Some random cultural stuff for you to peruse………the spirit surrounding culture……..indeed………
WHEN IN ROME
When Liverpool FC played Roma away, the lads took their newly-made banners with them…….
Sam, my son, & his mate Jamie on tour
Sam’s banner taking pride of place in a bar
Luckily, those police who were Lazio fans were on duty everywhere!
Album Review
Conil - Strange Part Of The Country
Conil found me on Instagram and, after chatting about Greece, I discovered he had released a truly magnificent album several years ago. I promised him I would review it. Here goes.
I’ve always been a sucker for a slow burner which suddenly and unexpectedly explodes into life. The opener, Dog Meat Stew, introduces itself with just the singer and an acoustic guitar, immediately suggesting that you’re going to be listening to something like Joni Mitchell or early James Taylor. Next moment you’re surrounded by heavy psych guitars and an unlikely barrage of incredible instrumentation from this inspired band. It’s a brave start. You’re left wondering how you’ve never heard of this stuff! The title-track follows and there’s no let-up in the brilliance. Strange Part Of The Country heads straight for the chorus in its radio-friendly sing-along style. This could have been Conil’s Noughties anthem.
Years Between lets you get your breath back for a while as Danny Thompson plays some lovely light lines and Conil opts for a complete change of vocal style. It works effortlessly. It’s become apparent by now that the simple song structures allow the musicians complete freedom to create their own unique atmosphere. You’d be forgiven to think it was all done live and off-the-cuff.
Then it gets a bit weird. The first time you play the album you wonder why this track is there. Round Midnight is Conil’s homage to the jazz greats. Even Charlie Parker gets a nod. However, after you become familiar with the rest of the songs, you understand its essential place in the sessions. Rumoured to have the legendary Peter Green onboard, this tour-de-force has a “just returned from the pub” approach and it’s all the better for it. With Conil wearing his Screaming Jay Hawkins hat, we’re immersed into the late-night howling of a New Orleans bar. It’s gorgeous stuff - I could listen to an album of this kind of drunken sleaze on its own.
Then the band take us into darker more mysterious territory, reminding me of the avant-garde Bunnymen period of Porcupine. After The Hole is my favourite track. There’s a light keyboard intro, eastern notes and an ethereal mood. To my ears, this is a highlight and a production masterclass.
What a side of vinyl that would have been!
Time Settles and, perhaps, we do get a chance to settle. Acoustic guitar and some brushes on the kit slow things down. It’s almost a folk club ditty. Old Irish Drunks does some name-checking and is almost a straight traditional country tune until the trademark Conil sound comes crashing in toward the climax. Strange noises and a scream introduce Kitty’s Wake, which charmingly reminds of a 60s psychedelic pop delight, in the mode of Barrett & Co.
Waterfall is another banger. There’s a kindred spirit to After The Hole and again we’re kind of in Pink Floyd territory. I can only describe it as psych-folk. I’d love to hear a ten-minute version of this beauty.
Camden Town, with its gentle acoustic picking, is a gentle lullaby, perhaps to send us to bed? You could do with a lie-down after all that. And that’s it. It’s quite an achievement. I wasn’t sure where to file the CD, so I stuck him next to John Martyn and in between Joe Ely & Emmy-Lou Harris. I reckon that’s about right.
What a legacy that is! If you only make one album, make sure it’s a monumental one.
You can purchase this album from bandcamp at conil.bandcamp.com
The Ballad Of Mr Mentios
My withered limbs don’t bend
And the bloody things ache!
Limp once and limp twice,
The wreckage of life.
Slaving away all day, slaving for others!
Everyone beats me, masters, slaves,
all the same: everyone, slaves and masters
abandon me to starve.
The children, the good children,
competed in their education
with stones to the belly,
and a fistful of flies to the bollox!
Up the village, down the village,
Uphill, Downhill
Even in the burning heat and rain,
Until my soul caved in.
For twenty years a beast
I’ve burdened a whole quarry
And I built, at the entry,
the church of the village.
And yoked to the ox
(But different in height and gait)
I ploughed in the ravines,
the acres of the master
And in war “all for all”
I used to carry machine guns
for people to be killed
for master’s food.
And for this kid
I carried the bride
and her dowry a mountain,
her honour the sky!
But myself, on one peg
they tied me for the month of May
in the bare field
so that I could bray, to lament
And the Priest with his belly
took me for his work
and, swaying, spoke to me:
- “Christ sat astride you!”
“Work so that the entire Country
and the Few be stuffed.
Don’t ask how and why.
Just seek Virtue!”
Donkey - “ I can’t stand it! I’ll collapse somewhere!”
Priest - “Shame on you! Shame on your forebears!”
Donkey - “I’m dizzy! …….I’m starving!………..”
Priest - “Shut up! You’ll eat in Heaven!”
And I said to myself: when one day
50 Old Age grips me tight
I will rest too,
God’s own beast-of-burden!
No beating! No more loads!
They will offer me a niche,
A little drink and hay,
Pension for so many years!
And when, one fine evening,
the oil in my lamp burns out,
I’ll exhale my last breath
(one puff! It’s life)
My soul will rush out
into the warm embrace of Abraham
to kiss his white
strawish beard! ……..
I grew old and as I was ‘good for nowt’
and I rolled around as a ‘good for nothing,’
they cast me far away
so that wild beasts could eat me.
I scraped my arse off and find (myself)
in the caves of Saint Francis:
Donkey - “Hail true light
and Protector of animals!
Save old Mr Mentios
from the injustices of my master
you, who taught Mr Wolf
to become a lamb!
Make the cruel master
make him human from a wolf!”
But with this conversation
80 he shut the door and his ear on me.
Then a black snake
spits out its forked tongue
behind the thorns
and rattles it with force:
Donkey- “You blockheads and rayahs
seek light from the heavens,
but gods and devils
are not there rather than over here.
If you want justice, my good chap,
90 with the justice of war
you will find it. Whoever desires
Freedom, takes a sword.
Don’t beat your brother -
(but) your master, the deaf!
And in your own sweat
You become the master.
Hurry up, victim! C’mon, sucker!
Hurry up, eternal Symbol!
If you wake up, all at once
the Wide World will turn upside down.
Look! The others have started
and the universe has turned red
and another sun has risen
over another sea, another land.”
A poem by Kostas Varnalis
Translated from the original Greek (see image below)
It’s an allegorical poem of life as seen through the eyes of a donkey. Mentios is still today associated with donkeys.
The poem was given to me in 2015 by Sakis, owner of the Dilemma Bar in Alykanas, Zakynthos. Here is the web link:
Sakis is fond of Marxist theory and he photocopied the poem for me to read. The translation took much longer than anticipated, since Varnalis adopts words from other languages and some very unusual Greek words (which cannot be found in dictionaries!). Varnalis also liked to invent words. Sakis didn’t tell me this.
I first met Sakis in 2007 not long after he started his business. Every year he added a new feature to his bar. It has since become a multi-faceted environment for his customers. Sakis is the epitome of hospitality. He is also crazy!
Bacchetta’s 50 Years of 45s
The Selection window of the original jukebox from the 70s
Every Italian cafe in the Welsh Valleys had a jukebox, if they knew what’s good for them! The Bacchetta’s cafe was no exception. Check out the delights above.
Just look at the state of the interior of this poor jukebox! The electrics are completely shot and nothing works. An attempt at rescuing the records is currently afoot.
The majority of the discs are covered in grime and dust. We hope to clean them all up. There are some genuine treasures to be found (photo 4). Pistols on EMI.
Photographs of the cafe in its heyday and of the beautiful countryside of Bardi where the family emigrated from. Some history, too, of the cousins.