Tag Archives: Chris Olley

Six.By Seven at the Rescue Rooms

Six.By Seven RR01

This will end up as a non-linear piece. Mainly when I have a written thing in mind it gestates for a day or so, or appears fully formed at the moment of it’s birth pretty much without any critical capacity getting involved. A little like throwing fruit at a wall, some of it sticks and looks pretty, some of it drops into the dust.

I’ve mentioned in several previous posts my admiration for Six.By Seven. Their new album (Love and Peace and Sympathy) is a great record. Chris Olleys enthusiasm for the project has been immense and in no small part inspired by getting drummer Steve Hewitt from Placebo on board. Seeing them live brings sense to this enthusiasm.

But, skipping back an hour or so….

One of things that I’ve noticed and noted in previous ‘review’ posts is that even though I’ve turned out for the main event the starters have been surprising and impressive. From WTATDR & Variety Lights, there are a lot of really committed bands playing support the ticket sellers.

Grey Hairs RR01

The SIx.By Seven gig had three openers but sadly I only arrived in time to catch Grey Hairs. As they came out to check their equipment I had made some tiny preconceptions which where shortly trampled into sticky mush by their utterly clear mission to leave the audience shaken by commitment and volume. I looked them up when I got home and found their website here Both available recordings are worth a look. I’m particularly impressed by any band that can pull off a fresh cover of a Pere Ubu classic.

Grey Hairs RR02Listen to their take on Final Solution here….

Six.By Seven played the new album Love and Peace and Sympathy. Chris Olley wore a hat that made me think of Fields of the Nephelim which is odd because I never saw them and don’t really recall any of their material. At a push I would wear a hat like that but would probably opt for something more Sam Spade given the choice. The Rescue Rooms have really invested in their sound system in recent years and don’t seem to have acquiesced to any H&S policies when it comes to volume (this being a good thing).

Six.By Seven RR03

The set falls under awesome for filing. The band gave it their all, they had some great material that has a solid fingerprint but a good level of variation, and they are very skilled.

Six.By Seven RR05

One of the stand out tracks on the album is Truce. I managed to film that one, and its here…………

This is the album version of the song…

Six.By Seven RR06

Above all, a great night out. There is real music in the world and it’s nearer than you think.

Epilog

In a brave late night decision making style Chris Olley kindly agreed to a Twitter interview. The full text is included below. I think you’ll find it both incisive and informative.

 

A4+ ‏‪@adrian4acn

21h

‪@ChrisOlley1 Did you get the video to work eventfully? I need more words for the post. How about a twitter interview. I’ll be Richard Maddely.

 

Chris Olley ‏‪@ChrisOlley1

21h

‪@adrian4acn yeah, Truce, looks great. Who’s Richard Maddely?

 

A4+ ‏‪@adrian4acn

21h

‪@ChrisOlley1 Only someone totally committed to something other than idiocy could ask that. Well done. Interview has started.

 

Chris Olley ‏‪@ChrisOlley1

21h

‪@adrian4acn Is he part of Operation Yewtree?

 

A4+ ‏‪@adrian4acn

21h

‪@ChrisOlley1 That’s yet to suggested so let’s move on. ‪@rescuerooms has really sorted its sound system out. So, tell us about the hat?

 

Chris Olley ‏‪@ChrisOlley1

21h

‪@adrian4acn ‪@rescuerooms The hat is a Stetson I found on Brokeback Mountain.

 

Chris Olley ‏‪@ChrisOlley1

21h

‪@adrian4acn ‪@rescuerooms Rescue Rooms was best venue of tour, best venue in UK I’d say! Amazing room, dressing room and PA soundman etc.

 

A4+ ‏‪@adrian4acn

21h

‪@ChrisOlley1 ‪@rescuerooms Are you just saying that because you might bump into them in the Market Square? ‪#Nottingham is a tight city.

 

Chris Olley ‏‪@ChrisOlley1

21h

‪@adrian4acn ‪@rescuerooms No, we all thought that. Rock City is best venue in UK, I’ve always said that, to watch bands I mean, and play!!

 

A4+ ‏‪@adrian4acn

21h

‪@ChrisOlley1 ‪@rescuerooms I agree. The National Trust has a preservation order on the carpet apparently….

 

A4+ ‏‪@adrian4acn

21h

‪@ChrisOlley1 Moving on, the new album has an iconic front  cover. Is there a Beatles reference relating to the inner spread?

 

Chris Olley ‏‪@ChrisOlley1

21h

‪@adrian4acn No, it had all the lyrics on it but we used invisible ink. It was a fuck up but great for signing autographs on the tour!

 

A4+ ‏‪@adrian4acn

21h

‪@ChrisOlley1 The band is really well rehearsed and slay the songs. How did you meet Steve the drummer and does he come with a H&S policy?

 

Chris Olley ‏‪@ChrisOlley1

21h

‪@adrian4acn Knew him from Placebo days, touring with them, he’s a hard living man!

 

A4+ ‏‪@adrian4acn

21h

‪@ChrisOlley1 He certainly gave me a day & 1/2 of tintinitus. The tours over now, will you be doing more gigs soon, here or in other lands?

 

Chris Olley ‏‪@ChrisOlley1

12h

‪@adrian4acn Hopefully a bigger tour in November. We will also be playing in Poland in October.

 

A4+ ‏‪@adrian4acn

20h

‪@ChrisOlley1 Last question. You speak German. Is there a possibility that you could do a Helden and record Waffenstillstand?

 

Chris Olley ‏‪@ChrisOlley1

12h

‪@adrian4acn Waffenstillstand?

 

A4+ ‏‪@adrian4acn

12h

‪@ChrisOlley1 it’s the closest Google translate could get to ‘Truce’ It’s a shapely looking word.

 

Chris Olley ‏‪@ChrisOlley1

12h

‪@adrian4acn Oh yeah! Truce is Waffenstillstand. In the context of this song though it’s probably more like ‘Ruhe’.

 

A4+ ‏‪@adrian4acn

12h

‪@ChrisOlley1 That would better in the context of the song as well.

 

A4+ ‏‪@adrian4acn

12h

‪@ChrisOlley1 So on that note, Chris Olley, thank you and good night!

 

Chris Olley ‏‪@ChrisOlley1

10h

‪@adrian4acn Goodnight Adrian 🙂

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Filed under Comment, Gigs, Hipstamatic, iPhonography, Music, Nottingham, Photography

Wild Savage Music

Panic in NewsteadA mid week addition. Racing towards a conclusion, maybe only moths (sic) away. This piece use a number of elements unique to it. It was some African Drum played by my good wife @f1fanwmm. It also has random drum tapping from the small boy BabyJ. Dominant however is the ‘Speak It’ rendition of an excerpt from ‘The Triumph of Life‘ by Percy Bysshe Shelly.

Chris Olley put out a spoken word /poetry album last year that used the app ‘Speak It’ and I confess to totally stealing that idea. Lost for words I went straight to the ‘ThePoetryApp’ and picked, copied and pasted and excerpt from the poem by Shelly (included below).

I’m pleased by the outcome in that it has a very different quality from the previous tracks but still sounds as if it’s been grown in the same ground. The image above is from Newstead Abbey, home of Byron. and local to me. The whole ‘wild savage music’ notion that was on my mind is for me very Byronic in the same way that Byron is very Panic.

UPDATE. 30/03/13

This is the video. Made during the day in between domestic duties using my home animation studio….pictured here…

Studio Animai

 

This is not quite in a finished state but I’m pleased with the the intent and and the result overall. Drawing is above all intent over interpretation. I could practice more and make things far more representational but lacking in life. Despite the million drawings I’ve done before, this feels like an early step.

 

 

Once upon a time I read quite a lot of poetry. Poetry needs books, paper, silence, slowness, passion, lust. Totally unsuited to modern life, unfortunately.

The Triumph of Life

By PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

Swift as a spirit hastening to his task
Of glory & of good, the Sun sprang forth
Rejoicing in his splendour, & the mask
Of darkness fell from the awakened Earth.
The smokeless altars of the mountain snows
Flamed above crimson clouds, & at the birth
Of light, the Ocean’s orison arose
To which the birds tempered their matin lay,
All flowers in field or forest which unclose
Their trembling eyelids to the kiss of day,
Swinging their censers in the element,
With orient incense lit by the new ray
Burned slow & inconsumably, & sent
Their odorous sighs up to the smiling air,
And in succession due, did Continent,
Isle, Ocean, & all things that in them wear
The form & character of mortal mould
Rise as the Sun their father rose, to bear
Their portion of the toil which he of old
Took as his own & then imposed on them;
But I, whom thoughts which must remain untold
Had kept as wakeful as the stars that gem
The cone of night, now they were laid asleep,
Stretched my faint limbs beneath the hoary stem
Which an old chestnut flung athwart the steep
Of a green Apennine: before me fled
The night; behind me rose the day; the Deep
Was at my feet, & Heaven above my head
When a strange trance over my fancy grew
Which was not slumber, for the shade it spread
Was so transparent that the scene came through
As clear as when a veil of light is drawn
O’er evening hills they glimmer; and I knew
That I had felt the freshness of that dawn,
Bathed in the same cold dew my brow & hair
And sate as thus upon that slope of lawn
Under the self same bough, & heard as there
The birds, the fountains & the Ocean hold
Sweet talk in music through the enamoured air.
And then a Vision on my brain was rolled.
As in that trance of wondrous thought I lay
This was the tenour of my waking dream.
Methought I sate beside a public way
Thick strewn with summer dust, & a great stream
Of people there was hurrying to & fro
Numerous as gnats upon the evening gleam,
All hastening onward, yet none seemed to know
Whither he went, or whence he came, or why
He made one of the multitude, yet so
Was borne amid the crowd as through the sky
One of the million leaves of summer’s bier.—
Old age & youth, manhood & infancy,
Mixed in one mighty torrent did appear,
Some flying from the thing they feared & some
Seeking the object of another’s fear,
And others as with steps towards the tomb
Pored on the trodden worms that crawled beneath,
And others mournfully within the gloom
Of their own shadow walked, and called it death …
And some fled from it as it were a ghost,
Half fainting in the affliction of vain breath.
But more with motions which each other crost
Pursued or shunned the shadows the clouds threw
Or birds within the noonday ether lost,
Upon that path where flowers never grew;
And weary with vain toil & faint for thirst
Heard not the fountains whose melodious dew
Out of their mossy cells forever burst
Nor felt the breeze which from the forest told
Of grassy paths, & wood lawns interspersed
With overarching elms & caverns cold,
And violet banks where sweet dreams brood, but they
Pursued their serious folly as of old ….
And as I gazed methought that in the way
The throng grew wilder, as the woods of June
When the South wind shakes the extinguished day.—
And a cold glare, intenser than the noon
But icy cold, obscured with [[blank]] light
The Sun as he the stars. Like the young moon
When on the sunlit limits of the night
Her white shell trembles amid crimson air
And whilst the sleeping tempest gathers might
Doth, as a herald of its coming, bear
The ghost of her dead Mother, whose dim form
Bends in dark ether from her infant’s chair,
So came a chariot on the silent storm
Of its own rushing splendour, and a Shape
So sate within as one whom years deform
Beneath a dusky hood & double cape
Crouching within the shadow of a tomb,
And o’er what seemed the head, a cloud like crape,
Was bent a dun & faint etherial gloom
Tempering the light; upon the chariot’s beam
A Janus-visaged Shadow did assume
The guidance of that wonder-winged team.
The Shapes which drew it in thick lightnings
Were lost: I heard alone on the air’s soft stream
The music of their ever moving wings.
All the four faces of that charioteer
Had their eyes banded . . . little profit brings
Speed in the van & blindness in the rear,
Nor then avail the beams that quench the Sun
Or that his banded eyes could pierce the sphere
Of all that is, has been, or will be done.—
So ill was the car guided, but it past
With solemn speed majestically on . . .
The crowd gave way, & I arose aghast,
Or seemed to rise, so mighty was the trance,
And saw like clouds upon the thunder blast
The million with fierce song and maniac dance
Raging around; such seemed the jubilee
As when to greet some conqueror’s advance
Imperial Rome poured forth her living sea
From senatehouse & prison & theatre
When Freedom left those who upon the free
Had bound a yoke which soon they stooped to bear.
Nor wanted here the true similitude
Of a triumphal pageant, for where’er
The chariot rolled a captive multitude
Was driven; althose who had grown old in power
Or misery,—all who have their age subdued,
By action or by suffering, and whose hour
Was drained to its last sand in weal or woe,
So that the trunk survived both fruit & flower;
All those whose fame or infamy must grow
Till the great winter lay the form & name
Of their own earth with them forever low,
All but the sacred few who could not tame
Their spirits to the Conqueror, but as soon
As they had touched the world with living flame
Fled back like eagles to their native noon,
Of those who put aside the diadem
Of earthly thrones or gems, till the last one
Were there;—for they of Athens & Jerusalem
Were neither mid the mighty captives seen
Nor mid the ribald crowd that followed them
Or fled before . . Now swift, fierce & obscene
The wild dance maddens in the van, & those
Who lead it, fleet as shadows on the green,
Outspeed the chariot & without repose
Mix with each other in tempestuous measure
To savage music …. Wilder as it grows,
They, tortured by the agonizing pleasure,
Convulsed & on the rapid whirlwinds spun
Of that fierce spirit, whose unholy leisure
Was soothed by mischief since the world begun,
Throw back their heads & loose their streaming hair,
And in their dance round her who dims the Sun
Maidens & youths fling their wild arms in air
As their feet twinkle; they recede, and now
Bending within each other’s atmosphere
Kindle invisibly; and as they glow
Like moths by light attracted & repelled,
Oft to new bright destruction come & go.
Till like two clouds into one vale impelled
That shake the mountains when their lightnings mingle
And die in rain,—the fiery band which held
Their natures, snaps . . . ere the shock cease to tingle
One falls and then another in the path
Senseless, nor is the desolation single,
Yet ere I can say where the chariot hath
Past over them; nor other trace I find
But as of foam after the Ocean’s wrath
Is spent upon the desert shore.—Behind,
Old men, and women foully disarrayed
Shake their grey hair in the insulting wind,
Limp in the dance & strain, with limbs decayed,
Seeking to reach the light which leaves them still
Farther behind & deeper in the shade.
But not the less with impotence of will
They wheel, though ghastly shadows interpose
Round them & round each other, and fulfill
Their work and to the dust whence they arose
Sink & corruption veils them as they lie
And frost in these performs what fire in those.
Struck to the heart by this sad pageantry,
Half to myself I said, “And what is this?
Whose shape is that within the car? & why”-
I would have added—”is all here amiss?”
But a voice answered . . “Life” . . . I turned & knew
(O Heaven have mercy on such wretchedness!)
That what I thought was an old root which grew
To strange distortion out of the hill side
Was indeed one of that deluded crew,
And that the grass which methought hung so wide
And white, was but his thin discoloured hair,
And that the holes it vainly sought to hide
Were or had been eyes.—”lf thou canst forbear
To join the dance, which I had well forborne,”
Said the grim Feature, of my thought aware,
“I will now tell that which to this deep scorn
Led me & my companions, and relate
The progress of the pageant since the morn;
“If thirst of knowledge doth not thus abate,
Follow it even to the night, but I
Am weary” . . . Then like one who with the weight
Of his own words is staggered, wearily
He paused, and ere he could resume, I cried,
“First who art thou?” . . . “Before thy memory
“I feared, loved, hated, suffered, did, & died,
And if the spark with which Heaven lit my spirit
Earth had with purer nutriment supplied
“Corruption would not now thus much inherit
Of what was once Rousseau—nor this disguise
Stained that within which still disdains to wear it.—
“If I have been extinguished, yet there rise
A thousand beacons from the spark I bore.”—
“And who are those chained to the car?” “The Wise,
“The great, the unforgotten: they who wore
Mitres & helms & crowns, or wreathes of light,
Signs of thought’s empire over thought; their lore
“Taught them not this—to know themselves; their might
Could not repress the mutiny within,
And for the morn of truth they feigned, deep night
“Caught them ere evening.” “Who is he with chin
Upon his breast and hands crost on his chain?”
“The Child of a fierce hour; he sought to win
“The world, and lost all it did contain
Of greatness, in its hope destroyed; & more
Of fame & peace than Virtue’s self can gain
“Without the opportunity which bore
Him on its eagle’s pinion to the peak
From which a thousand climbers have before
“Fall’n as Napoleon fell.”—I felt my cheek
Alter to see the great form pass away
Whose grasp had left the giant world so weak
That every pigmy kicked it as it lay—
And much I grieved to think how power & will
In opposition rule our mortal day—
And why God made irreconcilable
Good & the means of good; and for despair
I half disdained mine eye’s desire to fill
With the spent vision of the times that were
And scarce have ceased to be . . . “Dost thou behold,”
Said then my guide, “those spoilers spoiled, Voltaire,
“Frederic, & Kant, Catherine, & Leopold,
Chained hoary anarch, demagogue & sage
Whose name the fresh world thinks already old—
“For in the battle Life & they did wage
She remained conqueror—I was overcome
By my own heart alone, which neither age
“Nor tears nor infamy nor now the tomb
Could temper to its object.”—”Let them pass”—
I cried—”the world & its mysterious doom
“Is not so much more glorious than it was
That I desire to worship those who drew
New figures on its false & fragile glass
“As the old faded.”—”Figures ever new
Rise on the bubble, paint them how you may;
We have but thrown, as those before us threw,
“Our shadows on it as it past away.
But mark, how chained to the triumphal chair
The mighty phantoms of an elder day—
“All that is mortal of great Plato there
Expiates the joy & woe his master knew not;
That star that ruled his doom was far too fair—
“And Life, where long that flower of Heaven grew not,
Conquered the heart by love which gold or pain
Or age or sloth or slavery could subdue not—
“And near [[blank]] walk the [[blank]] twain,
The tutor & his pupil, whom Dominion
Followed as tame as vulture in a chain.—
“The world was darkened beneath either pinion
Of him whom from the flock of conquerors
Fame singled as her thunderbearing minion;
“The other long outlived both woes & wars,
Throned in new thoughts of men, and still had kept
The jealous keys of truth’s eternal doors
“If Bacon’s spirit [[blank]] had not leapt
Like lightning out of darkness; he compelled
The Proteus shape of Nature’s as it slept
“To wake & to unbar the caves that held
The treasure of the secrets of its reign—
See the great bards of old who inly quelled
“The passions which they sung, as by their strain
May well be known: their living melody
Tempers its own contagion to the vein
“Of those who are infected with it—I
Have suffered what I wrote, or viler pain!—
“And so my words were seeds of misery—
Even as the deeds of others.”—”Not as theirs,”
I said—he pointed to a company
In which I recognized amid the heirs
Of Caesar’s crime from him to Constantine,
The Anarchs old whose force & murderous snares
Had founded many a sceptre bearing line
And spread the plague of blood & gold abroad,
And Gregory & John and men divine
Who rose like shadows between Man & god
Till that eclipse, still hanging under Heaven,
Was worshipped by the world o’er which they strode
For the true Sun it quenched.—”Their power was given
But to destroy,” replied the leader—”I
Am one of those who have created, even
“If it be but a world of agony.”—
“Whence camest thou & whither goest thou?
How did thy course begin,” I said, “& why?
“Mine eyes are sick of this perpetual flow
Of people, & my heart of one sad thought.—
Speak.”—”Whence I came, partly I seem to know,
“And how & by what paths I have been brought
To this dread pass, methinks even thou mayst guess;
Why this should be my mind can compass not;
“Whither the conqueror hurries me still less.
But follow thou, & from spectator turn
Actor or victim in this wretchedness,
“And what thou wouldst be taught I then may learn
From thee.—Now listen . . . In the April prime
When all the forest tops began to burn
“With kindling green, touched by the azure clime
Of the young year, I found myself asleep
Under a mountain which from unknown time
“Had yawned into a cavern high & deep,
And from it came a gentle rivulet
Whose water like clear air in its calm sweep
“Bent the soft grass & kept for ever wet
The stems of the sweet flowers, and filled the grove
With sound which all who hear must needs forget
“All pleasure & all pain, all hate & love,
Which they had known before that hour of rest:
A sleeping mother then would dream not of
“The only child who died upon her breast
At eventide, a king would mourn no more
The crown of which his brow was dispossest
“When the sun lingered o’er the Ocean floor
To gild his rival’s new prosperity.—
Thou wouldst forget thus vainly to deplore
“Ills, which if ills, can find no cure from thee,
The thought of which no other sleep will quell
Nor other music blot from memory—
“So sweet & deep is the oblivious spell.—
Whether my life had been before that sleep
The Heaven which I imagine, or a Hell
“Like this harsh world in which I wake to weep,
I know not. I arose & for a space
The scene of woods & waters seemed to keep,
“Though it was now broad day, a gentle trace
Of light diviner than the common Sun
Sheds on the common Earth, but all the place
“Was filled with many sounds woven into one
Oblivious melody, confusing sense
Amid the gliding waves & shadows dun;
“And as I looked the bright omnipresence
Of morning through the orient cavern flowed,
And the Sun’s image radiantly intense
“Burned on the waters of the well that glowed
Like gold, and threaded all the forest maze
With winding paths of emerald fire—there stood
“Amid the sun, as he amid the blaze
Of his own glory, on the vibrating
Floor of the fountain, paved with flashing rays,
“A shape all light, which with one hand did fling
Dew on the earth, as if she were the Dawn
Whose invisible rain forever seemed to sing
“A silver music on the mossy lawn,
And still before her on the dusky grass
Iris her many coloured scarf had drawn.—
“In her right hand she bore a crystal glass
Mantling with bright Nepenthe;—the fierce splendour
Fell from her as she moved under the mass
“Of the deep cavern, & with palms so tender
Their tread broke not the mirror of its billow,
Glided along the river, and did bend her
“Head under the dark boughs, till like a willow
Her fair hair swept the bosom of the stream
That whispered with delight to be their pillow.—
“As one enamoured is upborne in dream
O’er lily-paven lakes mid silver mist
To wondrous music, so this shape might seem
“Partly to tread the waves with feet which kist
The dancing foam, partly to glide along
The airs that roughened the moist amethyst,
“Or the slant morning beams that fell among
The trees, or the soft shadows of the trees;
And her feet ever to the ceaseless song
“Of leaves & winds & waves & birds & bees
And falling drops moved in a measure new
Yet sweet, as on the summer evening breeze
“Up from the lake a shape of golden dew
Between two rocks, athwart the rising moon,
Moves up the east, where eagle never flew.—
“And still her feet, no less than the sweet tune
To which they moved, seemed as they moved, to blot
The thoughts of him who gazed on them, & soon
“All that was seemed as if it had been not,
As if the gazer’s mind was strewn beneath
Her feet like embers, & she, thought by thought,
“Trampled its fires into the dust of death,
As Day upon the threshold of the east
Treads out the lamps of night, until the breath
“Of darkness reillumines even the least
Of heaven’s living eyes—like day she came,
Making the night a dream; and ere she ceased
“To move, as one between desire and shame
Suspended, I said—’If, as it doth seem,
Thou comest from the realm without a name,
” ‘Into this valley of perpetual dream,
Shew whence I came, and where I am, and why—
Pass not away upon the passing stream.’
” ‘Arise and quench thy thirst,’ was her reply,
And as a shut lily, stricken by the wand
Of dewy morning’s vital alchemy,
“I rose; and, bending at her sweet command,
Touched with faint lips the cup she raised,
And suddenly my brain became as sand
“Where the first wave had more than half erased
The track of deer on desert Labrador,
Whilst the fierce wolf from which they fled amazed
“Leaves his stamp visibly upon the shore
Until the second bursts—so on my sight
Burst a new Vision never seen before.—
“And the fair shape waned in the coming light
As veil by veil the silent splendour drops
From Lucifer, amid the chrysolite
“Of sunrise ere it strike the mountain tops—
And as the presence of that fairest planet
Although unseen is felt by one who hopes
“That his day’s path may end as he began it
In that star’s smile, whose light is like the scent
Of a jonquil when evening breezes fan it,
“Or the soft note in which his dear lament
The Brescian shepherd breathes, or the caress
That turned his weary slumber to content.—
“So knew I in that light’s severe excess
The presence of that shape which on the stream
Moved, as I moved along the wilderness,
“More dimly than a day appearing dream,
The ghost of a forgotten form of sleep
A light from Heaven whose half extinguished beam
“Through the sick day in which we wake to weep
Glimmers, forever sought, forever lost.—
So did that shape its obscure tenour keep
“Beside my path, as silent as a ghost;
But the new Vision, and its cold bright car,
With savage music, stunning music, crost
“The forest, and as if from some dread war
Triumphantly returning, the loud million
Fiercely extolled the fortune of her star.—
“A moving arch of victory the vermilion
And green & azure plumes of Iris had
Built high over her wind-winged pavilion,
“And underneath aetherial glory clad
The wilderness, and far before her flew
The tempest of the splendour which forbade
Shadow to fall from leaf or stone;—the crew
Seemed in that light like atomies that dance
Within a sunbeam.—Some upon the new
“Embroidery of flowers that did enhance
The grassy vesture of the desart, played,
Forgetful of the chariot’s swift advance;
“Others stood gazing till within the shade
Of the great mountain its light left them dim.—
Others outspeeded it, and others made
“Circles around it like the clouds that swim
Round the high moon in a bright sea of air,
And more did follow, with exulting hymn,
“The chariot & the captives fettered there,
But all like bubbles on an eddying flood
Fell into the same track at last & were
“Borne onward.—I among the multitude
Was swept; me sweetest flowers delayed not long,
Me not the shadow nor the solitude,
“Me not the falling stream’s Lethean song,
Me, not the phantom of that early form
Which moved upon its motion,—but among
“The thickest billows of the living storm
I plunged, and bared my bosom to the clime
Of that cold light, whose airs too soon deform.—
“Before the chariot had begun to climb
The opposing steep of that mysterious dell,
Behold a wonder worthy of the rhyme
“Of him whom from the lowest depths of Hell
Through every Paradise & through all glory
Love led serene, & who returned to tell
“In words of hate & awe the wondrous story
How all things are transfigured, except Love;
For deaf as is a sea which wrath makes hoary
“The world can hear not the sweet notes that move
The sphere whose light is melody to lovers—-
A wonder worthy of his rhyme—the grove
“Grew dense with shadows to its inmost covers,
The earth was grey with phantoms, & the air
Was peopled with dim forms, as when there hovers
“A flock of vampire-bats before the glare
Of the tropic sun, bring ere evening
Strange night upon some Indian isle,—thus were
“Phantoms diffused around, & some did fling
Shadows of shadows, yet unlike themselves,
Behind them, some like eaglets on the wing
“Were lost in the white blaze, others like elves
Danced in a thousand unimagined shapes
Upon the sunny streams & grassy shelves;
“And others sate chattering like restless apes
On vulgar paws and voluble like fire.
Some made a cradle of the ermined capes
“Of kingly mantles, some upon the tiar
Of pontiffs sate like vultures, others played
Within the crown which girt with empire
“A baby’s or an idiot’s brow, & made
Their nests in it; the old anatomies
Sate hatching their bare brood under the shade
“Of demon wings, and laughed from their dead eyes
To reassume the delegated power
Arrayed in which these worms did monarchize
“Who make this earth their charnel.—Others more
Humble, like falcons sate upon the fist
Of common men, and round their heads did soar,
“Or like small gnats & flies, as thick as mist
On evening marshes, thronged about the brow
Of lawyer, statesman, priest & theorist,
“And others like discoloured flakes of snow
On fairest bosoms & the sunniest hair
Fell, and were melted by the youthful glow
“Which they extinguished; for like tears, they were
A veil to those from whose faint lids they rained
In drops of sorrow.—I became aware
“Of whence those forms proceeded which thus stained
The track in which we moved; after brief space
From every form the beauty slowly waned,
“From every firmest limb & fairest face
The strength & freshness fell like dust, & left
The action & the shape without the grace
“Of life; the marble brow of youth was cleft
With care, and in the eyes where once hope shone
Desire like a lioness bereft
“Of its last cub, glared ere it died; each one
Of that great crowd sent forth incessantly
These shadows, numerous as the dead leaves blown
“In Autumn evening from a popular tree—
Each, like himself & like each other were,
At first, but soon distorted, seemed to be
“Obscure clouds moulded by the casual air;
And of this stuff the car’s creative ray
Wrought all the busy phantoms that were there
“As the sun shapes the clouds—thus, on the way
Mask after mask fell from the countenance
And form of all, and long before the day
“Was old, the joy which waked like Heaven’s glance
The sleepers in the oblivious valley, died,
And some grew weary of the ghastly dance
“And fell, as I have fallen by the way side,
Those soonest from whose forms most shadows past
And least of strength & beauty did abide.”—
“Then, what is Life?” I said . . . the cripple cast
His eye upon the car which now had rolled
Onward, as if that look must be the last,
And answered …. “Happy those for whom the fold
Of …

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The Press

The Press - MOBFormat

Apologies for my absence loyal bloggees. This come back however is short on words but long on content. My continuing ‘musical’ efforts are bearing some fruit and I’m getting lots of interesting comments.

“You are really on to something here, can’t wait to hear/see more”

Ambientist Mark Ward

“It’s great! I like challenging music”

Proper musician Chris Olley

“Stop calling this office or we will have to report you”

Mojo Magazine

The plaudits go on.

So, inspired by the excellent ‘The Press – MOBFormat’ photographic event at the Chocolate Factory in Derby, a project I’ve been able to contribute towards, and as a little honorific to Misho Baranovic (a native Australian recently subject to the harsh weather of Derby in March) this opus is for you.

Yes, it starts in an almost melodic and organised way, but it does fall apart after about 7 minutes. The images come from ‘The Press’ project. Themed images submitted through EyeEM, printed by Misho and installed by the audience in a growing and evolving piece of social art. It’s a wonderful thing and I look forward to seeing the closing days when the walls are fully populated.

The images in this video come from the current selection. Scanned through with iSuper8, and compilied in iMovie. The audio includes my first use of Audacity & PaulStretch to effect the loops. I’ve skipped Korg  on this one so the drum tracks are pure GarageBand, so much more ‘rock’. Other than the drums and piano, all noises are analog, voice (mine!) and guitar, all chopped, edited, stretched and squished.

I probably shouldn’t have listened to that last Scott Walker album. But, what the hey…..

So video via YouTube, audio via SoundCloud. Just remember, this is an opt in system.

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Six by Seven – New Album, nearly…

IMG_5061

A quick post here. I’m a big fan of  (whatever that means) of Six by Seven. Chris is a really nice bloke and a very good photographer. The band really should have had greater  recognition but for what ever reason it didn’t quite happen in the 90’s. I find their output really dynamic and interesting and possessing a very original Englishness. Chris has made a mass of great music including all of the eurostyle ’12’ electronic albums and many solo acoustic records. A truly dedicated artist, and for me a big inspiration.

Any ho’, they have it seems recorded a new full electric album which will be due soon. Read more here on Stereoboard.

Until then, you can get this, which I recommend you do.

Its probably a good idea to get this whilst you are at it.

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UrgenCity (Urr-jahn-Sitt-ee)

20130215-185700.jpgSo, two weeks since my last update, barely taken any photos (cold & dull mainly, no interesting day trips) but I have made this little lump of fun. Inspired in no small part by Mark Ward & Chris Olley, and also as a result of listening to a lot of MBV, Primal Scream & Shellac, I’ve ended up with the this 4m26s ‘musical’ illustration and film.

Whilst I a share a love, nay obsession, with music with the above, sadly I don’t share their musical ability. I can just about play 5 chords on my guitar, two of which are made up and not great sounding.
However, aided by Amplitude & Korg on my iPad and Garage Band & iMovie on the computer almost anything is possible.

The underlying theme came from the Korg beat, this textured with effects and layered with Garage Band loops and a feed back track recorded through Amplitude effects pedals using my Tanglewood Bluesound.
The movie is a Hitchcock style single shot, a little over 25 minutes speeded up and squished down to fit the track length. This shot with Super8 on iPhone throughout a painfully long drive home in the snow on Wednesday night.

It took a little while to get YouTube to accept this HD file and whilst I could tweak it endlessly I’m going to set it free and move on with the next project, a slow Death Metal blues ballad with funky bass.
Long live the Punk Ethic! This is UrgenCity!!!

Here’s the second track from this little noise experiment. The full audio file streaming from Soundcloud. Play it loud.

UPDATE: Just worked out what the title is about. I had in mind a ‘period’ like Jurassic, Miocene etc, or something descriptive of a time just before an era that was about to arise. But, if you Google Ceene, other than various Italian names you find CEENE as an acronym for Cumulative Exergy Extracted from the Natural Environment.  I was going to change it, but now it’s glued in.

This is the full audio of UrgenCity. Clearer here without the video compression. As above, loud works best.

UP DATED UP DATE

…and marching towards enough tracks for an EP, here is track 3. This included contributions from DBoy & BabyJ, both who helped record some guitar loops using DBoys mini strat. £20 well spent! This is IyeZ (from ‘eyes’ or maybe ‘I is’),video coming soon.

@f1fanwmm quite rightly pointed out the continuing theme of urban travel. It sounds like a journey through a busy city street, different music coming from diverse venues.

And as if from nowhere, here is the video for ‘Iyez’. Contributions from the looking orbs of my family.

UPDATED 03/03/13

This is ‘Full Bleed’ A short, sharp cut.

And as if by time slipped magic, here is the video. Pictures by DBoy6.03 and filmed with iMotionHD. Quietly pleased with this one.

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Six by Seven – Vinyl EP3

With a fully electric crackle and slow burn velveteen tension creeping around a pair of speakers near you comes the really very excellent new EP3 from Chris Olley and Six By Seven. Check into their Bandcamp to download the real MP3or FLAC and buy the far more classy vinyl CD. With that 45rpm retro styling you might be reluctant to slide it in to your Bang & Olufson, but trust me, it works fine. Just remember, grove side up, just like the old days.

For the doubtful, you can listen here via the stylish BandCamp audio widget.

Support independant music, listen, love it, buy some.

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(The Death Of) Six By Seven – Live

I’m really late with this as I meant to post it two weeks ago.

On the 16th of May Chris Olley & band (James Flower – bass ,Pete Stevenson – keys & Martin Cooper – guitar) played through the recent album ‘(The Death Of) Six By Seven’ at the Maze in Nottingham.

I’ve posted previously about Chris & Six By Seven and I have a lot of admiration for Chris’s music. This was the first time I’ve seen him play (other than YouTube) and it was well worth it.

Here’s a rehearsal from Chris’s blog.

Chris is a dynamic performer and his Martin did a good job of keeping its strings on through the set.

Here’s the opening track ‘The Writing On The Wall’ from the album…..

More about the music here and you can buy a digital version album on Bandcamp.

I took quite a few pictures but I’m still playing with some of them. I’ll post some more here when they get where they are going.

Here’s one of the songs ‘Chain’ from first (The Death Of) Six By Seven EP

The band are playing at the The Hope And Anchor in Islington, London on Friday the 13th of July. I hope it goes well for them. Support live music, go see them.

Here’s one more song. This from the second EP. It’s called ‘Just Give Me Love’

 

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Filed under Comment, Gigs, Hipstamatic, Music, Photography

Six By Seven – Up Dated

Without wishing to embarrass any body (Chris Olley for example), I’d like to bring your attention to Six By Seven if it hasn’t been bought for that purpose before.

A few weeks ago I read a Guardian article about the death of Britpop or some such thing. It might have been this about ‘Guitar Music’ or this about the low sales of Rock as opposed to Pop.

More journo twitter, really. I don’t honestly care about Coldplay, Franz Ferdinand, Kaiser Chiefs and High Flying Birds & Twitchy Eye.

Our little island has contributed more than most to proper music and not all of it needs chart ranks and arena tours.

Shamefully up until about a year ago I had never heard of Six By Seven. It happened like this .

(Insert that wiggly effect that happens just before flash back scenes in the final reveal of TV crime capers)

In my day job that shall remain nameless, I fielded an inquiry from a chap in a bat cave who had been commissioned to display his recent photographic project. ’92 Stadiums’ featured a number of pictures (I forget how many) of UK football grounds. Shot in real analog black & white he had toured the country on a motorbike and photographer all of venues whilst unused. There are virtually no people in any of the shots and in some cases the stadia are only just visible between rows of terraced houses. Whilst I confess to not giving fig or other dried fruit about football I couldn’t help bit admire the concept, intent & execution of the project. The exhibition eventually went into Derby Museum and has toured at least in part elsewhere since.

Some while after the event I got into conversation with the guy about mutual interests, photography, music etc when he drops into the conversation that he’s sold several thousand albums and been on the John Peel show on a bunch of occasions.  Weird. Slightly unexpected.

Turns out Chris Olley is the main chap in critically acclaimed Nottingham based band Six By Seven. Nottingham hasn’t contributed massively to the musical landscape (unless you count the mound Paper Lace are buried under, could be worse, could be Black Lace) but 6/7 definitely gave it a good go.

Here’s an interview from 2000 or there about’s…

As well as being a unique talent Chris runs a great blog, his own record company (SNSM), has a studio in Nottingham and produces music for other artists. I’ll name drop here Julian Cope whose brother I vaguely knew of forever ago in Tamworth.  There’s a man who needs more attention.

Spend some time here. There’s no point me copy pasting what you can find pre baked.

I strongly recommend The Adventures Of Baron Munchausen By Proxy and the most recent release The Death Of Six By Seven (the ‘Nebraska’ album) In fact everything I’ve heard so far is impressive and worth some time.

Here’s a song from the Munchausen…

….and here’s a video from 2008….

Check any You Tube and you’ll see great comments. The band (?) are playing live  soon hopefully so I’ll be getting a ‘T’ and digging out my AC/DC cut off.

Here’s another blog by Chris and I would definitely advocate you try ‘I Can Make You Sick’ which is a strange listening experience and not something you want to explain to the kids when you are on the school run. Believe me….

Tell your friends. Bring back guitar bands. Sorry I was late to the party…..

UP DATE 11/02/12

There’s a Valentines Special now available at http://sixbyseven.bandcamp.com  Four really good songs on a pay what you like  transaction. Love analog, dig in with troops….

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Filed under Gigs, Hipstamatic, Music, Uncategorized, Video