I Don't Want To Know About Evil

 I saw more films in January than I saw in the whole of last year. Among them was 'Belfast', which I really enjoyed. My companion for the evening took a different view, complaining of a lack of realism. She even donned a metaphorical anorak and question the accuracy of the way that the buses were portrayed; for the record, I have no reason to believe that she has any particular knowledge of public transport in the Northern Ireland of the 1960s. For me the fact that the film was a view through the eyes of a nine year old meant that one wasn't meant to take certain things entirely literally: the unfeasible good looks of the parents; that a miscast Dame Judi Dench is at least a generation too old for the part; and, OK fair enough, the unlikelihood of the airport bus leaving from the end of their street (*). I also felt that the music of the genius that is Van Morrison added greatly, whereas she felt unable to look beyond the pandemic having led to him completing his journey from curmudgeon to dickhead. 

This dichotomy between the teller and the tale also came up when I recently saw Sarah Jane Morris in concert, as in the first set she concentrated on the songs of John Martyn. Martyn was a sublime practitioner of jazz tinged singer-songwriting; he was also an alcoholic drug-user well known for inflicting physical and mental cruelty, especially against the women in his life. Morris didn't avoid that aspect - she is personally close to some of Martyn's surviving family -  but chose to focus on interpretation of his soulful, and often sad, lyrics.

She was backed by distinguished guitarist Tony Rémy (who has played with Herbie Hancock and Jack Bruce amongst others) and, to my surprise, the wonderful Marcus Bonfanti. I've only come across him before in a blues context - he is a member of the current incarnation of Ten Years After - but he demonstrated that he has the jazz chops as well. In the second set they played a wider variety of music including fine covers of 'Imagine' and 'I Shall Be Released'. The song I think I enjoyed most was 'Piece of My Heart'. Mostly associated these days with Janis Joplin, it was first offered by Bert Berns (who co wrote it with Jerry Ragovoy) to Van Morrison, Berns being Morrison's producer at the time. Morrison declined it, probably grumpily; dickhead. 

Not at all grumpy was Sarah Jane Morris, whose between song monologues about acts she had worked with, activism, and karma added much to the gig,  which I very much enjoyed. In case you are wondering where you have heard that name and voice before, it was her that duetted with Jimmy Somerville on the Communards' 'Don't Leave Me This Way'. Here they are, lip-synching creatively:

Great hat.

* Although, as it happens, in real life the airport bus leaves from directly outside my front door.

Oh Oh Domino

 "You may get disgusted, start thinking that I'm strange" - Van Morrison, Domino

I have always believed in the power of music - and envied the ability of composers, musicians and singers - to convey emotions such as love, desire, lust...["OK, calm down, there are plenty of other emotions, you know." (*) ] ... but have never seen its strength as being the explanation of the principles of infection control. So, despite being a huge fan of Van Morrison, I have let his recent rantings about face masks rather pass me by.

"Take off your mask and drink your milk"

I am still, other than in medical situations, rocking a bandana, and have been a bit surprised not to see more of them about. At first, when people commented, I would reply "If it's good enough for John Wayne, then it's good enough for me.", but when it became apparent just how old people had to be before they had even heard of Wayne I quickly stopped.

Should I ever adopt a more straightforward facemask then I shall be sorely tempted by those available from the Royal Armouries. The tosei gusoku has a certain something about it.

* Actually I didn't

What a wonderful night for a moondance

I have been to see Van Morrison, who was simply fantastic, as he was always going to be because he is, after all, Van Morrison. There was a very jazzy vibe to the evening, with the man himself looking like George Melly's less flamboyant younger brother. As with Leonard Cohen he sensibly surrounds himself with first rate musicians, although his bandleading style seems somewhat more like that of James Brown; I wouldn't like to cross him.

I must mention the opening act, the New York Brass Band who were great fun in the style of the Hot 8 Brass Band so beloved of Craig Charles. The rumour is that Sir Van agreed to their supporting him because he believed them to be from Harlem. In fact the name signifies that they are from York and haven't been going very long. Morrison was, let's be blunt, as miserable as sin. But the same behaviour that in Eric Clapton a couple of years ago came across as rudeness and contempt for his audience, somehow seemed just acceptable idiosyncrasy here. It was glorious concert and I'd happily put up with the great man's indifference in return for the sound of his voice every time.

We were treated to many highlights from a great career: Moondance, Brown Eyed Girl, Bright Side of the Road, Whenever God Shines His Light etc. It was all most excellent. Astral Weeks is without doubt my favourite album; a phrase and concept that really date me. Whilst mostly a mystical album - once again we are speaking of Van Morrison here - it is also in part about the Belfast of his childhood. But what really for me has always set Morrision in his time and place is the paramilitary drumming on his 1964 garage rock standard Gloria. If ever there was a song designed for long extended versions it is this one, and it got it here as the last number/encore.

I for one have played Gloria, very badly, in several garages. My favourite non-Morrison version is probably that by Eddie and the Hot Rods, which appeared on their Live at the Marquee EP along with 96 Tears, Satisfaction and Get Out Of Denver. I have a feeling that I might have posted this before, but what the hell - it's brilliant. Get those chairs out of here!

St James Infirmary Blues

I saw Gypsy Bill (perhaps inevitably, he isn't actually a Gypsy, but he passes for a bit of a hippie because he lives on a boat and has a pretty magnificent beard) playing in the pub the other night and he did a cracking version of St James Infirmary Blues. My companion for the evening professed not to know the song, so when we retired to the Casa Epictetus I played her several versions back to back, ranging from Louis Armstrong, surely the best known, through the very uptempo take by Tom Jones to the funereal effort of Georgie Fame. This quickly caused her to disappear off home; although not until after she had been very complimentary about the Pear & Chocolate cake. One of the performers that she missed out on because of her hasty exit was Sir Van the Man:

Have I told you lately.....

It is the seventieth birthday of Sir Van the Man.

G-L-O-R-I-A-A-A

While we're on matters Irish here's a rare second post of the day featuring a shout out of congratulations to Sir George Ivan Morrison:

When I grow up I want to be John Lee Hooker.

G-L-O-R-I-I-I-I-I-A!!

There is a children's funfair outside my apartment as part of the Leeds Waterfront Festival and when they opened at 11 o'clock this morning the CD that they played was the Best of Van Morrison. The children of Leeds must have very well developed musical taste if that is what attracts them to roundabouts and bouncy castles.

Playin' a new game,
Laughing and a running hey, hey
Skipping and a jumping

And what about the Stones at Glastonbury? Rather good I thought; Midnight Rambler being a particular tour de force. But, 2000 Light Years From Home? Why?

This afternoon/evening saw a record turnout for boardgames at the White Swan. I played Love Letter, Ice Flow, Vineta and Guillotine thereby effecting a nice balance between card games and boardgames proper. Others played an awful lot of Dominion (a nice mechanism in search of a game) and K2 which I rather liked the look of and would like to give a try.