Saturday, March 12, 2016

50 Hours of Beatcroft Social, The Prog Rock Poem, Mull2Muckle video, last night's Vera show and its Spotify playlist, plus BBC Radio Orkney's Orcadian Dalliance...all in one place

Kind of like, almost, a webzine, with embedded players, videos, poetry and playlists!
But first, a menu. Or, if you will, contents:

(1) Here's last night's Radio Vera Ireland Beatcroft Social radio show, featuring The Faces, Los Lobos, Dawes, Lowell George and Blue Rose Code among others. Streaming here, repeated on Vera at 10.00pm on Wednesday. Play from here or go to...
(2)...Mixcloud, where there's now an unbelievable 50 HOURS of Beatcroft Social music and chat for your delectation and delight. No ads, no trails, all choices my own. It's here.
(3) I decided this week to complete the Mull2Muckle cycle route (Mull of Galloway to Muckle Flugga in Unst) this summer. That'd be Perth to Kirkwall. Here's the video shot by Precious Productions of my 'short route' completion three years ago.
(4) For those on Spotify, here's the link to last night's show as a Spotify playlist, and...
(5)'s Tuesday's BBC Radio Orkney show, Tom Morton's Orcadian Dallaince. It's on Soundcloud, which means you can listen online or download for later consumption. Don't ask me how...
...and finally, a poem, which was inspired by a Facebook post by Brian Crosland concerning the death of Keith Emerson. Have a good week!

Progressive rock

(Keith Emerson 1944-2016)

May we not remember yet, and grieve
For those who shared our youth, and who
Leave us bereft, diminished, lost?

The last limousine has left the stage door
In Renfield Lane we loiter, you
Hardcore in greatcoat and Docs that cost

Two Saturdays in Listen, Cambridge Street
Sneering at Osmonds fans, but serving them
Their sweet confections with contempt.

We have a last train which will not wait
From Central to Pollokshaws, we are condemned
Hating our superior discontent

The gap that yawns so wide between the audience
And band, is just the same for us. 
We hold the difference tight, though: our music’s real

Musicians, real ones, who can really play!
We miss the train, but catch the late-night bus
There are synthesisers in the swish of wheels 

I won’t forget that night, our coats’ wet-dog smell
Next day, my ears were ringing, but I could hear
Well enough to know that everything had changed

In Gloria’s Record Bar, I saw this guy
Bleached, shorn,spiked and pierced
“I ordered it. It should be in. I’ve got the cash,” 

He said. “The single’s White Riot. The band is called The Clash.”

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