This is not the post that you might have been expecting but, like the figure to which the title alludes, it can be considered as the forerunner to that post. It is the post that comes before and prepares the way…
I am willing to reveal that I did go to Lundy and, unless I am haunting the internet, survived the experience. I will give no further details in this post, much of what occurred – and much that did not – will be revealed when the Lundiary is released into the world. A first, rough draft already exists and I spent a very foolish morning yesterday IMing with a friend (or more accurately, accomplice) preparing additional visual content to accompany this forthcoming blockbuster. So vast is this tome that it will be serialised, over a number of instalments, on GofaDM: once I have obtained the necessary clearances from the team of lawyers I’ve retained to keep me out of the courts and/or jail.
While I have spent much of my time since my return in my writer’s shed (or the couch as come might call it) drafting the world’s next publishing sensation, I have still found time for the usual busy schedule of gig going and disparate range of other activities that form my life: music, acrobatics and baking (to name but three). New Franken-bakes have been brought forth from my laboratory including my first attempt at a Frankenmas cake: which is still being fed (spiced rum) on its slab before it is chased from my kitchen by a mob of villagers wielding torches and pitchforks towards the end of the month.
You will be pleased, if perhaps surprised, to hear that I shall not regale you with tales of all of my cultural activities: just a few selected (by me) highlights (or, to be more accurate, opportunities to pun).
One Friday evening, I found myself at Humanities Late: part of a broader festival of the humanities organised by the local university. Along with the rather stunning current exhibition of work by Haroon Mirza. This was my second visit and this time I had the acoustically rather fine white box in Gallery 1 to myself. It really does flatter to deceive when I attempt to sing a clean note I sounded like a bass angel. If only I could have those sort of acoustics whenever I sing, I might be inclined to greater diligence when it comes to practising…
However, my highlight was a musical/sonic event which took place in the building’s goods lift: sadly, we were not allowed to travel between floors during the performance but I feel that our spirits were still raised by proceedings. The lift had a three second reverb which made it a stunning setting for the Prelude to Bach’s 1st Cello Suite (I assume only the economics prevent all performances from being staged in goods lifts) – but a disaster for Steve Reich’s Clapping Music. There was also a sonic evocation of a cave and a short piece written especially for the space by Drew Crawford. It was, by some distance, the finest 20 minutes I have ever spent in a lift: despite manage to achieve no change in altitude.
The event also gifted me, for free, a white post card with the words “I am human” printed in a clear, pink font which I now carry with me at all times to answer the doubters and sceptics.
That same weekend, I headed up to Cambridge to catch a little of its annual jazz festival: including my second time seeing Marius Neset in 72 hours. I had a lovely, if slightly inebriated time, and also had a chance to catch up with an old friend. On the Sunday, I needed to get to Lewes and so had my first ride in the new(ish) Class 700 Thameslink rolling stock which delivered me to a replacement bus service at Three Bridges to continue my journey. The Class 700 does have very swanky information displays: though my rake did believe we spent the entire journey at King’s Lynn: a destination not served by Class 700 rolling stock. I can only assume that the onboard computer harboured a secret longing to visit England’s most important port (in the 14th century). The passenger experience was rather austere with something of the feel of the monastic cell about the hard, very upright and rather close together seating. Unlike refurbished older rolling stock, the Thameslink passenger is expected to supply their own power.
I was racing (albeit slowly) to Lewes to see a friend sing in a choral concert of French works with Duruflé’s Requiem headlining. This is a fine piece of choral work, though my highlight was the first act closer: Vierne’s Messe Solennelle. As with the Duruflé, the choir was accompanied by the organ (in theory two organs, but St Michael’s could only offer the one so the chap at the console had to work harder), and as the programme notes had advertised was not always the most subtle and reflective piece. I am sometimes thought to be “good” audience but this is at best partially true. Despite being a sober as a judge, the presence of an organ sends a large proportion of my brain off to work on finding the very ‘best’ doubles entendres. This was my effort from the night in question:
The choir delivered a few introductory motets before the main meat of the first half.
To fill the church with their messe (solennelle) they needed the help of a chap running his hands up and down his mighty organ.
Let’s just say that he brought Gloria to a noisy climax…
I find that I am simultaneously proud and ashamed: very much “on-brand” if not wholly appropriate for a place of worship.
The final gig I shall mention was on Monday and featured the Chris Potter’s Circuits Trio at Turner Sims. This contained some quite stunning jazz and quite the burliest piano player I have ever seen, clearly the master of all four keyboards he was using. However, it was perhaps most notable for the huge audience: not far off a sellout which is not usual for a jazz gig at the Sims in my experience. The jazz was very good and Mr Potter may well be famous (just not in this flat) – but I wonder if the timing was important. The gig had been re-scheduled and so rather than being in the usual Thursday-Saturday evening slot, it was on a Monday. I saw a lot of musicians in the audience, who would have been absent for a gig later in the week as they would themselves be gigging. I suspect that it is not only musicians who find they are busy on Thursday, Friday and Saturday evenings but who do have leisure time as the sun sets on a Monday: and such gigs could also ease the way into the working week. I did ponder whether Monday nights have been unfairly neglected by the city’s venues: while there are often just too many gigs later in the week…
Anyway, I should return to editing the Lundiary prior to its serialisation. Prepare yourself people: this is the (or at least, a) big one!