Lonesome Tonight

  • More adventures on the wheels of steel

    I haven’t had much inclination to write here (or anywhere else) of late, but I think that’s starting to change, at least for the forseeable future. Recently I have been waking up very early for some unknown reason, with thoughts running through my head relating to music old and new, about dim nightclubs and distant holidays, and about DJing. Hopefully I can channel some of that into a more regular stream of blog posts.

    I made a retun to DJing in public recently after a gap of around 20 years, and it felt absolutely fantastic to be playing records again. I suppose I should provide some context: I put on a handful of nights with a mate of mine in the early 2000s at a few different venues in London, and helped out a couple of friends by playing at their respective weddings, but that was about the extent of it; I’m hardly a grizzled old pro hitting the circuit one last time before sailing off into the sunset. I was very much an enthusiastic amateur then, and remain so today.

    For some reason I decided to sell my decks and my basic, two-channel mixer around 2010. I think I made the decision in order to save space in the flat that I was living in at the time, although that seems odd to me now, as the equipment hardly took up loads of room. I guess I just fell out of the habit of using the decks at home, and hadn’t played records in public for a few years, so it kind of made sense. I kept the vinyl and a separate turntable though, obviously.

    I regretted the sale a few times during the next decade, but after moving house a couple of years ago I bought a new set of decks and a new mixer, and got back into creating my own DJ sets for pleasure. I’ve been posting these to Mixcloud for the past 18 months or so, to barely any interest of course, and more recently sharing them here as well. I set myself a little challenge, which was to upload at least two new mixes a month until I had made 50 that I was happy with (mostly vinyl, but a few are digital). They vary in quality, but by and large I think they’re OK. It has been a great way of getting to know new records really well and reacquainting myself with some older ones. I’m listening to more than ever.

    Actually playing in public felt like a big step beyond that, though; I managed to convince myself that the simple act of putting one record on after another was going to be far more difficult and nerve-wracking than it actually turned out to be. And, just for clarity, it was at an open decks afternoon in a local cafe, not some club with a packed-out room! Still, the idea of doing this on someone else’s (different) equipment had me quaking in my trainers beforehand.

    I needn’t have worried. I met a few other people, including the organisers, all of whom were extremely friendly. The event itself was great… lots of different styles of music played; I turned up early to check out and support a few of the other DJs, and I heard The Orb, the Pet Shop Boys, Orbital and a few old soul classics, among others. Some were passionate amateurs like me, others had simply popped up into the attic to grab a load of old 45s beforehand, but it was all very relaxed and open-minded. 25-30 minutes each, anything goes. I’ll definitely try and get to another one if I can, as it seems like a good thing to support.

    I would like to branch out and start playing for longer at a few local venues (pubs, bars, taprooms and the like), but this was a good way to ease back in, and it feels like I’ve managed to get over a hurdle of sorts.

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  • Stand By Me hits middle age

    I never liked any movies later on as much as the ones I liked when I was twelve. Jesus, does anyone?

    I’m paraphrasing the lines typed by The Writer (Richard Dreyfuss) at the end of Rob Reiner’s Stand By Me, of course, but I think there’s something to be said for the sentiment. I watched the film for the umpteenth time at the weekend, but it was the first occasion that I’d caught it on the big screen, as it’s currently back in cinemas for 40th anniversary screenings. I loved Stand By Me when I first saw it in 1986, or possibly 1987, when I was 12 years old and my family had just taken possession of its first video player, and I feel an equally strong atachment to it four decades later.

    It’s a movie that features a heavy dose of nostalgia, set as it is in late-50s rural Oregon, although don’t mistake its take on the period and youthful bonding and adventure as merely a syrupy look back at a simpler, more innocent time. I only have dim memories of Stephen King’s original novella, The Body, but I recall that the nastiness and bullying of certain characters, as well as the mention of various fathers who are either absent or just plain bad, is all just as vivid in the book as it is in the film. I guess when you tack 40 years onto that release date, and can reflect on the differences in watching Stand By Me both as a 12-year-old son and a 50-year-old dad, then its nostalgia takes on an added dimension.

    Oddly, the movie does make me yearn for some kind of past, despite the fact I’ve lived nearly all of my like in the UK, have never been to Oregon and missed the 1950s by about 25 years. It makes me feel nostalgic for being twelve years old, and watching this film for the first time, partly because it reminds me of the discoveries I was making at the time. At that age I was getting into films, and just as importantly I was getting into music, hoovering it all up as quickly as possible. Working out what I liked, who I was, how it all seemed to fit together.

    Stand By Me‘s jukebox soundtrack of early rock n’ roll and pop hits remains a pleasure today, and is clearly one of the film’s strongest suits. Rockin’ Robin, Yakety Yak, Come Go With Me, Lollipop, Let The Good Times Roll and the like are all familiar to me now, but at 12, when I first watched the film, I was probably hearing some of these tracks for the first time, getting kicks out of the period music. Such great tunes, such fun harmonies and some of them featuring crazy vocal ticks; I still love that early rock n’ roll now, as well as doo-wop and girl group hits of the era. Reiner’s film harnesses the energy of these songs, linking them to the experiences of the 12-year-old friends as well as the gang run by “cheap dime store hood” Ace, played by a young Kiefer Sutherland. Some of these songs are irreverent, and the late director seemed very aware of that irreverence, as well as their keen sense of fun. What a blast they are – I just wish I could hear them for the first time again.

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  • Mix: Alright Alright Alright 43

    I had fun today putting this mix together. It’s not perfect but -ach- who needs or wants perfection? Anyway, as usual it’s mostly vinyl (except for four tracks) and starts off with some jazz or jazz-adjacent music before dipping into Latin jazz, straight up Strata East/Blue Note greatness and then into a few different tunes that have Nigeria as a common thread. Including all 18 minutes of that Fela Kuti/Roy Ayers banger. Finally onto some dubbier sounds, finishing with the post-punk band Maximum Joy. So yeah, some of it didn’t quite come off as I’d hoped; I probably should have left out the Ami Taf Ra track as it jars with the Lee Morgan before it and the Pharoah afterwards, but what the hell. I love it and wanted to get it in! Thanks in advance for listening.

    Nala Sinephro – Grand Prix
    Andrew Wasylyk – Awoke In The Early Days Of A Better World
    Pat Metheny Group – The First Circle
    Finn Rees & Sholto – Love In Memory
    Gabor Szabo – Space
    Okay Temiz – Penguin
    Aura Safari & Jimi Tenor – Lunar Wind
    Johnny Liebeck Group – Sunset Islands
    Eddie Palmieri – Covarde
    Maynard Ferguson – Wack-Wack
    The Heath Brothers ft Stanley Cowell – Smilin’ Billy Suite Part I
    Stephen McCraven – Allah
    Charles Tolliver – Paper Man
    Lee Morgan – Psychedelic
    Ami Taf Ra ft Ryan Porter – Love
    Pharoah Sanders – Ore-Se-Rere (Nigerian Juju Highlife)
    Ray Stephen Oche & His Matumbo – Trumpet Calls The People Of Nigeria
    Oluko Imo – Were Oju Le (Eyes Are Getting Red)
    Fela Anikulapo Kuti & Roy Ayers – Africa – Center Of The World
    Revolutionaries – MPLA
    The Juks – Dub To Jordan
    Maximum Joy – Silent Dub

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  • Take Five

    Five things worth sharing…

    • Terry Cox, formerly the drummer with Pentangle, passed away recently. His playing on this live BBC footage of Wedding Dress is insane.
    • “We need to start seeing Black contribution to Britain as foundational rather than merely influential. And that should extend way beyond music” Mobo awards founder Kanya King writing in the Guardian.
    • We Out Here has added Thundercat, Peven Everett and others to this summer’s line-up. Looking good.
    • Talking of line-ups, the London Jazz Festival announced quite a few of its acts for next November. Lots of interesting shows taking place across the capital, although I think I’ll wait for the full list and see what’s on at some of the smaller venues before booking a few gigs.
    • Sometimes it feels like there’s an infinite number of great radio shows to listen to out there… and nowhere near enough time to listen to a small fraction of them. But if you’re after a recommendation, I thought I’d use this list of links to highlight one show or DJ in particular each week that I think is worth checking out. To kick things off I’ve really enjoyed the three-month residency by Trá Pháidín on Worldwide FM. (That’s just a link to their latest show, but you’ll find the others on the Worldwide website easily enough.) Their hours so far have featured a really great mix of contemporary Irish music as well as some live playing to link it all together. Highly recommended!

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  • Eddie Palmieri: Sueño

    I picked up Eddie Palmieri’s 1989 album Sueño – along with, uhhh, far too many others – at a local record fair last weekend. I’m slowly making my way through everything that I bought, but this one’s an early highlight. I suppose that’s not really a surprise, given the quality of Palmieri’s output over several decades, but still: this one is a welcome addition to the shelves. Sueño has also recently been reissued by Intuition on 180g vinyl, but my copy’s an older pressing.

    The pianist/arranger, who sadly passed away in 2025, was on fine form during these sessions. They were the first to feature the trumpeter Brian Lynch, who would go on to become a mainstay in the band across the next two or three decades. For the most part it’s the kind of salsa and Latin jazz you would expect to hear, harking back to Palmieri’s best work of the 1970s, but with one notable outlier (more on that later). There are just seven tracks in total, two of which feature Eddie soloing on piano, and one of those is pretty much an introductory theme.

    The album properly kicks off with a then-new arrangement and recording of Azucar, originally from the mid-60s and appearing on the album Azucar Pa’ Ti. I was taken by the Cuban and Puerto Rican percussion trio on this right away; Charles Cotto on timbales, Fransico Aguabella on congas and Antony Carillo on bongos. The three of them together are so strong here, and they set the tone for the majority of the rest of the album. The best moments are, for my money, where that percussive trio is front and centre. There’s a lively lead vocal by Luis Vergara here, too.

    The playing on the instrumental Just A Little Dream is subtler, the tempo slower, and Palmieri’s piano is initially at the forefront, setting the rhythm before Shiro Sadamura’s violin solo insists on your attention. (The Japan-born, New York-based musician was a regular in Palmieri’s band in the late 1980s/early 1990s, and is one of three violinists on this record; the instrument features quite heavily.) Trumpets come in later, adding a celebratory, magisterial feel.

    Perhaps the highlight on side 1, though, is Covarde, where again there’s greater focus on the percussion and vocals; this time Milton Cordona joins in on the bata drums. Deeply funky, joyous music and I can’t wait to include it on a mix.

    I mentioned there was an outlier on this record, and that’s the utterly incongrous Humpty Dumpty (yes, that Humpty Dumpty), which kicks off Sueño‘s second side. This blog is in its initial stages, and one of my guiding principles is that I’m going to try and be positive when writing about music, rather than waste my time being overly negative, but I can’t really let this one pass without comment. A very late-80s electric guitar solo puts the frighteners on you straight away and the song never quite recovers from that point on. Vocalist Victoria Webb clearly had incredible power, but it feels like she should be belting out the vocals on a house record, as opposed to this souped-up arrangement of the famous nursery rhyme. Look, if I never hear this track again in my life that’s perfectly fine by me. Let’s just move on, shall we?

    Thankfully things quickly improve and the rest of side two is more in step with side one. Verdict on Judge Street is the second solo piano track on the album before the set closes with another highlight, La Libertad/Comparsa. Incredible percussion once again, going hard at first and then quietly forming the bridge between the two distinct parts of the track.

    So that’s Sueño. By no means a perfect album, but some of Eddie Palmieri’s playing here is superb, and the arrangements are great at showcasing the talented musicians he played with around this time, with the violins, trumpets and – particularly – the percussion sounding great.

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  • Mix: Alright Alright Alright 42

    This is my latest mix, mostly drawn from music that I’ve been playing during the past fortnight, and all vinyl aside from three tracks early on. Thanks very much if you decide to check it out. Took me a while to pick up the pace but I enjoyed putting it together.

    Mary Lattimore & Julianna Barwick – Stardust
    Kutiman – Kedem
    Naïssam Jalal – Tears In Delhi Fog
    La Luna – Iko Chérie
    Ancient Infinity Orchestra – Golden Meadow
    Nina Maia – Salto De Fé
    Raz Olsher ft Luzmira Zerpa – Infinite Blue
    Paz – Kandeen Love Song
    Greg Foat, Jihad Darwish, Moses Boyd – Redemption
    Brittany Davis – Amid The Blackout Of The Night
    Gil Scott-Heron/Brian Jackson – Rivers Of My Fathers
    Aretha Franklin – Just Right Tonight
    Lonnie Smith – What I Want
    Eddie Kendricks – Just Memories
    Terry Callier – You Don’t Care
    Thelma Houston – Nothing Left To Give
    Freddie Scott – (You) Got What I Need
    Etta James – All The Way Down
    Phyllis Hyman – Living Inside Your Love
    Creative Source – Corazon
    Bohannon – The Fat Man
    Charles Bradley – Luv Jones
    Wulomei – Takoradi
    Tom Zé – São São Paolo
    New Regency Orchestra – Mango Walk
    Bobby Matos & The Combo Conquistadores – Raices
    Saimaa – Super Strut

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  • Pedro Santos: Krishnanda

    For a long time this album was a bit of a holy grail for many collectors. Released originally in 1968 on the Brazilian division of CBS Records, it was reissued by Mr Bongo a decade or so ago, and that’s the version I picked up last year. That reissue raised the profile of Krishnanda somewhat, at least over here in western Europe, where it received several endorsements from the great and good. Original copies still change hands for thousands of pounds; each to their own and all that, but I’m happy with the £25 outlay.

    Pedro Santos was born in Rio, worked largely as a percussionist and composer, but also invented instruments including an electrified bamboo drum and the mouth berimbau whistle. For the most part he collaborated with other musicians during his life, playing on albums by the likes of Elza Soares, Arthur Verocai, Paul Simon and Milton Nascimento.

    Produced by Hélcio Milito, the drummer of Tamba Trio, Krishnanda embraces a variety of styles, including folk, samba, Afro-Brazilian and psychedelia, but at times has the kind of sweep and scope that you might ordinarily associate with film scores (check out Flor de Lotus by way of example). There’s also a predominant rhythm which remains almost constant throughout, ticking through the entire album as if it were a heartbeat. This not-quite-samba was apparently invented by Santos, who named it ‘sorongo’. That subsequently became his nickname.

    The album was arranged by Jopa Lins, and while it was the lush orchestration that caught my ear on first listen, Krishnanda also contains plenty of noises that evoke (or come from) the natural world; you’re as likely to hear a monkey as you are a timpani. It’s an incredibly powerful, spiritual record, rich in texture, packed with sounds and ideas, and I can’t wait to delve back in. I’d love to see a list of all the instruments used.

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