Celebrated Summer

The action and success at the velodrome in Rio over the last few days has been unmissable, edge of the seat stuff. Laura Trott, Becky James, Katy Marchant, Jason Kenny, Bradley Wiggins, Owain Doull, Ed Clancy, Steven Burke, Katie Archibald, Joanna Rowsell Shand, Elinor Barker, Callum Skinner, Mark Cavendish- all truly something else.

Husker Du's Celebrated Summer, fifth track on 1985's New Day Rising, is a peak by a band with many, many peaks. The opening burst of guitar followed by thumping drums and bass raise the hairs on the back of the neck and the 12 string acoustic guitar breakdown in the middle and at the end show Bob Mould wasn't going to be hemmed in by hardcore's rules. Breaking out and breaking through. Melody combined with their ferocious energy. The lyrics, as so often with the Huskers, suggest something gone, something lost, the summers of youth- was that your celebrated summer?

A Level results today for my students. More tension and hopefully more celebrations.

Celebrated Summer

Beginnings And Finishings

This is me crossing the finishing line yesterday, smiling at the relief of completing 100 miles on the bike. The second half was really tough going. I got round in six hours and twenty two minutes. My thighs seized up last night and there's an annoying pain in my left knee. In the background you can see the statue of Oliver Cromwell that Manchester's civic leaders moved from outside Manchester Cathedral to Wythenshawe Park. Massive thanks to those people who read this blog that sponsored me- really, thank you.

Ctel posted this a few weeks back, a lovely, melodic piece of minimal house from GEM_DOS. Apparently the main instrument carrying the melody was played live, with the drums and vocal put on afterwards. I can't recommend it enough. Free download too.

Sunday Ton

Some of you might start getting twitchy if there hasn't been an Andrew Weatherall related post for a couple of days- I know I do and it's been four days since Wilmot. Here is his most recent two hour Music's Not For Everyone radio show for NTS, the usual mix of the interesting, the out there and the unexpected, including five songs from a project in Skipton that encourages girls to pick up musical instruments and play them, all of which are wonderful. Listen to it here (the embed thing wasn't working at the time of typing). The Selfa Girls Rock Camp is here.

I'm out on my bike today, an organised 100 mile ride from Wythenshawe Park out into Cheshire and back again. I've done the ride before and it's a really good event. Last year I did it in six hours eleven minutes, enough time to listen to the Weatherall show three times and have time to pop off to make a cup of tea. I'm riding to raise money for The Christie. We've lost two friends in the last two years to cancer, both of them too young and leaving husbands and children behind. If you can spare a couple of quid, you can donate here.

Which brings me to the picture, a 1980s advert for a bike. Someone thought that they could sell a golden road bike by using a big haired model in golden shades and golden tights, firing laser beams out of her breasts. Your guess is as good as mine.

Zyklodrom

I've had an eventful forty eight hours. On Saturday we took the kids into town to watch the Manchester Pride parade followed by going to see my brother who was taking part in a live graffiti event in a beer garden in The Angel pub. The two djs were spinning old school hip-hop, dub and electro and a good dollop of Kraftwerk, all of which sounded great in the faint Mancunian sunshine. Early evening came and we raced home so I could get out to one of the local Sale pubs to watch a punk covers band called Cheapskates who played a set which was 75% Clash songs. All good fun.

Yesterday we went out into Cheshire to visit my parents. I cycled there, about thirty miles through good roads and sunshine. Just arriving near their house I snapped a spoke. The car was full so I had to try to get home a few hours later with the broken spoke. All was going well. Ten miles from home near Tatton Park a second spoke went. Total pisser. I had to await rescue in a pub made more bearable by a very nice pint of Manchester Pale Ale. Today I will be going to the bike shop.

I pulled out Neu! man Michael Rother's 1977 solo album Flammende Herzen the other day. It doesn't sound like it was made that long ago. Completely instrumental and really very good indeed. Jaki Leibezeit plays drums. Rother plays everything else.

Zyklodrom

Blackpool Rock

Today I am cycling from Manchester to Blackpool, an organised annual event. Fifty five miles starting from Old Trafford and then heading north around Wigan and Preston and then west towards the Paris of north-west England. The last few miles are often done into a headwind coming  in off the Irish Sea. Something to do isn't it?

Blackpool's John Robb has reformed his 80s post-punk group The Membranes and they've released a very well received fourteen song lp Dark Matter/Dark Energy- a punky, angular, krautrock influenced concept album, about the creation and continuing expansion of the universe (also affected by the death of John's father while recording it).

Do The Supernova.



Technical advice anyone? I've got two Boxnet accounts for your d/l pleasure. Both have exceeded 100% bandwidth and neither have reset themselves to zero this month. Usually they revert to 0% on the first of the month but they haven't. Anyone know why?

The Hour

Bradley Wiggins sets off in two hours time in an attempt to break the world record for the hour. In short, riding round and round a velodrome track as fast as possible for an hour. He thinks he might be able to break through the 55 km barrier. Good luck Wiggo.

I went out and did some circuits in Trafford Park on Thursday night in my own hour attempt and managed 25.6 km. Less than half of what Wiggins may manage. But then I haven't got a beard. Or an Olympians legs.



The lyrics of Round And Round apparently document New Order's somewhat difficult relationship with Tony Wilson at the time and the money pit that was Factory Records and the Hacienda..

Belgian Beats

Let's not do that old chestnut about famous Belgians. This (above) is Eddy Merckx. And this (below) is Geoffroy Mugwump. The song is off an e.p. Belgian producer Mugwump put out last September and is a total joy- squelchy bass, piano house.

Share Of Thee Grail

Last Rose Of Summer

Yesterday was lovely, largely. The sun shone all day, in the morning I had a great cycle ride round High Legh and through Tatton Park. Later on we wandered round Knutsford town centre, poking around a few pricey antique shops, went for a cup of tea and some cake, sat in the sun for a bit. Some idiots* in Leicester town centre spoilt it a little but you can't have everything. The late September sun was making me wonder whether this would be the last really nice day of the year, as a sunny day at this time of year always does.

Then this song was linked to somewhere by someone- Last Rose Of Summer by North Lanarkshire's Delgados. A beautiful, fragile and quietly-noisy song. The Delgados made a bunch of fine records and were named after Pedro Delgado, Tour De France winner in 1988 and the 1985 and 89 Vueltas. No bandwidth so no download. This was from a Peel Session.




* Those idiots would be, in no particular order 1) Referee Mark Clattenburg 2) United's panicky, under equipped defence 3) Leicester's thug-in-chief Vardy 4) Dutch 'genius' Louis van Gaal who has splurged £160 million quid without noticing we have a somewhat leaky back four.

September

Woah- my thighs don't work very well this morning. My arse has more or less survived the ride though, you'll be pleased to know. One hundred miles in six hours and eleven minutes. I'm well chuffed. Thanks again to those who sponsored me. Our team total in raising money for The Christie currently stands at just shy of two thousand pounds.

September always seems to me as the month of change, more than any other except January (and January is pretty grim really). The end of summer, the start of Autumn, the nights noticeably drawing in, back to school... The weather forecast for this week is really good, naturally, after a wet and chilly August. September Gurls by Big Star is inexplicably great, those crashing chords, heart wrenching lyrics and general sense of love lost, the one that got away. I love it, and I'm not an especially big fan of Big Star.

September Gurls

Allez! Allez!

By the time this post is published I shall be somewhere in the lanes of Cheshire, pushing the pedals round, in our attempt to ride 100 miles. Admittedly that's 400 miles less than The Proclaimers said they would walk but it is 53 miles more than Bo Diddley walked in Who Do You Love? And Bo was proper badass. Mind you, he was walking barbed wire not leafy green lanes. And I couldn't do it wearing a cobra snake as a necktie though. I can't stand snakes.



The ride is raising money for The Christie and fighting cancer. If you haven't sponsored us there's still time. The Just Giving page is here. Many thanks to those who already have.

Cycling. Cancer. Charity.

Over the last twelve month we've lost two friends to cancer. SH died in August 2013, in her early 40s, leaving behind a husband and three children. JG died last Saturday morning, leaving a husband and two children. She was in her early 50s. Both were treated at The Christie, a cancer hospital in Withington, South Manchester.

On Sunday myself and a team of middle aged men are taking part in the Manchester 100, a cycle ride from South Manchester through Cheshire and back, a route of 100 miles. Cycling 100 miles will probably be more painful than pouring a bucket of ice water over our heads. If you can spare any change to sponsor us, that would be grand- no amount is too small, it all counts.
The donation page is here.

I don't want to type a whole load of 'standing up to cancer' and 'together we can beat it' style stuff- but I have seen the effect cancer has on a person, the physical effect and the emotional, and the effect it has on those who try to cope with a loved one who has cancer, and on those left behind.

Le Tour (En Derbyshire)

I cycled up to a few miles east of Glossop yesterday to watch the Tour de France as it dipped out of Yorkshire and into Derbyshire. The Tour passing within twenty-five miles of my front door was too good an opportunity to resist and it was a lovely day for a ride. In fact I sunburnt my wrists. An hour before the cyclists shoot along a cavalcade of sponsors' vehicles pass along the route throwing out freebies (caps, Haribos, lighters etc). These four Miffys made me smile.

I took this photo moments before the leaders hurtled past- I was on a hillside right by a hairpin bend. You can see everyone in the picture turning their heads to the left as the leaders and then the peloton appeared out of nowhere. Six helicopters buzzed above us. At this point I wondered if I had enough time to both take a photo and watch the riders. Three seconds or so later they had gone, Kittel in yellow tucked in the back of the peloton. A couple of stragglers came past, then the team cars, and that was it. Gone in a flash. Whooosh. Still, brilliant to have seen it, however briefly.

Italian rider Vincenzo Nibali took the stage and le maillot jaune. I didn't take this picture- I pinched it off the internet. Originally I had been planning to go to Sheffield to see the end of the race but plans changed and I cycled home just in time to see the climax on the tv.

I'm feeling a little uninspired with music to post at this exact moment. Here's The Jam with today's song.

Monday

Here Comes Some Action

I got  a new bike for my birthday- yes, that does make me sound like I'm ten years old. It's a road bike, giving me an entire world of cycling jerseys and other bits of kit opening up. Mainly jerseys though and some of them are lovely. In a fit of velo fever I decided that as we were going to Sheffield for a few days I should cycle there while Mrs Swiss and the kids went in the car. South Manchester is pretty flat and the Snake Pass between Glossop and Sheffield is anything but flat and I fancied a go at a hill. The hill rising out of Glossop goes up to 565 metres (or 1680 feet in Imperial). And it's a fucker to ride up let me tell you. But the ride down is something else. I got a lift to the end of the motorway and then left the BP garage in Mottram on the bike riding through to Hunter's Bar in two hours and five minutes. My cycling app told me that I recorded my fastest speed so far (down that hill) and also my slowest (up that pigging hill). I would have ridden back yesterday but it was sheeting down.

While in Sheffield I heard this in a shop-Black And White Town by Doves, from 2005, and it sounded really, really good.

The Box

Orbital's 1996 single The Box was not their usual ambient loveliness but something a bit more disconcerting. Spread over four parts (on the 12", the cd had only 3 parts I think) it had breakbeats and a Russian sounding refrain. Part Four featured the vocals of the wonderful Alison Goldfrapp. Quaintly the back of the record sleeve has both an internet address and a real address to send an SAE off to in return for a leaflet detailing Orbital merchandise. Wonder if I can still do that- send an SAE off and get something back.

The Box Part 2

Le Tour finishes today with its customary race into Paris. Maurice Garin won the inaugural Tour De France back in 1903. A year later he finished first again but was stripped of his title for cheating. This is from Wiki...

The race aroused a passion among spectators, who felled trees to hold back rivals and beat up others at night outside St Etienne. Garin was one of the mob's victims. Pierre Chany wrote:

'In the climb of the Col de la Repulique, leaving St-Étienne, supporters of the regional rider, Faure, assault the Italian, Gerbi. He is thrown to the ground, beaten like plaster. He escapes with a broken finger...

... A bunch of fanatics wielded sticks and shouted insults, setting on the other riders: Maurice and César Garin got a succession of blows, the older brother [Maurice] was hit in the face with a stone. Soon there was general mayhem: "Up with Faure! Down with Garin! Kill them!" they were shouting. Finally cars arrived and the riders could get going thanks to pistol shots. The aggressors disappeared into the night.'

Misbehaviour was rife too between riders and nine were thrown out during the race for, among other things, riding in or being pulled by cars. There were claims, too, that the organisers had allowed Garin to break rules — at one stage being given food where it was not permitted by its chief official — because his sponsor, La Française, had a financial stake in the race.

The French cycling union, the Union Vélocipédique Française, heard from dozens of competitors and witnesses and in December disqualified all the stage winners and the first four finishers: Garin, Pothier, Cesar Garin, and Hippolyte Aucouturier. The UVF did not say precisely what had happened and the details were lost when Tour archives were transported south in 1940 to avoid the German invasion and never seen again. Stories spread of riders spreading tacks on the road to delay rivals with punctures, of riders being poisoned by each other or by rival fans. Lucien Petit-Breton said he complained to an official that he had seen a rival hanging on to a motorcycle, only to have the cheating rider pull out a revolver.

Tales were also said to include 'Garin taking a train', a claim confirmed by a cemetery attendant looking after his grave who, as a boy, heard Garin tell his stories as an old man. In December 1904 Garin was stripped of his title and banned for two years.

Lanterne Rouge

I've been really enjoying watching the Tour de France this year. Those gruelling climbs in the Pyrenees and the Alps, the flat racing around the city of Tours recently, the sprint finishes, the helicopter shots of them breezing along at 35 mph through beautiful French countryside, the way that two or three riders make a break early and hang on for ages and then a few kilometres from the line the peloton appears like a swarm of brightly clad bees and just swallows them up. I especially like the lanterne rouge, the award given to the man finishing last. Given that he may be last out of 180 odd riders, the lanterne is highly sought after. After all, the rider has to finish within a percentage time of the man finishing first, so the lanterne rouge winner has cycled 3000 plus kilometres and shown huge endurance and had to compete within a set time. And in a world (our whole world, not the cycling world) where winning, being first, being top dog, being the outstanding candidate, is more and more the be all and end all, I think it's great that the last man in gets a prize, for finishing and not dropping out. Three cheers for all those who come last and still succeed.

My favourite song about cycling is this Billy Childish classic, Medway Wheelers- a song about the cycling club his mother was a member of in the 40s and 50s. Cracking video too.



I've posted Medway Wheelers before so we'll have a different Billy song for today's mp3. Billy's new band The Chatham Forts (or CTFM) have recently released an lp and two singles. It's a bit of an angular, '79 punk style thing, apparently having been inspired by finding a book of lyrics Billy wrote 36 years ago and deciding to record them as an album.

I Should Have Been In Art School

Here Wiggo

Superb stuff from Bradley Wiggins. Long may you continue.

Making Time

Tour De France

It's about time a mod won the Tour De France isn't it?
And while trying to ignore Murdoch and Sky's role in all of this we could coo over the very lovely Bradley Wiggins X Fred Perry range of cycling/leisure shirts, available here, in pale blue, white and black. Pale blue for me I think.

With crushing inevitability, from their 2003 remake and remodel album, here come Kraftwerk.

Tour De France Etape 1