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January

My internal iTunes always has Pilot’s “January” on a continuous loop at this time of year, but I’ve no problem with that because it’s an almost perfect pop song. The track was produced by Alan Parsons, and two of the guys from Pilot – frontman David Paton and guitarist Ian Bairnson – went on to become key members of The Alan Parsons Project. They also played on Kate Bush’s “The Kick Inside” debut album.

“January” was Number One in the UK for three weeks in 1975. In February.


Christmas greetings from some grail hunters

Rat Scabies And The Holy Grail, Christmas 2001 (front)Rat Scabies And The Holy Grail, Christmas 2011 (inside)Did I mention I’d written a book called Rat Scabies And The Holy Grail? I think I did. It’s very good, you know. It’s about what the title says it’s about – punk rock legend Rat Scabies and me on a mind-bending (and probably soul-bending) hunt to find ye olde mystic and elusive Holy Grail – and you can read a couple of extracts here. Go on. Spoil yourself.

Several of the episodes described in Rat Scabies And The Holy Grail have been turned into cartoons by our arty friend Stu Warwick, some of which Stu has published as limited edition prints and auctioned off for charity (lovely bloke that he is). Each year since the book came out, Stu has also produced a small run of Christmas cards for Rat and me – and his 2011 card is my favourite to date. The front shows Rat and me with photographer Richard Bellia, who occasionally joined us on our questing (that’s a technical term us grail hunters use), and the inside has a secret message hidden in Stu’s specially adapted version of one of the coded parchments from Rennes-le-Chateau in France, a place which features heavily in the book. Click the images to see them nice and big and readable.

On this seasonal note, that’s about it from me for a couple of weeks. Have a great Christmas. I’ll start posting again when I’m able to extricate myself from the armchair.


My favourite album of 2011

The Millipede Engine – Bye Bye... We're MeltingEveryone’s doing their end-of-year lists at the moment. PJ Harvey’s “Let England Shake” seems to be a lot of people’s choice for Best Album of 2011 – which makes sense even if it is a little predictable. If I were to write out an Albums of 2011 list (which I’m not going to do because I’m too old for that sort of carry on), PJ Harvey would most likely appear quite high up. I’ve also really enjoyed this year’s efforts from Roots Manuva, James Blake, Alphabet Saints, The Fall (natch) and the utterly daft Master Musicians Of Bukkake, but the album I’ve played most and liked best in 2011 is “Bye Bye… We’re Melting” by The Millipede Engine.

“By Bye… We’re Melting” picked up some great reviews here in blogland but was largely ignored by the mainstream media, which is a shame. Maybe it’s because The Millipede Engine – Brill Nudie and Honey Lane – don’t fit easily into any musical category. I guess they’re kind of art rocky, kind of edging on proggy pop (or poppy prog). They like guitars and synths in equal measure, they’re not averse to brass and strings, and Brill Nudie’s vocals have been compared to David Bowie, Pete Shelley and Hurricane Smith. Brill and Honey are clever lyricists too. “The Cup Of Unconditional Love” is about a Jonestown-style mass suicide, while “Magic Robot” and “The Planet Tasters” delve into Ray Bradbury-esque sci-fi territory (and I’m a huge Bradbury fan). My old Melody Maker pal Mick Mercer described the Millipedes as “a bit weird, but in all the right ways” and you’ve only got to take a cursory glance at the sleeve of “Bye Bye” to see what he means.

You can hear every track on “Bye Bye… We’re Melting” at The Millipede Engine’s website (typically oddball of them, it scrolls across the page rather than up and down). Just click here and fire up their steampunk jukebox. If you don’t have time to listen to more than a couple of songs, choose from numbers 1, 3, 4, 9 and 11, and get ready for some multi-coloured dreams.


Witchy doings (continued)

Perry Harris has sent me this drawing of the Amazing Metal Vomiting Serving Girl I wrote about a couple of days ago. Click the picture to view a bigger version and scroll down to read the tale of the said Amazing Metal Vomiting Serving Girl. And when you’ve done that, get yourself across to Perry’s website, where you’ll find a phantasmagoria of cartoons, drawings and other visual delights, all rich in detail and brimming with lopsided humour. There’s tons of stuff to explore, so grab a beer or a cuppa before you dive in.

Perry was one of the founders of Vague, which started in 1979 as a post-punk fanzine and continues today as a series of pop psychogeography publications, and the Vague Rants site is worth a look too. Again, expect to be gone for some time.


Witchy doings

I have read a lot about the history of witchcraft in Europe – a pet subject of mine since I saw Vincent Price in the lead role of the 1960s hammy horror movie “Witchfinder General” when I was a kid – and I’m excited to learn that Cornell University Library in New York has put part of its esteemed and extensive Witchcraft Collection online. The collection features more than 3,000 rare books and manuscripts documenting the cruel persecution of the unfortunate women (and some men) accused of being witches over the centuries, and around 100 of these can now be viewed, free of charge, on your very own computer screen. Among the digitised items is a book written in 1691 by Richard Baxter, which includes a mighty strange case from the village of Beckington in Somerset. That’s where I live, that is.

Richard Baxter’s book has the snappy title, The Certainty of the Worlds of Spirits, Fully evinced by the unquestionable Histories of Apparitions and Witchcrafts, Operations, Voices, &c, Proving the Immortality of Souls, the Malice and Miseries of the Devils and the Damned, and the Blessedness of the Justified. Phew. Click on the image to view the front page in its full 17th century, slightly odd English, Bible-quoting glory. The Beckington case centred on an 18-year-old serving girl called Mary Hill who, “having lived very much in the Neglect of her Duty to God”, was “seized by violent Fits [and] began to Vomit up about two hundred crooked Pins”. Over the course of the next few months, Mary also threw up “nails, pieces of nails, pieces of brass, handles of spoons [and] pieces of glass”. Richard Baxter describes the nails as being “three or four inches long” and the pieces of brass as “an inch broad and two or three inches long, with crooked edges”. On several occasions, Mary’s bizarre fits were witnessed by the church minister of Beckington, who told Baxter that “to prevent the supposition of a cheat, I caused her to be brought to a window, and having lookt into her mouth, I searched it with my finger”, but he found nothing to suggest this was a trick.

As word spread and more and more people came to Beckington to see the Amazing Metal Vomiting Serving Girl (they didn’t actually call her that, you understand, that’s just something I’ve made up), Mary Hill claimed that every time she had one of these episodes “she saw against the wall of the room wherein she lay, an old woman named Elizabeth Carrier”. Elizabeth was duly accused of witchcraft and dragged off to the county prison. When this didn’t stop her fits, Mary named two other women, Margery Coombs and Ann More, who were also arrested. Poor Margery died in prison soon after, but Elizabeth and Ann were sent for trial by jury at Taunton Assizes. Luckily for them, despite hearing sworn oaths from several witnesses and being shown many of the metal objects produced during Mary’s convulsions, the jury decided there wasn’t sufficient evidence to convict Elizabeth and Ann of witchcraft, and they were acquitted.

Mary Hill’s vomiting fits continued after Elizabeth and Ann’s acquittal. But then one day, the village minister says “she swelled to an extraordinary bigness” and threw up “several pieces of bread and butter, besmeared with a poysonous matter”, which the minister judged to be “white mercury”, and her mysterious convulsions stopped a short time later. More than 300 years on, it’s difficult to know what on earth was going on with Mary Hill, the 17th century metal guru, but one thing is for sure. If she’d been around today, she’d have got herself on “Britain’s Got Talent” pretty damn sharpish. Piers Morgan would have loved her.

Anarchy in the ukulele

The Pukes version of Damned Damned Damned The Pukes version of London CallingThere’s only three weeks until Christmas and if you’re still wondering what to get the punk in your life, the answer may lie with The Pukes. I’m not talking about some obscure group from 1977 with a solitary crackly seven-inch to their name. The Pukes are about as here and now as you can get. Well, kinda. They are a self-proclaimed “anti-society” of 10 ladies, some of whom have had several 21st birthdays, who perform classic punk songs on ukuleles. Which is a marvellous concept – and all the more so since they play with considerable skill and a big bucketful of gusto.

I’ve got to say that I’m buying pretty much whatever The Pukes are selling. And right now, as well as dusty old ditties rattled and twanged from teeny-weeny stringed instruments, the ladies are selling a 2012 calendar featuring their interpretations of 12 iconic punk record sleeves. Should you need telling, the revamped creations above are The Damned’s “Damned Damned Damned” and The Clash’s “London Calling” (yup, that’s a ukelele being trashed on “London Calling”), and others in the set include Blondie’s “Parallel Lines”, X-Ray Spex’s “Germ Free Adolescents” and the first Ramones album. The images have been put together by photographer Diana More and designer Lorna Tiefholz, who is herself a Puke.

The Pukes’ calendar is A3, printed on glossy art paper, and will set you back a freshly ironed tenner (plus postage). You can order it by clicking here. You can also see the covers on display at Filthy MacNasty’s in Islington, London, until 17 December, and then at Norwich Arts Centre from 6 to 30 January next year. Watch out for the sweetcorn and the bits of carrot.

New stuff on my website

I’ve just uploaded a few more bits and bobs to Pushstuff, my archive website. Follow the links to read interviews with Flowered Up, Digital Underground, Bandulu, Nagamatzu and Terry Edwards, live reviews of My Bloody Valentine, Sigue Sigue Sputnik and US:UK, and album reviews of The Grid and Vagtazo Halottkemek, my all-time favourite Hungarian psychedelic rockers. I’ve also put up pieces about The Beatles and their 1960s merchandising items and the legal actions brought against 2 Live Crew over their notorious “As Nasty As They Wanna Be” album. Goodness, I do spoil you people, don’t I?


I ♥ Underworld

Underworld performing “Born Slippy” at the 2010 I Love Techno Festival at Ghent in Belgium. This has only recently gone up on YouTube (almost exactly a year after the event), but it’s a great bit of footage, not least because it really captures the excitement of the crowd as the track builds and builds and then builds some more. Set aside the time to watch it all the way through, get up on someone’s shoulders ready for when the place goes proper radio rental just after the three-minute mark, and look out for the heart hand sign right at the end. Sweeeeet.


A bit of Guns N’ Roses for your wall

Guns N' Roses at The Marquee in London (1987) by Richard Bellia

My old buddy Richard Bellia has a small selection of his photographs available as prints at Yellow Korner, a website specialising in affordable art imagery. The prints include Joe Strummer (The Clash), Robert Smith (The Cure), reggae idol Lee “Scratch” Perry, two different photos of Nirvana, and the above shot of Guns N’ Roses, which was taken at The Marquee in the summer of 1987, on the band’s first trip to London. Each print is numbered, comes with a certificate of authenticity, and costs €69 – a bargain at twice the price.

I worked with Richard on loads of jobs for Melody Maker in the late Eighties and early Nineties. One of my most vivid memories was when we covered the 1988 Monsters Of Rock festival at Castle Donington, an event marred by the tragic death of two fans in the crush of the crowd during Guns N’ Roses’ set. You can read my review of the festival here and a Guns N’ Roses piece based on a couple of interviews I did with Slash (one of them backstage at Donington) here. And if you’ve not had enough of clicking, you can read more about Richard Bellia here. This last link is an extract from my book Rat Scabies And The Holy Grail, in which Richard plays a leading part (although I’m sure Scabies and I would have found the bloody thing quicker without him).


Adam Ant at the Cheese & Grain in Frome

What’s not to like about Adam Ant? I mean, come on now, all that wild-eyed whooping and yodelling, all those have-at-thee-varlet videos, all those “Poldark” and “Onedin Line” costume cast-offs. . .

Tonight, the opening date of his biggest tour in years, Adam strolls out in his finest French Revolutionary outfit. Two hours later, having disrobed layer by layer – first the tight-fitting, gold-braided jacket, then the airy linen shirt and finally, at the end, the Adam Ant vest (oh yes, he’s wearing his own merchandising) – he leaves the stage stripped to waist, which isn’t a pretty sight. He’s not what you would call chubby, but he’s had considerably more pies than Iggy Pop. His Napoleon hat remains firmly jammed on his head all night long, though. It doesn’t move a millimetre. It must have been superglued on – unlike his large, black-rimmed spectacles, which he keeps having to push back up his nose with his index finger. Every time he does it, I think of Ronnie Corbett.

Oh balls. I said I wouldn’t do this. Adam Ant has long been an easy target for cynical bastard music journos. But actually, to be fair, when he’s got at least some clothes on, he’s looking good for a man rapidly approaching 60. He’s still sounding good too. Despite an erratic mix, his voice is terrific throughout. A gold star for his band as well. The two drummers (oh yes, he has two drummers) mean there’s plenty of rib rattling and the guitarist isn’t fazed that he’s following in the footsteps of Matthew Ashman and Marco Pirroni, who played such keys roles in Adam And The Ants. I’m not so taken with the pair of flesh-flashing female backing singers, who are more interested in their suspenders than their harmonies, but they’re not onstage half the time and are clearly not there just for their vocals anyway.

The focus of the show is as much on Adam’s punk beginnings as it is on his chart hits. “Cleopatra”, “Cartrouble”, “Whip In My Valise”, “Zerox” and “Deutscher Girls” are some of the early songs to get airings and there’s a lot of stuff from “Kings Of The Wild Frontier”, including a ferocious version of the title track. There’s also a sprinkling of new material, most notably a paean to Vince Taylor which is introduced with a dig at Morrissey, and a crafty medley of T-Rex’s “Get It On” and “20th Century Boy”, the flipping back and forth between the two songs working a treat. When it comes to the big smasheroos, the arrangements are not without surprises, “Prince Charming” getting stripped down to vocals, drums and little else besides. “Stand And Deliver” and “Goody Two Shoes” both flirt with chaos, but I’m glad the band haven’t rehearsed the life out of everything. Raucous energy beats musical perfection any day of the week.

Adam stays at the centre from start to finish, ever the entertainer, the showman, the ringmaster. He’s lost none of his pantomime skills (oh no he hasn’t), but I wonder if some of the crowd were expecting something slicker and poppier than this. Three guys near me keep exchanging confused glances, although I have a feeling they were confused already. The white stripes they’ve painted across their faces don’t go with their smartly pressed shirt collars and V-neck sweaters. They move even less than Adam Ant’s hat and, at the end of the set, their white stripes are fully intact and their shirt collars unruffled.

In contrast, most of the others who have dipped into their children’s facepaints before heading out – and there are a lot of them – are in a right state when the lights go up. One bloke looks like a post-apocalyptic clown, which I found extremely disturbing because I think I recognised him as my GP. I guess that’s the trouble with going to a gig so close to home. I just hope he never wants to stick his finger up my bum.

Adam Ant photo by FromeTV  //  Visuals on the night by FromeTV and VJ Ultra


William Ellis (4th Middlesex Regiment)

It’s Remembrance Day – a special one at that, today’s date being 11 November 2011 (11/11/11) – and I am remembering my great-grandfather William Ellis. William served as a private in the 4th Battalion of the Middlesex Regiment and died of wounds received in action near Ypres in 1915. He is buried at Somersham in Huntingdonshire.

For more information about William Ellis, please read my earlier post Along the Menin Road.


Brickology

If you haven’t seen the Lego Album Covers group on Flickr, you really are missing a treat. There are over 250 images in the group and only one or two duff efforts among them. I especially like the work of Aaron Savage, who’s responsible for the three superb examples above – David Bowie’s “Aladdin Sane”, Blondie’s “Parallel Lines” and Grace Jones’s “Island Life”. You can see a slideshow of Aaron’s Lego album covers at his website, Savage Arrow, where you’ll also find a number of other inventive photographic and design creations.


Magazine at Komedia in Bath

I saw Magazine play live just the once in the post-punk era – with Bauhaus in Leeds in May 1980. These were dark and serious times and I went along expecting a dark and serious gig – I wore my dark and serious and overly long coat in readiness for all the darkness and seriousness – but Magazine weren’t having any of it. I remember thinking they were much more cheery than they were meant to have been and my head still holds an image of frontman Howard Devoto skipping across the stage like a small child, at one point almost slipping into that sand dance everyone used to do to Jonathan Richman’s “Egyptian Reggae”.

Back with a new album, “No Thyself”, their first for 30 years, Magazine are as mercurial as ever. At Komedia in Bath, the opening night of a 10-date UK tour, they begin with three old favourites, but “Definitive Gaze” and “Give Me Everything” are at best tentative, at worst perfunctory. It doesn’t help that Devoto seems mainly interested in holding up and waving around a couple of gigantic placards. I have no idea what the placards say because he shields the messages printed on them from the audience. When they get to “Motorcade”, though, it all changes. The placards are left in the wings, keyboard maestro Dave Formula is on his feet, guitarist Noko’s chin tilts up, and Magazine rock. They rock as in THEY REALLY FUCKING ROCK. And from there on, they don’t stop rocking for a moment. I keep wondering if I’d maybe wandered into an AC/DC show by mistake.

That bit about AC/DC is me being silly, of course. However full-on everything is, Magazine’s take on rock still involves atmospheric keyboard passages and funky bass runs, subtle shifts and sudden bends, awkward shapes and odd angles. Once they’re bedded in, there are many high spots. “Hello Mister Curtis” (one of only five tracks from “No Thyself”) and “Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin)” are perfect platforms for new bassist Jon White (he’s very good). “Permafrost” is introduced as a song about “the wrong kind of sex” and has Devoto speak-singing with particular precision. “The Light Pours Out Of Me” gets his arms zig-zagging like a nutty orchestra conductor. “Shot By Both Sides” is the blistering finale and the band at their most punk, but it climaxes with drummer John Doyle locked into a pumping groove and Formula throwing in squelchy noises and the strobes going ballistic. If they’d carried on like that a little longer, I swear the crowd would have had their shirts tied round their heads and been yelling “Aciieeed! Aciieeed!” at the tops of their voices.

In a 1977 interview published by New York Rocker, Jon Savage asked Devoto what he wanted “to do” with Magazine. “Improve people’s memories,” said Devoto, which you could read at least two ways. Tonight certainly reminds me how much Magazine have added to my memories. I hope it might do something for my memory as well. I’d hate to be sitting about in pissy trousers 50 years from now telling anyone who’ll listen that Howard Devoto was this Egyptian bloke who invented acid house.

Howard Devoto photo by Tony Smith at Hotpix UK


Erick and Parrish making more dollars

EPMD are rumoured to be recording a new album. If that’s true, it’s a safe bet it will have the word “business” somewhere in the title and include a cut called “Jane” – just like the group’s previous seven albums. I hope it’s true. I would love Erick Sermon and Parrish Smith to make more records together and make more dollars, even if they never again come up with anything as good as “So Wat Cha Sayin’”. I must have listened to “So Wat Cha Sayin’” a gazillion times over the years. A gazillion and a half times, maybe. That awesomely deep bassline and the little looped guitar sample from BT Express get me every time. It’s a great car bumping tune too. I think I’m gonna have to take my old Nissan Almera Estate out for a slow and menacing ride around the village now.


Morrissey and the NME (part one)

Left: The Smiths on the cover of NME in February 1984 after being crowned Best New Artist in the paper’s annual Readers’ Poll. I went to see The Smiths at the Gala Ballroom in Norwich during the summer of 1983 after reading about them in the NME. I thought they were wet and limp, like a sweaty vicar’s handshake, and the singer was a right chump. Still, I met John Peel that night, so it wasn’t a complete waste of time. I gave John a copy of my fanzine and he insisted on paying me for it. I believe he bought me a drink as well.

Right: Morrissey on the cover of NME in November 2007. This is a great cover and I could bang on about it for ages, but I’ll do my best to keep this short. The most striking thing is that nice bit of underlining. You can’t beat a nice bit of underlining. The way the main photo is torn along the left side is good too. So is the red blob up in the top right corner. You can’t beat a nice red blob up in the top right corner. Not sure about how those words under Morrisey’s name have been tippexed out, though. That seems weird.


225,000 Roses fans can’t be wrong

Selling 225,000 tickets in the space of a little more than an hour is a remarkable achievement, but I’m not convinced that the frenzied reaction to The Stone Roses’ reunion gigs at Manchester’s Heaton Park next June is an indication of what an important band they are. I think it probably says more about how, from their mid-30s onwards, most people wish they were several years younger than they are and get a bit woozy at the prospect of an evening re-living their past, which is something that music can help them to do more quickly and more completely than anything else.

Adam Ant talked about The Stone Roses when he appeared on last week’s “This Week”, BBC2′s zany political overview programme. Adam’s on the comeback trail himself (starting his forthcoming tour with a warm-up show in Frome, just down the road from me) and pointed out that what people want to hear at reunion gigs are the hits. He’s dead right, of course. So if I had one of those tickets for Heaton Park I’d be concerned at the news that, as well as playing live again, Ian Brown says the Roses are planning to record a new album. Let’s face it, most of the fans going to Heaton Park won’t want to hear much stuff from the second album, let alone stuff from a possible third. I’d also be worried about the group spending a few months locked down in the recording studio, with all the potential conflict that might bring. There’s time for a lot of arguing and falling out between now and next June.

In all the media hoo-ha about The Stone Roses in recent days, I especially enjoyed a piece by The Independent on Sunday football correspondent Steve Tongue, who picked up on something bassist Mani said on Sky’s “Soccer AM” in 2006. Mani, a diehard Manchester United supporter, had joked that the band would only reform “after Man City won the European Cup”. Manchester City were flirting with relegation from the Premiership back then and finished that season losing nine of their last 10 games. Fast forward to today and City are sitting on top of the table, fresh from thrashing Manchester United 6-1 on Sunday, and pushing for a place in the last 16 of the UEFA European Champions League. I don’t suppose Mani will be best pleased if City were to make it all the way to the Champions League final. And as Steve Tongue notes, the final takes place on 19 May, a mere six weeks before The Stone Roses’ Heaton Park gigs.

Ian Brown photograph by Bartosz Madejski at Bart Photography


Along the Menin Road

I’ve just spent a couple of days poking around some of the World War One battle sites in Flanders with my old mates Adam Donovan and Dave Lombardi from The Jetsonics. Check these guys out if you’re into noisy guitar pop, because they’re actually quite good. I did a similar trip with Dave a while back, when we visited several places associated with the Battle of the Somme. This time we headed further north, to the Belgian town of Ypres near the Belgian-French border.

The so-called Ypres Salient was a bulge in the Western Front, a small area that was fought over for pretty much the entire four-and-a-bit years of the war. It was the scene of some of the bloodiest and most intense trench warfare of the conflict, as the front line shifted back and forth across the same ground over and over again, and it was here that the first gas attacks took place. There are more than 130 military cemeteries in the Salient – you can’t stand in one without seeing another close by – including Tyne Cot, the biggest British Commonwealth military cemetery in the world.

An astonishing 90,000 of the British and Commonwealth soldiers buried in the Ypres Salient have never been identified, their gravestones inscribed with the simple words “A soldier of the Great War”, and the names of many of these men are etched into the Menin Gate, a majestic memorial arch on the Menin Road east out of Ypres. A commemorative ceremony takes place at the Menin Gate every evening, at which buglers from the local fire brigade play “The Last Post” and someone reads “The Ode of Remembrance” (“They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old”). There was a crowd of at least 500 people on each of the two nights I attended with the Jetsonics boys.

This trip had a special meaning for me because my great-grandfather, Herbert William Ellis, usually called William Ellis, served in the Ypres Salient as a private in the 4th Battalion of the Middlesex Regiment. His army records show that he enlisted in late August 1914, three weeks after the war started, and joined his battalion at Ypres in the November. Like thousands of other men, William would have marched eastwards out of the town in a khaki column, snaking past the continually shelled junction known as Hellfire Corner and into the apocalyptic landscape depicted in The Menin Road by war artist Paul Nash. That’s the painting at the top of this post.

The 4th Middlesex took part in several actions along the Menin Road in 1915, most notably leading a successful assault on the German front line at Hooge in mid-July. The battalion sustained 300 casualties in a single day – almost a third of its total number. The fighting at Hooge went on deep into August, and it was up close and personal, with the British and German trenches in this sector just 15 yards apart in some places. In late September, the 4th Middlesex was also involved in an attack on the nearby Bellewaarde Ridge, where one of the battalion’s officers, Second Lieutenant Rupert Price Hallowes, won the Victoria Cross. He was killed on 30 September. Four days later, on 4 October, my great-grandfather William Ellis was wounded. I don’t know the circumstances, but the Casualty Report says he was shot in both legs and his left arm. He was also gassed.

After a brief spell in a field hospital in Flanders, William was evacuated back to England and sent to Bagthorpe Military Hospital in Nottingham. The doctors were especially concerned about his badly fractured right leg – “The bone is exposed for a length of four inches” says the Treatment Form – and at the end of November the leg was amputated “at the middle of the thigh”. As a result of the surgery, however, William developed septicemia (blood poisoning). The Treatment Form ends with the words, “Became worse & was treated by vaccines. Still became worse & died on Dec 19″.

William Ellis is buried in the churchyard of St John the Baptist in his home village of Somersham in Huntingdonshire. His name appears on the large stained glass window – the Memorial Window – above the altar in the church. William has a military headstone provided by the Commonwealth War Grave Commission and I can’t help thinking it seems out of place in the context of an English churchyard. But I guess it’s good that, in the final reckoning, he made it back to his home village.

The Menin Road by Paul Nash, oil on canvas, IWM ART 2242, Imperial War Museum


Punk collage (from Sounds, 2 April 1977)

I can’t find the words to tell you just how much I love this. It was printed across the middle pages of Sounds in April 1977, accompanying an A-to-Z of the first wave of UK punk bands. I’ve lost the first and last pages of the article, and there are no credits on the pages that I do have, but I think the A-to-Z was written by Jonh Ingham and I presume the collage was put together by the Sounds art team, in a style in keeping with the fanzines of the time.

Sounds was several leagues ahead of the rest of the music press in covering the embryonic days of punk. The collage features all the obvious names – Sex Pistols, The Damned, The Clash and so on – but it also includes less well known acts such as The Models, The Cortinas and Suburban Studs. Click the image to see it in its full glory and keep an eye out for The Police (before they got hold of the peroxide bottle), Skrewdriver (before Ian Stuart Donaldson turned into a Nazi bastard) and a terrific early photo of The Slits. One outfit you won’t see on there is Iron Maiden – but then you wouldn’t expect to, would you? Well, as it goes, Iron Maiden do appear in the A-to-Z, where they describe themselves as “bloody shock rock”. They were fronted by Den Ace at this point and had somebody called Ron Rebel playing drums.

I had the collage on my bedroom wall for ages and ages, so it’s badly discoloured, but I’d say that adds to its historic value. I’m not sure history will look kindly on me for having censored the “Fuck Off” on Gaye Advert’s T-shirt with a biro, though. At least I think that was me. I don’t remember doing it, but the scribbling out seems to be in blue ink rather than being an original feature of the collage. If it was me, I suspect I did it in case my mum ever took a close look at it on my wall.

UPDATE (posted 30/10/2011)

I was wrong about Jonh Ingham writing the A-to-Z that accompanied the collage. Jonh has been in touch to say that he wrote a big article about punk for Sounds in around October 1976 (The “?” Rock Special), but he had nothing to do with this piece. My next best guess is the A-to-Z was by the late Giovanni Dadomo, another early champion of punk in the music press. As well as being a journalist, Giovanni was a member of Arthur Comics (later known as The Snivelling Shits), who appear in the article between Alternative T-TV [sic] and The Boys.


Waddling birds and little green men

I’ve been spending way too many hours at The Art of Penguin Science Fiction website, which charts the history and cover art of science fiction paperbacks published by Penguin Books from 1935 to the present day. All of the early Penguin covers featured three horizontal bands, with the book title and the author’s name in black type across the middle band, but the designs became more individual from the late 1950s onwards. I remember taking a battered, sellotaped-together copy of this 1962 edition of George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four out of my school library. The other covers shown above are the 1974 edition of Ray Bradbury’s The Day It Rained Forever, Kurt Vonnegut’s Cat’s Cradle (1985), John Wyndham’s The Day Of The Triffids (1999) and Yevgeny Zamyatin’s We (2007).


One cello, two stylophones

This is the video for “Weirdo”, the first single by …Of Diamonds. You can read about them at My New Favourite Band. “Weirdo” was released a few days ago and I like it very much. It wormed its witchy way into my head as I watched the video last Saturday morning, distracting me when I should have been making changes to my fantasy football team, and I haven’t managed to get rid of it yet. I like most of what I’ve heard from …Of Diamonds, actually. As you will see here, one of them plays an old cello and the other two play stylophones. In another of their songs, one of them plays a melodica. I also like …Of Diamonds because they come from Norwich, which is a fine city.


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