Island Hoppin'

A very good article on Island Records in Mojo this month and it reminded me of my early introduction into Psychedelia via the majestic "Mr Fantasy" album by Traffic. I was about 14, an aspiring Mod and fellow Mod, Cornelius Bowen, gave me a pair of cream, pin striped, Hipster pants (Nice! ~ Fashion Ed), along with a copy of the "Mr Fantasy" record. I was aiming for a kind of Eddie Phillips from "The Creation" look , but, said Hipster's made me look more like Lou Diamond Phillips and, alas, have long been consigned to fashion faux pas dustbin. Stevie Winwood and his pastoral rock troupe, however, have been with me ever since.

Subconsciously, I already seemed to be aware of Traffic via "Hole in my Shoe", perhaps, from Ed "Stewpot" Stewart's Saturday morning kids radio show, but, when I placed the needle on the groove and "No Face, No Name, No Number" came on, it sounded like an Angel's lament. The next track, "Dear Mr. Fantasy", was like being hit in the head with a shovel, only to find the "Spear and Jackson" held firmly in the grasp of the previously mention cherubic one. Whenever I play the track I still get that exact same feeling. Like any great record, discovered retrospectively, it made me plunder their back catalogue and from the early pop/psychedelic crossovers of "Paper Sun" and "Here We Go 'Round the Mulberry Bush" right up to the title track on "When the Eagle Flies". It was, and still is, a fantastic musical journey and the fact that they were on Island Records, was the icing on the cake. I found my way towards John Martyn, Nick Drake, Free and Bob Marley, just to name, but, a few.

I finally got to see Stevie Winwood last year at the Scala in Kings Cross, and although, his pipes are still in tip-top working order, he was backed by a hideous jazz-fusion type band and I left the gig feeling somewhat deflated. following the 2005 death of Jim Capaldi, in January 2007, there was an all-star benefit gig at The Roundhouse, titled "Dear Mr. Fantasy", and featured Stevie, Weller, Townsend and a host of others, but, at £160 per ticket, I'd have wanted them to play in my f*cking living room for that!

Jim'll Fix It

Today, as they say, was a good day. After months of anxiously awaiting the mailman's footsteps (well, FTP file sharing, but, Hey, allow me the poetic licence), my Hoxton Song finally arrived back from across the pond, complete with magic Jim Boggia fairy dust sprinkled liberally, and I do mean, liberally all over it. The results, as far as I am concerned, are mind blowing. Any musicians out there who have ever recorded their own songs will know that they never seem to sound quite like they do in your head. Well, as of today and a LOT of help from Mr Boggia, I have finally achieved that "Wall of Sound" that I always heard in my head.

Of all the musicians that I have worked with over the years, and this is not a slight against any of them, none really seemed completely tuned into my frequency (Nice! ~ EQ Editor). With "The Boggia", however, it's a whole different ball game. It's akin to being able to dial in Radio Beatles at any point in your song; McCartney-esque Bass guitar = Check! "Your Mother should know" style backing vocals = Check! All in all, absolute Hog Heaven for a Fab Four freak like me.

As usual, you can check it out here or here. There's only one problem having a stellar talent like Jim play on your record; how do you ensure the rest of the tracks stand up tall alongside his one? We'll just have to wait and see on that one...

Miss Dey in Roots

Just when I had contemplated laying the pen to rest, who should pop her pretty little face around the google corner, but, little ol' Susan Dey of The Partidge Family fame. For men of a certain age, Susan was "The" Girl. Not me, obviously, as I was too young and have only discovered her retrospectively, (B*ll*cks ~ Truth Editor). She was pretty hot beyond belief, she was in a band and she had a smile that could stop a nuclear bomb; Yowsa and, indeed, Yowsa! Back then, Kids TV was wholesome entertainment and you had to go to BBC2 for anything remotely subversive. It's not me donning the Rosey goggles either, you all watched the same programs together; whether they were shite or not! I always had a dream (not that kind of dream, you pervs!) that Suzy and I would record a duet and have a worldwide No.1 smash hit; I believe that ship may have sailed.

I guess the modern day equivalent to Suzy is Hannah Montana; don't get me f*ckin' started...

We are not a-Mused

She's gone, She's gone. My beautiful muse has deserted me. I have looked everywhere, but, my woman done left me. I have hit the blogging equivalent of writer's block; Blogger's Nipple, anyone?

Do I blame it on the February Blog Olympics? Did I peak too soon? Who knows? Whatever, it is has upped sticks and vanished. Where do I go from here: Twitter? Twatter is a very lonely place, my friend(s). When you look back at your Blogs, you do get a sense of accomplishment, a finished product as it were. As for Twatter, it has more in common with Haiku than Blogging - random thoughts that do not really require an answer or a response. Now, I am no prolific Blogger, but, even the 1 or 2 comments that do get left from time to time on my pages, do give me a sense of connection with the reader. Perhaps Twizzler isn't for me - we'll see.

If, on your travels, you happen to see a beautiful girl who fills you with a sudden urge to write all your thoughts down , you know where to send her...