: all the latest news about Anthony...
|2009/01/28 23:23 - ever circling chant of|
...I am dismayed by the child like glee of my otherwise sound minded friend's concerning Obama.
Dismayed, I suppose, because it means they still have faith in both the political system and in America.
...isn't it obvious that nobody capable of real change (E.G. stopping 'The War' or outlawing criminal farming practices etc) would ever be allowed to be president?
Such changes (Civil rights for instance) comes about DESPITE politics.
Obama, in my opinion, like every Prez since Johnson, is a totem, a figurhead.
I don't know who is actually pulling his strings or who was pulling Bush's etc (I like to think its Giant Ants) but every President fears this faction far more than he fears public or even his own moral disapproval.
Maybe Obama doesn't know that he is powerless yet. Maybe you're introduced to the real power after induction. He looks real right now but that won't last.
...besides which, Empires have a lifespan as natrual and inflexible as the seasons and America's is dying.
Nothing fundamental will change under this president.
Still.. at least he (and his wife) is a looker...
Check these documentaries out -
Penderecki - Orchestral Works, Vol 1
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I understand your cynicism, Anthony, but as an American I am happy and proud to see an African-American get elected President of the US. That in itself is a huge positive change and gives real hope to many people -- I still say hope can't be a bad thing. Maybe you think I am naive, and maybe I am, but one day after the inauguration I still have hope that Obama is for real and that he will have the strength of character to somehow put the good of the people ahead of the political system...even if it is in just minute doses.
Thanks for the links; I will check them out tonight.
Posted by edie1964 on Wednesday, January 21, 2009 - 3:56 PM
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Bard of Ely
I was dismayed that Dylan said he supported Obama!
Posted by Bard of Ely on Monday, January 26, 2009 - 5:54 PM
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I think most people are excited by the mere fact that a Bush hasn't got in again...I could go on and on but I won't. As dear Bill hicks said 'Democrat? Republican? two different Gloves worn by the same power'....
But believe me, its bullshit and the vote is a game.
Posted by Anthony Reynolds on Monday, January 26, 2009 - 6:22 PM
|2009/01/06 00:51 - 009|
Throwing stale Gnocchi into the Medittareanen Sea
Buffeted on the grey cusp of the so called New Year
(Ask the rocks, the sand, the bottles, the stopped watch what time it is)
Nothing had changed
Everything had changed
Having awoken a Virgin again
I was in touch with my fifteen year old self
No one else was
(Insert medium guffaw)
|The Sea birds ignored the food|
It sank before they had a chance to investigate
But I knew from recent experience
(Very recent, approximately 15 minutes before)
That even the land birds
Or whatever you call them
(Count failed birdwatcher among my many distinctions)
Didn’t like this budget Gnocchi
(A sudden scary thought at the kind of person that did like it…)
| I owed the water something|
I owed several people something
I owed myself more than I could pay back or had borrowed
I physically ached to throw off this eternal internal biography
But it could have been just my dangerously high uric acid level
Humming penance toward my perfumed blood
(Turkish delight it smells like)
Boredom was turning my mind to mulch
Turning to the candy coloured beachfront houses
My kidneys stung
|Strangers chased a Kite just far away enough|
Dogs fought beyond my orbit
I passed a dead monkey doll in the sand
(Later I’d collect a dog skull which is now drowned in my bath)
“Me on a beach” I thought
Trying to remember whose title that was
I faked faking it and headed for the tram
|“You’re a fucking liar, Reynolds”|
Nothing could disguise
The memory of a whole previous life
Slicing me like a knife
Through black market
The deepening ember
In the mirror
Of someone else’s eyes
|2008/12/31 16:25 - cups in movies, dennis hopper, the nigerian whores of valencia, hangover squared.. |
...just some random thoughts that have squirreled into my indestructible brain and out again...
I like Christmas time. Why should that suprise..?
It lost religeous significance for me when I lost religion (That was me over in the corner, circa 1993). And Since becoming a bachelor boy I no longer give or receive significant presents this time of year... (Although big thanks to you know who for the sublime bottle of Marques De Caceres 1982!)...
But I like the easefullness of this time of year..... There's little point in trying to find projects/Work/money..everyone is busy...so one can truly drift. I guess it helps that I don't have much family (just parents - and a brother I haven't spoken to in a year)...its the one time of year i can truly relax.
I also get a weird compulsion to watch 'Trash' TV - Rockford files, Rising damp, Streets of saint francisco..this year its 'Nash bridges'...
I DJ'd the other night. (Thanks to judith for arranging this. I left your cd in the booth so i wouldnt lose it on my mad advantures. Will pick it up this week).
|I like this activity and I need the money but it struck me, hemmed in behind the construct of the booth that its a curiously unsociably social activity. Your time is divided into 3 minute bites and dead air is sacerlige so you have to keep on your toes. And some nights I can't talk. Do you ever get that? I felt perfectly pleasant the other night but I couldn't engage in converstion. I was exhausted after the first 'Where are you from'?...strange..the many moods of Mr T...I came awake at 3 30 in club 'velvet' and skipped home at 8am..but thats another story...|
...been in bed watching movies and listening to rain...(and hall and Oates upstairs)..
'Rumble fish', is a beauty asides from the chronic soundtrack...'Hangover square' is rainy england diverting and cosy...(always wanted to read the book. And it gave me a title ; Hungover 2 (squared)).
Im just burning a dennis hopper documentary - his brief bit in Rumblefish' got be going. Why are fuck ups so interestinjg..? is it because they are kinda saying 'Im so strong I cant meet a challenge in everyday life to test and engage me, so i'm crippling myself with intoxicants'? I guess this is what they mean by alcoholics etc being terrified of their own true sober potential...my favourite DH movie is..'White heat' (I think its called) where he manages a bowie/Sylvian figure 1980 or somesuch..dennis at his maddest...'ITS ALl about the SOUND MAN!!' (dennis, spittle at lips, clad in filthy raincoat and slack dead head of hair)..
Im looking for one sheets of american dreamer and the last movie..if anyone stumbles on em..send text...
Speaking of movies : why is it that when actors drink from tea or coffee cups those cups are always empty?
I find that distracting..
Kevin Smith's 'Zack and Miri..' started a hoot but soon wore down...guess Kev has lost his way..(I remember seeing chasing amy in a wonderful ..cinema in london when it came out..above the phoneix bar on charing cross rd..is that still there)?
'Searching for a midnight kiss' I saw yesterday by accident too..wonderful..wonderful..the chick in it reminded me of the girls I used to err 'date' in London in the 90's...my dating days are long over.
In photos I now look like I remember my dad looking when I was a kid...
Cut out booze pretty much for the last 3 weeks, on doctors orders
|I had some champagne and orange juice while I played pool and darts on the beach on christmas day..and some champagne and a gin and tonic when I was djing...but in all pretty good...the point is, I can do anything when I really decide to. its just actually making a decision, on some deep level..(Ie I haven't eaten maet or fish since this time 1999 for purely moral reasons and I love the tasste of both)...|
Picked up Murakami's 'What I talk about when i talk about running' (another curious habit - whenever I notice a fellow english speaker in the cramped english section of FNAC Im instantly repelled and make a move away lest they start conversation...even if its a beautiful girl...ESPECIALLY if its a beautiful girl..why am i so weird, reynolds....)
I grabbed it in FNAC yesterday...(surely the title is a nod to Carver). Its diminishing returns with this wonderful author, for me. His habit of saying 'To be honest, to tell you the truth' grates. ..reminds me of a horrible little tubster called Mr Gibbs that I had to endure this time last year...I just hate it when people use that expression..like, what, the rest of the time you're lying to me?
Murakami's 'After dark' so was slight and indulgent... ...(almost as non existent as the BBC 'Imagine' documentary on him last year)...and this memoir reminds me of the dissapointing Paul Auster memoir...hey ho...
Im gonna write my 'memoir' I think...I've thought of a twist, a unique way to approach it...when its time to work again, Ill start...
hey ho..and away we go..
|So..gobbling up movies - finally saw Hopper's 'Tracks'...really enjoyed it - for the period detail and DH's wonderful face, tortured and seeking redemption all at once...'Blueberry nights'..another, murakami like dissapointment...am trying to get through neil Young's 'Human highway'..but its hard, despite featuring Hopper as a fried fry cook and Devo as Devo...ive always really disliked everything about neil Young for some reason..the whining voice, the kiddie bothering face..I shared a bill with him aat a festival once and even through the aura of E and acid and whatever else Id ingested his endless guitar wailing and off key drone of a voice upset me...|
Tonight is new years eve..(I actually thought so yesterday..what an ambaressment...a friend came round, I gotr ready and hopped up..'Going somewhere' he asked..'Yeah..the party, dinner etc..'I replied,,'Aint you comin'?
'thats tomorrow man' he moaned...
Am reading Seabrook's account of Bowie in berlin and its bloody WONDErful..has sent be back to some great bootlegs from that era thereabouts...'portortrait in flesh' bootleg which is a classic///
|2008/12/01 16:30 - |
You can hear Charlotte and I's BBC Session here for a short while - (Tracks only)
And for a week only here -
Due to a strange and meandering WiFI connection I was unable to have any input into the mixing, but am pleasantly happyfied. And in a way its nice not to have control for once.
My present day music life with La Muneca goes well, if in fits and starts.
Songs come easily and almost fully formed..'Here to go', 'Junk2 (Black coaine Blues)'..and the funky steely dan perv 'Next ex girlfriend'.
Our show will be up on youtube soon..
|Madrid this week, to meet my msic publisher here (universal) and my old Live promoter (Barnaby).|
Aint been to MAdrid since 2002...
I'll check in advance of any exhibitions and catch up on a load of Picassos if nowt else..
Gianluca of hollowblue joins me for a stripped down show on the 12th (in valencia)..
My blood likes musicing again..
But as ol' DB sang so gamely in his cover of 'Nite flights'..
'Its So COLD'...
(Oh. Looks like the Walker brother book has a home. Watch amazon for details)...
|2008/10/01 23:02 - |
Moving makes you use your time more intensely.
Deadlines, repossession notices, police sirens, distant sound of hoofs and hunting horn.
So many books, so hats.
So many things to amend, fix and prepare- between stations.
|Last night a recording session for the BBC wales adam walton show.|
i was supposed to do it sunday but due to drink related injuries, Im deeply ashamed to say, spent the day hobbling on a twisted ankle to the bathroom and back to eb sick.
but last night was goo. matt- my latest pianist, (he was born in 1985)! Also plays other instruments with a fiery keen youthfulness..Our new version of 'I Know you know' is the first song of mine to ever feature a mouth organ! And only the second to sue a hammond..(The first? Pop pickers)?
We also did Charlotte's twin stars and our sun feeds off flowers.#
Ive never heard Charlotte sing better.
carl bevan (Once of 60ft dolls) now produces and engineers this studio and is a wild amiable civilized animal...
i liked him and his energy muchly.
Christ its the first time in a long long time I got a train from newpoert.
home at 1, into a anxiety riddled sleep, dreaming of 4 white polar bears approaching from very far away over snow and green...
Up exhausted to pack more and more...
the long suffering leonard comes and we mage to fit my massive picasso into his hatchback..but he had to drive in a funny position...
poor poor leonard...
|then back here..the flat now echoing and atmosphereless, awaiting the next tennt..(its hard to sleep in no atmosphere)..|
working on the last radio script for my night in the life of wales radio series (again BBC wales).
Picked up by the mighty radio producer and journalist Jon Gower..to llandaff and a breezy recording suite...
i run through it, its easy work once youve prepared..
havent been near llandaff cathedral for a decade..
An old friend I was supposed to meet cancels. It only adds to the quiet melancholy of walkign through a place that once meant so much to you that you know you;ll never know again...
I walk home the 3 or 4 miles through fields and parks, happily sad..
|my day is marred when i pop into specsavers..Im due an appointment - it was booked weeks ago. but i havent had my reminder text.|
turns out it wasnt booked. If I dont have it today, my ..
do you know what i cant be bothered.
Suffice to say, i almost got into a fight in the waiting room with a priest. he was 'father reynolds'. much copnfusiona nd i was very tired.
Hot chocolate now and whatever is on Film four.
tonight I'll dream of boxes.
|2008/09/22 09:46 - |
Tough times aren’t necessarily bad times, right?
(a drawing I did as a Teen up above. Nothing changes)!
I try to bear that in mind as I go through the convulsions and spasms of moving.
When I look back on relocations passed, they always accompany and co-inside a publishing deal of some kind – either literally or songwise. Moving itself is a pain in the sculpted posterior but one balmed by throwing money at.
This time I feel I’m forced- by Fate ultimately – to move amidst a financial drought.
Also, alone. Seems weird not to be arguing over who owns which book/Table/A-Ha programme.
Most of my vast array of knick knacks – books and records that you could build a house itself out of – will go into some kind of storage. I’d like to try and live with close to nothing for a while.
Stay tuned, say a prayer and buy as many copies of ‘Nerves’ (www.anthonyreynolds,bet) as you can.
|I watched a wonderful film last night – Todd Haynes’ ‘I’m not here’. |
Really inventive and curious and …watchable. This is a film maker maturing, right?
I thought velvet Goldmine (that was one of Todd’s, right)? - was shabby and tacky, and not in a good way. It also missed the point of Bowie/iggy/glam et al- that as androgynous as those young dudes were, they were basically Hetro. (I do dislike such terms but you get it.) That was the point – they weren’t truly gay. That was the interesting paradox.
But this Dylan film was lush. And it has my favourite movie star in it- Christian Bale. He has a killer smirk. (And he battered his mam on the release of Dark Knight? Did I get that right)?
Funnily enough I can’t dig Dylan. Never could. Interesting chap to say the least, great autobiography, killer songs but I don’t subscribe to the religion – or it don’t subscribe to me.
Yet I don’t slowly despise anything about him. Not like this fawning schmooze lathered over the walking Brian Wilson contraption…
(My fave B Boys album is the one without Brian).
|Oh...and I cannae wait to see the new Ben Stiller film. He’s my second favourite Movie star. (of the moment, obviously). I found a very amusing trailer he made with Owen Wilson and Jack black on YouTube…check it out…about a mutated astronaut and talking bike…sheit. Me and Ben go back to the Ben Stiller show. How many remember that?|
Charlotte, the boyos and me do a BBC sesh next week. Am looking forward to it. I want a record of our (brief) dalliance.
And have gone back tod ear old Oscar for a bit. Never fails to leave my eyes dewy.
I found some I’d never read – ‘The fisherman and his soul’, ‘the infant King’...
I read the former on my soon to be ex terrace the other night, sipping Burgundy, munching Kettle chips.
Looked up and saw a shooting star.
Someone is always moving toward us…
|2008/09/03 10:45 - The Philosophy Of|
This morning I came across a photo of Burroughs in the booklet that's included with his CD Boxset.
(I bought it years ago, it still smells new, I've barely dipped into it).
i can't find the actual picture online - its Bill standing by a poster drenched boarding in bright grey sun while children play beyond him.
But it filled me with confidence.
My life is approaching a state of flux again.
Do i fear confort, I wonder? Does Confort imake me uncomfortable?
I worry sometimes, fret. To some my life is on a wire, reckless, unpredictable and maverick. (i know because they tell me).
Ive sometimes tried to dip my life into ..i dunno..what would you call it...ordinary society?
usually through Academia.
but tis just not me. ive relaized this more and more lately. The more I embrace the uncertainty and fear of my weird life, the better it and I am.
|Some of my friends and certainly my family have never considered what I do - books, writing, records etc - to be working. I think this is down to two things - the lack of obvious financial reward that comes from these endevours (although I have always made money from my 'art' and consider myself to have lived a rich, full and sometimes luxurious life even by consumerist standards). and because i've noticed that..as i get older..if people cannot apply your behaviour comfortable to their own, then they usually reject your behaviour, your belief, your lifestyle. because they don't understand it.|
This is more true when ive tried to join the ranks of, as i say, regular life. Its not true of many of my friends.
|Sometimes I feel indestructible. When faced with crisis before, I thought the world would end. but its happened enough times now that i know I'll survive. (I'm touching the wood of my desk here, fate has a habit of tripping one up after words like this).|
Im not sure where I'll be living by Christmas, or how I'll be making money. but whilst I shall make efforts to secure both, I already trust some part of myself to do so.
Do you know what i mean?
Im sort of..calm and confident in a part of myself to look out for me.
And i do believe in fate.
What is fate? Its the book and the film's we're in.
being aware of it -
i think its predicting what's written just as you read it.
|My life is scary, weird and often inconvenient - not least for those who love me.|
but its also endlessley rich, interesting and inspiring.
isn't this how it should be?
All ii really really need is a home for my beautiful, darling tweebs. Its unlikely she'll be able to join me on my travels.
|2008/08/12 21:54 - musings|
....My shoulders hurt so and my neck too, today, from writing writing writing...
So i thought 'fuck it, I deserve a walk'.
I went up towards Heath, through Crws road and beyond. I decided that today I would go down a street I'd never been before. not like, metaphysically, but like, physically.
i turned toward what turned out to be 'The world church' or summat. Bloody massive. But between it was a enormous allotment. Id never seen this before, it was like eden within the city or summat.
I jumped the padlocked gate and took a stroll through a marvelous strange landscape.Full of bins, dead sunflowers, irregular sheds and orld war two water coolers.
There was soemthign sacred about it.
After a suprisingly long walk I jumped another gate,proud at the scratch on my hand..(You still got it, T, I told myself landing amidst thistles)..
Gosh, it felt really good for some reason and at one point Iactually felt my headache going, actually felt it leaving.
|On my way home now, I lunged into Crwy roads much unappreicated chairty shops.|
Oh lord. Whats better than finding a book you've wanted for years> A book you forgot you wanted for years..
Id forgotten all about jonathan Raban' 'Soft city' - my only memory of it is the title is written in an old lyric book.
Dont know why.
But there it was.
I was tired now. Ive been on a 'detox' since yesterday, being all bloated and full of sweets as I was..
but fuck it, i can have a coffee...mebbe a slice of fruit pie..
So I did and begun reading the book.
I knew instantly it was WONDERFUL
I felt relaxed and good. The people outside ran back to their offices, lunch was over.
All of a sudden I realised - sat there, unshaven, drinking coffee, tied to no one, reading a wonderous book in the sunlight...- my life is fucking beautiful. its fucking GREAT.
|I kiss my muscles in hellalujah.|
|2008/08/12 21:54 - Awoke at around 4am this morning and up by 5.30.
|Hence I am now knackered, despite falling asleep in Car in Tesco’s car park this afternoon.|
My vocation as a tramp calls ever louder.
Am having trouble not getting to sleep but staying that way.
Am being woken at useless hours by anxiety attacks, fear of prison, financial ruin, insanity etc etc
Large part of anxiety being the getting of a deal in my own name, for ‘British Ballads’ primarily. (See ‘news’).
Although in actuality, I haven’t been ‘out of contract’ since 1995, and with ‘Neu York’ pending, and www.secretcrushrecords, aren’t now, what does this really mean?
My debut solo album needs big bucks to work and this could take time. I guess I know it’ll be Ok ultimately but not how or when. Thus ‘the fear’ when I’m at my most defenceless.
I’m living my life, though. Gotta accept it at it comes. Darn this gypsy blood, what?
Other than this, a sweet weekend.
We Spent large part of Saturday in Chester, listening to Jon Ross’s wonderful Radio show en-route. A real treat, this show and probably my biggest exposure to ‘contemporary’ music..
Anyhoo. Bought a drum machine thing that you can actually hit. Samples and loops are all well and convenient but I long to bash stuff and make noise sometimes…this thing..will be most useful in my now up and running home studio. Will attack the track ‘Drugs are MY drugs’ with it first, methinks, going for a minimal 808 style electro thing.
While in the nice part of Chester, (You can traverse this town in two ways. What I call the ‘pikey’ route, ie through the shopping mall, main streets and chain stores etc, or along the Roman City wall; where the lovely bookshops etc live).
Found ANOTHER ‘new’ bookshop that was incredibly cheap and left field, (relatively speaking). Pigged out on two large art books; Helmut Newton’s ‘pages from the glossies’ and Warhols’ ‘drawings’. Reassuringly heavy, I think of big beautiful art books like this as more of furniture.
Next door in the great second hand Jazz/modern first editions shop..(Both of these are actually ON the old city wall), I splurged on two dear Old Kingsley Amis books; ‘The king’s English’ and a ‘Tribute’ book to him by contempories. Also got his son’s last but one ‘Korba the dread’ and a book for Leonard; A paperback of the Robert Evans Autobiogrphy’The kid stays in the picture’ as he’s been raving about the film of the same book. (Which I’ve neither read nor seen).
And did venture into pikey land, (through herds of bloated pig people, insane buskers and general regiments of counterfit human currency) to get one of the new ‘Japan’ re-issues; specifically ‘Tin Drum’. Oh heavens, what beautiful packaging. ‘Life without buildings’ sounded good too, blaring from the car and into the waddling masses..
(How come most incredibly loud music polluting the air via car stereos is four to the floor dross? Never Erik Satie, Eno or Sinatra etc..Except when Tony’s in Town..which is hardly ever..)
An evening of fine food, prefixed with fine American Whisky and Spring ginger water, main course of some new quorn ‘steaks’ that I’m eating nothing but of, chips and cheese sauce, washed down with Rose champagne.
Yum yum. Actually, maybe THIS is what is screwing up my sleep.. I only eat one meal a day and it’s before I go to bed. (I’m also going to bed earlier, doctor. Usually about 11).
Yeah, well anyway. Tried to watch a film on ‘Sky box office’ ‘Signs’..Fuck me this must be one of the worst films I’ve seen..since..’Step mom’ (an accident).
I can’t even go into details. Just make sure you never see it. It’s not even ‘funny’ bad.
A humourless, dull splotch of dreck.
‘Parkinson’ was a Cocteau film by comparison. All female guests. Helen mirren among them, who surprised me by being incredibly attractive. Good lord. ‘Tis all in the face and voice, methinks.
So today started too early and was dark and misty when I sat at this PC to get stuff together for the new site. A BIG thanks to David Didier, Eric and Landry. All people I’ve never met but who just appeared out of seemingly nowhere to offer to build this site for us. Fucking incredible and utterly hassle free.
Put together some rare audio etc I find listening to old stuff a bit disturbing but it needs to be done, I think.
Billy, my longhair (cat)! came in at dawn, soaked and covered in trees and twigs etc
I’m always slightly reticent to hug him first thing , due to him being so sopping wet and all but my morning robe is thick and mighty and can soak up much mud and lime.
Guzzled much strong coffee and checked out the ‘table top’ sale at the town sports hall. Crap. Desks full of sprockets, radio clock alarms, Des O’conner and old ‘Guinees book of records’ books.
Then a car boot sale in Wrexham..(I LOVE Car boot sales/Junk shops/the dead etc).
Just missed out on a giant WWII Leather army coat to a girl who was no more than 8 inches tall. I mean, it would have looked big on me..
Darn it. Winter approaches and I’m without a ‘big coat’. One will find me I’m sure.
Ended the day in Llangollen, in the shadow of it’s gorgeous mountain, at the worlds’ biggest and best second hand bookshop. I’m serious, this place is just awesome and dream like. I’m amazed it’s not globally known. Must take some pictures next time I’m there.
Rounded off daylight hours by falling asleep in car park and getting home for Pasta and apple juice. No booze please, I’m blimpish.
A boiling dim lit bath and started one of the Kingsley books.
Now an hour in the studio and the Al Pacino Documentary on the ‘Biography channel’.
Hypnos, take me tonight.
|2008/08/12 21:54 - A misty morning here.|
| Still groggy (I cannot sleep past 7-30am), I forced myself into the back garden to catch said mist, rolling over fields and that. The mist, not me). |
Almost expected to see someone out of ‘Monty python’s Holy grail’ trot out of it, coconuts and all.
This kind of morning is more of a wake up call, or just as much as, as splashing cold water onto ones boat race. A vividly clear Blue sky too, likes a Sea above. Not only jets pissing across it, but a bloody great hot air balloon too, fat and obscene above my noggin, almost close enough to touch.
I’d love to do that hot air balloon thing but fear the fear that I experienced in the ‘London eye’ one time, where I was overcome (almost) with panic.
The end of a dynamic (for me) week. Actually ventured out to Manchester on Wednesday. I didn’t like the place. It scared me and I’m obviously now gentrified.
Having a 9-year-old brat try to trip me up as I got off the train didn’t help the old nerves, although a handy bottle of Jack Daniels throughout the evening did.
I believe I’ve been to Manchester before, back in the gruesome touring days, sometime in the last centaury. I can only remember sitting in a bar with then violinist Ruth gottlieb and that’s about it. (Ruth got married last week, I hear).
But I assume something musical went on.
Anyhow it was more gothic than I remembered it but all this melted away, as did my nerves, once we’d picked up our free (courtesy of the promoter) Tickets to see David Sylvian. What to say? Well. I’m writing a review for a website and we’ll post the URL soon.
Took me the next day to recover from the shock of train journey, the wading through of the human masses..(My new term for the average Joe and Jess is now ‘No- folk’).
Had a call from the head of Beggars Banquet record label. Basically a ‘No thanks’ to ‘British Ballads’. As discouraging as this may sound, getting a call is something.
The difficulty being in getting people to even listen. Other options are outstanding and all need to be seen through to their conclusion-this is the crux.
Beginning to get feedback from some French labels too, concerning the ‘Reynolds and rousell’project, although Franck Rousell himself is sometimes hard to get hold of.
I find the lovely Franck quite enigmatic at times. (‘Hello Franck? Call me)!
Good times in the studio this week as well…working on ‘Neu York’. A utterly strange and beautiful piece blossomed out of sampled Radio static and burroughs-esque tape cut ups….I love ‘writing to tape’. Feels purer somehow, sometimes.
This piece is called ‘Somewhere in my heart a Blue Rose Bloomed’.
You heard it here first. ‘Loved to love’ is coming along too..kinda Stan getz meets Al Pacino.
Train tickets arrived here for Fiona Brice and Julian Simmons today. They’ll be contributing Violin and Piano/Engineering two weeks tomorrow. I need to find a way to include Bryan Mills on this too, as Bass is conspicuous in it’s absence. Unfortunately the budget has withered away. I could maybe send him the tapes..but..nah..too risky. Will give it serious thought when my head clears from the fumes of last nights boozing. Incidentally, on returning from dinner in town, (a weird restaurant that seems like a piece of Islington in Shropshire), I was needless to say, under the bottle, and slumped down, as it happens, at random, to watch ‘Des O’Connor’. And it made perfect sense, in this state. Is this how the average ‘No folk’ feels ALL the time?
My first U.S. hardback edition of Bob Evan’s autobiography ‘The kid stays in the picture’ arrived yesterday. Over the top and utterly readable. and..
The mist has gone now. Guess I’ll follow…
|2008/08/12 21:54 - Sunday Morning|
|My apparent vocation as a Hermit has been threatened of late.|
‘Monty Roberts’ last Saturday, in a freezing hanger in Stoke.
This is a cowboy sorta guy that they based ‘The Horse whisperer’ on.
He’s pioneered a non pain and no fear approach to training Horses and good luck to him. Felt vaguely as if I were in the deep south or summat except that it was Mid England chilly.
Then Julian and Fiona (http://fionabrice.com), arrived Sunday eve and a geeky happy fun time was had by all…This house really is a wonderful place to entertain and be entertained.
It’s good for shifting between realities in, if you know what I mean.
After a unsuccessful but happily stoned/drunk attempt at re-interpreting the Duran Duran songbook via syn drums, 12string and violin, we collapsed floating into my private screening room to watch (for me thirdly), ‘The Kid stays in the picture’.
Yum and yum..
Sadly, I had forgotten to eat properly this day or before and I awoke to tremendous puking. For the sake of their visit; i.e., working on Neu York, this mattered not, as they were unaffected/less of wusses than I and they soldiered on through the day to great effect while I (for the most part)-listened from my sweet sick bed. What pros.
By darkness, we had added electric violin to ‘Good Blonde’, lending it a low rent Goldfrappness, Acoustic violins to my Bobby Womack rip-off; ‘The sad streets’ and a gorgeous fractured and frayed Violin solo to ‘If July were a Kingdom’. Through it all Julian engineered expertly and added cocktail Jazz piano to ‘I Love my Radio (on).
All hail the Shakatak revival.
Grub up at sundown-a Tony speciality; veggie Chilli with chips, melted cheese and grilled peppers in chilli lemon oil. I still couldn’t stomach wine but laughed belly laughs to my now favourite new comedy show; ‘Little Britain’.
Yes, I am a kid, always having ‘bests’ this and favourite ‘that’.
I’d barely recovered from the warm glow of hospitality and cheeriness that they both left when I found out that our old chum James cook of Nemo, (http://nemointernational.com) were playing Manchester that night.
Off we went, Jack Daniels in pocket for the second time in ..a month? Good lord.
Sadly, the venue was the kind of dump I’d barred from my life experience years ago, but the group were great. Should be a review at http://omh.music.com Soon…No..NOW..
Interesting; When I’m recording I seem to stop writing for the most part. And when I stop writing I get a gnawing, the sense of something cell shackled and angry inside.
I will finish ‘Neu York’ this week. Needs must. What a lovely if steep experience it’s been so far. I am of course sad to see it end in some sense.
‘British Ballads’ is limbo-ing-not in the tropical sense but the biblical. Seem to have run to a standstill with it in terms of labels. Simon Raymonde will be back from holiday this week..? And I hope to get some advice of some sort. Still feel an unfulfilled potential as far as Simon and I working together goes.
And yet rumblings rumble in the direction of the Reynolds and Rousell album.
France to the rescue again? What I want is to make ‘Fuck you’ money in that I never have to ‘work’ again. Getting from one month to the next seems..increasingly Exhausting.
Took another gorgeous trip to Llangollen and scaled a different mountain for a change.
Weird. At its peak there was park land-lush rolling tree-populated parkland and I felt as If I were in another world. I expected it to be arid but. Quite the opposite. It was like summer up there and autumn below. (The American term for autumn; ‘Fall’-how much more poetic..)..
Visited the otherworldly bookshop and bought a book of ‘Holocoust’ poetry and a Coppola biography.
Saturday night TV was annoying. Billy Connolly on Parkinson..Jesus..What a ‘Fool’. Complete parody. Went to bed early and started on the newly bought Anthology. Most sobering, to say the least.
And today. Sunday papers full of the usual bullshit. Legless French dads holding their offspring, photos of pop stars and actors who don’t smoke smoking, (you can just imagine as the photo shoot ends, them spitting in disgust..”GAWD! GET me some GUM…Beleuch..’..Stylist: ‘But Sharleen; you look so Coooooool’ with a fag in your snout...) yabba yabba yabba..
Excited to see there’s a new Ted Hughes Anthology out though. And with a beautiful cover. Goody gumdrops.
Now: Off to feed Horses and then mixing-re-mixing.
Cold, cold winter sun, reds and burnt oranges, mist and chills.
|2008/08/12 21:54 - Friday Oct 10|
|I was looking at the river and thinking of the sea….|
Somewhere across the fields, If I run fast enough, I’ll reach daylight and my childhood.
Monty Roberts tomorrow. The ‘progressive’ Horse trainer.
‘The Kid stays in the picture’-what a film!
Too much Scotch. It hides behind and below your eyes. Still there on waking.
Missing the gym and the one pack returns.
Cardiff again last week. A blur of wine/JD and powder.
The place forever haunts me still.
Hayfever in December. Is that what we want.
‘both of ‘em were younger than me put together but I had something they didn’t-
|2008/08/12 21:54 - October into Nov|
|The inner and outer weather/landscape have turned me toward Russian writing of late. |
Martin Amis’ ‘Korba the dread’, a flawed but enthralling mash of history and memoir, has also spurred me on.
The history angle concerns Stalin’s Russia and all the horror this entailed.
Following this I was drawn once again to a bunch of Yevtushenko books I had bought over the summer. This guy has one of those names that once seen kinda sticks in the craw of the noggin and I finally succumbed whilst browsing in the Llangollen bookshop one hazy weekend last June.
I like the idea that a poem should be an ambulance rushing to someone, not a racing - car lapping a lonely circuit, to Paraphrase mr Y himself. And his poems had me baited and hooked instantly.
But it’s his ‘Precocious autobiography’ that I’ve just finished…he comes across as rather confident and spunky..which is refreshing in a poet..
I also picked up ‘Solzhenitsyn: A pictorial record’ and was deeply moved by this Guy’s face.
I’ve ordered his infamous ‘Gulag’ book and when the British Postmen decide to go back to work, it’ll no doubt turn up.
Just reading about what happened under Stalin….
Amongst other feelings brought to light, I was dumbfounded by how little I know, how utterly uneducated I am in so many respects.
I tried to force myself back to school. Was I there? I remember learning so very little and indeed, my complete lack of academic qualifications confirm such. But then what did I do all that time?
I dreamt. I looked out onto the glass verge of the playing field on summer days and I longed to go beyond it. It was an effort not to run from my desk.
And what’s beyond that playing field?
Me, typing out these words, in a freezing study on a hard bright English winter day.
(Is it winter yet or still autumn)?
Approaching the conclusion of recording ‘Neu York’ which has somehow become an album.
I’ve been happily surprised at the results so far, feeling reasonably unconfident to begin with, so I guess it figures in the scheme of ‘tings that today I hit a hard seam. I lost the electric violin on ‘Good Blonde’ last night whilst doing a new vocal..(This is a hard song to sing right)..And what’s more worrying..(Losing the violin was fucking beyond annoying as there is no chance of replacing it), is that I can’t work out why I lost the violin. And.
Is this interesting folks?
Is that an echo I hear?
Anyhoo. Spent 6 hours locked in the studio/Study (I think I’ll call it SAMO studio) , today working on ‘Dear Melvyn’, trying to get this cute 3 chord wonder down, the bulk of it having been recorded weeks ago.. And I failed, pretty much in that no matter how much I shine this t..thing..and it’s just not working, darn it and it’s too late to go back and start on it again. (Incidentally, generally I Love working pretty much alone, engineering etc..And I certainly don’t miss having to explain WHY I want things to sound the way they do, but there are some things I really find it hard to get enthusiastic about. Like playing rhythm guitar. God, that’s boring)..
Anyhoo, I finally realised that Melvyn was going nowhere so Have decided to do a pretty much acoustic version-I want the song on the record and it’s pretty pivotal, it dealing with my so far sole trip to new York…
So I spent an hour or two going through it live, imagining I was at Sun Studios with sam Philips;
..’-Sure like that song about the South Bank show, kid. Ya got anymore like that’?
And on playback I discovered that it wasn’t taping. And I can’t figure out why.
Sheesh. Guess I need new tape. Off to e-bay I go.
Decided to take a break and phoned Franck Roussel in France, as I gathered he was having a few meetings this week regarding our project and E-mails on this matter have been thin on the ground.
I guess it was one of those days. Franck answered immediately and asked if I could phone back in 20 minutes. As I was just about to go and tend to the horses I told him it was more likely to be 2 hours.
I get back from a wonderfully therapeutic session of carrot feeding and the like in a darkening Halloween field, arrange myself at kitchen table with a strangely amusing copy of ‘Q’, stuff my face with a takeaway (Mock Duck and Egg fried rice washed down my fat crinkled neck by half a bottle of Icy Chablis) and then I re- call Franck- and it’s an ansaphone.
Sooooo it goes.
Had a few nice e-mails today, including two from Momus.
I’ll meet him prior to his Bush Hall appearance in London on Nov 20th. For some reason he has cheered me up immensely.
‘Dear Melvyn’ has been successfully slain.
A weird, ‘Bewley Brothers’ type- beast it is, then. Goofy and yet strangely touching, it sounds like the last song recorded by someone before they were committed.
I like SAMO. It’s always the same time there.
I’ll mix it down to DAT and then to the Nero wave editor on this PC and then burn it flat EQ’d to a CD. Then it goes to New York to be mastered.
I’m happy It’s saved.
Momus and my errant chum David Stephenson also appear in this version.
I found a DAT of a recording I had made while we yellow cabbed through NY to a Warhol Exhibition in Feb’ 2001. Just patter, but it ties in nicely with the Songs so I spooled it in.
I’ll try and lasso ‘good blonde’ when I get back from Chester.
Chester. Into the belly of the beast. I’m fascinated by what repulses me which explains, in part, why I live where I live.
Meagre funds means that I can either get my trusty old 35mm camera back from the repair shop or buy the Ted Hughes Anthology-one or the other.
I’m not like Morrissey today. I can’t have both.
|2008/08/12 21:54 - The art of conversation is knowing when to end it..|
|I was looking forward to ‘the Rules of attraction’ Film. I love Brett Easton Ellis-he’s one of the last contemporary novelists I read-along with Amis-but this film sucked and blew in it’s gimmicky repulsiveness and I couldn’t even get further than the first 20 yanky minutes. |
Suede have split up. I didn’t like much that came after ‘Dog Man Star’, excepting the odd A and B-side..(‘Modern boys’ is a luvverly little piece-And ‘Sam’ is perfect) and what’s more, I seem to like this album for all the reasons that it’s put down for: Oversinging Over production and or perhaps these criticisms should read ‘for having ideas above it’s station’-meaning ideas above the critics station.
That Station being far from Zima, ho, ho. Ho..
But-I did like that album very much. In a way it’s more than the group that made it is, as everything they did afterward proved.
And slumped on my enormous sky blue Muji couch the other night-beneath a bottle or two of splendid burgundy, I was trawling gaily through vinyl and I wanted to hear ‘Dog man star’ again-but on Vinyl. I, the Novemberist, the nostalgist.
So, in memorandum, here are my personal memories of the band Suede, in chronological order.
Going to see them play at the Newport centre in Wales in..Late 1992? I went with three girls-Kirsten, Naoimi and Steph.
The ladies went off to romp in the mosh pit but of course I was never young enough to do such a thing so I stayed in the stalls, seated. A song ended and from half a mile away Brett pointed toward me and said; ‘There’s a man in a pinstripe suit sat on his own up there and he’s all alone and this song is for you, man in a pin stripe suit’.
(I recalled this to Brett in person at a party some four years later-it was late 1996 and he was apparently my biggest fan at the time- but, true to Myth, he couldn’t recall this trivial incident).
Jack toured with suede in late 96..as their guests-they were incredibly gracious as people and as a group: I believe they even paid toward our costs.
In Bristol, Leonard and his cousin came up to see us..it were at the Colston hall. After the show, Backstage, Len’s cousin came back from wherever he’d been, looking a little flustered.
Over to Damon: ‘I went into the bog, I don’t think it was locked properly, and there was the suede singer, sat down..
Fucking’ell, I said, ‘Sorry Bert’
At the after-show for ‘Head music’. Brett pauses briefly while passing me; ‘Drunk again’ he asks.
‘Only in body’ I reply.
‘You’re a better man than me if you can separate mind and body’ says he..
I begin to retort: ‘I’m all about Spirit, Brett’ but he’s moved on to far more glamorous audiences.
(I did feel a bit peeved at the time. I’d heard that most of suede were on all rice diets-thus their wonderful thinness. I was beginning to bloat up from serious booze intake and envied anyone truly-apparently -healthy-It’s since apparently become public knowledge to those who care that Mr Anderson was smoking up crack and what not at a rate of Knots at this time..Wish he’d offered me some)..
So..back to now…and I can appreciate the ‘now’ but I’ve never been over excited by the future..It’s just tomorrow’s yesterday and doesn’t exist to boot..
I’m reading ‘Gulag’ still and it’s heavy going but necessary in some sense..
Finding it hard to listen to music-been feeling too down. And this is another thing that gets me, when people talk about being depressed or whatever..or as Alan Partridge put it; ‘I was clinically fed up-Boo Hoo’..They claim that a certain record will get ‘em through it..But surely, when one is so down, you can’t get it together enough to put the record on..
But..am listening to Leonard Cohen’s’ Misty Blue’ bootleg..Live in 1976 as I type. Len on downers…slurring and priestly aggressive.
That’ll do on this Scandinavian grey afternoon..
|2008/08/12 21:54 - Time, gentlemen, Please.|
|I find myself at the peak of my writing powers in this here odd climate.|
A climate of dragon flies that fly into one's club sandwhich Al fresco.
A climate of powered glass at the base of the last bottle of wine.
A climate of wrong Cinema moments and gnarled carbuncles where once was oil and flutes.
The feathery tint of wings against the face in utter darkness.
This is a prescence of madness, I suppose.
The tall High windows of this life are caked in dust, cobwebs and the like, grey, stifling and painted shut.
Yet somehow Sunlight makes it through, odd beams that circle the cell as the day moves on.
Spiders, dust,lint, free fall through twighlight and the radio plays from down the hall.
And I sit with my back to the wall awaiting the rattle of keys or something...
But have written two corkers; 'The dissapointed' and 'get me to my mind on time'.
The former...thereis a bit where it goes from the eird F chord thing to Am to Dm..and a bell chimes across foggy harbours. A combination of sounds/chords and timing so weirdly lucky that the first time It played, Tramp, my Tabby cat, quietly freaked...and i felt my own cat hairs rise, goosebumps in a heated room.
And that bugged me..what did it mean, that bell sound, that sad chiming..?
And there on TV, a day later, a boat going under the waves, and thatsound again; The sound of a boat sinking.
This is the sound of sunshine.
Sunshine in hell.
ha ha ha...
|2008/08/12 21:54 - Children on their birthdays|
|An abundance of avocados tonight. With boiled new potatoes, beef tomatoes, leek and cheese bread and halumi cheese. Soaked in butter and flaked in sea salt and pepper corn. Washed down with icy sauviogn blanc. (All sic).|
Yum yum, cept i think i may need to give up dairy products.
Cos,there is a book I need to read; 'The pig who sang to the moon'..about the casual (not to mention the obvious)cruelty inflicted on farm animals. I live opposite a farm, it's fields end where my garden does. lambs and shhep are running and bounding madly at this time of year, impossibly beautiful and heart wrenching..I wonder if they are made so to appeal genetically to predators' (us) sense of compassion. ?
It obviously doesn't work enough..and who can look at a lamb and slaughter it? who are these people and where do they live? These freaks that populate the abattoirs ? Who makes love to these people, drinks with them, lives with them?
And how can i sup at milk that comes from a cow that's grieving from the immediate loss of it's calf..a calf it was forced into having and then ripped from, just so i could put something on my cornflakes?
I'm gonna have to face this issue. There is a world of horror out there ..and..i'm unaware. But i'm aware that I'm unaware..
'The other side of eden' is another book I must read..
Talking of books, I had some splendid ones for my birthday..(which is tomorrow).
'of love and hunger' by julian maclaren-ross.
As rare as rocking horse shit,in it's original pressings but what a lost joy.
How many more gems like this are out there?
Like reading 'The gingerbread man' or 'Tropic of cancer' over again.
And , one of the most underated miles davis books :
'Miles to go' by Chris murphy. I always suspected Miles was a beautiful, publically misunderstood, (via his myth) fellow..(like bukowski and HST)..and this confirms that..
It's also got me listening to nothing but Miles D again..
and a greek version of Norman Mailer's 'Marilyn'...I still get that feeling about her, as we all did, that I first got at 15..yup..if she'd met me..she still be alive today,,doing what and looking how..yes..that spoils it, dunnit..
Dreams of my cat, Billy, bigger in each.
Oh, I love this snow..
Howdy to francis K..
|2008/08/12 21:54 - I am creator and...|
|I’ve invented a new diet. I think I have. I’m not sure. I may have read about the same diet and then forgotten about it and just think I’ve invented it.|
It’s like ringo used to say:
‘I’d come in with a song I’d written and say…’listen to this boys’. and then John would turn around laughing and say..’fuckin’’ell Ring, that’s ‘Raining in my heart’ you’ve just re-written ‘Raining in my heart’..
This diet is called the ‘red Wine diet’. I’ve been following it 6 days out of a week. On the seventh day, you stuff your face.
I’ve been on it two weeks and I’m down to 250pounds.
What you do is this: Have toast and juice in the morning. You can then drink as much juice (Fruit juice, not bug juice).. and eat as much Pears and Tangerines as you like all day. However, when it gets dark, or better yet, when it begins to get dark, drop everything and grab yourself a book.
Put the lamps on. Stick a miles Davis record on..’Lift to the scaffold’ is good. For God’s sake, don’t put anything from Miles’ later space funk period on the turntable. That’s suitable only for the Coke and Jellies diet. Now. Get the wine. Pop that cork! I know there’s a God when I hear that sound.
The wine itself.. It must be half reasonable. No paint stripper. Tesco do some nice Burgundies from their ‘finest range’ from about a fiver upward.
Also-Party snacks. This is important. Lemon and coriander cheese twists from the same tesco range are good.
Take up a seat with cats in reach, lay back and glug and munch.
Before you know it you’ll be sweetly opiated and, to boot, full. Before retiring to bed, neck a fistful of cod liver oil tablets and some ‘Beecham’s powder’ flu capsules and you’re away.
Repeat the next day.
There were a few things I meant to write about today but my head is killing me, my mouth is like parchment and there is dirt in my blood. I also feel unsettlingly weak and morbid.
So, my reminisces about the ‘Romo’scene, visiting ‘plastic fantastic’s house on Acid and the like will have to wait.
I will watch many Jack Nicholson DVD’s this week; Five easy pieces, Last detail and King Of Marvin Gardens. Haven’t seen the latter and am much looking forward to it.
I was gonna write about Billy Mackenzie, too…but that can wait. I will be covering ‘Winter Academy’ and posting it up soon…though…So…Keep those requests pouring in!
And. I Like Christmas. I find it hard to worry when the world’s away.
Bring on Bordeaux.
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|2008/08/12 21:54 - Anthony reynolds is alive and unwell...|
London was a blast.
(Q: Then why did you leave).
(A: What, is everything a 'tick this box or that'?)
('He who is tired of London is tired of life')
(Wrong. He who is tired of London is tired of London life. There is more than one way to live life. Ask Brian Eno in 'Imaginary landscapes'. And besides, like the song says; London is a Nation, not a city).
So..I was there 24hrs and lost over half a stone. But that's down to dehydration, I guess.
And at this point I'll hand you over to the first part of the play I'm writing.
The heading is above us.
On the train there I kept to my usual strict regime-no booze till Nuneaton. Which is About an hour from Euston and fuck all from anywhere else.
There are rules to observe whilst travelling and the rewards are sublime if these rules are adhered to.
Follow 'em. Rules such are these are borne of the mistakes and experience of others and you won't benefit by ignoring them, as you will by ignoring other 'rules', such as , falling in love with the wrong people or doing that to your hair and wearing that there...following your heart and so on.
Follow the rules of drinking on trains, Otherwise, you'll find yourself hogging the toilet and falling off the coach asking porters for Gear.
So. You will need; Tesco own brand scotch: One bottle. (It’s surprisingly tasty, A Bourbon that has a lovely old lady on the label in granny glasses who looks about 890 but is probably 24..).. Small pack of Pringles. (Salted, everything else is uneatable after 40) One 'Mojo' special; in this case, Bowie, although Elvis will more than suffice. Music: Perhaps an album of one's own-the only way to hear a new album you've made is whilstsking uphill to a gentle drunk-or something you're in no doubt about loving all the way- a Home made 'Elvis 'collection, ..The 'best of Barbieri'..In this case it was the excellent 'definitive' Marvin..
Take a stroll to the buffet car. Don't buy the mixer before you enter the train. Once aboard with the necessities, give yourself a reason to mingle!! Great things are ahoy and it's nice to spread good cheer among the serving class.
Joke with the small shrunken man with the unidentifiable accent. He's wearing a dickey bow for god's sake. How often does that happen? You're both part of the same song, melody and counter melody..
And back in your seat..(Never sit with anyone if possible and windows are internal).
Pop open the Scotch. There, that's it. crack open the ginger. Pop fizz, hiss. Pop a pringle. Headphones on? Mag open? Now. Take it easy, don't go mad...observe the business class around you; chained to the world and someone else's plan, while for you, the night has just begun. It's 3pm. And God is alive and well, on a virgin train, between the unvisited English towns of Nuneaton and rugby."
More to come soonish.
I guess it’s about time I started diversifying and expect to see me doing the above as a one-man show in Islington’s Red Lion any day now.
What else was the Smoke like..
I didn’t enjoy momus’s show at all. In fact, I felt physically disappointed. I suppose it would be ungracious to go into details but….it were all wrong, Joe.
And Dickon was there, still the anaesthetised, Gelded Cipher in search of an idea.
But, I had the pleasure of meeting old and manic friends, plus Gregg and Nicole from New York and Secret crush.
And the whole trip has woken my travelling Genes again, got ‘em all a rumble in the ol’Sac.
Cardiff in the morning. And maybe Paris again, again, again..
I have been reading:
D.M.Thomas’ SOLZHENITSYN Biography. I’m always tempted to skip the first quarter of anyone’s biography but am digging in with this.
However, I took a break after London and trawled last night through the wonderful ‘Cocteau’s World’-a photographic Biography by Arthur king peters.
I hope against hope I’ll be able to make the Paris Cocteau Exhibition..
‘Neu York’ is finished and now we (Gregg and I) decide a Tracklisting.
I may take a break from commercial concerns and begin recording a ‘covers’ album at home for my own pleasure,. Perhaps I’ll put a few up here in the medias section.
Feel free to make requests.