Ant Agonist

The first time I encountered the voice of Antony Hegarty it completely blew me away.
It was definitely a case of 'What the...? Who the fuck is that...!?'

His voice, if you haven't encountered it for yourself, well, all I can say is that it's pretty unlikely you've encountered anything like it before.

Unique it is; but if I was forced to find a simile, I guess I'd describe it as the bastard mutated child of a marriage between the voice of John Martyn and that of Nina Simone.

Interesting that I could only find similarities with artists no longer living.
Apt really.
As mortality, the concern with death - death of self; death of identity; death of gender - is at the heart of much of Antony's material.
In the true metaphysical sense - and I do believe there are many comparisons that can be made with what is identifiable as 'metaphysical' in Antony's work - mortality and the concern for the soul is essentially his muse.
The result; the expression, can be heavy: deeply affecting.

I have heard his music described as truly soulful - again in the metaphysical sense - it is, absolutely.
It emanates from his soul.

His song structures often ascend, dramatically, breathlessly, delineated brilliantly by the building intensity of the music and of course that voice.
'Hope There's Someone' is undoubtedly the finest example of this, but it's noticeable in so much of his work.

He's quite painful to watch.
Too much, perhaps. Too authentic; too revealing.
But it's never forced; never sentimental, and never reverts to pathos.
It's just real.

While listening to him, he raises an inner conflict: you don't know whether you want to give him a great big cuddle, or bludgeon his brains out to bring an end to the poor devil's suffering...

But hey.
It's only music, right.

Captured at the glorious LSO ST Luke's in the East End of London, this was originally filmed and broadcast by the BBC in 2005, catching Antony & the Johnsons at the tail end of their first major UK tour after winning the Mercury Prize with the stunning I Am a Bird Now.

It's an excellent performance and works really well as a live audio recording.

Antony & the Johnsons - Live, London, 2005.

My Lady Story
For Today I am a Buoy
Spiralling
You Are My Sister
Fistful of Love
Hope There's Someone
I Fell In Love With a Dead Boy
The Guests
Bird Gerhl
Candy Says

Excellent Rip from DVD captured broadcast, BBC4, 2005, @320kbs
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Ant Music

Beautiful collection of songs to supplement the live show.

Very downbeat e.p. in the main; lifted only by the curious 'Shake That Devil'.

Not something to play if you're feeling at all fragile; but then on the other hand...

Antony & the Johnsons - Another World (2008)

Another World
Crackagen
Shake That Devil
Sing For Me
Hope Mountain

CD rip to mp3s
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Crank!

Back in 1993 the BBC during part of their late night arts slot The Late Show, broadcast a short autobiographical musically interjected film by Vivian Stanshall.
They titled it Vivian Stanshall: The Early Years; Stanshall titled the confessional performance Crank.
Short and to the point. But like all connected with Vivian Stanshall, ever ambiguous.

As an audio rip this piece works exceptionally well; in fact it does sound very much like a radio doc; especially as much of the film is made up of musical performance.
The narrative is told directly to camera; compelling to watch it may be, but really it's Stanshall's voice and what he is saying - and the way he says it - that is truly compelling.
His diction is perfect; his annunciation superb; his wit, as always, masterful.

True to autoboiography he tells his tale chronologically, concentrating primarily on his childhood and the tricky relationship he had with his father.
Interjected throughout by musical performance, almost in a this is what happened to me as a kid so that inspired this piece of music kind of way, Stanshall covers his genres (accompanied by Mr. Slater on wind and Danny Thompson on bass; unfortunately I don't know who the other musicians were; hard to find any info about this show): old time jazz pastiche,

rock n roll, some great solo numbers from Teddy Boys Don't Knit (what must be his greatest solo work; including a performance of one of his finest ever songs 'Ginger Geezer',

a song important enough in my life for me to have named my youngest hound after it.

Hi, Geezer. Good boy, etc....),

some very cool blues, and even an astounding, satirical spiritual number, that'll have you humming its refrain for days.

I'm not even sure if many of the songs he performs throughout the piece have ever actually been recorded or put out as product; but from what I understand there's a ton of stuff that Stanshall created: music, visual art, sculpture, and all manner of whatnot; whether it will ever see the light of day; ever become available, well, who knows...?

This film, made in conjunction with the BBC, was all part of Stanshall's gradual movement back into the entertainment business after a state of semi-retirement due to mental-health problems.

You are left at the end of the performance with the sense that Viv Stanshall wasn't always comfortable being Viv Stanshall, which kind of goes against the more dominant ideas associated with artists and those creative types in the public eye. But it did seem for Stanshall that creativity was often a bit of a burden; a burden because it became a compulsion; an obsession; not necessarily something he wanted to do, but something he just couldn't help doing.
Madness.
But when one is an artist, madness becomes legitimate. Acceptable.
But madness, in any form, is never easy to live with.

I remember Stanshall appearing on Jools Holland's TV show Later... about a year after Crank was shown.
He wasn't performing, he merely sat in the audience. But Holland announced him anyway, and with a genuine admiration - unusual, as I usually find him terribly sycophantic - stated how pleased he was to see him; as we all were.

But then he was gone again.

For good this time.
Dying in a house fire in 1995.
He was fifty-one.

But his art lives on; the recent revived interest in The Bonzos has created more curiosity, leading to the CD release of Men Opening Umbrellas Ahead, and as I said earlier, who knows what else could be released from the vault?

It's just such a shame he wasn't able to create a nice concrete conclusion to his career; something that tied his eclectic and enormous body of work together.
But at least there's stuff such as this, and believe me, this really is as close to the audience an artist like Stanshall can possibly get.

Straight.
But ambiguous as hell.

Peace.
Viv Stanshall - Crank (1993)

Fifteen minute audio rip from VHS to DVD captured broadcast @320kbs.
Sound quality is pretty damn good, considering how much its been bounced around.
Revive Viv here

Post!

It was another recent BBC radio broadcast that reminded me of one of the most absurdest recordings in my collection.

This strange little gem I inherited from my Grandfather, who would readily quote from it, in an impersonating manner, whenever an appropriate moment occurred; and considering the songs are about smoking, women and bonking your nut - a particular activity I must have performed often, as it seemed he was forever singing it at me - he had endless opportunity to do so.

The Singing Postman, aka Allan Smethurst, had a brief spell of popularity before the swinging sixties got going; tacked on to the end of the fad for folk, he adopted the most over the top of Norfolk accents; the most hyperbolic of dialects you'll ever hear to deliver his curious little ditties.
This is twisted folk like you've never heard before.

It's odd, there's hardly any trace of him now.
He has very little music available, and there seems to be hardly any retro interest.
I mean, compared to someone such as George Formby, who has endless amount of product available, or to make a comparison with a contemporary artist, someone such as Ivor Cutler, you'd think people would be crying out for this sort of thing; but the poor old Singing Postman doesn't seem to get a look in.

My theory about his unpopularity and lack of interest is not one that is strictly due to him being out of fashion, as the documentary kind of suggested - or, you may be thinking, due to him merely being shit - but, due to his songs being incredibly un-PC.
Just take the refrain from 'Hev Yew Gotta Loight, Boy?' as an example:

Molly Windly
She smokes like a chimley
but she's my little nicotine gal.

And if there's one thing left in our often immoral but terribly judgmental world that is so wrong, so morally reprehensible to be absolutely, without question, entirely forbidden, then it's admiring and adoring someone because they smoke; because they have a tobacco habit.

Smoking just ain't sexy!
Right, kids....

He was thirty-eight when he cut this record - that's when thirty-eight really was middle aged - and despite it being his biggest seller, it wasn't long before he faded, and soon retired from the music business.

He became a rather tragic figure in his later life.
Having pissed all his money away, he for some reason refused to accept any more; turning down any royalties EMI tried to pay him.

He died in a Salvation Army hostel in 2000.

Here's a rather twee sleeve note that accompanied this release:

A don' moik em loik is anymoo

The Singing Postman - First Delivery (1966)

Come Along A Me
Moind Yer Hid Boy
Hev Yew Gotta Loight, Boy?
A Miss From Diss

A rather crackly but well listenable to rip from vinyl @320kbs
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That's Not His Name

I first encountered the name Billy Childish while clambering around inside Tracey Emin's 'Tent': Everyone I Have Ever Slept With 1963-1995, at Saatchi's Sensation exhibition back in 97.

I knew of his bands The Mighty Caesars and Thee Headcoats but I didn't make the connection; I thought it was a silly name, one perhaps Emin had invented.

How wrong I was, and it slowly dawned on me through serendipitous references and ubiquitous name dropping by those who are assumed hip, that Billy Childish was a real person (Steven Hamper in fact), and had every right to occupy one of the largest surface areas within Emin's tent.
She readily admits that Billy Childish was the greatest inspiration in her life.

There's ample amounts of Billy Childish recordings available out there, and I have nothing that I can really add to that without merely repeating what others have done.

But what I have got to share is a fascinating and compelling documentary and interview with Billy Childish produced by the BBC earlier this year.

The radio broadcast corresponded with a major exhibition of Childish's work at London's ICA gallery. Visual art, music and poetry featured in the exhibition (Childish refuses to settle into one medium or form; being a true artist in the Renaissance sense; being creative, and refusing to be categorised or confined) and some of the interview concentrates on this - dare one say it about Childish - 'mainstream' exhibition.
But in the main the programme allows Childish to pretty much free-associate.

Quizzed and prompted by John Wilson, son of Bob (yes, that Bob. You know: "Bob Wilson: Anchorman" Bob), Childish comes across as a most conducive and intelligent character.
It makes for a fascinating listen. Art, Emin, punk rock, poverty, subversion, fame and a whole feast of other subject matter is covered.

For instance, I totally and wholeheartedly agree with his attitude and opinion concerning the term 'Outsider Artist'; a label Childish despises; a term I have, like Childish, always considered derisory; a label created by an elitist art establishment for anyone who doesn't fit-in or follow their arbitrary and bullshit 'rules'.

So big up the BBC for giving Billy Childish the air time, and bless 'em, they even allowed him to introduce himself:

I am Billy Childish
Ex drunk and compulsive masturbator
Late night vomiter of good liquor
Kisser of purple lipped women
Writing poems celebrating the emptiness of my love.

So if you're interested in what Billy Childish has to say about music,

art,

poetry,
or life in general, this is well worth a listen.

Wild Billy Childish
Produced and broadcast by the BBC, Radio 4.
Broadcast 23/3/10.

Excellent rip from DVD captured digital broadcast @320kbs to single mp3 (30 minutes)
Get Childish here

Slosh About!

Early cut from Hardcore Metal outfit Prong.

This album catches the band before they acquiesced to their more identifiable Industrial sound; here they are all power-trio; kickin' ass and wigging out in a most exuberant manner.

Great to drive to; great for shouting along to.
And as is so common in this genre, there's some wickedly dumb lines to shout.

The refrain from 'Drainpipe' has to be about the dumbest and the best.
All together now: "Slosh about!"

Grrrrrrr!
Prong - Force Fed (1988)

Freezer Burn
Forgery
Senseless Abuse
Primitive Origins
Aggravated Condition
The Coliseum
Decay
It's Been Decided
Force Fed
The Taming
Look at the Sun
Drainpipe

Excellent vinyl rip @320kbs
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Oink

Someone desired a little more of this.
And who am I to deny others' desires.

May All your desires become reality!

The Trashwomen Live! epitomizes all that is good about surf-punk; all that is good about women and all that is bad about men; the dominant sex heard here between tracks revealing his true nature.

Men! Tossers.
Present company excepted, of course...

The Trashwomen - Live! From Tom Guido's Purple Onion & Other Swinging Places (1994)

Gear Masher
Turd Bath
Queen of the Surf
Scream
Pretty Baby
Space Needle
Catwalk
Let's Have a Party
Malaguena
Justine
Trashwoman's Revenge
KFCJ DJ Brent Indie Interviews The Trashwomen
Margaya
Brent Indie Interviews Michael Lucas
Dragula
Quasimodo
Aphrodisia
I'm Trash
Nightmare at the Drag
Jamaica Farewell

CD rip to mp3s
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