I Am The One

I've had enough of living
I've had enough of dying
Why should I care
Can you see the real me
Love reign o'er me
Can you see the real me???

Posted via email from manikmoon's posterous

Coffee break

So, here I sit, atthe airport, again...
Career-wise busted back to where I was 10 years ago, a sobering thought indeed, its a bugger being good at what one does,eh! Well, retail hasn't done well at all the last couple of years...

Anyway, plenty of time for reflection and as one of those is that I gave up the notion of 'career' years ago (about the time of the first retrenchment) I aint too badly off and as long as I can wield a pencil I'm one up already.

Bring it on...!

Posted via email from manikmoon's posterous

Web site

So, I've been told that additional web exposure will aid me in what (I feel) I do best - that's doodle stuff for folk (for a small fee...)
Consequently I have a 'web-page' up on Yola.
I'll progressively bung stuff on there as I rediscover it in files either digital or on the old fashioned paper-made-from-minced-trees.

A musical interlude

One of my weekly haunts is Bountyhunters charity shop in Melville, a place to indulge in any retail therapy I need and as that therapy usually involves music, the sight of a new box o' vinyl always gets the pulse racing.

This week was a box of stuff, that in the past, I would've cast aside, but, as I seem to find myself on a journey (back) through a lot of folk and folk-rock, discs full of traditional Scottish and Irish ballads, albeit by the sort of artist I'd generally avoid like the plague it seemed worthwhile to invest in a few - at a buck apiece, what the hell.

So, I grabbed a couple o' items by the like o' th' Alexander Brothers (och aye, I didn't take 'em all!!), The Second Festival of Welsh Mixed Voices (I like a good choir) and others, also some British Music Hall stuff including some George Formby. All the discs were in almost new condition, obviously stashed since gawd knows when.

Anyway, the gem of the lot is a disc by Jean Redpath, "Laddie Lie Near Me", an absolute spine chilling voice on songs either solo or with acoustic guitar. Jean is the kind of artist that I'll now hunt down and find more of (and there seems to be a bit aboot). I like good passionate female vocals be it Diamanda Galas, Catherine Ribiero or Siouxie Sioux.



A wee choon onna Youtube

So, the afternoon went from Jean Redpath through the likes of Maddy Prior and June Tabor on their 'Silly Sisters' album (had it for years, since my first wave of folk appreciation way back when)- its all in the voices, see, that clear high soprano, does it for me every time.


And then on to Rose Kemp 's "Unholy Majesty" that I picked up earlier this year and fell totally in love with, especially when I discovered that Rose is the daughter of Maddy Prior and Rick Kemp of Steeleye Span fame. Anyway, got hold of Rose's first album 'Full of Hurricanes' this morning and I'm certainly determined to get hold of Maddy Prior's 'Bib & Tuck' which is an acapella rendition of traditional folk featuring amongst others, her daughter, Rose.



Rose Kemp in full tilt -->

The President Street Pigeon Posse

I notice I didn't 'blog' this but posted it elsewhere.
I think its worthy of blogation, so:

Early morning, eastern end of President street, you look up, the buildings have a fuzzy edge, they seethe, they coo, careful, you’re in pigeon country.

Suddenly, on cue the walls erupt as thousands of bodies hurl themselves down into President Street. Maybe someone opened a window, rattled a seed bag, murdered their spouse...The mass flicks south on Mooi Street, rising as it turns east into Market, big, small, young, old, black, grey and brown struggling to keep up. Midway down the block, a break in the decayed wall of what used to be architecture, up over through the gap, transverse the block and down again into President. Depending on the weather, the feathered tide goes the other way around. I think of the canyon race in one of those newer Star Wars movies, sometimes on the tarmac is found a flattened pile of blood and feathers, one wing rising defiantly.

Occasionally, whilst on my way to work, my ride will bisect this surge, wingtips flicking past my helmet, I have to resist the urge to raise my arms and leap off my saddle to join the fray. I can do anything after that....

Goodnight

Sundowners on the deck at Dros, Campus Square, Auckland Park, Johannesburg, during this past week.

Posted via email from manikmoon's posterous