Turntable love

'There's nothing like the warm smell of vinyl, and the sound of a stylus rumbling in the groove'


One place that I keep coming back to for wifey gift ideas is a home styling and gift shop here in Cambridge called Ark. A little while back I was doing just that, corkscrewing up an ornate iron staircase draped in colourful bunting that surfaced on the second floor. Part attic room and period time capsule, the walls of the shop seemed to be closing in on this narrow, fur trimmed eyrie that hovers alongside Great St. Mary's church on the corner of the market square. Coats, dresses, hats, horn rimmed spectacles, old road maps and magazines, cake stands, jewelry, scarfs and shoes, all of them scenting the air with a faint whiff of days gone by.

What caught my attention though was an old record player that sat over by the till, from which the velvety voice of Frank Sinatra swept up all who cared to listen for a twin-propped flight around the globe, singing - "It's very nice to go trav'ling to Paris, London and Rome/It's oh so nice to go trav'ling/But it's so much nicer, yes it's so much nicer, to come home." Like a loose iron filing I was magnetized to the turntable. Standing next to it was a small hand written sign inviting customers to interact, to cut Sinatra off in his prime if they so desired, if they even dared!

In the end I turned heel and left empty handed, trickling back down the spiral staircase and out into the bustling square.

'Caught in the headlights'


'Sexy sax, Grover beard'


I have a stack of old vinyl, as we all do, warping away in the loft in plastic bags, the Dual turntable I had broke some years back, and now I find out that they have become something of a collectors item. I'm not sure, but I seem to remember throwing it out, the lovely Mrs. K was getting a bit tired of the records taking up so much room.

On an interesting note though, a friend of ours who used to be a music journalist for the NME magazine, came over to sort through our records at a time when we were considering selling them on, in fact we did sell some despite all the protesting voices of friends telling us not to.

'Ouch!'



It turns out that the goodly Mrs.K was a bit of a cool groovy chick in her day, still is I have to say, but in her teens she was gyrating on the dance floors of the hip Jazz/Funk clubs in Brighton and hanging out with DJ's. This translated into the music that she brought to our relationship, our shared haul of Lp's, quietly sitting there unnoticed until our friend came by to let his fingers do the walking.


Wifey's funktastic floor fillers were of much more interest to him than what I had to offer! Out came the daisy yellow vinyl of Rose Royce's - 'In Full Bloom II', Grover Washington Junior, Gene Dunlap, Donald Byrd and the fabtastic Love Unlimited Orchestra. Why on earth would anyone want my 80s rock music? Okay, there was one of mine, picked for its novelty value, and don't laugh, because we all have one of these, or more, that we have hidden or taken to charity shops in an effort to hide our embarrassment.

My little secret was a Byron Berline album called 'Dad's Favourites', it has a boring postcard quality about it that I challenge anyone to match. And where is my cool cat wifey tonight?, out dancing to the music of course!

Fantasical exploration of Subterranea

From the pages of Fantastic Four no.575 comes a tale of grand adventure, coming to the aid of an old adversary, The Mole Man, the Fan 4 board their vessel for a dive into the mysterious depths of the underworld. According to The Mole Man, rogue scientist The High Evolutionary was experimenting away in a hidden city, pushing the boundaries of evolutionary science.

During an attempt to raise the city to the surface, the Ascension Engine that was feeding power to it began to devolve the city's inhabitants rather than bring about the change that The High Evolutionary was hoping for through a rapid process of evolution. The city was then abandoned until some simple Moloid creatures happened upon it. As their inquisitive nature drew them within its walls, they were changed by the effects of the Ascension Engine, with heightened intelligence they realised that any newborn Moloids retained the old skin of their pre-evolved selves, and so they ceased reproduction, preferring instead to swell the city's population by absorbing Moloids from the surrounding underworld.

So, losing his followers and sensing a loss of power within his subterranean kingdom, The Mole Man has come to his old enemies, The Fantastic Four, for help. The pencil work of Dale Eaglesham, and at times the almost psychedelic colours of Paul Mounts bring to life the bizarre landscapes and monsters of this subterranean adventure.

In one panel we see the Fan Four's ship flying through a vast cave where strange tubular growths and huge blue stalagmites grow up from the shadowy floor. Observing the craft's passing are a small group of Moloids, hunkered down around a campfire. This huddled group reminded me of the classic films of the wild West, cowboys gathered about the dancing flames eating bean stew. In this picture the horse is replaced with a giant ant, and as you can see here the bean stew has been replaced by a pan of colourful mushrooms.




For rock music reference the technicolour landscapes bring to mind the other worldly art of Roger Dean, most popularly known for his work on the albums of 70s super- group, Yes. And for this comic book's soundtrack, the cosmic soundscapes of Tangerine Dream fit the bill perfectly.

Moog pilots extraordinaire, flying the the shifting sonic moods of early electronica. Remember those days of experimental rock when the track length was such that it took up one whole side of an LP? My choice here would be the Milky Way busting 'Phaedra', unashamedly leading the record needle into the rumbling black void, having eaten up a healthy 16 minutes and 45 seconds of in flight entertainment.

Following a recent celebrated story arc from the hand of Jonathon Hickman, I am placing myself front and centre with the imaginauts, putting myself in the trusted hands of the current creative team. I'm only a newbie to the Fantastic Four, but it looks as if I have joined the ride just at the right time. Does the Fantastic Four have a rallying cry?

And this just in...

Midlake band member Eric Pulido replied to the lovely Mrs. K, after she sent him an e mail with a link to my blog post-'Midlake- The Golden Ticket', following their recent show at the Junction, here in Cambridge. Those guys are some of the nicest people you could ever hope to meet, and hopefully we will get another chance to see them sometime soon.

Subterranean hooves

Slices of sticky earth mask the face of my spade as I jab it down between the lawn and the flower bed, each upheaval removes another wet core of stone, flint, roots, seeds and broken pieces of china, thrown away by people who's lives will never be known by us. Made anonymous by our filthy winter gear as we move stiffly over the damp ground, we have become the soil dwellers, human Blackbirds scratching at the leaf litter with faces shrouded under scarf, fleece and hat.

I like to think that there is a singular voice leveled at the earth's surface, ambient sounds of the garden modulating down into the soil. Bird song, gardeners chatting, garden tools striking the earth, students laughter, the soft footfall of college cats hunting in the undergrowth, even the shouts of scaffolders working nearby, all of them vibrating at the same pitch and stimulating the emergence of fresh green growth.

Primrose flowers receive the first descending scales of the Chaffinch, the first bumble bee bashes the cupped head of a Hellabore, and the unopened Snowdrop shakes in a sudden rush of deflected air, pushed downwards by a pair of displaying Sparrowhawks.

Being so close to the ground and bending over the weeds as they do, we can better feel the changes around us. Just writing about it brings to mind the Indians who climbed down from their horses to press an ear to the ground, listening for the distant rumble of hooves.

In fact as I put my head against the wet ground today, not only do I hear the not so distant rumble of nearby traffic, I also feel the heads of March Daffodils pushing up against the side of my cheek.

The tale of Kris Kristofferson, Lex Luthor and Augustus Gloop, the human Parasite.

In the latest reworking of Superman's origin, Geoff Johns hit part four of this six part mini series with one foot placed squarely in Roald Dahal's imagination. Had he been binging on chocolates when he started this book? At the beginning of this chapter we see the desperate and hungry masses of Metropolis thronging around the imposing gates of Lexcorp towers, where each morning Lex Luthor appears before the crowd to choose one 'lucky' individual to be whisked away from the clutches of life's cruel monopoly and given the golden handshake, the 'golden ticket' to a better world.



And who should Lex Luthor (Willy Wonka) pick today? Rudy Jones (Augustus Gloop), the fat and greedy janitor that works at the Daily Planet, that's who. Squeezed into a food stained tracksuit, several sizes too small, he fights his way to the front of the gates where Luthor's security guys pick him up on the monitors.

Before long Rudy finds himself inside Lexcorp where a teetering pile of donuts proves too much for Mr. Jones, "are these free?" he inquires, to which Luthor responds by encouraging the greedy man to help himself.

Walking and talking with Luthor, Rudy is sidetracked for a moment as he becomes aware of some men dressed in biochemical suits pushing around large barrels of radioactive material. Unfortunately he seems more concerned about a stray donut which he has just dropped on the floor.

Employing the five second rule he pops the contaminated food in his mouth, and hey presto! he is changed forever, transformed into the big purple super villain, the Parasite, who's insatiable hunger leads him to suck the life force from his victims.




As a side note, Superman is pictured on the front cover standing side by side with his Kryptonian parents, Lara and Jor-El. Is it just me, or does anyone else reckon that artist, Gary Frank, has fashioned Jor-El on country music legend and actor, Kris Kristofferson? Ooooh, it's a bit freaky!




And here's the great man himself, crooning with the lovely Rita Coolidge on the Old Grey Whistle Test in 1972. Beautiful track this.

A sudden flash of green, and then...

Almost every evening I have tucked myself into bed with a few pages of Darwyn Cooke's 'The New Frontier', the absolute edition which was a chrimbo pressie from the lovely Mrs. K. I love the oversized art and the reassuring wieght of this hefty tome.

Here we see test pilot Hal Jordan coming to terms with an incredible encounter with a dying alien, named Abin Sur. Using a powerful green ring to locate a viable successor to wield the battery of power, the green lantern, the alien now lies at Hal's feet,his life ebbing away beneath the searing heat of the desert sun. His last words are chosen carefully to pass on the knowledge that Hal will need in his new life as the Green Lantern, bearing the green ring for the force of 'good' in the Universe. In this poignant moment the vultures circle overhead, waiting on the wing.

It was only a matter of time before I could add this species to my list of 'birds in comics', the Turkey Vulture. Thank you Mr. Cooke!

Gardeners reading - Part 2.

Beethoven and his Nephew by Richard and Editha Sterba- Fiddle playing Jessie is currently reading this one. After suffering a retched childhood, Beethoven goes on to wreck his Nephew's childhood as well when his interfering good intentions go horribly wrong.

The troubled musical genius nabs Karl from his mother, who Beethoven sees as a demon and a woman of disrepute. The increasingly psychotic Beethoven spends all his time trying to keep Karl from seeing his mother and as the lad grows up, runs away, attempts suicide, falls in love, joins the army etc.., Beethoven begins a downward spiral of ill health until he dies.

Cheerful stuff eh? Not one that I will be reading, that's for sure! Jess got this copy from her Granny, love the dog eared cover and red staining on the page edges, not sure what the technical term for that is.




Does exactly what it says on the tin, this is David's pick. Winner of the most boring book cover ever? A A Gill, food critic, newspaper columnist and occasional travel writer, has upset and disgusted just about every person, ethnic group, country and animal lover the world over. The bilious Gill, friend to that prat from Top Gear, Mr. Jeremy Clarkson, takes some vacation time in this book of travel essays to exercise his caustic tongue. I haven't read it, but from what I gather Monte Carlo is targeted as being a 'sewage outlet'. Ouch! Him and Clarkson should take a holiday together me thinks.




The Amazing Spiderman no.619. Mobsters fighting mobsters, rotten villains coming back from the dead, a master of illusion, Mysterio, working the field in a game double crossing trickery, a police forensic scientist doing deals with Mysterio and the mob. As always in the thick of it is Spidey, living on his wits and quips. Some lovely art in here by Marcos Martin. With all these good comics around I can't see myself reading any books for a while.