Saturday Special

I very rarely write about music. It's mostly because I don't really have it in my life much. I have to remember to listen to music, or to turn the radio on. In the car, now I am commuting 45 mins each way to work three days a week, that's an hour and a half a day I could be listening to music. But I don't. It crowds me, my space shrinks, and I feel I have little enough space as it is. For my thoughts, you see. I like it to be just me and my thoughts. I spend this driving time thinking about stuff, mostly my writing at the moment, and at the lights, I grab bits of paper - old shopping lists, petrol receipts - to scribble an idea or a note. I've always done this. I possibly have more bits of paper in my possession than I do hairs on my head. And that's saying something.

But recently there's been a couple of musical items in my world that have spurred me to present here.

The first is the couple of articles I've read in the paper about Ry Cooder. I didn't read the articles, oh no no no. Boring. But just seeing his name, and the connection for me with the soundtrack to Paris, Texas, was evocative enough to stir me into action.

I remember the impact Paris, Texas had on my when I first saw it. It's a lovely movie. Lovely. And a big facet of that enjoyment was the haunting soundtrack by Ry Cooder.

A sample:






The link between this movie and another of my favourite movies (not for musical reasons, for story reasons) is Natassja Kinski, who was Polanski's Tess.





Another beautiful movie, and a good book too.

Finally, the second musical snippet for this weekend. Last night, I was moaning about having to go and see the Painters and Dockers at their first-gig-in-20-years gig. Just like the old days of seeing bands in pubs, I found a spot at the back where I could watch, my friend D bopped up the front. I wonder if she got knocked and sprayed when the old rockers did crowd surfing and stubby shake-ups. I left before the end, but I enjoyed. To see Colin on drums (he was someone we knew, he dated a friend/s) and to see Paul Stewart with the same energy and charisma I remember from the old days, was a treat. He was still rocking the Hitler 'tache too, which was strangely appealing and sexy. He flashed a brown eye, opened his shirt and let his ample gut come out to play. And, yes, the crowd was mostly old bags and dudes like me. A few flashback familiar faces from the '80s, and in that way, a weird intersection with the '80s diaries I'm publishing here.

The songs were good and loud but while I had earplugs in my bag, I didn't need them because I am pretty deaf already. The volume was just right for me. I'm sure there's a reason for that. The stage was in a different place - it's years since I was there last.

The big trumpets were good, Die Yuppie Die was a favourite with the crowd, Basia, All Men Are Bastards is something D and I used to sing to each other back then, and Nude School. It was fun and nostalgic and then I walked up the street and was in bed by 1am. Nicely done.



Live on a Daddo tv show. Worth watching.





Soul Child - fantastic live video. This was me out at night in the '80s. This is what it was like, all you young thangs. So nostalgic. Love it!





And while on the subject of music nostalgia, I am particularly pleased to have found this on youtube. I've looked before and never found it.

I'm in it. Look carefully, and you will see me.

You just won't know it's me. Mwahahaha.