the illumination at canning town (roses and snow)

horsemouth is slightly headachey - no surprises really (a beer with john smith, a can of fosters with andy and paddy, a white mulled wine and a red mulled wine out in a cold canning town). horsemouth was out to witness the illumination at canning town - there was a samba band under the flyover (most excellent) and a cold looking stick in the wheel played clustered round a single microphone and with a minimum of banter. horsemouth chatted with georgina brett who does a voice into multiple guitar delays solo choir thing (or will do up at the others in stoke newington on sunday 7th december together with idiot st. crazy, hems, darkroom, darren sangita and himanish goswamy for a fiver) but not tonight - too cold. once, she said, she'd spent 6 months rehearsing for 3 hours a day to sing a piece by stockhausen as part of a large choral ensemble, annotating the score to work out what stockhausen was doing (but then she'd also played in a samba band).


check it out - robbie basho and tablas too...

horsemouth bumped into vic as well (who, busy as ever, is doing a tea dance at which ivan will be appearing at finsbury town hall). he bumped into jamie lucie also.

it was the library that finished them off and sent them all their various ways - there was a bar - but it was in a library - the books were hidden and the carpet covered with clingfilm but still it was in a library and thus sacred space.

three weeks to the solstice and thus to horsemouth's next gig - ('what are you? a druid?' remarked john smith). next week horsemouth labours in his standard pattern. today he will stock up on museli ahead of the apocalypse. yesterday he and john smith went for pizza and did some more work on noah, he played his version of satan your kingdom must come down to andy and paddy.

apart from last night it's unseasonably warm, the warming seas are producing a plague of giant lobsters soon they will begin swimming towards land and the (brief) age of the crustacean will dawn. horsemouth is with the somewhat grumpy richard hoggart (beset around with relativism and commercialism) - hoggart looks for good bad books, the kind of generic trash that stimulates thought and motivates feeling. horsemouth would cite philip k. dick's work as an example of this. hoggart quotes c.s. lewis 'the ideally bad book is one of which a good reading is impossible' - a book so braindead and of its type that nothing other can be made of anything in it.