Having a Day Off

The Twenty-Eighth of March Two Thousand and Fourteen. Friday.

How lovely to have some time off. I will be working all weekend, but here are some of the things that I have enjoyed today instead of doing all the chores I should be doing while I have the time.

I follow Rhodri Marsden (@Rhodri) on the Twitter - no relation. Only found out today that he is a member of a the band Dream Themes who do covers of top TV themes. They've just released their first double A side on iTunes: News at Ten and BBC News. Here's the video for News at Ten:

That's fabulous enough in itself, but then I find out that they used to play with Frank Sidebottom which led me to discover this:

"I've got a good idea; you are absolutely bobbins!" Joy, just pure joy.

Dan Slott is the man responsible for Doctor Octopus' mind being in Peter (Spider-Man) Parker's body this last couple of years or so. Along with artist Mike Allred, he is also responsible for the new Silver Surfer comic that launched this week.

Slott is a big Doctor Who fan and he admits to that being one of the influences on this series. An odd cosmic being sharing the sights of the universe with a human being? It seems such an obvious fit for the Surfer you wonder why no-one thought of it before. Not that this is slavish copy of Who - it's unmistakeably a Marvel comic, just that it shares that same sense of fun and wonder particularly associated with the 21st Century iteration of the series. I think it ought to be my Seventh Comic Book Recommendation.

Had a haircut. That wasn't particularly fun, but it was overdue.

Lunch was egg and chips at the Contrast cafe, just round the corner from my flat. I had an iced finger for afters.

I'm struggling with the level 6 dungeon on The Legend of Zelda. At Christmas, Number 1 and 2 sons were fortunate enough to get a Wii U. This meant that their old Wii was sent into my care. But rather than buy a load of game discs for it, I downloaded the original 1980s version of Zelda from the online store. This is about my speed and although I am not much of a gamer, I'm proud of the fact that I've got this far without any cheats. Seem to be stuck on this dungeon, though. It's very frustrating.

I've been catching up on True Detective today as well. Ah, it looks gorgeous (I'm going to watch ep 4 after I've finished this, with a 6 minute tracking shot that everybody's been raving about), but there is this slightly po-faced "Hey kids, these are quality HBO shenanigans" air to it that is faintly ridiculous. It's very watchable, but it certainly has a very high opinion of itself. The next few episodes will reveal if that's deserved.

I tell you what, those microwave rice packets are a godsend. Tea took three minutes to make tonight.

So, back to work tomorrow. Just thought I'd share a little of what's been occupying my time today. Of course, this has taken a chunk out of my evening, which is a bit annoying. I think I'll put the kettle on.

More soonliest.

It's Frothy, Man!

The Nineteenth of April Two Thousand and Twelve. Thursday.

Every day is just a spoke on the wheel of time. No, really. I've been struck by the similarities of blogging to the plight of Scheherazade, the heroine of 1001 Nights. Haven't read the book in its entirety (there's a sixteen volume version available on Kindle that was translated by Richard Burton. Not that one. Although I do like the thought of him convincing Jeff Wayne to do a musical version for lp release on the proviso that he be allowed to narrate it. Then years later recreate the role after his death in the form of a gigantic floating holographic head. Can't believe I didn't go to the live version of War of the Worlds to see that. They've retired the head now, replacing it with Liam Neeson. Liam Neeson? Why would you want to see the worst ever Jedi instead of a decapitated floating version of two of Elizabeth Taylor's husbands?) but famously it features a framing device where each of the stories within is related by a woman who is under threat of death by this Sultan. She's caught telling a story to a relative by the Sultan and what she cleverly does is stop when it gets interesting promising to finish it the next day. This she does over and over - a thousand times in fact - until eventually she has three children by the Sultan and he falls in love with her. Oh, and decides not to kill her. Ain't love grand.

But the thing about 1001 Nights I find interesting is the way that it is a story about stories. Tales are nested within one another. Some of the most famous, the stories about the voyages of Sinbad the Sailor, are actually told after the fact by Sinbad. To recap: we're reading a story about Scheherazade telling a story telling a story about Sinbad telling a story about himself. Eat your heart out Inception. Anyway, I'm not under threat of death (not for this, at any rate) but this did start me thinking about the linky way of the blog. 


For example there is a beautiful orchestral piece, Шехерезада, written by the Russian composer Rimsky-Korsakov based on the tales. Here's the beginning of it - there are four more sections on You Tube.

However, I can't think of the name 'Rimsky Korsakov' without thinking of the adverts for Cresta pop from the 70s. And so, in one fell swoop, we go from high culture to low and end up listening to a polar bear extolling the virtues of additive-rich fizz.

All well and good. But then my brain inevitably starts looping back on itself. Thinking of old adverts and 1001 it vaguely remembers the jingle for 1001 Dry Foam carpet cleaner. Not the famous slogan from the sixties, though. No, it took the great Frank Sidebottom's Frank's Favourite Ads #1 to introduce me to the astonishing claim that '1001 cleans a big, big carpet for less than half a crown'. So I try and find an advert featuring this claim, but all I find is this from a few years ago.

I have never seen this ad before, yet it features someone I went to college with (not the monkey). What does it all mean? Tales within tales...


And so the wheel continues to turn.


More soonliest.

To Be Frank

The Seventh of August Two Thousand and Eleven. Sunday. 

A couple of things came together in the last couple of days that made me think about somebody else no longer with us. I was in the shower this morning when the strains of Guess Who’s Been on Match of the Day came on the shuffle. This, along with finding among my vinyl LPs as I tidied up Cam’s room/the-room-with-all-the-unpacked-boxes-in-my-flat the superb double album 5:9:88 (among others)

  led me to recall with affection and admiration Mr Frank Sidebottom, the Bard of Timperley. With his giant papier maché head and nasal voice he was a cartoon character come to life.

 

Frank was more than just a novelty act. Brilliantly funny as his mangled cover versions of Anarchy in the UK and I Should Be So Lucky were (each inevitably ending with a variation on the phrase ‘You know it is, it really is. Thank you.’) there was a sharp musical sensibility behind all the nonsense that had been honed by Frank creator Chris Sievey’s time around the Manchester music scene – notably with The Freshies (anybody remember I’m in Love With a Girl from a Certain Manchester Megastore Checkout Desk?). One of Frank’s own songs, Airplay (currently available compilation CD E, F, G & H (itself a follow up to compilation A, B, C & D – both albums obviously forming my Fifth Music Recommendation) is a very witty and effective (as well as catchy) dissection of a formula pop song. There was a lot of understated genius in Frank’s work. 

No there wasn’t. He was bobbins. 

Shut up, Little Vin, no he wasn’t. Sorry, I made the mistake of leaving my Blogging Puppet, Little Vin, near the keyboard while I made a cuppa. 

Oo, it wasn’t a cuppa. You went and made a crisp butty even though you’ve only had your tea five minutes ago.

No I didn't, Little Vin! Anyway, you're not supposed to be typing on here!

Oh, why not?

Because, er, your hands are made of cardboard and I do all your bits.

Oh blimey!

Frank was often assisted on his records and shows by Little Frank and his puppet pals Little Denise (who had her head stolen, never to be replaced) and Little Buzz Aldrin the American space puppet. It was, as Frank proudly boasted, a ventriloquist act where nobody's lips moved. Other members of the puppet entourage included Breville Toaster Frank ('Sandwiches!') and Amoeba Frank, the one-celled ventriloquist puppet. Little Frank would constantly undermine his big counterpart and often a  huge argument would ensue ('You stupid, stupid puppet!). In live performances, sympathy would invariably go toward Little Frank at which point Big Frank would point out that he was the one doing his voice.

A good old google will tell you everything you need to know about Frank's World (from Radio Timperley on Piccadilly Radio to his Proper Telly Show in Black and White (with repeats in colour) on Manchester cable tv station Channel M). Caroline Aherne's Mrs Merton, Chris Evans, Mark Radcliffe and writer Jon Ronson were all associates of Frank at one time or another. Here's an article from 2006 by Ronson who was a member of the Oh Blimey Big Band. I saw them perform at the Ritz in Manchester and I'm not kidding, they rocked. Hit the North took the roof of the place.

Here's his comic strip in Oink.

My best memory of Frank is a personal one. Way back when, I was going out with my then girlfriend for a night at the (now demolished) Oakwood pub in Salford. There's been a power cut and so no-one was allowed to go in. To kill some time we went to the phone box around the corner. I had remembered that on Frank's Timperley EP he had done his own version of Pennsylvania 6-5000 entitled Timperley 969 1909 at the end of which Little Frank had berated him for giving out his phone number to the public.


'Nobody'll bother, they know it's showbiz,' assured Frank.

So I put me 10p in (that's how long ago it was!) and rang the number, thinking maybe there'd be an answerphone or the like at best.


'Hello!' came the nasal greeting on the other end of the line.


'Oh, hello, Frank,' I said. 'I didn't expect you to answer. I thought it was just a joke.'


'Oh no, boss,' Frank replied. 'It's serious. If me mum ever found out I was in showbiz she'd give me what-for.'


According to Yell.com that number is now for a business called Rhino Frames. I wonder if they still get pestered by Frank fans. I'm not going to ring to find out.


I thanked Frank and wished him well, slightly shell-shocked that I'd got to speak to the man himself. I wish I'd been as bold more recently. A few years ago Frank played Scarborough and I didn't bother going, not wanting to go on my own. I later found out a couple of friends from work had gone (one of them winning Little Denise's body in the raffle!) on spec and had been bemused by the whole affair. I'm really going to have to work on that shyness.

Right that's the end of programmes for tonight. I'll hand over to the testcard.

There will be more soonliest, actually.


You know there will. There really will.


Thank you.