Pilgrim's progress

I was chatting to my brother the other night and the topic of film adaptations came up. He was lamenting the dire version of A Wizard of Earthsea that he'd seen. It hasn't been done yet, and so I don't think I mentioned it, but I've thought for a long time that The Last American would make a great film. The story covers the first few days of Ulysses S. Pilgrim after he emerges from suspended animation twenty years after World War Three.

It came out on Epic (a Marvel subsiduary) back in 1990 and I'm not sure how I would've heard about it. I imagine it was the artwork that persuaded me into buying them, though possibly the storyline - nuclear war was my most morbid fear throughout childhood and I find myself drawn to the topic (my brother's the same about sharks).

Post nuclear apocalypse scenarios aren't very fashionable at the moment but there was meant to be a trend emerging a while back for bleak sci fi (Moon being the only example I can think of right now).

The artwork, (by long time favourite and regular 2000AD contributor Mike McMahon) is, as befits such a storyline, brutal. Whatever humour can be mustered from the situation comes from the dialogue between Pilgrim and his three robot helpers (Able, Baker and Charlie - a nod to Huey, Dewey and Louis in Silent Running?).

Here are a few random pages that I particularly like. Copies can be picked up for buttons on ebay.

And finally, I'd have this as the soundtrack.

Laurie Anderson O Superman

It always seemed to me that this song was about the start of World War Three. The lyrics "Here come the planes" and then "Smoking or non-smoking" and "Neither snow nor rain nor gloom of night shall stay theses couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds" - highly suggestive to me of the bomber in Dr Strangelove, unstoppable once the process has been set in motion.

And the lyric asking "Who is this?" and the voice replying, "This is the hand, the hand that takes" a reference maybe to the bit in the book of Daniel when the hand appears and writes "Mene, mene, shekel upharsin" - I find it a pleasingly spooky idea that god might reveal himself, even if only to one person, at the climax of humanity's hubris.

In the garden

When I was a kid I didn't buy albums, I didn't notice that groups tended to release song after song. I lived, as was only right, in the moment and was continually knocked sideways by random singles. The earliest that I remember being really addicted to were The Model, Senses Working Overtime and Golden Brown - all three of which, when I check, I see were released between Dec 81 and Jan 82 - pinpointing the dawning of my pop consciousness.

At about this time a genuine appreciation of their music, and a certain amount of peer pressure, led to me declaring that Madness were officially my favourite group and I bought my first ever album (One Step Beyond) and maintained a preference for this earlier, more ska-ified version of the band.

At the time I considered Madness's streak of pop genius (Tomorrow's (Just Another Day), Michael Caine and Yesterday's Men for example) as something of a loss of form and when the single Sweet Dreams came along what might previously have been just another one hit fixation saw the purchase of my second ever album Sweet Dreams and the Eurythmics assume the mantle of my favourite band (later sharing the honour with Talking Heads) until sometime in 1987, when Indie finally beckoned me across the generation gap.

So, the Eurythmics - as big a fan as I was I'd never heard of their first album In the Garden until I discovered it, oddly enough, while flipping through the collection of the friend who had introduced me to Spacemen 3. I gave it a spin and absolutely loved it: my old beloved Eurythmics but without the histrionic vocals and the worst excesses of eighties drum and synth production and, on the plus side, fuzzy guitars and the odd squeak of feedback. Definitely a great lost album.

Anyway, here's my favourite track off it, one of the more gentle tunes from Annie Lennox's endless supply of bummed out love songs.

Eurythmics Never Gonna Cry Again

Ahmes Meryet Amun

Following up on that exhibition of Ghanaian coffins I went to the British Museum the other day and tracked down the two examples they have there. They're in the Living and Dying Room - one was a big eagle very similar to one of those at the exhibition but it was the other one, in the shape of a giant Nikon camera, that was really worth seeing. It was, for reasons of space I suppose, very high up though, so you couldn't get a brilliant look at it. Anyway, having seen that I thought I might as well have a wander.

Over the years I must have been in the museum literally umpteen times and out of all the monumental bits of Egyptian sculpture there this is easily my favourite - it looks exactly like an illustration by Moebius. There's something so satisfying about it, the shape of the hair (a Hathor wig according to this). I looked her up when I got home and found her in my copy of Faces of Pharaohs. I find it slightly mindblowing that, should I travel to Cairo, I could go to the museum there and gaze upon the actual (highly mummified) face of the woman whose three and a half thousand year old portrait this is.

Ping!

I stepped out of my front door yesterday to find a copy of Lightbulbs by Fujiya & Miyagi resting on the doormat (a nice big vinyl copy, on account of the great sleeve artwork there). It's another album I'd been led to by the inclusion of one of its tracks a MOJO cover cd. The track in question was the drowsily lovely Goosebumps.

Fujiya & Miyagi Goosebumps

For the first however many listens I thought this track was actually the last part of the preceding track (Hot Chip's We're Looking For a Lot of Love) such was the excellence of that particular bit of sequencing.

Creation myth

Here and there I've spoken disparagingly of Bobby Gillespie (his often painful media persona, the vast gulf between his opinion of his abilities and the quality of his musical output, his blathering on and on about being strung out on heroin). And so, in the interests of balance, some good things. His haircut, not so much these days but earlier on - a classic. And secondly, by and large I find Primal Scream's music a bit... bloodless, but here are two of their tracks that I must admit I do really like, Imperial from when I was young and When the Kingdom Comes from when I was almost young.

Primal Scream Imperial

Primal Scream When the Kingdom Comes

Roving about for a little picture to go at the top of the post my eye was caught by the cover for Shoot Speed featuring Mr Gillespie in more innocent times, against a suitably pop art background. By co-incidence it features both the tracks. Only released in Japan for some reason, the tracklisting looks pretty good I think, expensive though.

Noli me tangere

A few months ago I got all excited about Soul Jazz Records. Scrolling through their discography I was struck by the songs on the album Polyphonic Voices of Georgia. The album information mentions that this music had been, "proclaimed by Unesco as one of the Oral and Intangible Masterpieces of Humanity". This intrigued me quite a bit and led me to this.

Anyway, one day over the Christmas break I arranged to go walking in the Peak District with some friends. As the train pulled out of Sheffield station I saw that picture of the weird creature above. Given the condition of the building I don't imagine it's going to be there for too long and I really wanted to take a photo, my own little attempt to preserve something that while not actually intangible seems destined for a fleeting existance. I'll be honest I didn't get round to taking a photo, but luckily the good people at Unurth have.

In further linkage the artist who drew it goes by the name of Phlegm and has his (?) own blog full of a load more fascinating images.

Further reading

I've just finished reading John Wyndham's Trouble With Lichen. I enjoyed it as much as all the others of his books that I've read, just about. Perhaps I'm getting used to his style. I've praised his originality before but I think having read 2000ad strips like Future Shocks and Time Twisters primes you for this sort of thing.

Back in October I took his The Chrysalids along as a holiday book. I'd nearly bought it once before at that book market under Waterloo Bridge, but I was put off by a terrible cover: an ant warrior thing brandishing a spear. Anyway, on holiday, as with all his books I polished it off in a couple of days. I found it his most disorietating book so far, and that's what you want from science fiction isn't it?

Like many successful authors his most popular novels get reissued as a set and all my copies come from different sets. My favourite of those that I actually own is the Midwich Cuckoos cover that I posted a while back, the rest are fairly bland. My Trouble With Lichen has a cover by Brian Cronin whose versions got a bit of a kicking over at Caustic Cover Critic a while back, and perhaps justifiably. I do like his cover for The Chrysalids though, which is the picture up there, out of all the scenes in the book one of the subtlest to choose from. If I was designing a cover for it I'd probably have gone for a nice, horrific depiction of the chief mutant Gordon Strorm.

Have yourself a hillbilly Christmas

I decided to get this the other day after hearing one of the tracks on MOJO's Electra compilation. I was vaguely aware of them due to Gene Clark having recorded a couple of albums with one of them (looked it up: Doug). It's a full on bluegrass affair which, if I'm remembering the blurb in the magazine right, was recorded as a fuck off to the label which backfired by becoming a hit (I love it when that happens). Seems harsh though, I'd have thought Electra was a very cool set up.

The Dillards Old Joseph

I'm safely tucked away up north for Christmas now, after a nightmare journey. I think I might grow a beard.

Tickle on the tum

From time to time it's occurred to me to write some things about where I live and now, inspired by a property type article about the place in today's Evening Standard, here's my guide to Twickenham.

The Stadium. I've never been to a sporting event or a gig here. Just an art deco pottery fair. And I didn't buy anything. So, moving on into the town itself, being a delicate indie-type I don't venture into the high street pubs - the Cabbage Patch and the George etc. The closest I get to entering a manly, rugger pub is the St Margarets Tavern over in St Margarets (which, when I think, I have sort of written a bit about).

When it's not chock full of hearty types in Harlequin tops it's very relaxing and cosy for such a big pub. The food's very good too and one of my mates was always chuffed to drink there cos they did Becks on tap. It's across the road from Twickenham film studios where the Beatles recorded some bits of the Magical Mystery Tour I think, they did something there anyway. I imagine there's a good chance they had a few beers in the place.

Also in St Margarets is Ches' caff which does an excellent breakfast, though it was done up a while ago and now has a proper evening restaurant bit. This has rendered it ever so slightly poncified. Moving along into the main bit of Twickenham the article mentions Church Street which features the Fox, the only pub in central Twickenham that I drink in. The first time I stepped down into the place two old buffers puffing away on pipes had created a mighty fug. It is, of course, not like that now. A shame, the pipe smoke, the lower than street level floor and the riverside location gave it a piratical vibe.

Also good on Church Street is Langton's Bookshop. I tend only to buy kids book in there to be honest. It scores heavily though for having a tearoom in the back - very comfy. Last stop for me on Church Street is Sweet Memories, which as the name suggests, is one of those boutique sweet shops that have sprung up recently to cater for sweet toothed nostalgists such as me, and for which trend I'm grateful. I noticed a few years ago that newsagents had stopped selling boiled sweets - and I do like to have a quarter of aniseed rock in my coat pocket when I go for a long walk.

Round the corner (past Flood Lane, look up to see commemorative plaque in the wall opposite showing the level of a flood in 1775) is the Thames. On the right is Eel Pie Island. Sadly you no longer haul yourself across on a rope ferry, there is instead quite a striking, high-arched bridge. My wife's known this part of the world for longer than me and the first time we walked down to this bit of the river I said something like, "That looks interesting" to which she casually replied something like "Oh yeah, it's Eel Pie Island". I couldn't believe it - as a big fan of both George Melly and the Rolling Stones the place was semi-mythological to me. I raced over the bridge to explore and...was pretty disappointed really. It's all private, as far as I could make out the general public only have access to a few yards of pathway. There's an article about it in this month's Uncut actually.

Along the Thames the other way (towards Richmond) you go past another good pub, the White Swan. It's long been an ambition of mine to get there early on a misty winter morning and get a window seat. Most times though it's been sunny afternoons and I've sat in the beer garden, which floods when the tide comes in. Trevor Bayliss, ladykiller and inventor of the clockwork radio, can occassionally be seen sat seductively in his powder blue E Type Jag outside this pub. Such a beautiful car.

Back into Twickenham and the main drag, as the article says, is a disappointment. There are plenty of charity shops, though not much vinyl to be had. The high street is long and featureless - it could do with a cinema round about where the big timber merchants is now. It needs a bit of character - which,speaking for myself, I think a greasy spoon and a decent record shop would go a long way towards providing.

Back to reality - trudging along the next good thing you come to is Angelo's. A slighly scruffy Italian restaurant. The owner (Angelo?) is, on the other hand, a very dapper Italian gentleman, probably in his sixties now but still capable of carrying off his dazzling tonic suit. Slightly further up is Panda Garden which does the best beef chow mein I've ever eaten, but my wife hates it. As a consequence I'm usually dispatched to get the Chinese from the brilliantly named, and admittedly superior, Ewok over in St Margarets.

Moving beyond Panda Garden (past the brand new tattoo parlour) you come to a railway bridge. Being a provincial country mouse I always get a big kick out of seeing trains going by overhead. It is, in my opinion, one of the most urban things ever. Walking under the bridge you cross from TW1 into TW2 and in doing so you are now unlikely to be eligible for free delivery from takeaways in places such as Mortlake and Sheen. Emerging from the shadow of the arches you are faced with the impressive horse chestnut lined triangle of Twickenham Green, the easternmost surviving portion of Hounslow Heath apparently.

Arthur's Restaurant there does a decent bacon sandwich but I mention it mainly because I'm certain that the building was originally a large (probably Edwardian) public lavatory, it's got that look about it. On the opposite side of the green is the cricket pavilion. According to their election literature the local Tories are very proud of the pavilion, and I admit it is a lovely building. Cricket is played on the widest part of the green but that doesn't stop them from hitting the cars parked around it. I've never seen them hit a moving car but it'd only take a good six.

A row of shops runs along the green the most fantastic of which is Shepperton Design Studio. Many's the time I've stood gawping at the reflec armour on display. However tempting the Tie Fighter pilot's outfit is I don't think I'd get away with buying one considering the sulks I've gone into when I've discovered the true price of some of my wife's handbags. I'd never, ever live down spending over a grand on a plastic spacesuit which I'd almost certainly never wear outside my flat.

If you've travelled this far and fancy a curry you'll be faced with a choice between the Green Spice and the Taste of Raj which, oddly, are right next door to each other. I favour the Green Spice on the grounds that it has booths and a mirrored mosaic bar that is a classic of its type. And I suppose it's a few feet closer to my flat that the Taste of Raj. A little further along you'll see the burnt out remains of two shops - a post office and a laundrette. Allegedly the fire was caused by a cannabis factory in the flat above the post office. I fantasize about turning the laundrette into a greasy spoon, it's just the right shape and size and the door and windows arrangement is perfect for a caff.

Finally, a bit further along, Crane Park - a long thin park that stretches alongside the River Crane (I noticed in the Guardian's obituary of Monty Sunshine that one of his first bands had been the River Crane Jazz Band, Twickenham was clearly a hotbed of post-war beatniks). I remember a few years ago commenting in the pub on the pleasant ease of walking by rivers, only to be slighty crestfallen at a colleague's prosaic observation that this was probably down to the fact that such walks were almost guaranteed to be along the flat. Hmm, good point I suppose.

Anyway, Crane Park has been on a couple of occasions the route along which, in a fit of post New Year disgust, I've taken myself out for a jog. Predictably enough I was defeated after five minutes or so, my mouth filling up with warm saliva and terrible aches wracking my body. So each time it turned into a slightly delirious amble through the nature reserve there. The park features an unusual, fairy tale looking tower, ironically in fact the sole remnant of the once extensive munitions industry that existed here. The towers were required for the manufacture of shot, which was made by pouring molten lead through a gauze at the top of the tower into a vat of cold water below. I'd never thought about how shot was made before. Will Self writes a bit about it one of his books (Psycho Too, by the sound of it).

Cold comfort

I usually post tunes at random fairly soon after I discover them and I’ve been meaning to post this for ages. But anyway, as you may have noticed, it’s freezing so not only an amazing track, but also highly topical. I can’t remember where I first ran into it – possibly it was mentioned in a Stereolab interview or something.

Wendy & Bonnie The Winter is Cold

In further cold-weather-related-trend behaviour I’m sporting a fantastic duffle coat at the moment. I’d been on the lookout for ages – I had thought I’d pick one up at an Army and Navy Surplus easy but they all seem to have closed down when I wasn’t looking. The purist in me would only settle for a very basic style and on that score the high street was a dead loss. I did find one that I liked in a department store but when I checked the price tag it was £250 – I just thought, “Has the world gone mad?” I got a secondhand one for thirty quid in the end.