Surprise this afternoon...we have some folks staying in the Old Seabarn holiday cottage at the moment, and the sister of one decided to drop in for a visit. Does our front garden have room for a (very small) helicopter? It would appear so...
Saturday, May 11, 2013
Thursday, May 02, 2013
Painting on the radio! World's first late-night rock'n'roll visual art project on BBC Radio Scotland
P R E S S R E L E A S E
“The Art Of Radio – Artist Alec Galloway painting to late night Radio Scotland”
Tom Morton’s new BBC Radio Scotland programme “Morton Through Midnight” (Friday, Saturday, Sunday 10:00pm-1:00am) which started at the beginning of April, has already been inspiring the nation with its varied selection of music and features. In particular, glass artist and painter Alec Galloway set himself the challenge to listen to all three shows 26th, 27th, 28th April and create a painting purely inspired by what he heard on “Morton Through Midnight”.
The result was a collage of images inspired by certain records (Rolling Stones, Blondie, Rod Stewart, Television, Stevie Ray Vaughan, and Led Zepplin alongside Woodstock singer/songwriter Richie Havens and country legend George Jones who both died that week and who Tom paid tribute to.
Alec posted the “work in progress” on his Twitter feed, over the 3 days and as Tom played out his eclectic mix, Alec moved to a new part of the painting. He intends to donate the finished painting to the Nordorff Robbins Music Therapy charity to be auctioned off.
Radio fan Alec, says “The idea really came about as Tom's show seems to be the soundtrack to my work! When the daytime show was going I would always have it on in my glass studio, and as it turns out, I also do a lot of my painting in the evenings, so Tom's music is really part of my working process now, I couldn’t imagine it not being there!
I wanted to challenge myself to see if it would be possible to react to songs as they were being broadcast ,and I think it worked out well, albeit a bit mental at times!
I have a library of music books, so as soon as something caught my ear I’d scurry off and find images and start working on them!”
Presenter Tom Morton was delighted with the results and watched the process with interest. Tom says: "I've been an admirer of Alec's work for years, long before I knew he had provided the stained glass in some of my favourite drinking establishments. And he's become a regular correspondent due to the afternoon radio show and now Morton Through Midnight. I loved his work with Rory Gallagher's legendary guitar and when he suggested an interactive, Morton Through Midnight artwork based on the records we played, I was thrilled.
It's turned out brilliantly - as far as I know, the world's first interactive, real time late night radio rock'n'roll painting!"
Morton Through Midnight – BBC Radio Scotland Friday, Saturday, Sunday 10:00pm-1:00am
Alec Galloway – www.alecgalloway.co.uk
Morton Through Midnight – BBC Radio Scotland Friday, Saturday, Sunday 10:00pm-1:00am
Alec Galloway – www.alecgalloway.co.uk
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
Malt and Barley Revue - on the road!
in Hillswick (preview show, launch of the Glusstonberry Festival) Rutherglen, Ayr, Belladrum, Bo'ness and more to be confirmed. All details here.
The Malt and Barley Revue is an hour-long performance of songs, stories and poems by Tom Morton, all about Scotland and whisky. With detours to Ireland and Japan.
Funny, informative, laced with tragedy and tall tales, you may find yourself singing about steamboats or along with murderous highwayman, munching a very scratchy sweetmeat or wondering how on earth the Mother of Japanese Whisky came from Kirkintilloch.
You will certainly be sipping three of finest whiskies in the world, and wondering if it could possibly be true that one of them is English...
Hear some of the songs and dialogue here:
and also here
Special guests at some shows will include eminent and indeed bearded whisky connoisseurs such as Mr Jon Beach of Fiddlers in Drumnadrochit
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Guitar collecting: the indulgence stops here. Warning - for acoustic purists only
I find myself doing something I swore I'd never do again. And it has stopped. It stops now, right here, with the customs duty paid on that absolutely beautiful 1960s Airline H929 (AKA Stella H929, as played by everyone from Blind Willie Johnson to Elvis) when it finally arrived this morning from the USA, where it was made.
I already have an Airline. In fact, I already have two, one of them also an H929 (small bodied, all-birch, floating bridge, no truss rod, 'metal reinforced neck'). The other one was supposed to be a 'working' guitar. It's a lovely 1960s Airline-badged Harmony Sovereign H1260, with original machine heads and thus just a wee bit unreliable tuning-wise to rely on live.
I don't really know how this happened. I just became kind of interested in the Harmony company, initially because these are the last(only) vintage American acoustic guitars you can find at affordable prices, though they've started climbing steeply. You're into four figures for even the clattiest old Martin or Gibson. My guitars were all made in Chicago, Illinois, by the Harmony or Valco company who also made National resonators and that red plastic JB Hutto model you used to see jack White playing in The White Stripes. They were never expensive, in fact downright cheap, and Valco/Harmony turned out these instruments for a variety of third-party retailers, notably the mail-order company Montgomery Ward, who used the Airline moniker.
But if you're careful and/or lucky, you can still find ones that play well and sound good. The opening acoustic bars of Stairway to Heaven were played on a Sovereign and Ralph McTell, Rab Noakes and Dick Gaughan all used Sovereigns in their early years. Mine has a big, expansive Gibson J40/50 sound and a very similar, D-profile neck. It's had a neck reset but little else. Apart from what look like household clatters, it's been virtually unplayed for half a century.
If you want that proper bright, frosty blues sound for slide and open tuning, though, you need the smaller guitars. The H929s were cheap and absolutely everywhere in the States from the late 1930s onwards, which is why they became synonymous with early acoustic blues. I have a glorious H929 (the one without the pickguard) set up for slide in open G tuning, and it really has that quality Clive James called 'broken bracken in a frost'. It's been carefully restored but has the original machine heads (though not he ferrules, which always fall out). I used to have a 1939 Harmony archtop (round soundhole) which I sold on, and an incredibly low-action Stella H929 sunburst I passed on to my son Dave.
The third and final Airline, the end of collecting, is the one that arrived this morning. It has a white pickguard and came from the USA, where at one point more than half of all guitars sold were made in the Valco factory. They went out of business in 1968. This one is in fantastic playing condition, but has replacement machine heads (again, no ferrules!). Good action.
You can buy brand new Airline-badged electrics and semi acoustics made in China and South Korea by the Eastwood company. But the original guitars are the ones to look for, badged Harmony, Stella, Airline, Supro, occasionally Fender (they did sub-contracting work for both Gretsch and Fender) Regal, Silvertone, National Oahu and a few Kays. You have to watch for the post-1968 Kays and Harmonys. The Kays are all terrible, but the Korean-made Sovereigns (all with pin bridges) can have their moments.
Prices? Importing from the USA using eBay, including postage and customs, you could get a really good restored H929 for less than £300 from a dealer, though these prices are going up all the time. It'll be £300-350 for the same thing in the UK, but they're rare in this country. Unrestored and potentially dodgy H929s can be picked up more cheaply - and they're usually repairable, as the necks can be reset straightforwardly and these are simple ladder-braced guitars. Sovereigns are another story. Bad around £300, really good maybe £500 these days. Jimmy Page casts a long shadow.
But these are all increasing in value, can be playable investments, and pieces of genuine history. Watch Jailhouse Rock and you'll see Elvis with an H929. They look seriously cool. They're American. And, to quote Clive James (via Pete Atkin) again: 'There are dead men still alive in these guitars."
I already have an Airline. In fact, I already have two, one of them also an H929 (small bodied, all-birch, floating bridge, no truss rod, 'metal reinforced neck'). The other one was supposed to be a 'working' guitar. It's a lovely 1960s Airline-badged Harmony Sovereign H1260, with original machine heads and thus just a wee bit unreliable tuning-wise to rely on live.
I don't really know how this happened. I just became kind of interested in the Harmony company, initially because these are the last(only) vintage American acoustic guitars you can find at affordable prices, though they've started climbing steeply. You're into four figures for even the clattiest old Martin or Gibson. My guitars were all made in Chicago, Illinois, by the Harmony or Valco company who also made National resonators and that red plastic JB Hutto model you used to see jack White playing in The White Stripes. They were never expensive, in fact downright cheap, and Valco/Harmony turned out these instruments for a variety of third-party retailers, notably the mail-order company Montgomery Ward, who used the Airline moniker.
But if you're careful and/or lucky, you can still find ones that play well and sound good. The opening acoustic bars of Stairway to Heaven were played on a Sovereign and Ralph McTell, Rab Noakes and Dick Gaughan all used Sovereigns in their early years. Mine has a big, expansive Gibson J40/50 sound and a very similar, D-profile neck. It's had a neck reset but little else. Apart from what look like household clatters, it's been virtually unplayed for half a century.
If you want that proper bright, frosty blues sound for slide and open tuning, though, you need the smaller guitars. The H929s were cheap and absolutely everywhere in the States from the late 1930s onwards, which is why they became synonymous with early acoustic blues. I have a glorious H929 (the one without the pickguard) set up for slide in open G tuning, and it really has that quality Clive James called 'broken bracken in a frost'. It's been carefully restored but has the original machine heads (though not he ferrules, which always fall out). I used to have a 1939 Harmony archtop (round soundhole) which I sold on, and an incredibly low-action Stella H929 sunburst I passed on to my son Dave.
The third and final Airline, the end of collecting, is the one that arrived this morning. It has a white pickguard and came from the USA, where at one point more than half of all guitars sold were made in the Valco factory. They went out of business in 1968. This one is in fantastic playing condition, but has replacement machine heads (again, no ferrules!). Good action.
 |
| Blind Lemon Jefferson with Stella |
 |
| Blind Willie Johnson |
You can buy brand new Airline-badged electrics and semi acoustics made in China and South Korea by the Eastwood company. But the original guitars are the ones to look for, badged Harmony, Stella, Airline, Supro, occasionally Fender (they did sub-contracting work for both Gretsch and Fender) Regal, Silvertone, National Oahu and a few Kays. You have to watch for the post-1968 Kays and Harmonys. The Kays are all terrible, but the Korean-made Sovereigns (all with pin bridges) can have their moments.
Prices? Importing from the USA using eBay, including postage and customs, you could get a really good restored H929 for less than £300 from a dealer, though these prices are going up all the time. It'll be £300-350 for the same thing in the UK, but they're rare in this country. Unrestored and potentially dodgy H929s can be picked up more cheaply - and they're usually repairable, as the necks can be reset straightforwardly and these are simple ladder-braced guitars. Sovereigns are another story. Bad around £300, really good maybe £500 these days. Jimmy Page casts a long shadow.
But these are all increasing in value, can be playable investments, and pieces of genuine history. Watch Jailhouse Rock and you'll see Elvis with an H929. They look seriously cool. They're American. And, to quote Clive James (via Pete Atkin) again: 'There are dead men still alive in these guitars."
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Tourists, tatties and King Creosote
I'm sorting out the tattie patch in the back garden, when the gate opens and in strolls an unidentified male, person, tallish, youngish, dark hair.
"Hallo. I'm Michael and I'm in your area...and me and my girlfriend are looking for something to do."
Good grief, he's looking for work. I ponder offering him a spade, but then:
"My girlfriend wants to go horse riding. But I think the nearest place is quite a long way."
Indeed (relieved, just a wandering Easter tourist. But would a tourist walk into a Glasgow back yard and make such an enquiry?). Forty miles, over on the west side if you want to hire a hoss.
"Yes, we phoned, but got no reply. Do you know anyone with a horse?"
Aha, this is someone drawn to Shetland by the infamous 3 advert (Socks the Moonwalking Pony). I do know people who either own or are on nodding terms with horses. But none of them let complete strangers sit on their equine pals. I explain this. Speak to Bruce the blacksmith, though, next door. If anyone knows, he will.
"Oh, Brucie? We've already spoken to Brucie." (Brucie? I try to imagine the look on Distilled-Essence-of-Yorkshire Mr Wilcock's face if anyone called him Brucie). Pause. "You don't have a horse yourself, do you?"
Even longer pause.
No.
"It's just I was told that you had a horse."
No.
We've never had horses. Or a horse. At this moment, Rug the St Bernard ambles over and sits down next to me. I can see Michael regarding this extremely large dog and thinking to himself: But, but...he's sitting next to a horse! There's a dog-shaped Shetland pony right...there!
"What are you doing?"
Eh?
"What are you doing?"
I'm, err...just preparing a potato patch for planting.
"Potatoes! I'd like to plant potatoes! Are you hoping to be self sufficient?"
No, just hoping to have some tatties we've grown ourselves. Very nice to meet you, I say, advising him to try Bruce the Blacksmith as I'm sure he hasn't actually spoken to him at all.
And lo, he departs.
I continue digging, somewhat puzzled.
*** *** ***
Later, Marf and myself head Lerwickwards to see the King Creosote gig the Lerwick Deathstar, the Squinty Box, or, as most Shetland dwellers apart from the Rampant Lerwigian And West Side Bourgeoisie call it, That Bloody Mareel.
What to say about Mareel? It's a twin-cinema, music venue, cafe and music education complex which is a good idea in the wrong place at the wrong time. Owned and operated by Shetland Arts Development Agency, it is a state-of-the-art arts centre. It is, at (around) £14 million of over-budget expenditure, unable to pay its staff without a fiscally opaque deal with the local council, engaged in unseemly wrangles with the main building contractor for the project, and involved in so-far secret deals with the council for £600,000 of funding to stop it closing. Prematurely, as it's only been open seven months. As essential council services are cut - such as the crucial playscehemes for disabled children, Mareel's unrestrained cappuccinistas suck up the publiccash for mair kultur and training in wine appreciation.
It has a brilliant auditorium, excellent educational facilities and a recording studio. But it's not working. The cinemas are being filled, but the vast cost of bringing in current movies is scything any useful profit from that. And to general consternation, the music venue isn't working either. It's suddenly become painfully evident that the demand, in a scattered rural community of 22,000 people, for expensive live music is very limited.
Last night, 165 paying customers (and the great benefit of the 350-capacity venue's movable seating is that it looked like more) saw Kenny Anderson, King Creosote, play an affable, frequently hilarious and sometimes very moving set, accompanied by his trusty percussionist Captain Geeko the Dead Aviator. AKA Andy Robinson from the late lamented Skuobhie Dhu Orchestra.
Kenny had broken his ankle, which made for much banter, including an odd and very uncomfortable monologue which included a story about his brother fathering a child during an SDO gig in Brae. It may have been nonsense, but it had the ring of truth. Ill-advised if so and painful as that snapped ankle must have been. 'Doubles Underneath' was spoilt slightly by a truly crap capo - get a new one, for goodness' sake - but all told it was a hugely entertaining night. Kenny's twisted, strangely opaque and yet detailed lyrics, coupled with his extraordinarily sweet and flexible voice, make him a unique national treasure.
Would have been just as good in the Town Hall, though. Or possibly a large tent in Brae...
"Hallo. I'm Michael and I'm in your area...and me and my girlfriend are looking for something to do."
Good grief, he's looking for work. I ponder offering him a spade, but then:
"My girlfriend wants to go horse riding. But I think the nearest place is quite a long way."
Indeed (relieved, just a wandering Easter tourist. But would a tourist walk into a Glasgow back yard and make such an enquiry?). Forty miles, over on the west side if you want to hire a hoss.
"Yes, we phoned, but got no reply. Do you know anyone with a horse?"
Aha, this is someone drawn to Shetland by the infamous 3 advert (Socks the Moonwalking Pony). I do know people who either own or are on nodding terms with horses. But none of them let complete strangers sit on their equine pals. I explain this. Speak to Bruce the blacksmith, though, next door. If anyone knows, he will.
"Oh, Brucie? We've already spoken to Brucie." (Brucie? I try to imagine the look on Distilled-Essence-of-Yorkshire Mr Wilcock's face if anyone called him Brucie). Pause. "You don't have a horse yourself, do you?"
Even longer pause.
No.
"It's just I was told that you had a horse."
No.
We've never had horses. Or a horse. At this moment, Rug the St Bernard ambles over and sits down next to me. I can see Michael regarding this extremely large dog and thinking to himself: But, but...he's sitting next to a horse! There's a dog-shaped Shetland pony right...there!
"What are you doing?"
Eh?
"What are you doing?"
I'm, err...just preparing a potato patch for planting.
"Potatoes! I'd like to plant potatoes! Are you hoping to be self sufficient?"
No, just hoping to have some tatties we've grown ourselves. Very nice to meet you, I say, advising him to try Bruce the Blacksmith as I'm sure he hasn't actually spoken to him at all.
And lo, he departs.
I continue digging, somewhat puzzled.
*** *** ***
Later, Marf and myself head Lerwickwards to see the King Creosote gig the Lerwick Deathstar, the Squinty Box, or, as most Shetland dwellers apart from the Rampant Lerwigian And West Side Bourgeoisie call it, That Bloody Mareel.
What to say about Mareel? It's a twin-cinema, music venue, cafe and music education complex which is a good idea in the wrong place at the wrong time. Owned and operated by Shetland Arts Development Agency, it is a state-of-the-art arts centre. It is, at (around) £14 million of over-budget expenditure, unable to pay its staff without a fiscally opaque deal with the local council, engaged in unseemly wrangles with the main building contractor for the project, and involved in so-far secret deals with the council for £600,000 of funding to stop it closing. Prematurely, as it's only been open seven months. As essential council services are cut - such as the crucial playscehemes for disabled children, Mareel's unrestrained cappuccinistas suck up the publiccash for mair kultur and training in wine appreciation.
It has a brilliant auditorium, excellent educational facilities and a recording studio. But it's not working. The cinemas are being filled, but the vast cost of bringing in current movies is scything any useful profit from that. And to general consternation, the music venue isn't working either. It's suddenly become painfully evident that the demand, in a scattered rural community of 22,000 people, for expensive live music is very limited.
Last night, 165 paying customers (and the great benefit of the 350-capacity venue's movable seating is that it looked like more) saw Kenny Anderson, King Creosote, play an affable, frequently hilarious and sometimes very moving set, accompanied by his trusty percussionist Captain Geeko the Dead Aviator. AKA Andy Robinson from the late lamented Skuobhie Dhu Orchestra.
Kenny had broken his ankle, which made for much banter, including an odd and very uncomfortable monologue which included a story about his brother fathering a child during an SDO gig in Brae. It may have been nonsense, but it had the ring of truth. Ill-advised if so and painful as that snapped ankle must have been. 'Doubles Underneath' was spoilt slightly by a truly crap capo - get a new one, for goodness' sake - but all told it was a hugely entertaining night. Kenny's twisted, strangely opaque and yet detailed lyrics, coupled with his extraordinarily sweet and flexible voice, make him a unique national treasure.
Would have been just as good in the Town Hall, though. Or possibly a large tent in Brae...
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