Well we have returned from the rainy heart of Great Britain to the rainy industrial wastes of North Britain. I allways relish the opportunity to explore the inner workings of my familys home town and after a particulary enjoyable session with Marc Riley, the usual transportation issues, this time a punctured tyre in the fog somwhere near the lakes we headed into town to make ourselves ill.
 After drinking pints of mild in the tiled confines of the rather wonderfull British Protection we landed in the inevitable late night vodka shot idiot kit bar for further refreshment related activites. The evening was finshed of at the interzone that is the Travelodge bar, I remember getting lost. We drove back the next day to the sound of Peter being sick. It was fantastic.

Damn Link Wrays good.

On waiting for my family to increase in size before the Christmas period it so does on my return, adding a greater depth and complexity for this narrow atomic passage we the still living, allready born and hence not yet dead call 'the world as we know it'. And indeed a new number sits at the end of the Roman calender reminding some of us just how old were getting and others just how long we really are. Well it's brass monkeys to you all and as for plans there may be a few sound recordings slipping out in the new year, but then again time is such a funny thing. Best wishes.

Mam

Yes, I awake to found we have released a second album with great press over the weekend, even made it to Record of the Week in Scotland on Sunday. To celebrate I spent most of the weekend in the company of Hawkwind and the Fred Dibnah channel, while I got friendly with my new cassette machine (yes, cassette!). I must be one of the last people to purcahse a bit of brand new cassette technology. It's a hand held recording walkman, lets just say they are still infinitely superior to thier digital equivalents which are tricky to use, have fiddly buttons and are full of awkward pauses and clumsy command systems. Much of Saturday was spent with a malfunctioning (I think) midi to cv converter (synthesizer stuff,  for those unsure of what I mean), indeed on human contact but with none of the usuals chums about (most people seemed to be visiting thier parents, or so they told me) I headed to me old local to catch up with some of the regulars and drop a copy of the LP for the landlord, Lee. Enjoyed seeing the familiar faces in familiar settings and ended up at another loaction for a private lock-in in front of an open fire in very comfortable armchairs. Missing the pipe, I thought. Lets hope the public buy the fucker eh?

Love as always

Your Mummy. 

A very british event, I feel, my body riddled with the need for vicks, damp coursing through my addled mind, my nose heavy. Once upon a time we would bravely straddle the coast from Skegness all the way round to Sandlewood bay to enjoy luke warm tea and the nip of wind against our determined selves. Now I have the curtains drawn and have resigned my afternoon to the act of catching up on a few films I have wanted to see. I managed to stumble across a copy of 'Persona' by Ingmar Bergman in my flatmates video collection, which I was delighted with. Thats one on the must see list crossed of. I then followed it with another movie entitled "The Chessmen" but fell into a slumber and ended up trapped on a ferry.  It is now the morning, there is light flooding into my chamber, I prey for a release via my generic cold cure once again into a realm of thrusting euphoric health, so I may take on this world and wrought it according to my will. Aye aye.

 

My lord almost a year since we have twixt and twain. Indeed if one is to have a blog one should write in it. Since my last addition to this list of trivia we have made an album, I left my old residence for a new life on the south side of a city and now I await it's release into to the fickle waters of the struggling music retail sector. I ask my self questions such as 'how does one raise the profile?' both in the world and on the web. I don't really know, I like to write songs, record, socialise, go swimming, keeping most of my life in the non 'virtual' world, but have niether the pockets to pay a marketing dept or the will or interest to become my own one man maverick wing of british publishing and self publicity. I just heard John Lennon say on the radio you've got to be a bastard to make it. Plenty don't.

 Since the completion of 'Science Fiction Illustrated', our second long player on Chemikal Underground, new songs abound, then go away, then return. Actually it's summer and it's still not really kicked in up here in the north, nor the rest of the Uk apparently. What I'd really like is a holiday, some leafy glade with a suitably cosey pub nearby with wenching and merry making a plenty. I attend a medieval wedding later on the this month, I must make sure the time machines working and the wardrobes backdated. Touring in May was fun. I want to go back on tour.

I now have a meeting to go to then a private function to play at.

 

Another week of heady investigations. After our last band meet yesterday I am now bedridden and have decided to give the writing a rest while I amass tissues and sweat. There are new songs, some are moving towards a recordable state so album two shall be born and once more we shall trawl the country in search of the wild life. The best part of the week has been a mixture of cutting up bits of paper comprising of song arrangements, practising my solos and hard unrelenting sex. I also had a tyre blow out on the motorway. Sometimes I wish I could crush the world around me (now entering a state of delirium). Got the new photos back as well. You can see these on the web site. Kapow. Current position in World 32,012,578 and rising.

Now revelling in self discipline as I sit through a marathon sunday remixing session, however with it being a crisp and clear winters day I should be airing my locks on a distant hillside. I'm currently residing in a large Victorian concrete block, hanging loose with a couple of electric heaters, now something happened that left me feeling like this. We played at a very excitable party at the Shitdisco hq in the early hours of Friday morning, then spent the rest of the night being crushed by the entire afterhours contingent of Glasgow's clubland, still had a tremendous time dancing in an unihibited fashion while reflecting upon mankind's good points. After I headed for the clubhouse to remain horizontal and regain my strengh after the night's tub of fun. My strength has now returned but I feel somewhat distant and melancholic, like a sunset obscured by clouds, or face underneath a blanket, or a well hidden vase in a garden, or a ... a...

 He sleeps with the fish and returns to the graves of sailors, in the dark oil of the deep the waters...and now...ph, phial, phut phil. Had a converstaion with my old pal Phil the other night, must make a point of keeping in touch with old friends.  

Tommorow we make set to do some photographs, I must henceforth prepare a spread heet regarding costs to send to Chemikal... This is my life in all it's glorious variety.

I Spent the day rehearsing after lamenting too much time spent in public houses. Made a good start by getting up at eight and making progress on the lyrics for the song that was to be the day's challenge. Some administrational drama relating to my musical escapades was rallied to us via phone,  I requested that it be solved before tea time, consumed my third cup of tea then headed out to pull my allies from their beds.

I had an entertaining time in the studio getting Ian and Peter to pose behind a vintage mixing desk as I tried to picture them as Jamaican musical visionaries. Thier Glaswegian nature shined through though, with careful use of hypnosis and lasers I think I could remould them. We returned to the rehearsal room before Ian had to rush into town to furnish his beloved with amorous gifts.

I returned home for vegetable soup to the spend the evening with my briar and collection of dogs. Actually I've had enough of my briar and may head to a local hostelry, in fact I will. (exits, heads to local, dreams of beer and the sipping silence).