Gig On The Coast

Last summer, Chico Chica played a function gig in Folkestone, Kent. Barbara and I, as we walked along the Sandgate Esplanade to where her car was parked, noticed that the Sandgate Hotel hosted live music on Sundays. So we popped in and left a card. The result of that small action was a gig yesterday.

It was Remembrance Sunday and Barbara had a Last Post to play in the morning. Walking to Shepherd’s Bush station with my guitar and cavaquinho, I stopped to watch the remembrance parade. There was a brass band to my right and a bagpiper to my left and I wished one of them would stop. To avoid offence I won’t say which one.

 

The Sandgate overlooks the English Channel. When we arrived, the westering sun was to our right and we looked out at the sea. That’s what people do when they travel to the coast. For some reason I thought of the Russian aircraft carrier which had passed a couple of weeks ago on its way to Syria and wondered if the great plume of black smoke emitting from its funnel  had been visible form Sandgate. Probably not.

 

But we were pushed for time so quickly set the PA up, ordered two glasses of water (one still, one fizzy) and, after ensuring all the cables were in the right sockets and the knobs at the right levels, started playing. The room overlooked the channel and we had our backs to France. There was a log fire and a warm appreciative audience. As the evening progressed the drinkers became drunker and louder and one man wanted to play Barbara’s bongo drums. We ploughed on through the Chico Chica set because that’s what we do. The journeyman musician is often tempted to change according to the room and in the past I would have done this. But Chico Chica is different – we do what we do and that’s it.

 

The show finished at 6pm by which time I was hungry and began to think about what I’d eaten that day – one bowl of porridge and a service station tuna sandwich plus coffees but they don’t count.  There was no rider at the gig so we went in search of fish and chips which I only ever eat when I’m at the seaside. We drove slowly and found a shop. We ordered a portion. Barbara had the fish and I had the chips which reminded me of Mr and Mrs Spratt. We ate in the car and it was a most satisfying repast.

 

Driving back to London after distant gigs gives us an excellent chance to talk and reflect. We chat about our families and then move on to Chico Chica – how to improve the performance, the best way to deal with drunks who want to play the bongos, business matters and the overall artistic direction. On this occasion we decided that getting signed to a record label is our highest priority and we resolved to approach certain individuals over this.

 

But the journey was long and at around the Maidstone turn-off, the conversation lulled. On these occasions I talk about the book I’m reading which happens to be The Story of O by Pauline Reage. I bought a copy the previous day. It was in the Romance section at Foyles, a shelf which I usually ignore.  The story is indeed about love , at least it is so far – I have read ninety pages.  I started describing the story and quickly realised it could prove embarrassing and awkward. It’s not the kind of book to bring up in conversation and I was thankful the M25 junction came into view and we had to concentrate on reading road signs instead. We fell silent again and I reflected on The Story of O and how suffering can be an expression of love and how Christianity and indeed Western civilisation are based on that very idea. And then we discussed next week’s mixing session at Porcupine Studio.

 

Chico Chica’s next show is at Bull’s Head, Barnes, 8.30pm, Thursday 17th November 2016.
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Nice Guy With an Edge

There’s something compelling about an article consisting of ‘do’s and don’ts’. A couple of years ago, I saw one about online dating and being a complete sucker with too much time on his hands, I clicked it. The reader was told not to describe himself as a ‘nice guy with an edge’, presumably because the phrase was too common and it’s important to stand out. The phrase gave me the idea of a setting a fictionalised online dating profile to music. The result is Nice Guy With an Edge, track three of Chico Chica’s album The Glow of Havana released earlier in the year.

 

 

I has absolutely no hand in the either writing or performing the music. Barbara Snow was the composer and she even translated my choruses into Spanish, albeit with the help of bass player Andres Lafone. When performing the song I put the guitar down – I feel I can get a closer connection with the audience when I’m not hiding behind my instrument. 

 

 
The Glow of Havana is an unusual fusion of spoken word with an English sensibility and salsa, complete with percussion, horns and Spanish coros. The album was recorded at Cowshed Studio, London by Joe Leech. Joe has since moved to Western Australia with his family so it is likely to be the last of that happy and fruitful relationship. It can be purchased here

 

Chico Chica will be appearing as a trio at Sicily Restaurant, 2a Elizabeth St, London SW1W 9RB 8pm, Friday 11th November. Roberto, the owner, is really committed to live music and Sicily has now become a key component in the London jazz scene.

 

 I personally will be back at the Nova Restaurant, Chiswick High Rd 1pm tomorrow Sunday 30th October. 

If I Ever Lose This Heaven + I, Daniel Blake

 

 

Song of the Week is not really a feature on this blog but I make an exception in this case because this week I have been learning, playing and thinking about funk/soul classic If I Ever Lose This Heaven by the Average White Band.

 

 I left school in 1975 and in order to celebrate that glorious crossroads-of-my-life feeling I bought AWB’s Cut The Cake album and listened to it constantly throughout most of that carefree, long-ago summer. The song that particularly struck me was If I Ever Lose This Heaven. Recently I decided to return to it. Much of my playing at home has been song focussed – where I learn a song I love and see how it fits together and analyse why it appeals to me. More often than not, it’s a certain twist in the chord progression where it takes a less-travelled road yet still manages to sound natural and pleasing. The chords for If I Ever Lose This Heaven starts with a III  V  I movement which I have used in Chico Chica’s yet-to-be-recorded Red River. It also happens at the start of the verse in Marvin Gaye’s Sunny 

 

For years I assumed The Average White Band wrote If I Ever Lose This Heaven – I’ve never been one for reading credits so alas, will never become a ‘buff’ in anything.  In the previous year, Quincy Jones released Body Heat which features Minnie Ripperton, Al Jarreau and the song’s composer Leon Ware so it was natural for the boys from Aberdeen to pick it for Cut The Cake‘s sole cover. They borrowed a few of Quincy’s arranging ideas and I suspect they got the free blowing section at the beginning from Freddie Hubbard’s Red Clay which came out in 1970.

 

Staying on the nostalgia theme, I remember as a boy going to the cinema to watch a film and I can’t remember which. It was common in those days to put on what in rock concert terms would be called a supporting act. The film was about a boy with a pet kestrel called Kes – a bit like calling your dog Doggy but there you go. I hated it for the first few minutes and then I slowly became drawn into the characters and story. The film was by Ken Loach. I had never seen another of his films until last night. I am not an avid film watcher and my cinephile friends are appalled at how few I have watched over the years. This is something I want to put to rights so last night I went to see I, Daniel Blake. This lack of cinematic education made me nervous about organising a cinema trip. Originally I wanted to see American Honey but the timings didn’t suit. The genre of  I, Daniel Blake is social realism. And it certainly didn’t disappoint in that respect. Daniel Blake is a man going through grim times, and in the course of the film they get ever grimmer and then (spoiler alert) he dies. Today I read a review. The writer said she cried. This made me feel bad because I stayed dry-eyed throughout which probably means I’m an emotional cripple.

 

Tomorrow (Sunday 23rd October 2016) 1pm-4pm, I will be performing solo guitar at Nova Restaurant and Bar,  20 Chiswick High Rd, London W4 2ND.  I may be performing If I Ever Lose This Heaven. I do hope you can support me. Nova have a very good, weekly Sunday carvery – highly recommended.

Marimba

Marimbist Rob Millett has just delivered his tracks for the new Chico Chica album. Rob plays tuned percussion and recorded the marimba for the song Birds. The marimba (a wooden xylophone of African origin) is no longer the obscure instrument it once was. In fact we hear it several times a day in the default ringtone for the iPhone . I fell in love with the sound of the  marimba on Donald Fagan’s The Goodbye Look  When I made up the demo for Birds, I, for no obvious reason,  put a steel drum sound on the keyboard. Barbara liked it but we didn’t know any steel drummers so we decided to go for marimba instead. Hilary recommended Rob Millett. She works with Rob in Big Band Metheney. Marimbas are large and unwieldy so Rob recorded at home. We loved what he did and look forward to working with it at the second and final mixing day this Friday 21st October at Porcupine Studio.
Last Wednesday I saw Luna Cohen at the 606 Club, Chelsea. Chico Chica’s percussionist Jansen Santana plays with her so it was interesting for me to hear him play in another band. Luna has a warm expressive voice and presented us with a selection of original songs, some from her album November Sky as well as a few she hadn’t written and which I didn’t recognise. The guitarist was Robert Loft whom I hadn’t heard before but made a good impression on the audience – his style involves repeated parking of his plectrum in his lips even for the shortest of phrases.   Christian Brewer played some alto saxophone and I had a brief chat with Christian. We tried, unsuccessfully, to pinpoint the year we last worked together. I have tremendous respect for Christian – an absolute jazz pro – never sacrificing his principles and always playing with honesty and integrity.
It’s also good to seek inspiration from outside one’s genre. So the following night I went to see The Kaiserchiefs at Kingston Hippodrome. Friends had a spare ticket and I thought what the hell, why not. I didn’t know the music because I never listen to indy rock. And I’d never heard of the Kingston Hippodrome. Before the show, security men were working their way down the queue asking for names and ID.  Only under 25s carry ID so we couldn’t provide any. Then they asked to photograph our bank cards. Naturally we refused – but still got in to see the show. It was good fun. If I started a Kaiserchiefs tribute band, and please don’t leave any snotty comments about this,  I’d call it The Handkerchiefs.

Marseille

I have just come back from a five week adventure in Marseille. It was a combination of a business trip, a holiday, a writing retreat, working (a few solo concerts) and meeting friends I haven’t seen for years. So I call it an adventure.

Why Marseille? I find it hard to justify five weeks lazing about. I have to have a ‘project’ otherwise I feel guilty. And as I’m sure you can guess, it’s about Chico Chica. In my head I drew this complicated Venn diagram.  French people, I discovered, are unfamiliar with Venn diagrams. I tried to explain with a napkin and biro but, judging from the look on their faces, I don’t think I did a good job.

Though the band have toured around the UK, we have decided that it is easier and more lucrative to focus on London and the South East. But we wanted to expand our horizons especially for August when so much of our fanbase goes on holiday. I wanted a place where:

1) they speak the languages we sing in: English, Spanish, Arabic (one song: Majda Al Han) and French.

2) they speak a language where I can at least order a coffee. That leaves France and England.

3) I wanted somewhere warm. Sorry England.

4) I wanted a mode of transport which doesn’t force me to put my instrument in the hold and turn up three hours before departure so I have to stare at billboards while drinking over-priced coffee.

So when I saw  a bus drive past with an advert saying Marseille non-stop Eurostar for £80, my mind was made up. I also happen to know a Marseillaise who used to live in London years ago.

Chico Chica have been writing and performing songs in French:

C’est Ta Chanson,

Pense à Moi

and Mon Oiseau S’est Enfui. So the idea emerged of recording a French mini-album in France.

Marseille is a marvel. New arrivals to a city tend to look up to take in the architecture and vistas. It’s a hilly city with the church of Notre Dame occupying the top slot the same way the Cristo Redentor does in Rio. Walking through the street I come across vistas I never imagined: the iron bridge over Rue D’Aubagne has a curvaceous elegance unlike those found in England. L’Hotel de Ville. L’Opera and the Bourse are exceptional buildings that rival anything else Europe. If the  monument at Longchamp has a London equivalent it would be the Albert Memorial. But Longchamp has more. It is a rococo expression of La Gloire that only the French can do.

But the eye starts to take in the tall houses. They are primarily Napoleon III 1860s. These were built on a grand Haussman scale – bourgeois with wooden shutters, wrought iron balustrades and countless statues of Madonnas on corner alcoves. The evident decay is charming, and in many other cities these areas would be ripe for gentrification.

Lowering the eye further still and we realise why Marseille is so exceptional. The first thing we notice is it’s covered in graffiti. But the graffitti blends into the local artwork. Many businesses paint murals so it’s hard to know where one stops and the other starts. There are things we see which exist in London but with the help of strict laws and generous welfare, we keep hidden: prostitution, rats, migrant families rummaging in bins, homeless men bedding down on the city’s ornate bandstands, countless beggars, hawkers and street musicians. The less talented the musicians the more aggressive they tend to be. There were some great buskers in the tourist area of the Vieux Port. The music venues tend to close for the holiday season because everyone likes to eat outside. This makes it difficult to promote concerts. I did a few gigs using the ‘chapeau’ means of payment. I am not used to this way of working but, with the help of my friends Celia and Amar, it worked really well.

And yet. There is something which I really loved. The people are warm, open and it’s easy to make friends. Tourists are rare compared to Nice and Provence in fact I only met one English person in my whole visit (yes you Emily). My AirBnB flat was near Cours Julien. This is the true Marseille, away from the yachts and over-priced food of the Vieux Port. Cours Julien is, among other things, home to a community of homeless Africans. I noticed a different attitude to low life. In England, there is a separation from normality. We pass them by privately cursing the state for failing to keep misfortune out of sight and out of mind. Marseille is different. For example, the prostitutes, as they sit in their doorways, are greeted by passers-by and pleasantries are exchanged. One character who was obviously severely mentally deranged, was allowed to sit with the locals at coffee tables, not joining in the conversation but somehow feeling part of communal life.

The Marseillaises love pizza and for good reason – it’s better that ours. There pizza tends to be rectangular rather than circular, I don’t know why that should make a difference but it does. For a change I would go to Cours Jus, run by two Nathalies, one, ‘le patron’, is tall and serious the other is the big hearted chef helped by the silent, ever-smiling Senegalese Baba. The Nathalies prevented my stay becoming too cheesy. And then, at Cafe St Julien there’s the lovely Leila. She has invited me to play Facebook Soda Crush which obviously means she fancies me.

What I admired more than anything is the free spirit of Marseille. They do really naughty stuff like smoke indoors. I saw twelve year olds riding motor cycles on pavement without helmets (naturellement) and many of the motor cyclists make their way around the town using the rear wheel only. I think it’s a courting ritual.

I made trips to Nice, Cannes, Nîmes, Frejus and Aix and have made some enough contacts to put in place a Chico Chica tour culminating in a studio date with Henry Frampton at his studio in Provence.

My Last Duchess and Other Poems, Robert Browning

One increasingly important component of Chico Chica shows is the dramatic monologue. In the spoken word sections of the songs such as A Scientific Fact, Nice Guy with an Edge and Private Hands, I adopt a character speaking to an imaginary audience. The format gives my imagination greater scope and is meant as an antidote to the overly serious singer-songwriter ‘this is all about me’ output which has been with us since the early seventies. The greatest exponent of this technique is Robert Browning so it’s important for me to get an insight to the mind of a master. I have been dipping in and out of this book all year but have recently finished it so, in accordance with my blogging tradition, I give it a post.

Robert Browning is considered one of the great 19th Century writers – right up there with Dickens and Eliot – but is rarely read nowadays. This is partly because the poems are dense and difficult. Some took several reads for me to get an idea of what they were about. It usually came in a flash of inspiration. On some occasions the flash never came so I had to move on to the next, baffled.

Dickens towers above Browning in the modern imagination also because you cannot easily turn a poem into a play, film or musical. Browning’s influence lives on in Chico Chica’s shows but we need to do more to keep the spirit alive. Now here’s an idea: how about turning My Last Duchess or Fra Lippo Lippi into a computer game? Are there any game developers reading this?

This is the last post of 2014 and these are the books I read during the year:

Pickwick Papers, Charles Dickens
Unpopular Essays, Bertrand Russell
The Trial, Franz Kafka
The Old Man and the Sea, Ernest Hemingway
The Comedians, Graham Greene
First Love and Other Stories, Ivan Turgenev
Silas Marner, George Eliot
To Have and Have Not, Ernest Hemingway
The Sound and the Fury, William Falconer
Fathers and Children, Ivan Turgenev
The Honorary Consul, Graham Greene
The Great Terror, Robert Conquest
Jude the Obscure, Thomas Hardy
Hard Times, Charles Dickens
Romola, George Eliot
Game Of Thrones, George R.R. Martin (abandoned halfway)
Eugene Onegin, Alexander Pushkin
My Last Duchess and Other Poems, Robert Browning.

You will find posts on all of them. However, I have been reflecting on my blogging and made the decision to discontinue posts on the books I read. The readership is just too limited so the posts in 2015 will be more frequent and touch on more topics. Thank you for reading and, on behalf of Chico Chica, I’d like to wish you a most exciting and prosperous new year.

Eugene Onegin, Alexander Pushkin0

Every now and again it’s important to do something out of character. So instead of picking up another classic I started reading Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin. During my late teens and early twenties, I read a lot of sci-fi such as Isaac Asimov, Kurt Vonnegut, Arthur C. Clarke, Phillip Dick, Michael Moorcroft and others. And then I read Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities – after that it’s been dead authors pretty much all the way. Every now and again I read authors who are still walking about. I once met Jonathan Coe and felt embarrassed because I’d never read any of his books. So I read some (they were okay) in the hope I’d be less embarrassed the next time I met him. But I never met him again.

So I delved into Martin’s world which looked a bit like medieval Europe without Christianity. The prose style is ordinary so I tired of the book quickly. The characters were shallow and I really couldn’t care less if they were all devoured by dragons, which alas, they weren’t so I rode on, heroically, through Wolfswood and the Vale of Arryn because I have a Golden Rule: Finish The Book. Luckily, I make up my Golden Rules as I go along so from now on I allow myself to abandon a book if the author is still living.

So on to Pushkin. Anyone who reads Russian novels can not help but notice repeated references to Alexander Pushkin. He is considered to be the man who heralded Russia’s great literary century. Eugene Onegin is a verse novel and I have to say I’m reluctant to read translated verse but there have to be exceptions if the author is a literary giant such as Homer or Dante. I decided to include Pushkin in that pantheon.

The story’s main thrust is the failed dalliance between Eugene Onegin and a woman whose brother he’d recently shot dead in a dual. Oh well, love’s a funny old game.

At first I couldn’t get the verse to sing. The meter is iambic but so many lines have a feminine ending followed by a line with an anacrusis so I kept stumbling when going from one line to the next.

‘The dream alarms her, and not knowing
What hidden meaning in it lies’

I got round this by treating ‘knowing/What’ as a dactyl.

Translated prose is fine but translated verse seems to shout its presence in every clunky line. The stressed ‘a’ before ‘campaign’ really grates;

‘And promised them each year again
A soldier spouse and a campaign.’

And then they’re pre-op feminine endings trying to be masculine such as ‘unfit/exquisite’.

So Pushkin is good but doesn’t translate well which explains why he doesn’t get read much outside Russia.

Chico Chica had a great night at Brasserie Toulouse Lautrec on 5th December – thanks to all you readers and listeners in the audience.

Chico Chica spend every New Year’s Eve at:

Tamarind 20 Queen Street, Mayfair London W1J 5PR
020 7629 3561

Do come along – it’s a fabulous Michelin-starred curry house.

I will be writing one more post before Christmas so the season’s greetings will wait until then.