Archive for the ‘music’ Category

Lock & Quay, Hayes, London   Leave a comment


Pub #1903:

I needed some stuff from a DIY store so I ran to the B&Q, Sunday.  With some time to kill before the shop closed, I popped into the Lock & Quay for a quick pint.

The beer selection was a bit bleak or, rather, yuppie-leaning so I wound up with a pint of a Brewdog IPA with some dickish name attached to it.  All the shade on the water was taken up with diners and civilised looking folk so I sat my sweaty ass in a window directly behind the jazz combo playing for our, the waterfowl’s, and the fishing enthusiasts’ pleasure.



They wrapped up a little number just as I sat down and I saw on the sheet music that the next one up was Bésame Mucho with only the bass, keyboards, and sax involved — nice!  The drummer returned and the sax man picked up his clarinet as they moved on to Groove Merchant (another perfectly copacetic piece).  If only the shower door didn’t need a seal, I could have stayed for at least one more beer.


Posted August 21, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in music, Pubs

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There’s Always Room For Jello   Leave a comment

Browsing the settings for Google Calendar, I stumbled upon this:



There’s your earworm for the day!  You’re welcome.

Posted August 8, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in Made Me Laugh, music

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New (old) CDs   Leave a comment


Friday, we didn’t have anything planned so we took a ride to Portobello Market.  Not the part that the tourists go to (or the Japanese that are obsessed with the movie Notting Hill) but up in the formerly crappy part* of Notting Hill near Ladbroke Grove.  (*By crappy, I mean an area that would probably make you lot a bit jumpy but in which I felt as if it were a home-from-home when I first set foot there a few years back).  There is another section of the market far from the London tourism themed tat on offer down by the start at Hyde Park; you can find it, but I’m not offering directions.



Along the way, Jackie’s librarian senses sparked to life and she nudged me to look at the schoolboy a few seats down.  Good lad.  Good lad.

Somewhere in the book in which he was immersed, track 2 of the Mad Mongols compilation I picked up would have been referenced:



The Mongols are worth a listen if you like the whole psychobilly genre (we’ve seen the Reverend far too many times and have a shelf of records crammed with Cramps, Shack Shakers, Flat Duo Jets, Southern Culture on the Skids, and the Red Elvises, so this was a nice addition to the slap-bass collection.

The best of the three records was similar but authentically from the rockabilly era.  These were all singles of folks I never heard of but they fucking rock.  And, best of all was this liner note about Howie Casey of Howie Casey and the Seniors:

“After falling on hard times in the ’70s, Howie was reduced to playing in Paul McCartney’s dire lounge rock combo Wings.”



Posted July 8, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in music

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May Early Bank Holiday Charity Shop Finds (Martini recipe)   Leave a comment

They tried to make me go to rehab
I said, no, no, no

We were dumping off some stuff at a charity shop the first day of the Bank Holiday weekend and found something, as usual, to take home with us: Martini glasses! Four for £2! This prompted us to buy some vermouth for the bar, some stuffed olives for the finished product, and to seek out suitable music.

In vinyl, we struck gold for the cocktail hour: in pristine condition, Frank Sinatra’s Come Fly With Me and …Sings For Only The Lonely. However, we didn’t find these until the penultimate stop of our foraging trip and, in the meantime, racked up these CDs:

Amy Winehouse Back In Black
Iggy Pop Live at the Hippodrome Paris 1977
Slim Gaillard and Babs Gonzales Shuckin’ and Jivin’
Elmore James Canton Crusade (1951-56)
Strut That Thing: Essential Recordings of Piano Blues and Boogie
And, a four CD set of Classic Doo-Wop Vocal Groups
R.E.M. Automatic For The People

How bad can the rest of the weekend be when it starts this well?

Make it one for my baby, and one more
For the road

The martini is this one (makes 2):

3 shots of Greenall’s gin
3 shots of Cinzano dry vermouth
3 dashes of Angostura bitters (hence the colour)
6 olives with pimentos

Stir with ice, strain and decorate with the olives.

I know.  If you use bitters it should be orange bitters and a lighter hand.  And, the vermouth is a lot more than most would expect from me, but this really is a sublime mix.  Enjoy the rest of your weekend, y’all.

Posted April 29, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in Booze, music

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Bruce Langhorne, RIP   Leave a comment

Bruce Langhorne died of kidney failure a couple of days ago at the age of 78.  In these pages, I refer to music he was, in part, responsible for all the time (like here, and here).  Also, he looks like my cousin, Chuck.  Godspeed, sir.

Posted April 17, 2017 by Drunken Bunny in music, Obits

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Bob Dylan Nobel Prize in Literature Pub Crawl, preview   5 comments


I have started — but, never finished — The Magic Mountain annually for over 30 years. I did lighting once for a student production of Strange Interlude but whenever I hear the title I think of Groucho Marx. But, as Nobel Prize Winners in Literature go, Bob Dylan holds a place in my heart that the others can never approach. I have attended literally dozens of his shows, some of them actually good and two or three of them among the best experiences of my life.

So there I was, no shit, when an email arrives from Jackie with the subject, “this is not a joke.” Inside, it had two lines which read

“Bob just won the Lit Nobel,” and
“Sooo boring at work today.”

Assuming she’d been reading some parody website, I replied,

Ain’t it just like the web
To play tricks
When the library’s
So quiet.”

She shot back,

No, no, no,
It ain’t fake, babe.”

I checked it out and the ridiculous and sublime Bob-head had actually been elevated to Nobel Laureate. I came into work an hour and a half early and had toiled through lunch so I didn’t think twice (it’s alright) to leave a half hour early to find a bar with either an appropriate soundtrack or some other Dylanesque trait.

My train arrived in Hammersmith at sunset. It was time for my boot heels to be wandering. The first stop would be the Queen’s Head (approximately).  The quest continued at the Jameson and the Bird in Hand before a most remarkable success at the Havelock Tavern.


Sort of related, I seem to reference Bob in these pages more than any other writer or musician:

A photo that looks like the cover of “Bringin’ It All Back Home”

Quoting “On the Road Again” in re: a trip to the States
Quoting “Outlaw Blues” for a Toronto Mayor’s obituary
Quoting “Like A Rolling Stone” in my Citizenship announcement
A tourist trip past the site where the film version of Subterranean Homesick Blues was shot

Subterranean Homesick Blues 2
A plethora of Dylan lyrics for a house move post
A weird one about the move from Cambridge Uni to the U of Oxford
Nudity, beer, and a tiger refuge in Tennessee

Mis-heard lyrics from “On the Road Again”

And, “Bringin’ it All Back Home,” again, on a birthday run write-up

Posted October 14, 2016 by Drunken Bunny in art, Books and Movies, Drugs, music

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Billy Bragg, Shappi Korsandi, Francesca Martinez et al at CWU Meeting, Bournemouth   2 comments



Tabloids making millions betting bullshit baffles brains
They cynically hold up their hands if anyone complains
And they say “All we’re doing is giving people what they want”
Well they’re crying out for justice, people crying out for justice.

—From ‘Scousers Never Buy The Sun‘ by Billy Bragg

Jackie took a break from her meeting in Highworth and found me in the library reading the Twitter feeds which had suddenly exploded with the news that the Hillsborough Inquiry found that The 96 had been “unlawfully killed.” “What do you reckon this will do to the playlist, tonight?” I asked and she responded, correctly, with some of the lyrics, above.

We were leaving, when her business completed, for Bournemouth to see a review show in support of Corbyn for Prime Minister featuring Billy Bragg (who wrote ‘Scousers Never Buy The Sun’ in response to the Sun’s reprehensible coverage of the disaster and just about everything else) and a large contingent of other acts and political speakers we were eager to see. These included comedians Shappi Khorsandi, Francesca Martinez, Grainne Maguire, and Joe Wells; ‘punk’ poet Attila the Stockbroker; singer-songwriter Grace Petrie; and guest speakers Dave Ward (General Secretary of the CWU, whose conference sponsored this event) and Shadow Chancellor of the Exchequer John McDonnell.


CWU JC4PM lineup

Great show and I would have been happy to see full performances or talks by any one of the guests but everyone stuck more-or-less to their allotted 15 minutes. Along with the collusion of the Right Wing with what passes for the press and the Independent Police Complaints Commission (the Hillsborough Disaster and/or the Battle of Orgreave featured in 2/3 of the performances), resistance to austerity measures, changes to schools organisation, and attempts to break the doctors’ unions were made musical, lyrical, and — with great pathos — funny.

CWU wristband


I don’t know how it has come to pass that I never saw Billy Bragg perform in person, before, but these were free tickets in Bournemouth and we just couldn’t miss it. Here’s my one live encounter with him prior to this trip:

Right after I quit driving a taxi for a living in Atlanta, I paid for my first year of University driving a long service route for Kodak that included most of Northeast Georgia. One summer day I had a call a couple of doors up from the 40 Watt Club in Athens (when it was on Clayton Street). The heat was oppressive that day and I stopped to give a dog tied in front of Chick Music a scratch on the head and a lap of water from my bottle. Another guy came up and rubbed the pooch’s ears saying, “‘allo, doggie.”

I looked up and recognized the fellow; “hey, you’re Billy Bragg.”
“Yes, I know.”
“I really like your stuff. What are you doing …here?” I’m not sure, all these years later, if it came out that way or “What are …you doing here?” or “What are you …doing here?” or the much more colloquial “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve got some work down the street,” he said nodding in the direction of the 40 Watt. I assumed at the time he meant the 40 Watt, but he was probably using the rehearsal studio REM kept at the time…he was working on Don’t Try This At Home in John Keane’s recording hut ’round about then.

“Oh, right, work,” I said reaching back to grab the tools from the car. “Never ends, eh?”
“Too right,” he laughed and headed down the street, my brush with greatness at an end.

(By the way, here’s his spectacular performance on Mountain Stage the following spring, that we listened to in the car whilst awaiting a screening of Reservoir Dogs at the Tate Center…great show with REM and Robyn Hitchcock…we still have our original cassette recording which we put in just before leaving for the movie.)