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Showing posts with label jethro tull. Show all posts
Showing posts with label jethro tull. Show all posts

Tuesday 21 December 2010

Thanks and a very happy Solstice to all my readers

I'd just like to say a big thank you to those who have contacted me over the past day or two to say they're reading and enjoying this blog. And of course, massive thanks to those who have kept hanging in there over the past couple of years. It goes without saying, but I'm saying it anyway - you're all Very Much Appreciated. Indeed.
Blogging can be kind of like screaming into a void, so getting that kind of encouragement means a lot - especially on this, the darkest day of the year!!!

#duh duh DUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHH!# (dramatic music)

I have already posted the promo video for Jethro Tull's Solstice Bells. [As mentioned on my musical tastes page, despite all my better instincts I do have a weakness for "the mighty Tull", possibly after getting Ian Anderson's autograph in 1976. His auntie was our local chemist.]

Later on, Geoffrey and I will be putting on our jester's hats and our slippers with the pointy curled up toes and bells on the end, getting blind drunk, expanding our brains with strange herbs we've foraged from the moors, lighting a roaring driftwood fire and hunting down and roasting the first sentient being we can find in a ghastly low budget re-enactment of the final scene from the Wicker Man. I'll tell you all about it later.

Sunday 20 June 2010

The Death of Prog

"Whatever happened to prog?" Tuppence shrilled for the umpteenth time, as he lay slumped in the corner, exhausted after his five nite run at the Puff Inn performing The Six Wives of Henry the Eighth" on his moog. "Nobody gives a toss any more about Tull, or Yes, or Egg."
"You can say that again," muttered Geoffrey, who had long since lost patience.
"Look, Tuppence," I interjected. "What more do you want? You've just had a five nite run at the Puff Inn, with an audience of at least three each nite, and five on weekends. That's pretty good, for Hereabouts. The Alexander Brothers had an audience of minus twenty five last year. Think on. Think how THEY must have felt, faced with an audience of anti-matter."
"I know, I know. Tom and Jack got sucked into a black hole. I've heard it all before. But I want something different. I want the Big Time. I want the Skye Gathering Hall. I want the Birnam Institute! I want the Gig in Blairgowrie!"
Geoffrey and I shook our heads sadly and exchanged glances. "Fetch the medicine chest, Geoffrey. Before it's too late."

Thursday 5 March 2009

minstrel not in the gallery

Well, no joy at the bins. I was forgetting myself - I got carried away with it being so mild for a day or two, but really it's a bit early in the season for visitors and the camper vans haven't arrived as yet. Rich pickings when they do - they seem to chuck all sorts of things away. Not that we want their old bras and "snuff movies " - even if someone was glad of them last year and auctioned them off on "an internet auction site" with great success. Goodness only knows what kind of customer feedback rating they got for that lot but I suppose it takes all sorts. Manners prevent me saying who it was who sold them but they live just along the cliffs, wear matching fleece robes, and are upwardly mobile - how do you imagine they pay for all these home improvements? latest acquisition - purchased from said auction site, presumably - is a set of industrial power tools - the chain saw is going like the clappers night and day just now and my head is splitting - mind you, it does drown out Tuppence's moog. But more of that later.
Despite the cold snap Spring is in the air and word from the Puff Inn tells me that Cherry Fulmar is expecting. Apsley has been busy refurbishing the Old Rectory AGAIN - hence chainsaw racket problem - what he's doing to it I really don't know, after all they've got every possible mod con, stone cladding, decking, gas fired BBQ, summer house, mini-greenhouse (empty - just for show), water butt, faux rose arbour, not to mention the security lights - but I suppose they're redecorating a spare room as a nursery or something.
re. Tuppence's on-going moog drama - word from the Puff Inn tells me that he isn't actually playing it in person - he's set up a loop tape or some modern equivalent, which plays incessantly while he's off enjoying himself somewhere else. We were wondering when he'd wear his fingers out playing the keyboard solo from Tull's Minstrel in the Gallery. It should be a fairly simple matter to disconnect the moog from the Fulmar's generator - all we have to do is find the right cable...

Friday 30 January 2009

newsflash

A bit of good news - B.O. has left the bay, thus relieving me of the dreadful worry of having to go about with a bounty on my head. According to the latest newsflash from the Puff Inn, Tuppence played "The Tull"'s Aqualung album at full volume, down one of the tunnels (see gazetteer). He was merely attempting to maximise the rather tinny sound of his antiquated stereo system, but the rather fortuitous side effect was that as said tunnel ended in one of the massive caves in the cliffs, causing an ear-shattering echo/reverb effect, the Baby Orca was driven from the bay by the appalling din.