associate with that rotten nation. Keillor’s deadpan delivery of wry humour and introduction of fine folk and traditional music always pleases. A little later I listened to the omnibus of a radio soap called Westway about a health centre. I had imagined in my murky and muggy migraine melancholia that it had lasted for hours but on checking the schedules just now, I note it lasted a mere 55 minutes. It was dreary.

I shall watch England take on France in today’s football match but with little enthusiasm. The match has little meaning. England are rebuilding with a coach, Andrew Robinson, who appears to guess his way through reasonably important matters such as team selection and tactics. I have no affection for this humourless, scowling little berk who cheated his way through countless Gloucester/Bath amateur/professional mismatches in the 1980s. Phil Vickery MBE starts for England but I fear the prop’s career is steadily declining and I have come to resent silently the way that he always seems to play better for England than the infinitely more important team that plays a mile or so down the road.

Headphones Filled with Straw

My word, I was tired last night but I did manage to stay awake for Nathan Barley, the new Channel 4 comedy penned by Chris Morris and Guardian columnist Charlie Brooker. ‘im out The Mighty Boosh (see links!) was in it. Morris directed same. It is a massive swipe at ‘cool’ and features more embarrassing, fashion victimised, what’s-hip?-hepcats than you can shake an i-Pod Shuffle at. The character Barley is, according to the C4 site, 26 and ‘a webmaster, guerrilla filmmaker, screenwriter, DJ and in his own words, a "self-facilitating media node". He is convinced he is the epitome of urban cool and therefore secretly terrified he might not be, which is why he reads Sugar Ape Magazine - his bible of cool.’ Perhaps I’d better remove that Creative Zen Micro from my Amazon wish list. This was a dark comedy - naturellement - featuring empty lives galore interspersed with bullying, insensitivity and bloated self-obsession. Hollow men. This was not easy viewing but the target was hit.

S was talking about Chris Morris last week and mentioned his use of Warp (see links!) electronica in his Blue Jam radio show so I was not surprised to spot some Autechre halfway through last night’s show. Like a man possessed I’m trying hard to find a track listing from the show so I can prove how clever I am. No luck so far.

I have a week off and I intend to do little except find some lo-fi knitwear in a Bristol charity shop (I am slap bang in the middle of an appalling knitwear crisis), enjoy some understated popular music at Thursday’s Twisted Folk evening, avoid watching Gloucester play rugger footy, listen to plenty of ‘nice’ music while striking a pensive pose, and peer through my fingers at the Gloucester rugger footy message boards and, perchance, gasp merrily at the latest rumours about volcanic wingers who may or may not be heading our way.

Positive Thought for the Weekend

Gloucester aren't playing.

Just Another Depressing Day

Almost a week after the debacle at Harlequins, the message boards are still in full debating mode. Even the dreaded word, ‘relegation’, has been touted and my next door neighbour, a haunted look on his face as befits a man still supporting the lads into his 70s, raised the spectre of this possibility earlier. I would anticipate at least two more home wins against Leeds and Saracens but obviously I would love the city to compete and win all their remaining matches. My ongoing ostrichdom has not been allowed to continue and an email from D - who was 'there', poor soul - has metaphorically pulled my shapely and well-preserved neck from the burning sand: ‘Let me attempt to thwart your attempts at not thinking about the current state of GRFC. We were dreadful on Saturday, it was an abject surrender and totally unacceptable.’ I guess we both agree that an overhaul is necessary and I look forward to a host of quality players arriving to replace those who are simply not good enough - and there are plenty of the latter wearing the famous crest right now.

I have been playing Vashti Bunyan’s great lost album, ‘Just Another Diamond Day’ a fair bit over the last few days and even breakfasted to its gentle and whimsical charms this morning. The catalyst was last week’s Fairport Convention gig which has prompted me to review the ‘folk’ section of my music collection. Vashti Bunyan moved to the rural Outer Hebrides in the late 60s with her fellow and her new baby and wrote the most touching, evocative songs all painting pictures of the most idyllic sounding rustic life. The vocals are quietly breathed; the arrangements are understated but intelligent. It really is a perfect little piece of art.

I had aimed to pen a few words last night during the half time break of the England vs. Holland soccer international. However the game was so dull I promptly fell fast asleep after twenty minutes (shades of the Acid Mothers Temple set at The Guildhall last year) and when I awoke at 11pm I felt totally rank and unable to move. At least I wasn't dribbling.

Ostrich

Nothing much to write about ce soir. I’m adopting an ostrich pose in all matters Gloucester. I’m too maudlin about the current state of affairs and the knowledge that my team could surrender so timidly at the weekend. I realise that we simply don’t have good enough players right now. I’m not sure I enjoy going to watch games as much as I used to. Ten years ago we had gates of 5,000 while now Kingsholm regularly attracts 13,000 paying punters. I can’t help but think the atmosphere has diminished in that time and that Kingsholm has become less witty, more bitter, less intimidating and more quiet. Maybe because I was younger it seemed noisier and more passionate but I can't help wondering what impact, other than parting with their readies, the extra 8,000 makes?

Tind, er, sticks with Gloucester

I’m thrilled that Mike Tindall has joined Gloucester. Supporting the city always requires a fair amount of lateral thinking and by my reckoning he could have moved elsewhere for more money but chose Gloucester because we offer other positives than the likes of Sale and Saracens could provide. I suspect he is aware of a mass clear-out, star signings aplenty and a bright future. Or maybe it was just that his girlfriend lives down the road. The Western Daily Press links us today with John Yapp who played at prop for Wales at the weekend. We also need a scary, huge, mobile, ugly - yet eco-friendly - lock forward and I favour Tom Palmer of Leeds. A new full back would be simply spiffing and some extra zip on the wings would be fine too. I wonder if Mercier will return. We need a bullying pack for him to play behind. Haydn Thomas, the Exeter scrum half, has been touted as a possible signing and, by all accounts, he is swift and clever. I doubt if he can kiss the badge on his shirt as well as Gommers though.

Flipping Tennis Elbow

American Music Club at Birmingham Academy 5.2.05

We decided to watch the Wales vs. England match at S’s so it proved a huge and mighty rush getting to Birmingham in time for this concert and S, J and I scampered up the stairs at Bar Academy just in time for the first number. The tiny, claustrophobic venue was packed and, with the stage no more than a dais of ten inches, for once I was unable to use my six feet to enjoy an unblocked view. I would have to admit that this was a fairly unsatisfactory evening. The musicians were skilled and soulful, the voice of Mark Eitzel rang out plaintively and 95% of those gathered were attentive and appreciative. However, the sound, which seemed ok to me, obviously bothered Eitzel who seemed tense and fretful throughout. The man takes himself very seriously and generally I like this but his misery can prove endemic. My other main concern was the pace of the music which remained defiantly slow all evening. If I wasn’t such a frightful snob I’d admit to thinking that ‘all the songs sounded the same’. Towards the end came respite. A man near the front was screaming, again and again, for the band to play Outside This Bar. I coolly stood proud and thought silently, ‘I hope they play Firefly’. They played Firefly seconds after this thought entered my brain and it was the highlight of the set. It was the only upbeat moment of the concert and I feel my extra sensory perception helped many of the audience leave contentedly. Many of the crowd chatted relentlessly throughout. A bespectacled gentleman near me had no interest in the music and rabbited non-stop about, inter alia, the break-up of Busted and the onset of tennis elbow. All the songs sounded the same. The evening was saved by frankly strange scenes at Frankley Services involving urinals, Scotch Eggs and petrol canisters. I know the month is young but that was, thus far, the heartiest I have laughed during this merry month of February.

Luckily the nightmare at The Stoop is overshadowed by the events at the Millennium Stadium in the same way that JFK’s death overshadowed that of Aldous Huxley who, verily, perished on that selfsame ‘63 day. The death of Gloucester bothers me far more that the demise of the red rose though. The only positive I can draw on is that a sneaked victory may have papered over cracks that need repointing, plastering, sandblasting, and, finally, papering with the finest quality wares.

I am blasting out ‘These Were The Earlies’ by The Earlies as I write this. It is my first playing and I think I’m going to enjoy it immensely. S also let me have 'Rabbit Songs' by Hem last night and I shalt be spinning that item plus tard.

Oh....

Harlequins 38 - Gloucester 9
I switched off my transistor radio with ten minutes to go, played a Jedi mind trick on myself so that I would forget I followed Gloucester and buried myself in a book. I feel terribly sorry for those who travelled any distance to watch the city surrender against the bottom club in the league who were reduced to 14 players for most of the match. I feel that plenty of the Gloucester team know that they won’t be at Kingsholm much longer and have given up, an unacceptable state of affairs for professional athletes at a proud club like ours. Perhaps some were trying their hardest but were woefully short of required class. I would suggest that only Simpson-Daniel, Boer, Balding and Brown of today’s starting fifteen can glance furtively at 05/06 and consider first team rugby for the Cherries. The rest can concentrate on the ‘A’ team league or shove off elsewhere to any club daft enough to pay them. I had been sucked gradually into a ‘Seti Kiole is folk hero’ mindset recently but listening to the commentary today I am aware, sadly, that my beloved club has signed somebody who is incapable of playing rugby football at any real level. Sitting here now, I feel strangely nostalgic for the Tai Glassie era. Perhaps the All Blues or Pilning will sign him up. I’m embarrassed.

I am off to see American Music Club at the Birmingham Academy this evening and hope that their world weary torch songs will act as some kind of cathartic release for me.

Electronica

A double Warp Records source of delight today. Prefuse 73 and Autechre both have new albums out soon and both acts are due to tour - although I‘m not convinced I could cope with a couple of hours of Autechre on stage. Of course it is Boards of Canada that I am desperate to hear new sounds from and I would love there to be a Warp hat trick with a new album from the reclusive Scottish pair.

Gloucester play away at Quins tomorrow and I anticipate a fiercely fought football match. The NEC sponsored outfit will be scrapping for their Premiership lives from now until the end of season and they will regard a below par Gloucester side as potential rich pickings. A lot will depend on the Gloucester pack which looks solid but lacking in pace a little bit. Bezuidenhout has disappointed this season and has often appeared off the pace. He has definitely not proved the awesome ball carrier I had hoped for and his much vaunted scrummaging power has never materialised. Again, I shall settle for any win on the morrow and feel that the silky skills of James Simpson-Daniel may prove the difference between the two sides. Last week’s improved performances from Boer, Gomarsall and Paul will need to be built on while I anticipate a hands-off-my-shirt blast from Fanolua as the Tindall rumours continue.

Folk 3

Fairport Convention at Tewkesbury Roses Theatre

I can’t remember the last time I sat down for a gig. It was probably over ten years ago, maybe Christy Moore at Cheltenham Town Hall? It actually felt strange sitting last night for Fairport Convention but I enjoyed the comfort. Perhaps I’m getting old. Actually I sat down at The Tindersticks’ St. George’s Hall gig last year so my memory appears to be as decrepit as my creaking limbs. I did enjoy the sound last night. I guess I’m used to white boys (usually four of them) playing guitars so white boys playing mandolins and fiddles was interesting. It was a great noise though, quite heavy at times and unrelenting in the nicest possible sense - a sort of folk rock wall of sound. Anyhow, there were smashing versions of Crazy Man Michael, Matty Groves and Si Tu Dois Partir, one or two really pleasant instrumentals and a very moving encore of Meet at the Ledge. Being used to Mark E Smith summarily abusing the members of his band on stage I found the camaraderie and general bonhomie rather engaging. The band were an object lesson in gentle tolerance and wit and this warmed the soul. I’m playing and quietly enjoying the Liege & Lief album as I write this but I know I’ll soon return like a moth to a flame to humourless Caledonians playing bleak electronica and pasty faced angular art-rockers who snarl at all that verse-chorus-verse malarkey. Last night was a welcome glimpse at a different musical landscape and it did move me.

I’m still thinking about Gloucester RFC and in no particular order: i. Ludovic Mercier’s potential return; ii. the possible signing of Michael Tindall; iii. the 'James Forrester situation' and iv. whether or not Andrew Gomarsall will remain at the club. These are the main topics fighting for room in my brain. My current thoughts, in order, are i. Ambivalent but I happily recall us winning trophies with the guy in our team albeit with a bigger pack in front of him; ii. Oh, I hope so; iii. Hmmm, I quite like our back row as it stands and their hard work in trying times deserves recognition; and iv. Not if he’s asking for too much dosh and, besides, I like the sound of Haydn Thomas of the Exeter club.

Folk 2

I’ve hardly been home for long enough to pen anything worthy over the past day or two but will endeavour to pay more attention to this thing tomorrow. I’ve just got back from the Fairport Convention concert and very fine it was too. As predicted, great musicianship and some very moving songs. Great version of Ralph McTell’s The Girl from the Hiring Fair and plenty of Fairport classics and plenty of songs I had ne’er heard afore. An evening well spent.

Plenty of rugby thoughts zooming through my head which I shall sleep on. Bed.