Pot80pouri

It's the end of another month and time to catch up on what's been happening culture wise. However, the sun is shining, and I can't be bothered, and in any case I want to leave room for the joke about two wargamers at a party, should I be in the mood by the time I get to the bottom of the page. Highlights did include a talking bed - ironically in a play about someone whose memory has become unreliable following an accident - plus a chap sitting directly in front of me at an opera unexpectedly rushing the stage and joining in the curtain call. I thought at first that he was an operatic Karl Power, and was kicking myself for never having thought of it myself, but rather boringly he turned out to be the composer.

I also want to mention veteran blues guitarist Walter Trout who was excellent. I am a sucker for first hand stories about legends such as B.B. King, Albert King (who apparently wasn't very nice) and John Lee Hooker, and Trout didn't disappoint. He was joined on stage for one number by local legend Chantel MacGregor. I've no idea who arranged for it to happen, but it quickly became apparent that they had never met and that she was seriously in awe of him. However, perhaps buoyed by shouts from the crowd of "Show him, Shanty", she didn't disappoint either and the faces of the band ended up showing both surprise and approval.

I've already mentioned the only film I saw in June, the truly dreadful 2001. Moving on to a real classic, those who, like me, love the La Marseillaise scene from Casablanca (which I have previously posted here in sad circumstances) may find this critical analysis interesting; hat tip to Liberal England for pointing me to it.

There were two wargamers who had been invited to a party. One, not at all confident with women, asks for advice from his friend who had far more success in that field. He is advised to take a large potato and put it down his underpants whereupon, or so he is assured, the women will flock to him. At the party they meet and the giver of the advice asks the recipient how things are going. "Not at all well" comes the reply "They are actually running away from me now." His friend looks him up and down and says "You're supposed to put it down the front."

Pot62pouri

In my sky at twilight you are like a cloud
and your form and colour are the way I love them.
You are mine, mine, woman with sweet lips
and in your life my infinite dreams live.

- Pablo Neruda

I have had cause to look back at some of this blog's posts from the past; God hasn't the quality declined? Someone who's quality hasn't in any way gone down is Jools Holland, who I have been to see for the fifth or sixth time. Admittedly there isn't anything surprising or novel about it, but what he does, he does well. Other than it being the first occasion that I've seen them since the death of Rico Rodriguez, it was exactly the same and none the worse for that. The guests this time were Pauline Black and Arthur 'Gaps' Hendrickson of The Selecter.

They both sported excellent hats; Hendrickson's in particular causing much envy on my part. If you had asked me before to name a song by their band I would have struggled, but I recognised and enjoyed them when they were being played. The duo also took vocal duties on Prince Buster's 'Enjoy Yourself', a song which always heavily featured Rodriguez. Ruby Turner was, inevitably, the star of the show. Holland seems to put up remarkably well with being upstaged at his own gigs.

Anyway, sadly another great has left us. It's as a songwriter that I think Leon Russell will be remembered. Here are a couple of covers of his songs:

And here he is singing a song by someone else, Nobel laureate Bob Dylan to be precise; and it's a song that has a very real resonance after the other events of this week: