stuck in a bloody hole, south west two, screwing into the inky pile of sound and foldings to try and make some sense...moving our <..> to brixton...the other rooms in the complex make dub sounds and telly telly, there are hen parties every weekend, being pop starts and stops, germans and silence...

There have been some wild stories circulating that the Super Superbs (three girl backing trio for Danny Valentine) are, in fact, a modern day coven of witches, practising a fusion magic of traditional british black magick with an extreme voodoo influence.

It has been reported that, using this jazzy technique, the Super Superbs have re-animated the dead corpses of the Meditations and are using them to gradually take over the world. Rumour has it that the tale of how the son of God plays drums for the Meditations is actually a complicated ruse to throw would-be witch burners off the scent.

So is it fact or is it fiction? It is truth...or is it myth?

Let us examine the evidence. There are three Super Superbs - covens always form in threes (see MacBeth, the Witches of Eastwick, etc). They are also female (again, the majority of other covens have been composed of ladies - although I am sure if they paid any attention to contemporary mores viz-a-viz discrimination on the grounds of gender, at least 16.67% of the coven would be a chap). Fortunately, if they are indeed a coven, the Super Superbs are resolutely old-school in their attitudes towards the gender-normalising of witchcraft associations.

What else then? Well they have never actually been seen flying around on broomsticks. Nor (as the orange ads would have us believe) are they the standard witch colour - green - although Lisa Moore has been noted to turn a shade of green after a particularly resonant evening in Clapton.

On the other hand, they do cackle. So on that basis, we can assume, like the civil service, that there is the reasonable possibility that any substatiated evidence could, potentially, indicate that the Super Superbs might be a coven of witches (allegedly).

In the next instalment, we shall explore the secrets of the Super Superbs' zombiefication and mind-control techniques...

Once upon a time, underneath the railway arches near the river there was a little red and black house. In that house lived a beautiful fairy who opened her doors to all the travelling troubadours from across the water to give them safe house, counsel and caffiene. One day, it was probably a Sunday, a trout jumped out of the river and flopped its way to her doorstep. "Wotcha," said the fish. "That's odd," said the fairy. "I best make sure Mr. Trout is safe and sound lest he be eaten by some hungry minstrel for his tea." So the fairy put Mr. Trout in a tank full of ordinary at the back of her house and Mr. Trout swam happily and in peace. The fairy went back to tending those songsmiths. Around lunchtime, the fairy stepped outside to light one of her magical white sticks when she heard a bleedin' awful commotion from over yonder. Charging towards her was a very paranoid-looking brown bear in a yellow satin jacket. When he saw the beautiful fairy, the bear recognised her as the safe house fairy and begged her to hide him. "Please!" he implored. "They're following me!" "Who are?" asked the fairy. "EVERYBODY!!!!" cried the bear. "Come on then, Mr. Bear, you can keep Mr. Trout company in the back." So the beautiful fairy led Mr. Bear back into her house and once again carried on with her calling. All of a sudden she heard a mighty roar and poked her head outside to see a magnificent lion standing proud before her reciting a poem by Holderlin. "Oh this is fackin' ridiculous," said the beautiful fairy. 'All these bleedin' talking animals are getting right up my nose. Right you," she said to the lion. "Come 'ere." And she dragged him back to where she had stowed Mr. Trout and Mr. Bear. She whipped out her milky wand and whispered some mystical incantations in order to turn them all into humans. Unfortunately, it had been some time since she had transfigured such varied beasts and she basically cocked it up, leaving each with the body of a human but retaining their original head. This was particularly troubling for the fish as he ended up looking like a rather hairy version of Admiral Akbar from Return of the Jedi. After a while of staring at each other and admiring the rather generous secondary sexual characteristics the beautiful fairy had given them ("Well, you never know when they might come in handy," she later told reporters) the three manimals had a think about what to do. "I like poncing about and shouting," said the Lion. "I'm really good at lifting stuff," said the Bear. "I like hitting things and dancing to Roxy Music," said the Fish. The three of them jumped as a low, rumbling basso voice intoned: "Those are all excellent qualities for a surrealist indie pop group - a ponce, a grunt and a glam thug. Why don't you form a band?" It was Lord Azrael Lycanthrope Darriba, King of the Vampiro-Werewolf Pirates. "And put some bloody clothes on, you're putting me off my Kornflakes." "Don't you mean Cornflakes?," said the beautiful fairy, who was actually quite proud of the transfigurations and didn't mind at all if they wandered around naked all day. "No, Korn," said the King. "I decided to eat them after their recital last night." "And are they good?" "I am vaguely dissappointed..." While the King and the fairy were having this exchange, the three manimals found some pyjamas, some silver drums, the best kebab in London town and a harmonium and buggered off to make Dada Roque. And they all lived happily ever after...

In the next blog I shall debunk the myth that the Super Superbs are actually a coven and the Meditations are re-animated corpses doing their evil bidding.

Thank you.

Hello

we were on Balcony TV, very cold....

Hello

We are being played tonight at midnight CST on WFNX in Boston if you miss it you can check it out at www.wfnx.com

You can also get a free download here http://www.spin.com/articles/spin-picks-7-undiscovered-bands-worth-listen from Spin magazine.

Here's there assessment...

A tasty combination of skittering disco beats, squelching electro, and shout-along choruses -- antagonistic and groovy!

hello...this is a little note to indicate a credit...

the pics in the player (except the one of jesus playing the maracas, which i took when we recorded a song called 'For the Hours'), our record sleeves and art design are all the work of Mr. Richard Schatzberger you can find him via our top friends, he's quite a clever boy

he walks around the cities of the world taking pictures of things, many of them involving either pink or aeroplanes or his feet

dannyx x x

hello
lord high darriba, king of the vampire pirates, and i have done a collaboration that will soon make its way into the meditations live set, i hope...it's called nameless days and he's posted it on his myspace page...have a listen... it's here
dannyx

hallo
all has been quiet for a while...apart from lots of fun at the goonite club and an impromtu acoustic session featuring honorary meditation peter conway we are not playing whilst we polish our little recordings...we've been all over in dalston with Capt. Taka and in the brick lane surrounds with Lt. Cpl. Simon...we are back off to NYC to make mischief with Maj. Gen. Alex...some results will be issued shortly...
we will be on balcony TV at 9pm on 24th February go to www.balconytv.com and there will also be a secret show in darkest hackney to celebrate miss kat gibney's birthday...if you would like to have the meditations play your birthday please have a word with cuban steve through these pages...we will do it as long as there's a glass of something boozy and some cake...
otherwise, the infinite bhuna is coming back to the fold, one has been drunken on a cross-channel ferry again, one has made some dark jazz with Lt. Cl. Darriba, some celebratory blues with the rainbow gypsy and managed to avoid falling in the river thames for another year...oho
until soon
danny x x x x x x x  x x x x

Hello are you lost again? I am I am I am ... On board the night boat bound for Europe...I have not been at sea since February, when I was shown the goteborg archipelago...the captain says somewhat optimistically that the seas will be challenging at best...this is a strange experience, amongst the crowd sailing from the south coast of england to the north coast of france...are they en route to holiday homes or en route to illicit pick-ups? Here on the normandy tramp steamer, sat with my pint of own-label stout, I wonder aloud if either could be the case... Twenty eight pounds caught me my "club class" reclining seat but I gotsta say I prefer it here at the back of the boat in the wonderfully named dirty duck boozer...so much laughter it hurts: well you have to laugh sometimes...when I decided to return to france I wanted to fly on a 1940s propellor plane but this ferry boat, with its swell and self-imposed uncertainty seems more than right, like a return to my childhood in dover, where the only hope was a job as a steward or a ticket to london...I went for the steward job and they turned me down...it must have been my bouffant...still I miss the sea, that wayward force that so defines at once the potential and the fragility of humankind...ah, fuck it, I'm drunk (and why not?) Tomorrow brings the hexagon and an uncertain adventure...I miss my brothers and my sisters already but this I have to do to save my sanity somehow...I'll see you in whitechapel x x x x x x x x x x x x xx x x x x x xxxxx x xxxx x x

oh my lordy....it's the night before the return of his dark master presents to the wonderful luminaire...i'm filled with all sorts of different feelings...after the last show we played in brixton i was transformed completely...the music and the crowd overcame me and it was the most intense experience i have ever had playing music live...i wanted that feeling to go on forever like some weird eternal work of art in my soul...but it can't...until you do it again...everyone that's ever picked up a guitar or a mic or woken up with the sun shining into their eyes and gone to bed with the sound of the dawn chorus pulling them into slumber and dreamland at the end of a perfect day knows this feeling...the unrepeatable joy...the wonder...when we play these shows it's so physical and beyond the boundaries of words that it scares me with its possibility...the meditations are such a wonderful, amazing group of people who love making music and letting go so much that when i am with them on the stage i feel that nothing can touch us and all of those things that trouble us or try us are beaten down into the void for those tiny thirty singular minutes...i hope that the people we play to feel the same...that for those moments all that matters is the hope and the love and the joy...the songs we write are borne from life with all its darkness, sadness, beauty and pain but the energy that flows through them is a celebration of the wonder of living...

ah, i'm excited and it's beyond midnight and i should be meditating or at least resting my bones before the hurricane as one czech might say...i hope i have the power of speech tomorrow when i climb down from that space...i hope if you read this you will be there, if not in body then in spirit, walking out into the world with a heart full of wonder

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