HiGHLAND FLING

I'd almost forgotten about this - summer seems so far away now doesn't it? The Future of Cinema? I don't know about that but it was really fun - and very stylish.....

The Show Must Go On

I had an absolutely wonderful Christmas present this year from George and Monica at Giant Squid Eye Productions. I really don't know what I 've done to deserve it or any of the other wonderful things that keep happening - but thankyou....
just check it out

The Real Queen's Speech

To all my friends: I have been dreaming of you in the depths of this Scottish castle and so with tape and an old gramophone, some wires and a transmitter, I am broadcasting out a signal to greet you through the ether. I hope you can hear me ... and, I hope we meet again - someday, somewhere, soon....
with love
TCK
turn on the radio to listen

Free (love) Jukebox

Here is Alex Budovsky's latest - to a lovely, little tune by the Berlin artist and musician Jim Avignon
play the jukebox

Love Amongst the Ruins

Sometimes it almost feels as if London has entered a Golden Age. The increasingly benevolent climate, the sparkling near mineral-water quality of the Thames, the clean white buildings, the concrete, stone and glass all cleaned and polished up by money. We've been purified by wealth, flushed and depilated, scrubbed and sanitised. There is electricity and light and music everywhere. Traffic wardens, and CCTVs shepherd and watch over us. Generally, ugliness and obesity - like poverty - have been banished to the provinces. Nearly everybody I see looks passable these days and often they look stylish, hip, smart, groovy and skinny. The cracks and crannies are gone (or have been papered over with banknotes at least).That often feels good I think - but with it has come a strange sense of vulnerabilty or foreboding. Do you feel that too? We have so much to lose now don't we? And worse, we are so ill-equipped to deal with any loss at all. Is this how Rome felt at the end? - this beautifully civilised leaning on the edge of things? Occasionally a wailing ambulance irritates with a reminder of birth, sickness or death and now and then the odd police car speeding south or east disrupts our sang-froid a little, but generally we seem to have become 'comfortably numb'.

Speaking of which,on Saturday, we went to see Battersea power station for the last time before its redevelopment begins. It is as magnificent in its ruin as it surely was in its industrial strength glory. Neglect has not really harmed it at all - well, not in the way that say Starbucks, Gap and Tesco Express shortly will. From the publicity material, it seems that it is destined to be filled with advertising 'creatives' (sic), oriental investors getting their money out while there's time and mortgaged-to-the-hilt aspirational young couples. Would J G Ballard approve? Probably. He recently said that he would like to see London erased and rebuilt in the manner of the Heathrow Hilton. I was sad for that - I have long admired him but it seems he has been reading his own press and gone all literal on us. But I was much sadder about what is happening to Battersea. Every age has its losses and the city has never stood still but of all the things that could have happened here, why have we settled for something so weedy? Could we not stand to leave one glorious ruin?

Well. if we don't teeter over the edge before the work is complete, you never know - it could all turn out nice again ........

......and pigs might fly

Coming Home

We're leaving for Russia tommorow - to play in Moscow and St Petersburg courtesy of the delightful Serezha from the equally delightful Bad taste Records (the Russian home of our friends the Tiger Lillies). I had bought a new (fake) fur hat in preparation but was dismayed to hear that it's actually very warm in St Petersburg at the moment. We are very much looking forward to the trip despite that disappointment.

Then we shall come home.

Speaking of which, if you click on the 'Coming Home' title above you will be connected to a remarkable piece on the subject by my friend and colleague, the all round musical polymath Clive Painter. Clive, as you may know, has lent his wonderful abilities in various capacities to The Real Tuesday Weld over the last few years - whether it be studio wizardy, his beautiful evocative guitar playing or hosting our many recording and rehearsal sessions at his strange rambling house. We produced 'Dreams that Money can Buy' there over several months of laborious needlecraft.

Anyway, this lovely piece is by him in the guise of Wolf. He has also released many records with Martine Roberts as 'Broken Dog' - a long time favourite of the late great John Peel. It features Cibelle, Tracy Lee Jackson, David Piper, Glen Duncan and yours truly amongst others

Enjoy and love him

www.brokendog.co.uk

Wanna Buy a Dream?..

Joe enters his newly rented room

NARRATOR:
"Well. It’s a room anyway Joe. Better than a tent.
But there’s the minor complication of the rent.
Take inventory son:
Assets: none
Liabilities: none
Prospects: none
Well, that’s the list.
Wait! There's one asset you missed –
The paternal watch that ticks away your life minute by minute."

Joe gets out an old-fashioned watch and looks sadly at the photograph of a girl in the fob

NARRATOR:
"Look! There’s a liability in it –
The dream girl. She resigned from the dream – why not?
She wasn’t so dumb –
You are a self appointed bum.
Hey look here!
Are you shedding an old fashioned tear?
You don’t cry nowadays.
You live or die nowadays.
Things could be be tougher –
And after all, an artist has to suffer.
I guess it must be a grain of Italian dust left over from your last campaign
Or put it down to eyestrain."

Joe takes a mirror down from the wall and looks at his reflection

NARRATOR:
"Look at yourself - you’re all mixed up
Snap out of it. Get yourself fixed up
Even if poets misbehave,
They always remember to shave."

Joe suddenly sees the image of the girl within the reflection of his eye’s pupil

NARRATOR:
"Say, what’s the matter Joe?
Something gone wrong?
Is your head on wrong?

No! It’s terrific! Here’s something on which you can really pride yourself
You’ve discovered that you can look inside yourself
You know what that means? - You’re promoted
You’re no longer a bum. You’re an artist!
Remember a poem you once read?
“The eye is a camera” it said
Suppose like a film it could retain
The images that glide so secretly through your brain
Have you ever tried to see the shadow world inside photographed by the retina and held suspended in its memories?

This is one of the more unusual talents – and it’s yours it seems
Maybe this could revive your bank balance. Remember, everybody dreams Joe , if you can look inside yourself, you can look inside anyone
Customers? There are so many, one can’t count them
What’s the population of the world?
Almost two billion. A potential of two billion customers
All with a dream to untangle
You’ve figured out a new angle
Get it? Dreams on the instalment plan!
You’ll be in the money man!
It’s a miracle – just as you were a complete bust
Re-adjust!
Wait ‘til you’re in the chips
Then watch the dream girl warm up those chilly lips!
Get on the phone
Make a small financial loan
Convert this tomb into a consultation room
And go into business on your own!"

STEPHEN:
"It's finally done. Phew!"

Check out the podcast "Dreams That Money Can Buy for a listen or click on 'Wanna Buy a Dream?....'

Without superficiality there can be no depth

Sorry, I've been away for a while on the Isle of Skye in the far north. I lost myself for a while there.....

More soon I swear but in the meantime, I thougt you might enjoy this

with love

Valentine

RIPied Piper

I have to say I'm very sad at the news just came in that Syd Barrett is dead. How sad - and it seemed in many ways his life was quite sad too - but who knows? -at least he had the enormous integrity to not do the comeback that he was continually hounded to do and which many of his contemporaries embarassingly did do. I love his music - particularly 'waving my arms in the air' and he had a few really magical years. Beautiful then too.

Of course, Syd actually died many years ago - it's Roger Barrett who just passed on

bless you both....


(syd painting by hu mendes)

For The Dreamers

"This is a Story of Dreams mixed with Reality".

When Marek first showed me Hans Richter's film 'Dreams that Money Can Buy" as a potential project, I knew from this introductory salvo that I was in. It's a difficult, deeply flawed film in many ways but it is also remarkable, extraordinary, ground-breaking, massively influential, comic and poignant in turns. It says things about Surrealism, film, art, the American Dream, dreaming in general and the emergence of therapy-practitioners as the new priestly elite, that hadn't been said before - and possibly haven't since. It captures the mysterious, confusing, meaningless-meaningfulness of Dreaming in a way that few films have - apart from perhaps David Lynch's work - and it's obviously no coincidence that Lynch himself has declared it as a major influence.

I've always been very interested in dreams myself. I can still remember some from childhood and, particularly a few years ago, I felt very guided by them - the decision to make music, the name of the band for instance were nocturnally inspired. I actually dreamed of Valentine before I met him.

And last Saturday evening, playing our score to the film in the Turbine Hall with David and Cibelle felt in many ways a Dream itself. The building now called" 'The Tate Modern' - in fact the old Bankside power station - was my favourite building when I first came to London. Martyn and Sophie from The Tiger Lillies were squatting in a little ancient decrepit building (now demolished) on the area near the west entrance. The giant empty hulk brooded as we crossed Blackfriars Bridge from St Pauls to come to see them. It was very quiet then - and there were rats. But the transformation is also wonderful and it was amazing to stand where the giant machines formerly rumbled and play our music with the giant images by Leger, Calder, Ernst, Duchamp et al flickering above us. If you came, Thankyou - and I hope it felt special to you - because it really did to us and I never would have thought three years ago playing that first reluctant show at the Horse Hospital, that we would be here now.

But then that, I suppose, is the power of Dreams.