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Memories

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Alan White
1949 – 2022
Vangelis Papathanassiou
1943 – 2022
RIP

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It is with great sadness that I find myself reflecting on the passing of two giants of the musical scene – drummer Alan White and keyboard player and composer Vangelis Papathanassiou – each of whom featured heavily in the evolution of popular music over the last five decades and thus its influence on those who follow it. For me this was the period during which my own musical tastes were formed.

Alan White joined a favourite band of my younger years – Yes – in 1972, replacing the much loved Bill Bruford. Famously, Yes were about to tour the US (a tour which formed the backbone of the live album – YesSongs) and White had three days to learn their complex material. Fortunately he was no novice, being already known for his work with John Lennon and Yoko Ono’s Plastic Ono Band, as well as for Ginger Baker’s Air Force, Joe Cocker and George Harrison.

I first saw Yes live in London in 1975, at Loftus Road (the home of soccer club Queen’s Park Rangers). Another well known member of the band – Rick Wakeman – had left before the recording of their then latest album – Relayer – and they had invited Vangelis (who had at that point been part of Aphrodite’s Child with Demis Roussos) to replace him. Vangelis turned the band down (being, apparently, reluctant to travel) so I saw them in 1975 with Patrick Moraz on keyboards.

Vangelis – who is probably best known for his celebrated award-winning soundtracks for films such as Chariots of Fire and Bladerunner – did eventually team up with Yes’s vocalist – Jon Anderson – as the successful duo Jon and Vangelis.

It is always sad to mark the passing of one’s ‘heroes’ and they will both be sadly missed.

 

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Rodney Marsh
1947 – 2022
Shane Warne
1969 – 2022
RIP

A FILE photo shows wicketkeeping great Rod Marsh (left) with Shane Warne.—Reuters

It seems somehow wrong to be writing about something as apparently trivial as sport with the world currently enveloped in darkness. It is, on the other hand, perhaps exactly the right moment to be considering things that can, on occasion, be noble and pure – and represent some of those qualities about our species which can be positive. Either way I cannot ignore the occasion of the sad passing – mere days apart – of two of the legends of a sport that still, to many, represents our human nature in one of its finest forms.

I inherited a passionate love of cricket from my mother (Father – bless him – did not do sport at all) and I thank her most fervently for that. I grew up following the game in the 60s, 70s and 80s and beyond – and then, when quite old enough to know better, took up playing village cricket in my mid forties. I turned out for our local side reasonably regularly right up until our departure for Canada.

Anyone who followed the recent Ashes series ‘down under’ might understandably complain about the current parlous state of English cricket. Though I would not blame anyone for so doing I would just draw attention to the wide variety of previous eras in which we also came off second best at the hands of those who wear the ‘green baggy’. Throughout the 1970s we were not only regularly pulverised  by the memerising pace of the West Indian quicks (fast bowlers) but also routinely humiliated by the unearthly powers of the great Dennis Lillee and the wild and uncontrollable Jeff Thompson. If they were bowling you can bet your bottom dollar that, twenty two (and a fair bit more) yards away would be the Aussie wicket keeper – Rodney Marsh. The familiar statement – “Bowled Lillee – Caught Marsh” – graced all too many scorecards.

As quoted in The Guardian the current Australian Captain – Pat Cummings – said of Marsh.

I, along with countless other people in Australia, grew up hearing the stories of him as a fearless and tough cricketer, but his swashbuckling batting and his brilliance behind the stumps over more than a decade made him one of the all-time greats of our sport, not just in Australia, but globally, When I think of Rod I think of a generous and larger-than-life character who always had a life-loving, positive and relaxed outlook, and his passing leaves a massive void in the Australian cricket community.”

Cruel fate that the legendary Aussie leg spin bowler, Shane Warne, should pass away just a few days later. Crueler yet that Warne was a relatively young man at 52. Matthew Engel wrote in his Guardian obituary:

Shane Warne, who has died aged 52 of a suspected heart attack, was almost certainly the greatest spin bowler cricket has ever produced. More than that, he was one of the most outsize personalities of any sport. Everything he did in his game and his life was on a grand scale: he lived fast and, it transpires, died young. Warne singlehandedly revived the discipline of leg-spin, which by the time he burst into Test cricket in the 1990s was almost a lost art. He arrived into an Australia team that had already embarked on a run of eight Ashes series wins and made it overwhelmingly stronger – he was still in the business of terrorising Englishmen when he retired from Test cricket 14 years later”.

I will certainly not be alone in remembering clearly watching on the BBC the occasion on which Warne made his test debut in the UK. With the then English captain, Mike Gatting, at the crease the ball was tossed to Warne for his first spell. The very first ball turned off the pitch nearly at right angles and, having pitched well outside the leg stump, clipped the top of the off stump. Gatting could do nothing but stand and stare in amazement. Truly (as almost immediately dubbed) “The ball of the century“.

It is perhaps the nature of the game almost as much as the way that these two larger than life characters played it that they will be missed in the UK (and beyond!) almost as much as they will be in Australia.

 

 

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I posted to this forum a little under a year ago a somewhat reflective missive entitled ‘Time Passes’. The subject of that post was this very journal; the trigger for my writing it the circumstance that the ninth anniversary of my very first blog post had then but recently occurred.

I pondered the actuality that I had certainly not set out to embark on a project that would shamble on for quite such a long time – its longevity having surprised me just as much as I imagine it would anyone else who devoted so much as a moment’s thought to the matter.

I wrapped up that epistle by musing that – having gotten so close – I really did feel inclined to keep things going for long enough that my efforts would have encompassed an entire decade!

And here we are! Hoorah!!

I can’t help thinking that some sort of celebration might be in order, though not – heaven forfend – anything that breaches Covid protocols (or indeed breaks the law). I am not sure what form that might sensibly take.

Last year I included some statistics – for them as likes such things. Here they are again – but updated (with last year’s figures in brackets).

In the nine ten years that I have been writing this blog I have written 1025 (925) posts (averaging just over 100 posts a year – approximately two a week). If the internal statistics are to be believed I have written a little over 401,000 (365,000) words in that time and uploaded some 2,845 (2,590) images – many of them my own photographs.

As I wrote last year – “Not bad, huh“?!

In last year’s post I toyed with the notion of it long being time to wind things up. In the light of some most kind and affirmative remarks from gentle readers I determined instead to keep things going.

My thought this year would be that I could perhaps reduce the frequency of my posts, from the current average of around two a week to just a single weekly post. It is not that I mind the discipline of knocking out regular posts but as I get older I do wonder if there is still enough of interest on which to report.

Do let me know what you think…

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Antony Sher

1949 – 2021

RIP

It is, sadly, that time of year when those who are elderly or infirm – or who have been fighting against illness or disease – are perhaps at their most vulnerable. It should come as no surprise that amongst the number of those who pass at this time there will inevitably be found great men and women whose loss – though no more profound than those less known – may touch a greater number of those of us who remain.

It is but a few days since Stephen Sondheim was mourned in these jottings – and of course in many other fora. Now comes news of the passing of the great Shakespearean actor – Antony Sher. Sher was born and brought up in South Africa in the 1950s and 60s, before fleeing to London to train to be an actor. His record as a great Shakespearean – with the Royal Shakespeare Company and with other prestigious companies – is detailed splendidly in many other places and one could do worse than to start with Wikipedia.

Sher also wrote a number of books and his memoir of the year in which he played Richard III at the RSC – a role that cemented his reputation – was published in 1985 as “The Year of the King“.

Sher was married to Greg Doran – the Artistic Director of the RSC. I had the very great fortune to meet both men whilst working at my penultimate school. Doran had – as I recall – been invited to judge one of the School’s many competitions and Antony Sher accompanied him. At the dinner that inevitably follows such events I found myself sitting beside the latter for a while. I had just read his autobiography – “Beside Myself” – in which he wrote movingly about his relationship with his late father. At that point (in the early 2000s) my father had also recently died and we had a conversation about the effect that this has on one. He was entirely gracious and thoughtful and I was most grateful that he had been prepared to be so open with someone that he had not previously met.

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Stephen Sondheim

1930 – 2021

RIP

 

Sad news yesterday of the passing of the last of the four iconic creators of what is almost certainly the best musical ever conceived – West Side Story. Jerome Robbins, Leonard Bernstein and Arthur Laurents were all in their late thirties at the point at which the show was created in the late 1950s, whereas Sondheim was the baby of the quartet at just 26 years of age.

I was slightly (though entirely unreasonably) shocked to learn that Sondheim was 91. Time really has flown! West Side Story has been with us for pretty much all of my life and – though I have not myself been involved in a production – I have been close to those who have on numerous occasions.

Sondheim is also, of course, renowned for many other groundbreaking productions in music theatre in addition to West Side Story (Company, Follies, Into the Woods, Sunday in the Park with George, A Little Night Music etc). Others far more qualified will write far better valedictions than can I; and I commend them to you.

Way back in the mid 1980s I saw Sondheim give a most erudite platform at the National Theatre in London, to accompany the National’s production of Sunday in the Park with George. If ever I find myself musing that his work tends to be rather too cerebral (and clever!) and not to carry a sufficiently direct emotional charge I remind myself that he also wrote the immortal ‘Send in the Clowns‘.

‘Nuff said. Respect!

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I had an odd experience this evening…

I had just returned – on a dismal and dank November Wednesday evening – from  three hours teaching on the trot at the College. It was almost dark when I reached home and I was the first one back.

I made myself a cup of coffee – as is my habit upon returning home – and settled down with my iDevice to scan the headlines, to bring myself up to date with the goings on in the world.

Now – I was pretty tired… which may explain some of this – and I am getting on a bit… which may explain more.

I was scrolling down through the BBC website and happened upon a list of the ‘Most Read‘ news stories of the day. One of the items was the announcement of the death of Sir Sean Connery. As I studied the tributes I was overcome by emotion and my eyes filled with tears. This was clearly the end of an era.

At this point The Girl arrived home and immediately recognised that something was troubling me. Worried that I had had some bad news she quizzed me gently. I hastened to explain and to reassure her.

It took me yet a while more before the – “Hold on a minute!” – moment struck. Sean Connery died last year. I wrote an entry to this journal at the time. What was I thinking?

I hastened back to the BBC. Sure enough – at number seven in the list of ‘Most Read‘ news stories today was the item from last year announcing Connery’s death.

At a time when the nations of the world are gathered at COP26 in Glasgow in a (perhaps hopeless) attempt to save the world from climate change… in a period when the global COVID-19 pandemic threatens to burst forth anew across the globe… on a day when the US electorate have apparently forgiven and forgotten the GOP’s appalling behaviour over the past five years – on a day when the tory party in the UK has brazenly declared open season for corruption and sleaze in UK politics…

…the seventh most read story of the day was about the death of a film icon a year ago!

Most interesting!

Mind you – given how the story managed to affect me all over again a year on, perhaps that should not come as such a surprise.

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Charlie Watts
1941 – 2021
RIP

Charlie_Watts_Berlinale_2008.jpg: Siebbi derivative work: Miss-Sophie, Charlie Watts Berlinale 2008 cropped, CC BY 3.0

A less-happy side-effect of being gifted a moderately long life (and one of course with many years yet to run – one hopes!) is that as one ages one increasingly observes the passing not just of those who are close and loved, but also of major ‘public’ figures whose achievements and even whose simple existence has throughout the years touched the lives of so many. In this online journal I like to acknowledge those whose very passing, in my view, changes the world as we know it.

I was never the biggest Rolling Stones fan but I certainly acknowledge their genius within their field. At least two of their works are, as far as I am concerned, timeless classics: ‘Gimme Shelter‘ and ‘You Can’t Always Get What you Want‘.

I saw them once – at the old Wembley Stadium in London. Jagger was extraordinary but as a whole they somewhat underwhelmed. Even in that show, however, I couldn’t help but recognise the essential contribution that Charlie Watts made to the band’s sound. There are many technically gifted drummers in the world but there are few whose style is so distinctive that – even when maintaining a simple back-beat – they are instantly recognisable. Charlie Watts was numbered amongst that elite.

The many tributes already published make it clear that Watts was a thoroughly likeable, modest and self-effacing man who contrived to make it relatively unscathed through the mayhem that seemed to exemplify the Stones existence back in the latter part of the last century.

Can the Stones continue touring without Charlie Watts? Should they? Who knows – but he will be sadly missed by many…

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No words

I try – for the most part – to keep the posts to this gazette relatively light-hearted, the which – for the most part – reflects the blessed lives that The Girl and I lead out here in Beautiful British Columbia. Regular readers will know that this praxis occasionally falls by the wayside should there be happenings out in the wider world on which I just feel the absolute need to comment.

It is our great good fortune that only very rarely are there circumstances in which the dark clouds gather nearer to home and that some grim situation intrudes upon our privileged existence.

This, sadly, is one such…

The Girl has been greatly affected in this last period by the news from our very doorstep of the terrible discovery of the unmarked graves of 215 children at the former Kamloops Residential School here in BC. This news has been published around that world and you may have already read something of it wherever you are. The Girl was… is… understandably deeply upset by the news and moved to put something into words.

With your indulgence I will upload her reflections in my next post:

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HRH Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh

1921 – 2021

RIP

There have already been many tributes paid to Prince Philip, who died today at the age of 99. There will be many more such in days to come. Our thoughts are with The Queen; she and the Duke had been married for seventy three years.

On such occasions it seems inevitable that all and sundry will trot out their anecdotes concerning the prince. For what it is worth – here is mine:

I was only once in the same space as the Duke – way back in the mists of time before the turn of century. I was invited to attend a Gala Dinner somewhere in the midlands of the UK in support of a charitable foundation that I can no longer can recall. Philip was doubtless the patron of said charity and was the guest of honour at the gala.

Now – it happened that on the night in question a very important (if such a thing there could be!) football match was taking place. I believe that it was the semi-final of some footie contest between England and Germany (or West Germany – depending exactly when this took place). There was much grumbling amongst the attendees of the dinner – many of whom would have preferred to be at home watching the game.

For a while the Master of Ceremonies – who was in any case making regular announcements – kept the assembled throng up to date with the score from the match, which England were at that point leading. Then all of a sudden the announcements dried up. Word went around the room that Germany had equalised and that Philip had decreed that no further updates should be given.

Several courses later I chanced to look around the room – which seemed less crowded than it had before. I was slightly surprised to observe that the Duke and I were amongst only a very few men left in the room, all others being of the fairer sex. Again, word went around that there was a large screen TV in the kitchens, the which had been thoughtfully provided so that the chefs could keep an eye on the game. Now – I have no interest in such matters and the Duke clearly could not slip out to have a look… so thus we remained.

Yet another while later and there was a muffled groan from somewhere offstage and all of a sudden a hoard of be-tuxed chaps wearing disconsolate expressions filed back into the room. It seemed that England had once again (as was/is their habit) lost on penalties.

I like to think that the Duke had been wise enough to have privately predicted the potential outcome and had thus made a smart choice.

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Image by <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/friis-236854/?utm_source=link-attribution&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=image&amp;utm_content=333574">Philip Friis</a> from <a href="https://pixabay.com/?utm_source=link-attribution&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=image&amp;utm_content=333574">Pixabay</a>Well now… I figure that I owe all good, gentle and most patient readers something like half of a story – and as I aim to be a man of my word…

No recaps! If you want to catch up click here to revisit the last post and thus glean all there is to know up to this point; I’m just going to plough straight on ahead.

So – ‘Go West’ were recording in Gary, Dave and Rod’s studio, with Gary producing and Dave doing the synth programming and keyboard work. This was the early 80s, the era of synth-pop, the which had come about because of the advent of such seminal keyboards as the Sequential Circuits Prophet 5, the Roland Jupiter 8, the Yamaha DX7, the Korg M1 (of which I still have one which sits next to me as I write) and the ground-breaking Fairlight – so Dave’s particular talents were suddenly much in demand.

Gary and Dave worked on demo versions of two ‘Go West’ tracks – “Call Me” and “We Close Our Eyes” – which so impressed the record companies to which they were submitted that there was virtually a bidding war to sign the duo. ‘Go West’ became – for a while – pretty big in Europe (if not in North America) and toured there and as far afield as Japan. Needing augmentation for touring and recording they took on Gary and Dave as ‘permanent’ members. I remember Dave sending me a postcard from Japan when they were touring there.

As with many such genres synth-pop slowly faded from musical fashionability and ‘Go West’ faded with it – though the various constituent members are still working as far as I can tell (as would seem to be the case with many 80s bands).

Now – you may ask – why do I bring this all up right now? The answer is that – as mentioned before – the pandemic and associated lock-downs has led to a certain introspection and backward-looking – a certain affectionate wallowing in nostalgia, if you like. Long story, short – having lost touch with Dave at some point in the mid-80s I recently spent some time on the InterWebNet trying to find out what happened him. As is often the way in such circumstances I discovered some things that I had not previously known.

The band that Gary, Dave and Rob had formed back in the early 80s was called ‘Radar’. At the point at which they were swept up in the whole ‘Go West’ circus they were approaching the end of recording their own first album which was to have been titled “Lost in the Atlantic“. With everything else that was happening to them at the time that work was put on the back burner – and subsequently the album was never released…

…until now! This very year – just over a month ago – it finally came out in a limited release on a specialist label – Escape Music. You can read all about it here – and should you be an enthusiast for mid-80s synth-pop you might just care to give it a listen.

On a personal note it seems to me a somewhat strange synchronicity that – having lost touch with Dave at around the time this music was being created – I should next think to track him down (virtually!) at the point that it was finally released nearly four decades later.

Funny old world – ain’t it?

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