Tuesday, March 09, 2010  

Test Dept. Did I post about them before? Published one of my most favorite tourpictures in a post last year. You see the complete band and crew hanging like a ‘street-gang’ in their warehouse back alley in London.
Often I refer to Test Dept as my best learning school being a FOH soundengineer. I toured with them through the 80ties working on shows like Materia Prima, Gododdin and Pax Britannica. The knowledge was not so much gained on the technical side of the shows but more the acoustic challenge. Performances where mostly on unusual site locations. Quarries, abandoned factories, deserted fields and such more. Especially the indoor locations where an acoustic hell. Besides that the space used by the performers was sometimes enormous. In Glasgow we did a gig in an old train factory. The stage was 200 meters (600 feet) deep! An actual, real train came driving in as part of the show. The most difficult part was dealing with the musicians dynamics. Their instruments where extreme diverse. Traditional drums, drumkit, Spanish drums, percussion, marimba, bag pipe, alpine horn, cello, ….. plus selection of all kinda scrap yard steel variable from small pieces until huge steel dish, strainer and a massive square tank. On top of that vocals and backing tape. Now go for it trying to make something that sounds like constructed piece of music in this cacophony of sound bouncing around in a huge empty concrete-steel-glass factory hall. The massive square tank got often played by 4 sledgehammers at the same time. That alone was un-amplified good for 115 db straight into the audience. 4 sidefields (strong monitors) 2K each in every stage corner for playback on hear-able level to the musicians. A power equal to 2 regular sized club-PA’s.
So there I was in the FOH desk area, all alone with (on some shows) 64 inputs. Mainly all microphones, few DI’s and 8 tracks from tape. Looking at two mixing desks put together (one was insufficient on channels) plus outboard gear with gates, compressors, fx’s and 8-track I also operated. Running around like an idiot moving faders, changing fx’s, setting compressors and at the same time watching the cue’s. It was almost an impossible task but I did it. Let the cello be heard over a bunch of loud steel. A bag pipe (4 wireless mics) fading in walking up from the back. Vocals with pitch shifter on top of loud sledgehammer drumming and tape orchestration. Fighting the room acoustics with the main equalizer.
Also of Test Dept its difficult to find good pictures showing total overview whats going on. Most are detailed close ups, or nice view of the visual elements. Here a picture I found with the two main members from first till last day.  



When Test Dept turned into an average techno act early nineties I lost them somewhere on the road. But I gained a knowledge many colleagues never experienced. Until today spaces, venues, clubs, enormodomes are no longer a problem to me. I can deal with the house acoustics quick and easy. Got so used to this that I feel uncomfortable in perfect acoustics. Walking into a space with the local tech rapping about difficult room reverberations (it used to be an church, it was a tram-repair shop,…..) mostly shrugs my shoulder. “Like lively rooms” I often response.
Due to my work with Test Dept I spend a lot of time in London late 80ties. It must have been in 1988. The pub curfew law was still 11 pm. On weekend nights, when call for last rounds announces, someone spread small handwritten notes into peoples hands. Often it didn’t say more than an address. You knew this was the place the party would go on. Outside hitting an of-license (convenient/alcohol night store), get some drinks, stop a cab and hand him the address. Location mostly in a deserted industrial part of this or another neighborhood. The street is dark and empty where the taxi stops. Someone pays the driver, while we look around and concentrate what direction the music comes from. On the end of a small alley we see some people hanging around. Inside of the old warehouse music is max on minimum pa with dj on high riser looking down. The walls are covered with, on sheets drawn ‘graffiti’ style painting. Few red, yellow and blue 500 watt pars, dimmed, light up to the minimum what is necessary to see. Thats all what contributed to the party. The music was new. Kinda futuristic electronic disco minimalized with strange sounds. The new thing called acid-house music. Within one hour the place was packed. The beginning of a new scene/generation and again I enjoyed to be there.

Monday, March 08, 2010  

Promised for a long time, so here we go. Dates of the tours from Karyn Kuhl and Sensational/Spectre

Karyn will be rocking solo in the following places:


I will be at all these shows. Come to check it out and say hello.  

Just a few weeks later you can enjoy performances of Sensational and Spectre here:


Sensational and Spectre will do this trip without my guidance. I know, you will miss me, but hey, its still a great show to check out.  

You notice gaps in both tours. Karyn between March 28 and April 2, Sensational/Spectre from April 26 to 28. If you are looking for a great last minute stage act on these dates, contact me: email

Sunday, March 07, 2010  

Sorry, no time today. More extended posts this week. Meanwhile I give you some space searching for old Plastic People Of The Universe music. Hard to find I was told yesterday. Also not as download. Give it a good go, its worth a try. I don’t bother. Own a couple of albums. Anyway, since you are on the web, listen and watch this Karyn Kuhl blues theme ‘Crying’, recorded live in Hoboken: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NQQ7ojfm3-U

Saturday, March 06, 2010  

Like to go back to yesterdays post. I tried to find online a picture of the back cover from The Plastic People Of The Universe – Egon Bondy’s Happy Heart Club Banned. Strange I couldn’t find it. Yes yes, I do not own a scanner. For each album review I steel a cover picture from the net. I was assuming that it is so obvious someone would have scanned this back cover picture. Talked about it in yesterdays post. The complete ‘scene’ poses at a famous spot by the river. More strange is that I found an almost similar picture, but it is not the exact same one:    


This picture must have been taken just before or after the one that ended on the back of the cover. I guess just before. On this picture are few lesser people. On the left they are still ‘grouping’. The guy on the left a step away from everybody holds a camera. You cannot see that on this picture, but clearly on the cover one that is assumedly taken very shortly after. The person on the far right smokes the cigarette, its in his mouth. On the orriginal picture the cigarette is in his hand while he looks away. The tuba faces sideways, here to the front. On the cover photo the group is more organized in ‘position’. I will try to get the real back-cover picture scanned.
For the ‘records’ two more remarks:
The actual band ‘The Plastic People…’ stands far right.
27 people on this picture got arrested shortly after it was published.

Friday, March 05, 2010

Ok, here another one in the section ‘Records I Show With Pride’: The Plastic People Of The Universe – Egon Bondy’s Happy Hearts Club Banned. For those unfamiliar, this band is from Prague, Czech Republic, around since late 60ties, so they actually are from Czechoslovakia! If you didn’t know you should be ashamed. The Plastic People is one of the (or maybe even thee) most legendary bands ever.
The Plastic People Of The Universe started in 1968 just a few weeks after the historic military invasion of Soviet army. They had a hard time surviving. Some band members got arrested for playing music. I will not go too deep into the sensational side of this band history. Surf the web for it.
I am born in the late 50ties, the teenage generation of early 70ties. Depressive propaganda images of poor people in dark clothes gloomy looking had no influence on us. As Europeans living nearby socialistic and communistic countries we considered the ‘cold-war’ nothing more than foolish power game of few dumb politicians. How could we believe in a dangerous threat if we travelled on vacation with parents or friends to some of these territories? The people all looked happy with sunny seaside’s and partied much better than those Western uptight yuppies. I remember clearly from Highschool that an army representative came to the class and opened his speech with “the commies are coming”. The complete class burst out in laughing. Already in the 70ties not a good line to win souls for a killing machine.
Ofcourse not all former socialistic/communistic territories had it easy. The Romanian population was kept poor and neglected by their dictator. Czechoslovakia was under a strict regime of the Soviet Union. Up today politics (also in democracies) is all about power. All political territories keep populations oppressed. Some more obvious than others.
‘The Plastic People….Egon Bondy’ record I own is an original. Bought it in 1978 when released. A French label ‘Scopa’ made the record. It has liner notes from Johnny Rotten on the back plus a picture of (assumedly) the complete Plastic People ‘scene’ in Prague, taken on a famous spot at the river I walked by very often. In the distance you see the Prague castle. The front cover shows a vague picture of the musicians. 4 of them pull their eyes wide open.  


The record includes a book with stories and pictures of the Prague scene. On the label they printed the communistic symbol ‘Hammer and Sickle’ filled with cheerful hearts.
Its interesting how much I can tell you just about one record and still didn’t mentioned the music. This is how you can recognize a great piece of art, not only in music, but all forms of expressions. The creators of this album wrote more history than complete Soviet Union and Czechoslovakian historians together. Its not the facts but the soul. The feel that explains and survives time. Ofcourse as an artist you express under influence of daily situations. Politics, religion, weather, family, food, drinks, friends and a lot more. All contributes to how you feel and (in this case) how you play music.
The music is underground. A mix of rock, folk, experiments and jazz. Till today outstanding and interesting. Egon Bondy (name in the album title) wrote poetry. The band uses his work for lyrics. They sing them in Czech. I love to play this record. Even after 30 years it still finds a regular return to my player.
I come often in Prague working inside the music scene. Years ago saw posters of The Plastic People announcing concerts. “They still exist” I mentioned to a promoter who reacted mumbling disinteresting. Had similar denying replies before trying to talk with people in the ‘scene’ about the ‘Plastic’. Till today I wonder why the reactions where so estranged. Tired of all these foreigners that always want to talk about the ‘Plastic People’? Enough of all that wining about the past? It doesn’t matter to me. I have this great record and close this post with the opening lines of the record (in English translation). Lyrics that can still be actual for many today. Written by Egon Bondy.  



Thursday, March 04, 2010  

(This is an in-continuing story. Pick it up to read former 'vision' posts visiting the 'vision' link http://limbabwe.com/page.php?23 .)

Isol felt a bit uncomfortable ringing the doorbell of Johan’s house. The funeral was only 2 days ago. That was a very tragic day. Johan’s complete class was there plus all teachers from school that had no lessons at that hour. Johan’s mom collapsed during the ceremony. For many other friends and relatives the grief was too much. Nobody was chatting or mumbling like usual on funerals. After the ceremony almost everybody left immediately to avoid socializing. This was too emotional to digest collectively. (Yes dear reader, it was Johan who got hit by that branch. Unintentional indirectly killed by a T-Tof. I know he was until now one of the main characters in this story, but what do you expect, a prefab story a la average Hollywood shite where life has to be nice, sweet, protected and main character is not allowed to die, especially not this early in the story! Fuck that! This is my story! Expect the unexpected. The only way to survive today’s slavery.)
Johan’s father opened the door. “Oh hi Isol, come in.” He said with a cheerful twinkle in his eyes. Galar was happy someone from Johan’s past had the courage to visit. Inside Mom was sitting quietly at the table dazzling stirring a cup of tea. Obvious she was still trying to cope with the facts. “Um, uh, eh…..” Isol falters. “Oh Isol, its you. Hi” Johan’s mom says turning towards her. “Do you want a cup of tea?” Isol hesitates. This is not why she came but it would be rude to refuse. “Yes please, but only one, I do not have much time. Lots of homework for school, you know.” While zipping the tea Gallar tried to keep conversation going mentioning unimportant details of the funeral day. It is still to soon talking about what caused Johan’s dead although on school everybody thinks it was an unfortunate accident. (Nobody links the tree branch with by T-Tof caused domino effect)
“Uh, I do not know how to ask this and don’t want to be impolite, but can I have one more last look at Johan’s room?” Isol asks suddenly in a shaky voice. “We spend so much time together there and I would like to have a last glance for my memory?” “Well ofcourse” They both replied simultaneously. “You want to see the room right now?” Galar asked. “Yes Please”. Isol got up and walked the stairs with Galar following her. “Uh.. do you mind if I am alone for a moment?” Discrete Johan’s father turned around. In the room Isol immediately went to the cupboard, emptied bottom shelf, lifted plank and took out that little package they found together at the abandoned factory. She raised her eyebrows reading the booktitles on top, but didn’t bother any further. Quickly moved everything back in place and putted the package in her shoulder bag she carried all that time with.
Downstairs Isol didn’t want to go back into the living room. “I have to go now. Thank you very much. By.” She yells while rushing to the frontdoor. “You can always come to visit Isol” Galar screamed after her. Relieved Isol jumped on the bike. ‘Phooh, got that package’, she sighted. Checking the label codes on Digipedia she knew exactly what is in that package. These are old-fashioned explosives. It doesn’t need much to set this of into a big bang.

Wednesday, March 03, 2010  

(This is an in-continuing story. Pick it up to read former 'vision' posts visiting the 'vision' link http://limbabwe.com/page.php?23 .)

The air-codes blanked out again. “Shit” Royan said to himself. “Have to get this thing right!” Royan purchased the other day the latest J-Tof, the T-Tof. Saving many week allowances he finally could afford the newest of the newest. Ok, J-Tof’s are around for ages, but this one goes further than digital, its T for trigital! Anxious to get familiar with the new advanced technology he is endlessly pushing the sensors comparing with the manual. Trigital is so new, nothing looks like the good old fashioned digital. New (better) ways of storing, sharing, hearing, watching. There is no display. Just a small flat silver shiny box, two by one inch, with only two touch ‘sensors’. With the T-Tof comes a little wireless in-ear phone to listen. Visuals appear 3D (3T?) in the air, not limited by screen borders. Pointing to f.e. a screen will show the requested visual on that screen if it would be installed with trigital. Touching the sensors creates codes that give operating commands. Learning these codes is what occupies Royan since yesterday. The new technology is not easy. Asking friends is useless. Almost nobody has trigital yet. Will not take long before it takes over like digital did with analogue. To be one of the first is always difficult. Royan imagines that early analogue and digital pioneers had similar problems. He likes to discover and explore. His room is full with recent and old tools from analogue to digital. Besides taking electronic machines apart for investigation, he also likes to build new ones.
Obsessed he touches another code nowhere mentioned in the manual. Suddenly a bright yellow beam shoots out of the T-Tof hitting the on-switch of the (shelf stored) laser-flex by coincident. The laser-flex pointed out the window, cuts a lamppost in half. The upper-half drops on a loose piece of scaffolding half constructed. The steel scaffolding bar swings over a house roof hitting tree branch that breaks and falls on top of a young lads head. Sadly an immediate fatal deathly hit!

Monday, March 01, 2010  

What’s wrong with you people? You don’t have anything else to do than sit at home in front of a screen or are you all already so apathetic you can only communicate with eachother over (others) websites? Sorry I am too busy touching the real world with real people and real nature alive and breathing. No time for cyber digits that are untouchable. So please stop inviting me for the crappy site you joined to be non-social. If you like to be in touch write me an email, call, post (yes post!) a letter,….. At least show some effort so I feel you are interested in joining contact. No I am not denying new technologies. Busy enough working my own website and answering people who do bother to contact by email (write more than one line). Anyway, the sites you joined are just industry advertisement tricks. So let me tell you for now and forever that I will NOT join:
LinkedIn
Twitter
Facebook
MySpace
LastFM
Flickr
MSM
CS …………. and whatever else there is or will come to keep you fixated on non-existing digits.
RIDE A BIKE!

Sunday, February 28, 2010  

Not much space for posting today. Not in time or mind. Too busy. As introduction towards more intense attention for experimental/industrial music in the near future on this spot, here two pictures of Test Dept. The back and front cover of a live record in Montreal Canada, I did the FOH for. Expect the story later this month.



Saturday, February 27, 2010  

Style dancing is a popular activity by the youth in these parts. Don’t even know if I can call this ‘style’ dancing in English. Just translate it out Dutch. Its traditional ‘classical’ dancing like you learn on an old fashioned dancing school. The foxtrot, waltz, quick step, tango and so on. Especially in the smaller villages around here many young people know (learned) how to dance. I asked how come. Most explained that life is pretty boring on the country side. Old-fashioned dancing teachers show up teaching lessons on Tuesday nights for a low fee in the local town theater. Almost all teenagers go since there are no other social gathering events until weekend. After working a gig in one of these small village clubs I was amazed to see people dancing official steps on ‘Proud Mary’ (Ike and Tine Turner). The real ‘redneck’ country life is unknown to me. Due to all modern communication machines that bring the world into your home I thought it disappeared, especially in Centre Europe. Working in these places gives me the feeling joining Lynch movie scenes.
Its its and bits again today. Had 3 Visions in a row. Following episodes next week. The story-line slowly gets structure. Re-reading it I think its too ‘normal’. Something unexpected weird will happen. I let the surroundings inspire me. Two times a mountain cabin occurred. And last Thursday it was me moving a chair to the west side of the house enjoying warmth of the first sunny day this year. Listening to babbling streams of melting water. Yesterday these streams turned into wild rivers. Rain poured down. And even now, today snow is still not gone.
Soon a Wordsound and Karyn Kuhl tour. Dates will appear on this site. Keep checkin’. Last October Wordsound was keeping office at this house for a few days. Here a picture with the crew in my livingroom. On the left sitting is Skiz (Spectre) working on his laptop, Sensational on the right and in the back, kneeling down Mental Nomad.  



Thursday, February 25, 2010  

(This is an in-continuing story. Pick it up to read former 'vision' posts visiting the 'vision' link http://limbabwe.com/page.php?23 .)

Snowcrystals twinkled in the midday sun announcing the end of the winter. Galar moved a chair on the west side of the cabin. Self-complacent he sat down eyes closed listening to the babbling streams fed by melting water, enjoying the first sun of this year.
Every year when first signs of winter-end appear, Galar visits the family mountain cabin. Ofcourse to repair unavoidable damages caused by past rough season, but also to find few days of rest. To be away from daily hectic live.
The cabin was owned by his grandfather and moved from father to son. In the summer he must allow visits from other family members. His parents had only 2 kids and they both where only child. From his wife relatives is only a far away aunt still alive. Galar’s sister comes every summer for one week with her husband and kids. Always a fun week with lots of chatter, barbecue’s, drinks and games.
The first weekend of the year Galar is always alone. The dirt-road to the cabin had still 2 feet of snow. He leaves his car behind in the nearest parking, an old bar/restaurant/store mainly visited by local farmers, hunters, forest workers and in the summer few lost tourists. From there it’s a 3 hour difficult and dangerous walk up the hill through untouched snow. With bag-pack, mainly containing food and drinks, Galar makes his way in an almost unrecognizable landscape. The cabin stores all his further needs, tools, wood-oven and working clothes.
There is another reason why Galar likes to be in the cabin alone. In the furthest of the 5 rooms his dad stashed away all grandpas’ belongings after he passed. The 5th room was small. Single bed, chair and wall completely furnished with one big cupboard mainly empty except behind a locked double door where the boxes and bags are stored. Every year when Galar comes alone one of the first thing he does after settling (connecting water, electricity, start woodfire for heat,….) is unlocking the cupboard. Carefully he takes out an ancient machine, nowadays only to see in museums, a recordplayer. He switches the converter to 220 volt/50 hertz (voltage changed into a different, lower, current), plugs in the player. Galar knows all the records. Played them all dozens time. He likes old things. They seem to feel and sound more organic. That’s why he called his son after his grandfather, Johan. An old fashioned name hardly used anymore these days. A friend visiting for summer vacation advised to sell the complete dusty collection including player to freak or museum. He had only ironical remarks “Who calls himself Berry?” “What kinda name is that? Black or Blue Berry?” “And look at his given name, Chuck!” “That’s like choke.” “Did he choke on a Berry? Ha ha ha.” After that Galar never showed grandpa’s heritage to anyone. Later his son will own it.
The dark of the evening comes quick. Its still late February. Winter finished early this year. Galar switch on a few atmospheric oil lights, opens the bottle of vodka brought up in his bag-pack. Carefully he unpacks the box of records and put one on the player. Eyes close relaxed, leaning in a chair while the needle crackles the grooves. After 4 records plus half a bottle Galar rises lighted up accompanied by ancient rough sounds. He is dancing, rocking, shaking, twisting……twisting the night away.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010  

(This is an in-continuing story. Pick it up to read former 'vision' posts visiting the 'vision' link http://limbabwe.com/page.php?23 .)



Tuesday, February 23, 2010  

(This is an in-continuing story. Pick it up to read former 'vision' posts visiting the 'vision' link http://limbabwe.com/page.php?23 .)

The evening dinner finished in a severe silence. The argument increased during meals last two days. Johan is in his final year of secondary school. Time to make future choices. Most teenagers move on to highschool to be prepared for a university study. The parents of Johan thought similar. After all that reading he must be a successful student. Talented to reach high jobs like top manager or professor. Johan has different thoughts. He wants to join technical school. His dad finds it to low of an education. Especially after secondary school technical education is nothing more than training for the factory assembly-line. Ofcourse mom agrees totally with dad. After all he was only child, and they invested so much in him. But Johan has the feeling he knows already everything that is to learn on university. Probably even more after reading books nobody ever gets to read. It is the knowledge out of books that makes him want to go into a technical direction as soon as possible. Many smart writers were inventors, chemists and scientists. An (improper) book he got from mrs Slater, ‘Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance’ by writer Pirsig was a clear example how you can make philosophic studies while working an ancient engine. Johan is anxious to learn something technical. Starting at basics, a simple technical education is the best fundament. It will always be possible to study further after this. Anyway, the goal is to become a writer. Writers should have knowledge about all kind of things.
If only mrs Slater would still be alive he had at least someone to talk with who understands. Mrs Slater past away 8 months ago by natural cause. Her heart stopped. With tears in his eyes Johan watched special police forces removing cases with books from the house to be burned. An unreplaceable archive of knowledge destroyed for the sake of materialism.
Isol is not much support either. Although his best friend she clearly stated to prefer marrying a rich successful manager than factory worker. Two months ago they where hanging around in an abandoned factory South of the neighborhood. Plans are made to replace the old building for housing. Isol and Johan come there often to be alone practicing their dancing having their J-Tof’s (the follow up of I-pod) in sync with infraray. While moving around Isol almost stumbled. Auw she yelled. A loose plank flipped up and scraped her ankle. Johan noticed the hole first. He pulled out more rotten planks of what used to be a hatch. Below was a small space no more than 6 by 6 feet and only 2 feet high. The space was filled up with many small cases of 10 by 15 inches and 3 inch deep. With his hands he removed the dust. These are here for a long time. Forgotten when the factory closed? Carefully Johan wiped some dirt from a half rotten label. He barely managed to decipher ‘C3H5N3O9’ and ‘KNO3’. The rest of the label-text soaked in brown moist and was unreadable. “This is a scientific formula” he said to Isol who half bored watched his moves listening to the J-Tof. Johan stashed one box away between the school and library books in his back-pack. At home he moved the package under the bed for later examination. School and family stress made him forget about it.
After the dinner Johan decided to take action himself. This was his future, not his parents, so he has the right to take the decision alone. Tomorrow he will visit the ‘High School For Advanced and Historic Technology’ to register.

Monday, February 22, 2010  

Watching the movie ‘Bringing Out The Death’ reminded me of Johnny Thunders. Borrowed the dvd from a friend. A ‘Taxi Driver’ inspired story. Instead taxi it is in this movie an emergency ambulance driving the streets of New York early 90ties. The soundtrack contains many 70ties punkrock tunes (Clash). Too my surprise I suddenly heard a few lines of Johnny Thunders ‘You Can’t Putt Your Arms Around A Memory’! That got better, it turned out the movie theme song. Not the intro/outro tune, but during the movie bits of ‘Arms Around A Memory’ return regularly supporting essential scenes. Wow, do people still remember Johnny Thunders nowadays? Surfing the web I see that he is mentioned on the usual ‘history’ sites and some devoted fans keep pages with info. For those who don’t know: Johnny Thunders was born in Queens, New York and is from the Ramones generation (same age). Growing up in the same ‘hood’, Thunders and Ramones (Dee Dee) knew eachother from their childhood. Johnny gained fame for being an original member of the legendary punk/glam/rock band ‘The New York Dolls’. After NYD broke up he had a band called The Heartbreakers. They lasted a short life recording one album (not taking the endless re-unions in consideration). After that Johnny mainly recorded solo albums and joined a few short-life projects.
I still have all official Johnny Thunders solo records and the very first Heartbreakers ‘LAMF’ lp release plus ofcourse the two legendary NYD records. This is somehow remarkable. I am not really the ‘type’ keeping ‘standard-rock’ artists in my collection. I think Johnny stayed because of emotional value. The rock is real, therefore lots of spirit. Many Thunders records are not outstanding. Most productions are wacky and weird choice of songs construct chaotic compilations. Only the last two records ‘Que Sera, Sera’ and ‘Copy-Cats’ are well recorded and produced. My most favorite and probably best record of Johnny Thunders is ‘Hurt Me’. released in 1983. A record that absolutely reaches the category of ‘Records I Show With Pride’. The complete album is Thunders alone solo with acoustic guitar. Very intense and emotionally Johnny performs a collection of his (previous with bands released versions) own songs plus few covers. Its ‘shivers down your spine’ Thunders. (Natural) high voice combined with metallic sounding acoustic guitar he exposes his soul to the listener. The version I have is an original 1983 French pressing from New Rose records. A warm dark red cover shows pictures of Johnny vulnerable, with many tattoos on his arms.


If you look for this record I advice the vinyl (all my album reviews on this site are vinyls). The cd release includes the complete ‘In Cold Blood’ session as bonus tracks. The total different feel and dynamic spoils the nice atmospheric concept of vinyl ‘Hurt Me’.
There is much and nothing to say about Johnny Thunders. On his few (6) official solo albums he endlessly covers himself re-recording previous released tracks. Johnny was probably the only real ‘stereo type’ rocker as so often described in bullshit rock-dreams lies. His whole life was filled with crime and drugs. He had a bad reputation. Often not showing up for gigs, and if he did, mostly too stoned or drunk unable performing decently. Dee Dee (Ramone) thought he was in his heart a good guy who took a wrong turn in his life. All personal info about Johnny I write down here you find nowhere. Its what I remember from when he was still around and what Dee Dee told me in the time hanging with him. I assume that most recording sessions where done for some cash that immediately got invested in ‘Dr Feelgood’. Therefore sessions resulted in a sloppy ‘demo’ sounding jams with friends. Still Johnny Thunders should be remembered. He wrote punk classics like ‘Born To Loose’ and (together with Dee Dee) ‘Chinese Rocks’. But most of all Thunders was real! And (yes I know …. here we go again) real is hard to find nowadays.
Thunders passed away in 1991, yes you guessed it, overdose. As always a death loaded with the usual ‘mystery’ stories about murder and robbery. Fact is there was drugs, the robbery and murder is questionable (a dealer-junky argument?) it all fits into Johnny’s life. Probably his death was combination of all. Pity, its hard to find decent information about his musical career. All ‘history’ and fan sites mainly waste space on Johnny’s turbulent life-style.
You can find many releases of Johnny Thunders. During and after his life lots live-records appeared. Half of them are bootlegs. They all contain the same songs, one night was bad the other good. If you like to hear Johnny life I recommend ‘Heartbreakers live at Max’s Kansas City’ (Beggars Banquet 9).
The director of ‘Bringing Out The Death’ made a brilliant choice with Johnny’s ‘You Can’t Putt Your Arms Around A Memory’. Not only because lyrics suit well to the main characters frustration but also because Johnny was probably a regular customer in such New York emergency ambulance.

Sunday, February 21, 2010  

Sorry, due to lack of time some mistakes (forgot) occur in my yesterday’s recipe. The pancake-paste ofcourse needs a tea-spoon of baking powder plus you serve rice with the complete meal. My advice: Basmati rice.
Ok, I have been yapping a lot about this soul-less materialistic period lately in posts. Plus the logical search and yearn for some more human spiritual activities (not useless religious bullshit). It seems that both are related. The more materialism, the lesser spiritualism. In this valley surrounded by forest overgrown high steep hills, a natural peaceful comfort, used to give the feeling that you are back in mom’s womb (according a long time ago visitor). Well, lately it feels more like a test tube. The hills, forest and nature is still here (tanx god……..uhh who?), but the womb lost its creative cultural life-juice. What can you expect in a community that tanx its existence to industry; mercury mine, and now one overruling factory that produces a pure technical product. Basics for a free-mind soulful cultural life never rooted around here. Maybe some individuals tried, but the materialistic factory rules controlling all local activities, sports, gigs, village design, architecture, holiday events and so on…. This turned the complete womb-life into a bizznix-manager attitude; ‘empty production’. That explains why artists here are heartless copy-cats (especially musicians). Even the local lace tanx its existence to the industry (mine). Town notables (related to the factory) like to brag of about the yearly lace event that hangs in dusty webs of grey organizers and few minor international participants. The local lace culture is created for selling (read money) and polishing factory bizznix events. Town size and isolation made the majority slaves (not Slavics) of the industry. No wonder that envy, competition, jealousy, disrespect, humiliation and back stabbing are the strongest spirits. It chased creative spirits away. They hide in forests and hills around, waiting for better times.
Some locals (mostly not related to the factory) are aware of this. A few escaped and settled definitely in nature to be surrounded by positive vibrations. Others (like me) spend much time in the forests to be among the right spirits. There is a task here for all of us. We must get these creative spirits back. They are not far, just suppressed by materialistic lives. Many inhabitants are (on purpose?) put on the wrong track.
Look for creativity by yourself besides the boring day-job. Learn to close the factory door behind you, after commitments for paying bills is done. Find space in your own heart and mind without feeling competitive or jealousy. Support eachother without materialistic expectations. If you tell me that your heart is with the factory …….. well, a bizznix company has no soul……. you sold yours to the devil!
Let the creative spirits return to comfort this womb again.



Saturday, February 20, 2010  

Its cooking club today and this is what we will brew:  

Indonesian rice dish  

On Dutch this is called ‘Indonesische Rijsttafel’ what would translate into Indonesian rice table. Somehow that doesn’t feel right. In Dutch tafelen (tabling) is mainly referred to dinner. On English I better change the table into dish.
Fruit and sweets in main dishes is non existing in many cultures. Had comments in several locations (especially North-West of this planet) that I mixed fruit in food (while not meant to be desert). Probably because fruits are not a common local vegetation in these territories. Ofcourse there are cultures in more tropical parts where fruits mixed into dishes are very common. Lots of Indonesian dishes are sweet.
The dish below is an improvisation due to my vegan restrictions and local availabilities.
This menu contains many small ingredients.
Recopies running order below is arbitrary.
Make small portions of everything and eat combining bits of every dish.
For variation use different spice-mix for each dish.

Baked Banana
Ingredients: Banana, Flower, vanilla sugar, salt, cinnamon, fizzy water. Sunflower oil. Quantities are dependable on the amount you like to make. Ofcourse be careful with vanilla sugar and cinnamon, never more than a tea spoon. Make of all these ingredients a thin pancake paste.
Peal the banana cut in half and slice one more time in the length. Heat up the oil in a pan. Go with the banana trough the paste and bake in the oil all sides lightbrown. After baking let them dry on kitchen paper. Most people deep-fry the banana. I never deep-fry, just bake. Non vegans can add egg to the paste.  

Fried noodles
Cook noodles and let cool of. Bake in a pan some garlic and onion light brown. Add the noodles lemongrass and some cumin/coriander powder plus a zip of salty soya sauce. Stirr well and bake. Towards the end add fresh cut spring onions.  

Broccoli
Blanch the broccoli in a little bit water. Before serving sprinkle with coconut rasp and peanuts.  

Tofu ananas
Ananas = pineapple. Cut a block of fresh tofu in pieces. Cut the pineapple in blocks. Bake some garlic in a pan with oil, add tofu. When lightbrown add pineapple blocks. add salt/pepper by taste. Towards the end at fresh coriander (green)

Peach/Tomato sauce with Seitan or tofu
This recopy is from my mom. Don’t know if it is real Indonesian, but it fits in the meal.
Ingredients: Garlic, onion, peach, tomato sauce, pepper/salt, flower, water, spring onions, paprika powder. Seitan or dried tofu blocks. Potato Bake in a pan with some oil the garlic/onion light brown. Add water (250 dl) mix immediately with one dinner-spoon flower. Add the tomato sauce, pepper/salt. Stir well. Cut the peaches in small blocks. Add to sauce. Let it cook for a few minutes (not to long, the peaches should not dissolve). Add the spring onion. Let it cook for another minute. Take the sauce from the fire. Sprinkle paprika powder over the top, so much the the complete sauce is covered. Stir well. Peal one potato and cook. Slice the seitan or cook the dried tofu in a mix of soya sauce with water. Seitan is unavailable here so I go on using the tofu. Bake the tofu in a pan. Slice the cooked potato. On a plate mix tofu with potato. Cover the mix ‘royal’ with the peach-tomato sauce.  

Atjar
This is a sweet/sour side dish. Serve cold. Make it the day before. Ingredients: small cut garlic, big onion, carrot, white cabbage, 2 tea spoons yellow root powder (koenjit),white vinegar, sugar, pepper/salt, 1 teaspoon cumin powder, water.
Cut the cabbage, onion and carrot in small thin slices. Mix water with vinegar and sugar to a sweet/sour taste (by your preference). I take half a cup vinegar with 2 cups of water and two dinner spoons sugar. Add salt/pepper/koenjit/cumin/garlic. Let it cook. Add Cabbage/Onoin/Carrot. Let it cook shortly. The veggies must stay crispy. After cooking rinse clean under water-tap. Let it cool of. Take a pot with lit. Make again a mix of vinegar/sugar/water sweet/sour by taste. Put the atjar in the pot. At the sweet/sour souce. Close the pot with lit. Put it in the fridge for a night.
Many recipes on the web are different than mine. Following others instructions I never had a satisfying result. The way I describe here gets an atjar as you know from the restaurants..  

Asian Salad
Ingredients: Cabbage, Carrot, Yellow paprika. Dressing: Soya milk, vinegar, sweet lemon concentrate, olive oil, fresh or dried dill and mint, roasted sesame seed.
Cut the vegetables in thin slices. Mix in bowl.
Dressing: 1dl soya milk. Add a zip of sweet-lemon concentrate and vinegar. Two zips of olive oil, teaspoon of dill and mint (dried). Mix well. Add to the salad. Mix all. top of with roasted sesame seeds.  

Veggie Wok
Ingredients: All veggies mentioned above. This can be your left-overs. Cabbage, Carrot, Paprika, Onion, Garlic, Spring onions,….. Bake with some oil in a wok-pan the garlic light-brown. Add all other ingredients, but the spring onions on the end. Add some soya sauce and curry or masala spices. Bake while stirring all veggies till done.

Sorry, this is a ‘quick one’ to write down. Not much time. Feel free to improvise. Add hot peppers to dishes if you like it spicy or put a hot sauce on the table.
Dober tek.

Friday, February 19, 2010  

Besides working on more V stories I am constructing a post about local spirits. Non of these articles satisfy. They can be better before I post them. This is rare for me. Generally I write posts within no time and publish those 10 minutes after created, re-reading (and correcting) only once. Even not so good, what the fuck, this front page is suppose to be dynamic like rock ‘n roll, good or bad, it is what it is. Am I getting critical on myself? Nervous? There is a small rise of visitors lately on my site, Some send incidentally (positive) response about my V story. Distance audience does not affect me (messages are appreciated). I think it is more personal dissatisfaction of the ‘feel’ in these posts. The ‘sound’ is incomplete. Important factors are missing. Don’t worry, will get the stories on tomorrow or following days.
Feel very motivated to create/play some music at the moment. Still have to finish ‘60-flights’. Will pick up this project tonight. The time is right, the feel is good. Water pours down washing snow away (partly). Grey clouds hang low covering this small urban civilization out of sight. The spirits are with me, protective. I should move closer!



Thursday, February 18, 2010  

(This is an in-continuing story. Pick it up to read former 'vision' posts visiting the 'vision' link http://limbabwe.com/page.php?23 .)

Girls of 17 are very busy. Keeping up with latest fashion, new pop bands, social live and study makes 24 hours a day insufficient. Inga is very busy lately. Within a few months she will leave her elderly home. By that time she is 18, finished highschool and moves on to study industrial art at the university.
Inga likes the idea of leaving home. Since her father died, 5 years ago, live became a hell. Mom was very into her company career. Always brought the latest technology gags before available in the store. Sure when Inga was 13 and 14 it was great impressing girlfriends at school with it. She gained a lot of status and managed to get elected as chairman of the student-board. Now few years older she misses her dad. He was much more social. Paid attention to Inga and Jure. Took them to the park to play funny old-fashioned games like badminton and soccer. Dad always talked with them about school and such. Mom didn’t care at all. She came home and dumped a pile of electronic gags on them. She made all memories of dad disappear quickly after the funeral. Relatives and friends saw it as a reaction of grieve. My brother and I realized than that mom never loved dad. Like a true materialist she married him for status.
Lucky I saved some pictures and conversations on my cell. I stored them on my hardfile. Everybody has a hardfile nowadays for storing essential private information like birth-certificate, tax and insurance files and such. The hardfile is nothing more than a one by one inch square box. Communication goes wireless. You access it over the infraray. Every information device has an infraray. Access is protected by personal codes. Set a code and you can connect the device with any other. To avoid abuse you keep the code personal.
Industrial art is not in the package of the local university. The nearest college is 400 miles further. Inga planned this having a good excuse leaving home. Regularly she travels up and down making necessary arrangements finding a place to live and making usual study preparations. Only few more months left leaving this horrible place. While most of her classmates are nervous about life after highschool, Inga feels confident about her direction and is absolute sure making the right choice.
She can already guess now what her 18th birthday present from mom will be. For sure a new, not yet available for purchase, Sony gagged. Probably something trigital. For days mom is bragging during dinner about this latest invention that is suppose to replace digital. ‘A major change in society’. Inga doesn’t care. She wants to move on with her life.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010  

Sorry for my gaps in posting. It’s a busy period. The carnival brought some local jobs. Gives me lesser time for other things.
Had a great week behind me. First sign of spring is calling. Snow is melting. Will take a while before this pile is gone.
Had great experiences (good and bad) with music last week. I consider every experience as great. Even the negative is a positive contribution to life. Music is based on drive, soul and spirit, not notes from a paper sheet. The type of music doesn’t matter. Hell yeah! Feel so great I jammed 5 records in a row of Benny More on my turntable. Man this is music. Had a more extended post about him long time ago. Dive in the archive. I feel lucky owning many great records with music played out a deep inside. The technical approach is in such case to be ignored. The real musicians play out of their heart, the notes go automatically right. John Coltrane is one of the best examples of such a musician. In one of his (rare) interviews he said that his goal is to change situations by playing music. No I am not talking about ‘protest-songs’. Trane had no lyrics (besides the incidental one liner like ‘a love supreme’) and didn’t do ‘politics’. Coltrane talked and changed by playing spiritual deep out of his mind and heart.
It’s a wissy wassy post today. Just wanted to show that I am still here. V followers do not worry. More episodes are expected this week.
Aaahjaheeeiiii

Monday, February 15, 2010  

Only one of all my friends says regularly to me that I am a very sensitive person. More easily touched than I show. Maybe he is right, although this friend comes out of a working surrounding (music bizznix), lives far away, is unfamiliar with my homebase and of-tour activities although I am not different on tours, maybe only more comfortable, since it is the world I know.
I often try to convince people in conversations that there are so much more aspects in your life than just the rational functional ones. Ooops, those who know me and read this might get wrong thoughts. No I am not becoming religious. Far from that. I was already the biggest atheist on the planet, and am even more convinced that religion is a waste of time. In the complex of our nature we al have feelings, emotions, spirits and so on. Not only humans, everything around us has. Its naturally there. No I am not preaching hippy shit here. Look at yourself how you’re mood can change by a color, light, speed of a car, employee in a store, a word,…and… visa versa. Funny is, we are all unaware. We do not know how we influence eachother since we don’t know everybody/thing well enough to take an approach the right way. We get what they call ‘a hard skin’. You don’t like it, but bounce it of. You’re tough. Call it a way to survive.
I do a technical job and am good in it. Professional. I am not modest about this. Why should I? 30 years of experience and a long list of respected names that only praise my skills. For those reading this and do not know my profession: I am a sound-technician. Earn my living doing this for 3 decades. Sometimes a night doesn’t work. Strange, but mostly I predict these gigs on forehand. I can feel physical bad. So bad that I cannot give 100% despite use of drugs (medicine). That is easy to understand. We all have those days.
But incidentally some other wrong vibes hang in the air. I can pull out my technical skills. Cold for the emotion. Funny enough that’s why it doesn’t work Factors simply contribute to the failure. What factors? External? Internal? Its difficult to explain. Not technical, but the spirit ‘the love that is not in the air’. Last weekend I had a night like that. Some people around me simply destroyed their own evening probably not even realizing they where. If did, well than they proven to be massive assholes. Unprofessional and inhuman. It could also be me, misinterpretating. About that particular night I am not in doubt. Knowing everybody made it possible to understand the ‘complex’ messages.
Lucky I have almost never nights like this. Anyway, sensitivity is a virtue. I am proud that my skin is still not that hard and can openly be spiritual to everyone around by showing failure.

Saturday, February 13, 2010  

On the end people over the world are in basics the same. You have nice ones and assholes everywhere. Traveling around I found out that most people are ok. Wrote in more posts about this. Look back if your interested in my rapping about that. The lines above are just an introduction to the rest of this article.
I spend a lot of time here the last 30 years. This increased even more in the last 10. It’s a former socialistic territory, the only one in Europe that was not behind the so called (never existing) iron curtain. Its interesting to see how recent history (last 100 years) influences cultures. I used to grow up and live in a territory that was (and still is) occupied by the USA. The influence was (is) massive, especially with the generations shortly before I was born and those following. Besides being familiar with the English language from a young age on, the USA influenced also strongly other sections like electronics, movies, music, (fast) food, clothes and more. Working in the music bizznix I restrict myself this particular subject.
Lately I do local jobs in this area where Partisans controlled in the mid 40ties. Most bands play poprock ‘West’ style. Interesting is that most songs are sung in Slavic language. Even the well known American standards are translated. Most musicians have problems speaking English. Even the audience, mainly young people, don’t seem to be very familiar with this ‘second world language’ (first is Spanish). In contrary with The Netherlands (I grew up in) where everybody spoke (and speaks) some English. Cover bands use the original lyrics.
The youth culture in Slavic territories carries influences in a way that was (is) impossible in the Dutch culture (I am not talking about immigrant culture in The Netherlands, that’s another article). Slavic youth adapts the music of their grandparents as easy as American rock. That creates funny and interesting mixtures in music and set-lists. In The Netherlands for generations traditional folk music of older people was dumped like total garbage. Reduced to small amounts of listeners, mainly old people or gay-scene that maintains an old female hillbilly ‘flame’ for the ‘motherly affection’. Rock and pop had to be ridiculous exact copied by the American example. Until up today I still have problems convincing people that bands like Golden Earring (Radar Love) and Shocking Blue (Venus) are 100% Dutch. Hard to believe since their music and language is so extreme American (I do not know if I give these bands a compliment or insult). The local Balkan pop and rock is full with Slavic cultural influences. In The Netherlands folk bands become popular if they copy traditional American Texmex. Slavic youth bands play easily a classic smasher of Creedence (with Slavic lyrics) followed by an old local traditional folk song followed by the latest hit of Radiohead (in Slavic ofcourse).
Influences and mixing them is natural. That created today’s world and makes Slavic culture what it is now. Maybe ‘West’ European culture of the last 50 years is not a culture at all. Just American politicians realizing Adolf’s dream.
Regarding food I have to compliment the Slavics overhere too. The well known crappy American fast-food chains don’t seem to be able settling firm. Its unpopular (mainly because of the bad quality) and more bizznixes of this kind are vanishing instead of increasing.
How long the ‘world overruling influence’ will be kept on equal level on the Balkan is hard to say. For sure it will still take some generations before it captures this territory in a similar way it did in The Netherlands.

Monday, December 14, 2009  

New video from the latest THE SYSTEM release ‘The Wheel’. You see visuals with the track ‘The Door’. Sound appeals more than visuals to me. The vid is an excuse to capture the front page spot on my site with a song I prefer. Still the visuals are not meaningless.
This video is a compilation of material shot on trips and tours with musicians in the world, me on tour as technician. You see the long Oakland Bridge entering San Francisco and a lot of material shot in Tokyo Japan. Many towers. I always wonder what people have with ‘heights’. All these ‘major’ cities must have their tower. Most shots are from the Tokyo Tower. A few are made in the Toronto Tower. The big wheel shots are in Rostock, Germany. Most material is filmed by Taka (Mono) and Nikola (Laibach).
I recorded this song in the early 80-ties, before the ‘techno- and digi-time’ in a low-fi studio. All done on analogue equipment. It was a period of discovering and improvise. I was angry and slam a door (that explains the title). The scream and door-slam is the basic sound the song is based on. I captured it on hold in one of the first decent digital delays made, the Roland SDE 1000 (still have it). All the other sound is a matter of filtering. An important role plays a very crappy noisegate, unusable collecting dust in the control-room corner, but excellent as special effect unit.
I recorded the track ‘live’ directly to a cassette tape. What you hear is taken from that tape. Unbelievable how well cassette tapes preserve. This recording is 30 years old and sounds still great. The protecting case keeps cassettes in a much better condition than any other registering method. All my professional master tapes are fallen to dust. If you store digitally you have to keep on copying because information becomes unreadable due to technology progress. You listen to a tape un-played for 30 years, and it still runs like purchased yesterday. Tip: do not record the first and last minute of the tape!

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