Sheer Zed’s Glossolalic Evocations

Sheer Zed’s Glossolalic Evocations

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One of the lovely things about this year has been meeting and working with some wonderful, talented people. Sheer Zed and I met on Twitter a few years back and so it was a major treat to finally meet him. Especially as the first time we met ‘IRL’ was at the Hesterglock Press launch of my pamphlet clew in April this year, and he was providing ambient soundtracks to my, Sarer Scotthorne and Paul Hawkins’s readings.

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He also sampled my reading of a long poem A Summoning, and turned it into a sweeping soundscape- one of my highlights of the year to have someone use my words in their music. We hope to work together at some point again in the future- which is a very happy-making thought!

This track is available as part of Sheer Zed’s new release Glossolalic Evocations, which is released today. More information on how to get it here.

I was very lucky to receive this as a gift from Sheer Zed and have been enjoying listening to it- it is mind-bending – body- moving – immersive electronic music in all the best possible ways, and is an utter pleasure to soak up. I recommend it.

Sheer Zed has described Glossolalic Evocations as:

“…engorged with various sonic elements such as Bristolized bass, noise, glossolalic utterances, recorded ambience, rugged mechanized beats and a garnish of just a slither of acid.

Here are my, in places, vaguely glossolalic responses to some of the tracks…


Hevvy hypnotic metallic phasing iconoclastic future beats pummelling drop dub sound of dead London stretched out time blip dance loops held in glistening spectral sheets of sonic dance macabre
Clockwork ticking cog turning melodic organic mechanic blocks of reverberating dissonant rhythmic spaces gripped by claws of cubic creaking dub bird swooping through pines surveying silence time breeze on and on and on on on on strike
Deep house depth charge techno funk > Lost in Brixton in the 90s, Derrick May, Carl Craig and dancing next to a tank draped in khaki camo for four quid when Brixton was still like that move your hands in robot blip shapes and no chill out shroom shaking space robot bez haunts loose lose losing your ..it
………………………………….1.27 drop and accumulate repetitive beats Load your quiver……………………..
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………Watch the Skies. 3.36
Dark mornings in Bristol walking the cut captured by rust, decay trees. Disappearing tube train to the underworld. Pennies on eyes for the journey.
tell it like Stri ell of sulp hur un der a brid ke mat ches ge sul phur dr it is c o n j u r e a d e v i l hur str ike mat ches un der a brid aw a cir cle ge sm ell of sul phur und er a brid ge sm str ike mat ches sm ell of echo drip

Harvesting A Map, Over the Fields

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A small band of friends and family took a walk Over the Fields yesterday, to help me harvest the new poetry map. A glorious late September afternoon, close to the Autumn Equinox, traditionally associated with the second harvest…perfect timing.
We met at the church and were greeted by the vicar, Kevin, who was very generous in allowing us to wander around the beautiful church that is in his care, even letting Techno the Great Dane have a nose inside, and letting the children have a go on the church organ.

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We rambled down the hill into the valley; along paths, over and under bridges, by the river and through fields, stopping at various points to read poems. Thank you to Dad’s friend Roger White, who grew up and played in the fields too. He read us two pieces of writing he had published back in 1960, which was a great addition to the occasion. One about the Hogsmill River, published in his school magazine, and the other, a small clipping from the Surrey Comet, a news story about a local ‘incident’, which took place in 1959…

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Thank you to the family and friends who have helped me to make this new map, and who have been so kind and generous with their time, skills and support. Thanks to Bill Mudge, who recently took photos of me over the fields as I was finishing the map and taking a last walk there before signing off the final proof at my friend Mel’s studio. (Mega thanks to Mel- the map wouldn’t exist without her) Bill has kindly allowed me to use his photos, and a couple of them are on my web site. You can find more of Bill’s work here – the photos of me and Mel are part of his project 20 in 15.
The map is officially ready to find its way into the world, and with a bit of luck will help people wend their way around this patch of ‘green’…maybe you will be one of them…?
You can buy the Over the Fields map HERE, right now, and the first 25 people to order one will also get a FREE limited edition postcard (1 of 50) with a brand new poem which is also connected to this area, but not on the map… Your journey begins here!
There may be other walks – please ‘like’ my Facebook page for updates.

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Surrey Steampunk Convivial IV -Utterly Bonkers Splendid!

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writing steampunk poems:

Recently I contacted Ben Henderson, who, along with his wife Tixia, organises the annual Surrey Steampunk Convivial, to see if I could offer my poetic services. He was very kind and accommodated my idea of having a steampunk poetry workshop as part of the event, which took place last weekend. I arrived bright and early on the day, to the Royal Oak pub in New Malden, the main venue for this weekend festival, along with the Christchurch Centre, conveniently across the road from the pub. The place was already buzzing with stalls selling various wonderful steampunk accoutrements in the shape of dragon-dwelling hats, goggles and spectacles, be-cogged and geared jewellery and vintage steampunk-style outfits.

There were already several steampunks milling about wearing fantastic garb, drinking tea, and settling in for the excitement to come. A few people dared to try out a writing exercises or two and below is my friend Anna’s rather marvellous poem, which captures the spirit of the Convivial perfectly:

 

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Anna Stickney’s poem:

I wandered lonely as a clockwork snail,

that clanks along o’er cranky planks,

when all at once I saw a crowd,

a host, of extravagant steampunks

beside the cakes, beneath the teapot,

duelling and posing at the Royal Oak.

 

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 loading the specially-built cannon for the ‘fling a familiar’ contest

The two days were a blur of familiar-flinging, snail-racing, tea-duelling, steampunk morris dancing, belly dancing, anamatronic steampunk R&B, snake-snuggling, beer drinking, corset-limbo, radio-play performing, superb steampunk dj soundtracks, shadow-puppet theatre, intellectual superciliousness slamming, storytelling, great live music and bands to dance to and many other bizarre, eccentric and hilarious-but-always so so stylish- steampunk occupations to keep everyone busy.

 

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‘Be Splendid’ is the motto of the steampunk, and indeed it was, and as well as all the fun and frivolity, the Convivial was marked by the friendliness, generosity, good humour and welcoming attitude of everyone there, especially to the newbies amongst us, of which I was one. But- no more a newbie- I am hoping to be back for more creative steampunk mayhem this August, when, due to its’ popularity, there will be a second Surrey Steampunk Convivial of 2015, where I hear rumours of marquees in the beer garden…and possibly flamingo croquet…?

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So please, grab your top hat, goggles, corset and kraken….and join in the fun!

More pics from the event below.

For more information head over to the Surrey Steampunk Convivial website here.

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Diggory mole makes it into the hat

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the purple platypus winner

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‘around the world in 8o days’ radio play

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serious dunking – click here for tea duelling rules

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tense atmosphere at the tea-duelling

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tea-duelling champion

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preparing to snail race

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umbrella duelling

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Herr Doktor’s Raygun

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me, trying to hold on to the super-speedy corn snake

 

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Ichabod Steam’s animatronic  Steampunk band

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 sword-wielding belly dancers!

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the winner of corset limbo shows how it’s done

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 Darren Gooding’s amazing storytelling

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shadow puppet theatre!

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audience participation invloved languishing and carrying a bagful of sky

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 intellectual superciliousness slam…nincompoops!

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 me reading some steampunk’d poems

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the marvellous Moth with Ben and Tixia

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Out-of-body-in-the-flesh: Seeing Coil Play Live 10 years ago

At the time I was still married, still living in Bristol, living a completely different life to the one I have now. Since 2002 I’d been on a path of re-discovery, of working out why I was feeling so out of sync with myself. There were lots of reasons…seeing Coil was another piece of the puzzle falling into place, if you’ll forgive the cliche.

I’m not sure when I first heard Coil- it was some time in the late eighties, and it was probably ‘S is for Sleep’ from The Elephant Table LP, which my boyfriend of the time had.

I remember him coming home with the Horse Rotovator LP and it changed everything, and profoundly influenced our own music-making and thinking. After that we bought all the Coil music we could. I still have my vinyl copies of Scatology, the Hellraiser themes and a signed copy of Windowpane, amongst other Coil goodies, all stashed in the loft, waiting for the time when I eventually have space for them again. I’m not a completist and apart from a few bits and bobs on cd I don’t have many of the recording they went on to make in the nineties and early noughties. Besides, my life changed and I was no longer making music, although I was still being creative in other ways from time to time.

Hearing Coil play live was something I never thought I would get the opportunity to do, to see them performing out-of-body-in-the-flesh.

The closest I got to meeting them was years before, when I wore my John Crancher shirt, emblazoned with gold devils, to a gig we were all at, maybe Meat Beat Manifesto, and they had joked that they wouldn’t release their next record until I gave it to them (I didn’t) …

They played the Ocean in Hackney, long since gone, on what I remember as a hot and dusty Sunday evening. Where my ex was desperate to leave by the end of the gig, I was desperate to stay to the very last, even after they’d finished, and ‘Feed the Birds’ from Mary Poppins was blaring out of the PA. I’m very thankful I got to see Jhonn and Sleazy play live- it was as beautiful, disconcerting and transporting as I had hoped it would be. RIP.

Magick moments.

(The Quietus wrote a great piece on Coil in 2011 to honour the first anniversary of Peter Christopherson’s (aka Sleazy) passing. Find it here)

 

 

 

More about #SmallStone

I started the #smallstone project on the 3rd January this year, after seeing a couple of friends had decided to write a small poem every day as part of Writing Our Way Home’s Mindful Writing Challenge. I managed to write one every day after that and was surprised to find I had quite a large collection of lines of poetry by the end of the month.

The idea was to notice something every day and write about it, as a way of being mindful, (for more details see here) but I found myself writing a line or two, aor a sequence of words, which summed up my day in some way. Some of these are literal, e.g. events on the way to and from the school run. However they have also described feelings and memories in more abstract lines, and I wonder if this moves some of the ‘small stones’ away from their original intent, although I understand them, so maybe it’s ok.

It has certainly helped me to feel more rooted in each day and consider what has made an impact on me. I have found myself wondering if what is happening at that present moment will be the ‘small stone’ for that day.

Like any writing exercise it has also been great for flexing some creative muscle, so I’m going to see if I can keep it going for February…

broadcast #10

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . adrift . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . longing to be caught in a net . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . the benefits of swimming manifest themselves . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . with repetition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . not always acknowledged by the drudge . . . . . . . . . what seems to be treading water is movement, still….. movement, still…. movement, still . . . . .the fish would flounder in a net . . . . . . . . . . . . this mermaid is silent with legs . . . . . . . .)(