The Chefs Played ICA Rock Week

I gave Vince Clarke a cough sweet because he had a sore throat.

Millwall Music Springs Back To Life

Through Twitter I received a really touching request from a chap who was preparing his 94-year-old Grandfather's funeral. It was for the music that I wrote with Lester Square for the Millwall documentary No One Likes Us, We Don't Care. What a poignant revival for something that was really an extraordinary and unexpected pleasure to be involved with!

Later, the person who runs the charity podcast for the team also got in touch to ask if he could use it for his next season's podcast, and after checking with the production company and doing a bit of due diligence on the podcast itself, it's going to find a new home there.

Here's the music, in case you've never heard it: https://soundcloud.com/mccookerybook/no-one-likes-us-we-dont-care

There were multiple variations of the track, but this was the best one.

Man With Long Hair Pays Busker With Long Hair By Card On Windy Day

 

Despatch Rider Resting

So many people wear black clothing. There seemed little point in making this a colour drawing, and motorbikes and scooters are difficult to draw, especially in the hour-long slot that I do.

As always, this was drawn while listening to Gideon Coe and Mark Riley. They are very funny, and at points last night I laughed out loud. They have over the months worked out how to engage with each other with respect, which has probably been difficult because Mark Riley appears to be much more naturally extrovert. From the sound of things, he is very aware of this and pulls back to make space for Gideon Coe to interject, by which point in a typical introvert's fashion, Gideon Coe has built up a head of hilarious understated steam, and comes out with a quip which knocks Mark Riley off the pitch. 

You could even hear their producer laughing out loud in the background last night. Blame any wobbly lines on that, if you please.

Also, I have a gig on 28th May at The Water Rats supporting that Australian singer and song writer Liz Stringer, who has a new album release. Tickets here: https://www.wegottickets.com/event/610734

Bristol and More

Oh I do like playing in Bristol! Whether it's the Thunderbolt or the Knowle Constitutional (or that little pub I once played, or Thekla or St George's Chapel or The Trinity back-in-the-day). It's got a good feeling in the air, a bit of excitement, a bit of love. People smile at you in the street, and it's full of not-normals, which is a wonderfully relaxing environment if you have travelled there from the ironed-flat suburbs. Actually, the street I live in isn't too bad, but it's threatened by a bit of a 'we don't do that here' vibe from some other parts of the 'burb.

Up the steep hill I climbed, with my trusty guitar trying to persuade me to stay at the bottom of the hill. No, petal, we have a gig to do and you're going to really enjoy it! The guitar knows, but just likes to make a fuss so that I appreciate its efforts.

Katy and Kevin were there setting up. It's been granted a Community licence, so now officially belongs to their co-operative. They are happy, and double that because they had such a great time playing in Spain (they are The Lovely Basement and have just come back). I love it in venues when people are taking care of the equipment; the chap in the Thunderbolt hoovers the stage before gigs, and Kevin was cleaning the mike stands because they were sticky. It makes you feel cared about, alongside the building and the equipment.

I met The Woodlice, two men who play bass and guitar and sing. It did occur to me in passing that when I was seventeen, I used to listen to two men playing guitars and singing in Wylam Folk Club, and things haven't changed. But of course, they have: everything has. Instead of being cocky w*nkers (sorry polite self, but sometimes...), these chaps were quiet and played a set of tuneful, neat songs that said a lot very concisely. They were the shortest songs I'd heard since The Jeanines played last year in Scotland, and it was a relief to be able to hear messages delivered in such a meticulously-arranged fashion. Their set was almost like a Christmas stocking, full of small surprises to unwrap, and was just right for the occasion.

There was a decent turnout of Charlie Tippers. I'm sure they are a sort of secret Scout troupe or something, with codenames and badges concealed on the wrong side of their jumpers. It is always a delight when they materialise at a gig, and here they were. Tim was rosy with the success of winning a seat on the council, and they have also just released a new album. There was a very relaxed dog in the audience that changed position for each song: sitting up, lying down casually, bolt upright, and so on. I left out my difficult song (can't tell you what it is in case I hex it even more) but added At The Bathing Pond because it felt as though people might enjoy a bit of singing. It was a lovely afternoon. Thank you K and K for inviting me!

On the way home just before the sun went down, the train ambled through Wiltshire, whose trees have grown extra lush with the rain. Illuminated by saturated air, they were more shades of green than you could possibly imagine, glowing like some sort of undersea photograph in an old National Geographic Magazine. The landscape looked double-tinted and magical. I'm so glad I saw that.

Today, even though it's sunny I've been recording and editing. I hated my bloody songs yesterday, but today I think they're brilliant. That always happens. I now need to lose the hay fever so I can sing proper vocals on them.

I was going to go out for a walk, but I'm too lazy now.

Protootles

A bit of cheap and cheerful JV-Wave for Bandcamp Friday tomorrow:

https://helenmccookerybook.bandcamp.com/album/protootles

Elf on Phone

Hotline to Santa Claus, I believe!  It's challenging still to fit a drawing into an hour. Each time there seems to be something different to concentrate on.

I've had a social week, and a rest from recording. Tomorrow, I'll start replacing some dodgy guitar parts. I have been thinking of guest musicians; not many, again, but it's nice to have some other voices in the conversation.

I've also been having a fight with a bank about online payments not being paid, but that's too boring to write about. I think today I just needed to point out that the mundane things of life run alongside all the more exciting things, and compete for energy in a most displeasing way. Funnily enough, you can't shut an account down online. Who would have thought? It's almost as though they want to force you to keep your account with them!

Back to drawing... I'm going to end up with so many of these 'just a glance' drawings that I wonder if I should try to exhibit some of them somewhere. Or maybe sell them. I don't know. I'll just press on and see where they take me; one lot took me to the Earl's Court residency, so there may be a destination hidden around the corner. I like that idea.
 

99

This chap was in Verulam Park, St Albans, last summer. I can't resist a squidgy ice cream, but no flake for me, please.

I've got several photos of ice cream vans. My favourite one isn't a photo, but a memory: the van-owner of the Earl's Court ice cream van stretched out across the two front seats of his van in the dark, eating a Mr Whippy with a look of utter bliss on his face. It would have simply been too intrusive to ask him for a photo, although I did take one with his permission, of him leaning out of the hatch of the van later on.

Woman With Umbrella

This was at an Extinction Rebellion march last year some time- the same one with the gaggle of pelicans at the edge of St James's Park with their chicks (Ducklings? Peliclets? Piglets?).

I've been in Brixton today, conversing with my friend Rowen in the Black Farmer Café, all drifty music and peace and quiet. On the way there and back, Philip Oltermann's book The Stasi Poetry Circle has been my companion. Craftily, the book changes face as you read it, just as a member of the Stasi might. It's surprisingly inspirational as well as being intriguing. I've had it for ages on the book pile, but I've found secondhand crime novels too addictive to put down. Unfortunately (or maybe fortuitously), last night I finished both of them (one for home, one for away), and had to read a 'proper' book instead, and now I'm glad.

There is so much more information, or food for the imagination, in a book than on that-there-internet. Scrolling is like treading water: a sort of exercise, but it doesn't take you anywhere. Three cheers for movement, both physical and intellectual.

Now to chase the big pigeons off the bird feeder. They are brazen, and just look at me all innocent with their round, unemotional eyes as they grasp at the gutter. Look, guys, why not uproot the aerial garden that's taken root in the gutter mud? How the hell did that get there? There's a thriving row of greenery that could be usefully cleared by the clumsy birds and their destructive, clasping claws. But no, they have taken the easy route and insist on flappily hanging on to the frail plastic bird feeder that eventually falls to the ground where, triumphant, they guzzle the seeds meant for somebody else. 

Bah!

Oh yes, I almost forgot. This is yesterday's one-hour drawing! Doesn't look like her at all and the umbrella is too scribbly, but you sacrifice finish for speed.

A Weekend's Gigging

It's a day of rest today for me. I'm not nearly as tired as I thought I'd be and I had a look to see if I could get a ticket to The Girl With The Replaceable Head's gig tonight, but it's sold out so I'm staying in and drawing instead.

Well. the journey to Newcastle wasn't bad, and I decided to walk from central Toon to The Cumberland Arms and got completely lost in Byker. That was a good thing and a bad thing; bad thing to be lost, but that little area around the Ouseburn is completely charming. It reminded me of an adventure playground for adults; little bridges, reeds, trees, oddball shops and bars. I didn't even really mind the thousand steps up to the pub (not that many, you say? I'm not so sure!). David's drummer, Daren, was outside in the sunshine because TGWTRH were sound checking.

Later, upstairs, the promoter Michael Clunkie was setting up the merch stall. It was freezing up there (and in Newcastle in general), which was a bit of a shock. The fluffy jumper was back at the hotel waiting for Manchester. Silly me! I just always remembered the Cumby as being boiling hot. No matter, the frozen fingers gradually thawed and I think my set went down OK. Lindy liked it, anyway!

Next up was David and Daren, who blasted the wax out of a few people's ears with their complex rhythms and sometimes almost swamp-rock music. I'm fascinated by David's guitar style, which often harks right back to blues playing and knits his singing and Daren's drumming together seamlessly. Excellent fingerpicking there.

Phil Ogg, Simon Brough and a couple of their friends turned up and thankfully, Michael let them in (this gig was sold out too). I was delighted that my friend Carol Alevroyianni came along; Pauline and Rob from Penetration were there too of course, and I had a rapid catch-up with Pauline about writing songs. I hope to be interviewing her about her book at Rebellion in August. 

The room was packed when TGWTRH took to the stage. They were absolutely wonderful. Most of the first part of their set was new songs from their just-released album. All of the musicianship was excellent: Lindy's drumming was tight and polished, the bass was strong and melodic, Taff's guitar playing was fab and had that Ennio Morricone atmospheric feel a lot of the time, and Sylvia was note-perfect and honey-toned, sounding like a cross between Francoise Hardy and Dusty Springfield. 

Anyone going to their gig at The Waiting Room tonight, you are in for a treat! I have looked for their new album on Bandcamp but it's not there yet: I'm definitely adding that to the shopping list for when I get a proper record player (soon, I hope). They were so fresh-sounding and energised; it was completely inspiring to see them. 

Lovely to see Tony Crawley and his partner again too, and quite a few other people who live in this bubble of music!

The hotel was bloody freezing when I got back. There was what I thought was a dying orchid in my room, but it turned out to be a fabric one (that was still dying). There had been an air of hysteria (crying receptionist) and the bed was covered in a variety of cushions, so many of them. It was like a cushion zoo! I piled my coat on the bed and caught enough zeds to enable a brisk walk around the Toon. 

Oh, Newcastle's still a mad place! The homeless man reading a paperback with the title 'SERIAL KILLERS' on display in bright colours on its covers. And when I came out of a side entrance of the Eldon Centre and was admiring the Victorian statue heads inset into the wall, a man walked up from the street and said 'I'm a Geordie and I never even knew they were here, and I've been drunk all my life. Thank you!'.

Newcastle, I love you. You have my heart forever!

In Manchester, I hopped on the 192 bus to the Talleyrand. David and Daren were there already setting up. It's a smaller venue, and Saturday's promoter is a musician in a local band. The pub has a real community vibe, and I bumped into Ian Lowey and Suzy Prince just outside. They used to run a magazine called Nude together a few years ago, and now run a bookshop opposite the pub; Ian came to the gig later on. I was thrilled that Jamie McDermot came (who kickstarted this whole second post-wifehood music career of mine, has the fabulous band The Irrepressibles and gives the best hugs); so did Juliet (long time no see!), Paul Magrs and Jeremy Hoad (and we reminisced about the weird book event we met at with the flirty alpacas, and the miniature goats who trotted casually into the dressing room), Cazz Blase of course (thank you for the perceptive review), Derek Tyman (who put on the Beefheart musical at Bury Museum), and a young woman who said we'd met when I was busking in the street in London, and afterwards I'd sent her a postcard. It was a very friendly night. The sound guy, Tommy, was a guitarist and seemed intrigued by both mine and David's playing styles. Rather than that being a pressure, it was confidence-inspiring, and I think we both had a good playing night.

Raucous bus journey back into Manchester, mad hotel experience (bouncers on the door, boiling hot room with no windows), but that's all part of the adventure. Photos later on!

Photo by Nik Cockshott

Fight Back Against The Baddies

Always get your guitar out from under your bed, your crayons out from the drawer, the paints out from the back of the wardrobe, the pencil and paper you bought just in case! Live, create, document your feelings and your life. Always encourage other people: there is room here for all of us.

And it's the best way to Fight Back Against The Baddies!

Newcastle, Manchester, Home

Friday's hotel was so cold I slept with my coat on the bed, and Saturday's was so hot and stuffy that I spent the night sweltering. I'm too tired today to write up what were two really nice gigs, but here is Cazz Blase's review of last night, which neatly sums it up. And I have to say that at both gigs I was knocked out to see so many people turn up from back in the day. And the 192 bus from Levenshulme to Piccadilly is a riot!

https://cazzblase.blogspot.com/2024/04/helen-mccookerybook-and-david-lance.html

Newcastle

Heading north today to the sold-out Girl With The Replaceable Head gig! I went to see Galen and Paul on Wednesday, they were fab. No time to write a review but here is some of their music from the night:

Ghettotech Track By Sistah G

 If you listen all the way through you'll hear one of my jingles! Sistah G is from Utrecht and makes her own mixes to play at street parties. I'm honoured to feature in one of her tracks, especially alongside America Ferrera whose speech in the Barbie movie makes me cry every time I hear it.

The rest of the jingles are here: https://helenmccookerybook.bandcamp.com/album/feminist-jingles

Delivery Drivers

This is last night's one-hour documentary drawing, of some very cold delivery drivers-in-waiting in Stratford outside Tarbucks. I've removed the 'S' until they pay their taxes- that's not a spelling error.

This morning I recorded backing vocals for Toni Tubna's band the Grensons, under the pseudonym Weejun Startrite. I couldn't decide between that or Ravel Camper, but chose the former name. I've still got Hay Fever so the top notes are tough, but I've gained at least a note down there in the chest area. Gruff, gruff!

He edited yesterday's bass line (I didn't know the chords and hazarded the wrong guess in one part of the song) and added my vocals; now the track has gone to Robert. Let's see what he comes up with!

I've been getting my hands used to playing a solid body guitar for the weekend. There's going to be a lot of travel and I think the Gretsch is too bulky and fragile to take on numerous train journeys this weekend. Thankfully, they recognised the grip of the different fretboard but I'll rehearse again tomorrow just in case.

The Chefs album has gone to the pressing plant, I believe. Update as soon as I hear anything.