And so it goes

I have once again had the opportunity to see live a musician whom I would love to have seen forty years ago, but for some reason didn't. This time it was Nick Lowe, or 'Nick Lowe, Nick Lowe' as he is known to anyone who listened too much to the 'Live Stiffs' album in the mid-seventies. He was every bit as good as I had expected and I don't think that's just the nostalgia talking. He performed songs from a number of his incarnations, with perhaps just a hint of bias towards those which lyrically resonate with his increasingly aging audience. This Johnny Cash influenced number for example:

And then for those of us who did indeed remember the brides when they used to rock and roll, there was this Chuck Berry homage:

But Lowe's songwriting skills run to more than mere pastiche. After he played the next song to a silent and reflective City Varieties, he expressed a wish for a world in which its message was no longer required:

Playing that synecdoche just like ringing a bell

This blog has always prided itself on sticking closely to its wargaming remit, but I am supportive when my fellow bloggists diversify into other areas. So I was pleased to see Prufrock wander off topic a week or so ago and reminisce about reminiscing, using music as the model for his musings. Back in the 1970s, after I had exchanged wargaming for beer, women and revolutionary socialism, one of my pleasures in life could be summed up as sitting in the back room of a pub, glass in hand, listening to a local band (any local band) play Johnny B. Goode. ["I cannot", says the Rhetorical Pedant "forgo the chance to comment on my specialist subject, namely rhetoric. Epictetus is employing the device of synecdoche, whereby a part of something - in this case Chuck Berry's best known song - refers to the whole - in this case the style of music which, back in your bloggist's youth, was referred to as Rhythm & Blues."]

And the band had to actually play Johnny B. Goode for my happiness to be complete; however good the band, however inspired the choice of the rest of their material ["That one is anaphora"] only that song would do. Indeed one of this blog's readers may possibly recall the occasion - in Jersey of all places - where the sheer joie de vivre resulting from hearing that introductory guitar riff, coupled with several pints of Mary Jane, caused me to join the band on stage as a surprise guest vocalist and sing the first and third verses. (Even to this day I'm not entirely sure that I know all the words to the second verse).

I was reminded of all this the other day by watching a group of ridiculously youthful chaps, Red Delta by name, perform in one of the local pubs. Apart from being able to play their instruments and for the fact that the vocalist could sing in key they were very similar to the band I played in all those years ago. I acknowledge that their version of "Brown Sugar" was better than ours, although as long as you ignored the lead guitar bits our cover of "Sunshine of Your Love" was there or thereabouts; maybe. Anyway, it was all good stuff: a bit of Hendrix, some Muddy Waters, some Robert Johnson, even some Rory Gallagher; but something was missing. And then they played it.

In his second childhood your bloggist may have once again taken up playing with toy soldiers, may have been forced to give up one of the alternatives he embraced instead back then (not to mention realising that one of the others was a fantasy and a dead end), but at least one thing still connects him to his adolescence.

"Go, Johnny Go!"

Meanwhile I was still thinking (aloud)

I have rejigged the Maloyaroslavets scenario a touch. There are now two flat hexes on from which the Russians can attack the village and one on the French side.

Also we shall play that in melee (or when Battling in official C&C terminology) all units will have at least one dice regardless of other circumstances. This will not apply to ranged combat. All the other ideas will be retained in the 'possible' file.

In addition I have moved all the reserves on to the table. The only real effect of keeping some back was to ensure they got into action in the historical order. Upon considering whether I cared very much whether they did so or not I had to conclude that I didn't.

To recap, the moving up of reserves will hopefully take advantage of the March Move available on some cards. In the original game a card such as, for example, Scout Right Flank was one that you played when you didn't have a better alternative or to thin out your hand. Now, as well as allowing the ordering of one unit, it allows three others to move as long as they don't pass out of, into or through a hex adjacent to the enemy, you get the choice of one of the two next Command cards and you get a Tactician card; all of which when put together seems an effective return to me.

I have also indulged myself and put some weak Russian militia in the monastery .

Through the flashing bars

"Deep summer is when laziness finds respectability." -  Sam Keen  

Which is another way of saying that the painting total for July stands at the magnificent total of not a lot. Following the recent game of To the Strongest! I have colour coded the sabot bases used for Celts and Romans, to make it easier to keep track of which command things are in, but that's it I'm afraid.

Idleness has also extended to the blog, if you will excuse my self indulgence, I would like to catch up with other things that I've seen:

Hamilton Loomis: An intriguing blend of blues, funk, soul and jazz. He included a tribute to Chuck Berry, and his choice of 'No Particular Place to Go' rather suited the louche nature of the rest of the set. Like many performers today he's prone to wandering out into the audience and climbing on chairs while playing; wireless connectivity has a lot to answer for.

Dan Baird and Homemade Sin: Their website claims that they are 'classic hard rock', but actually there are significant country music influences. Baird used to be in the Georgia Satellites, although judging from his on-stage comments the split wasn't exactly amicable. It happened in 1990 so, if I may be so bold as to offer some advice: let it go, mate, let it go. The lead guitarist is the spitting image of Steven Toast, but not only could he really play, but he did a neat trick of swinging his instrument over his shoulder and back around in mid-solo, which I had never seen done before. The support band - the exact identity of whom remain a mystery to me - certainly are classic rock, right down to the haircuts and the loon pants. I'm pretty clear that four of them were at university with me and have been cryogenically frozen ever since in the style of Austin Powers. The drummer is a modern day imposter; perhaps something went wrong during the thawing process.

You know, the more I looked at the bass player the more certain I was that we had once put him up for election as treasurer of the student union without telling him about it; a story for another day.

The Endellion Quartet playing Mozart, Beethoven and Schubert, a soothing change from all those guitars.

The Graduate: Having recently seen a stage production I took the opportunity to catch a 50th anniversary screening of the film, which I had last seen many years ago. I can report that it's much better than the play, with Benjamin being a substantially more sympathetic character, although the tassel twirling did lose something from not being in the flesh, as it were.

The Temperature of Sculpture:  This collection of the work of the late Jiro Takamatsu is, like pretty much every show at the Henry Moore Institute, mostly complete tosh. I did however rather like this:

I've already mentioned one of the month's visitors, but the Casa Epictetus was also graced by the presence of this blog's Luxembourg correspondent. He has responded to last year's referendum result in the only sensible way and become a citizen of the Grand Duchy. Sadly my own search for an Irish ancestor has drawn a blank.

Johnny Cool

It's the first day of spring and it's alternating here between snow and hail. Let's have another Chuck Berry cover to take our mind off things; I really don't know how I forgot this one last time:

Back in the seventies, as much as I loved the Steve Gibbons Band I always saw them as a pub band who got lucky. Forty years on I think I was right. They did Dylan as well:

Brown eyed handsome man

There's only one subject worth writing about today. He might not have been a nice man - indeed I heard Bill Wyman use pretty much those exact words once - but...

That's Albert Lee in the Emmylou Harris video, proving once again that everything is connected to everything else; and yes, that is Elkie Brooks singing backing vocals behind Marc Bolan, Dave Edmunds and, er, Alvin Stardust.

Oh my that little country boy could play

I probably won't be the only person posting this today as Chuck Berry turns 90.

You don't see many moustaches like that. Perhaps in the current political climate they'll make a comeback.

And everywhere there was song and celebration

It is the Otley Folk Festival this weekend. I became aware that it had started when, having retired not particularly early, I was awoken by someone singing 'Dirty Old Town' very loudly outside my house. I didn't mind that so much, but was somewhat less pleased when upon stepping out of my front door this morning I walked straight into three morris dancers. I was accompanied by the big bouncy woman who, to my astonishment, professed a liking for men prancing around with bells on their trousers and pigs bladders on sticks. Still as Jean-Paul Sartre said "We do not judge the people we love".

On the subject of quotations, it was Winston Churchill who first said "Never let a good crisis go to waste". I'm now feeling slightly better and so I have suspended my no nursing rule; the big bouncy woman was with me because she had been on first shift today.  Always careful of her reputation she is keen that I should point out to readers that the level of any perking up that may have taken place was specially tailored to my invalid status.

After lunch, when I'd also been visited by la seconda infermiera, I felt well enough to step outside to give the folk festival's street entertainment the once over. It was all very pleasant: the sun shone, the streets were busy, there was food and drink (not for Epictetus, who hasn't eaten anything but porridge for some days now), and the Ukulele Orchestra of Otley were just packing up as I arrived. In my brief visit I saw passable covers of songs from artists such as John Martyn and Joni Mitchell plus a Chuck Berry song that I'd never heard before. It wasn't one of his best, but any Chuck Berry song has got to be good right? Except for 'My Dingaling' obviously.

From thirty to forty

I promised myself that I would list boardgames played more frequently than once a month, so here, a mere forty days or so after the last such post, is the list for September:

7 Wonders: Leaders: I like 7 Wonders despite being really bad at it. The leaders aspect is clever, but from my perspective just gives yet more attributes to under-exploit.

Ad Astra: An OK, space-themed game with an interesting mechanism that's a cross between Race for the Galaxy and any number of worker placement games where one bids for turn order. There's an alien technology part to it that for some reason never got triggered in our game.

Codenames: A team word definition game that has nothing whatever to do with its ostensible theme - spy networks - but which is really good fun. It requires skills that the majority of gamers simply don't have, but is nevertheless very entertaining.

Condottiere: Great game and a way of sneaking in some almost wargaming to an evening of not wargaming.

Discoveries: A nice dice based game around the Lewis & Clark expedition. I played the boardgame on the same theme a while ago and enjoyed it. I think that this is better. The theme may or may not be of more interest to those from North America, but the fact that I know next to nothing about it (and have no desire to learn any more) hasn't stopped me enjoying the games.

Harbour: An interesting little game that outstays its welcome. We played with the auction house rule that arose originally out of a misunderstanding. To make the game shorter the target should be expressed in points (20 or 25 say) rather than in buildings built.

Mottainai: I had previously played a print at home version of this and didn't understand it. This time we played two shop-bought sets mashed together, and I didn't understand it.


Polterfass: This is a German bluffing and guessing game about ordering beer which I've owned for years without ever playing. I suspect I shall own for many more years before I play it again.

Quartermaster General: Air Marshall: An expansion that seems to improve an already excellent game.

Qwirkle Cubes: I like this although everyone who has played both says that the tile version is better.

Splendor: Good game, dodgy title spelling. I have trouble because not only are black, blue and green too similar in colour, but their shapes are also much the same.

Spyfall: I think I've done this one before. What sort of spy doesn't know where they are? Another game that requires players to extemporise under time pressure, but which on this occasion doesn't give much in return.

The Voyages of Marco Polo: A combination of the old Waddingtons travel game Go and Ticket to Ride with worker placement mechanisms; and lots of camels. I rather liked it.

To celebrate the new, improved, longer wait for a boardgaming report firstly here's a photograph of Brigitte Bardot:

And secondly here's Ronnie Hawkins' version of Chuck Berry's 'Thirty Days' which, presciently, he decided to record as 'Forty Days':

Of More Mice And About The Same Number Of Men

I have been taken to task by my elder daughter; a not terribly unusual event to be sure. On this occasion it is regarding mice, specifically those of Mousey Thompson. Having described how I had gone far out into the Dales and seen them for the first time, she pointed out to me that the church of St John the Divine in Menston also has them. Considering that church is about 100 metres from the family home (until 'we were pulled apart because her mom did not agree') she asks, with the know-it-all attitude so common in the young, whether it wouldn't have simply been easier to walk round the corner at some point in the last twenty years. Possibly.

The latest exhibition at the Henry Moore Institute is by the late Paul Neague and I have been along to view it and mock. Like all shows at the HMI - and modern art in general - it left me baffled. Having said that, I found the the largest sculpture on display, Nine Catalytic Stations, to be rather peaceful. I have no idea whether that's what the artist was going for, but that's how it struck me.

You talk like Marlene Dietrich

I have also been to Leeds Civic Hall to see Agatha Christie's courtroom drama 'Witness for the Prosecution' performed in the round in the council chamber. The building was more fascinating than the play (it was obvious who'd done it from the off, the twists were unexpected because they were ludicrous and the actress playing Romaine was too young) and it was the first time that I had seen the ground floor. Opened by George V in the 1930s, it is very different to the 'epitome of Northern bombast' Leeds Town Hall which is eighty or so years older. Also interesting is the display of civic gifts received by Lord Mayors down the years. My eye was caught by that from the mayor of Ulan Bator, a rather fine statuette of a mongol warrior; I bet no one would have predicted the receipt and display of that object when the building was first conceived.





                                       

Awopbopaloobop Alopbamboom

I went to the Flying Duck last night to see the rather fine Alex Graham and the Concords. They are a piano trio plus vocalist playing rock and roll (the expected Little Richard and Jerry Lee Lewis plus Chuck Berry, Elvis, Carl Perkins etc) with a smattering of more modern stuff from Queen, T. Rex and so on (I said more modern, I didn't say modern per se), all in a boogie woogie stylie. Highly recommended.

After the gig one of the yummy mummies of Ilkley told me that the band were all students at Leeds College of Music. In one of those coincidences beloved of this blog I had the previous day been to that very institution and whilst I can't confirm that either Alex or the Concords are students there, I can advise that they look as if they might be - four very young men in skinny trousers with hipster beards. I'm glad to say that they eschewed the ponytails though. The college shares a building with BBC Leeds and, more importantly, the Aagrah restaurant. Strangely I haven't yet been summoned in to the former to share my worldview with the good people of West Yorkshire and so apart from numerous visits to the latter - which don't really count - this was my first time inside since it was a construction site. On that occasion I was showing our new audit partner a 'typical' project. Apart from its central location the reason for choosing the College/BBC building as a showcase was that of the two managing engineers (electrical and mechanical) one was a woman and one was black. Possibly you won't be surprised that they were the only ones of either type that we employed across dozens of jobs.

Anyway, my reason for visiting on this occasion was to hear Ed Miliband and Ed Balls speak. [Oh no, it's politics - there go the readers again] on the subject of university tuition fees and, although not much reported in the media, improving opportunities for all young people. I will limit myself to saying that ensuring that everyone in society gets a fair crack of the whip is the primary issue on which I will base my vote in two months time (taking as a prerequisite an aversion to invading other countries on the basis of dodgy dossiers), because I would prefer a society in which there is genuine meritocratic diversity rather than the need to pretend that it exists by a bit of window dressing.

The coolerator was crammed

Last night was the official opening of the wargaming annexe, celebrated with some C&C Napoleonics and lashings of ginger beer.

James admires his hand

James and Peter fought the Pultusk scenario and the former's Russians won quite straightforwardly due to some very handy dice rolling and card drawing. By James that is; Peter couldn't roll or draw anything he wanted all night.

Peter sees no point in even looking at his

A couple of Cavalry Charge cards in a row at the beginning took out Peter's artillery and that was more or less that. He did manage to progress on his right flank, but ran out of cards and had to sit tantalisingly close to the town sectors that would have given him a crucial couple of Victory Points. "C'est la vie" as the old folks say. Anyway, a good time was had by all - except for Peter obviously.

(Si si) Je suis un rock star

This is another music post, which, as the blog has acquired a new reader with expertise in that subject, leaves me rather nervous. It makes one nostalgic for the old days of nothing but a couple of wargamers in their dotage and the trusty Russian spambots. Anyway, be that as it may, I have been to see Bill Wyman’s Rhythm Kings and I need to write about it.

Zank 'eaven....

I hadn’t seen Wyman perform live since Knebworth 1976 at which the Stones notoriously failed to appear until the early hours of the morning. The assumption at the time was of backstage debauchery, of sex and drugs getting in the way of rock’n’roll, but I think these days it’s generally accepted that there was a genuine, boring technical hitch rather than anything more glamorously decadent. The end effect was the same whatever the cause: most people had to watch the set through a haze of tiredness. Not me though. I had been asleep all day, suffering – and I mean suffering – from too many Hosepipes the night before. I briefly came round for 10cc, was OK for Lynryd Skynryd and was fighting fit when the headliners appeared.

So, to the Grand thirty seven years later to find that despite all his excesses Wyman appears to have aged better than me. Certainly musically he was on fine form, as were his band. Unfortunately Georgie Fame was in hospital with pneumonia, but the rest were all excellent. Albert Lee was, almost inevitably, the stand out, but the others – including guest vocalist Maria Muldaur – were no slouches. My personal preference was for the Chicago blues numbers they did (including a belting cover of a Little Walter song the name of which escapes me for the moment), but the version of ‘This is a Man’s World’ sung by Beverly Skeete was also first class. (As a digression, the only time I ever saw James Brown himself that was also the highlight of the set).

I made the point in previous posts that some performers clearly don’t like singing the song with which they are most associated (Elkie Brooks with ‘Pearl’s a Singer’, Ralph McTell with ‘Streets of London’), but Muldaur – someone who hung out with Dylan in New York and appeared regularly with the Grateful Dead – didn’t seem to mind performing ‘Midnight at the Oasis’ at all. It didn’t make it any better though. There weren’t any Stones songs, although there were a few that they had covered such as Irma Thomas’s ‘Time Is On My Side’. Introducing the final encore Wyman announced that he didn’t like the songwriter of the piece they were going to finish with, and I wondered who could have had that effect on the mild-mannered bass player. It turned out to be Chuck Berry and was therefore entirely understandable.

The inventors of the Hosepipe

Upon re-reading this it occurs to me that some of you may not be fully aware of the contents of a Hosepipe. To make one take a pint glass and put in a half of draft Guinness, a bottle of barley wine and a double brandy. It is delicious, with the bitter taste of the stout offset by the sweetness of the barley wine and the warmth of the brandy (you must imagine that description being said in the voice of the man from the Cointreau advert of days gone by), but to avoid the hangover from hell one shouldn’t drink more than the appropriate number. For the avoidance of doubt, the appropriate number is none whatsoever.