I had the great good fortune to be at The Concert For George at the RAH in 2002 when the great and the good assembled to pay tribute to the former-HJH guitar player (or MSLH, if you will). One of the highlights was the appearance of the Monty Python troupe. There was a huge gasp and then cheers. I suspect it would have been, for many of a certain age, akin to the HJH themselves suddenly stepping onto a stage together.

BUT ... John Cleese was nowhere to be seen. I've never read any explanation or comment, but have always wondered if there was a particular falling out at the time; was he simply not available; or not quite as big an HJH fan as the others. Can anyone shed any light?

The third act on the bill (Friday, 10th September 2010) is the rather fantastic Field Music. And it's not even a school night.

The Low Anthem & Old Crow Medicine Show also on over the weekend.

http://www.openhousefestival.com/2010/index.html

And my earliest memory of OGWT.

"Today, Rock 'n' Roll sounds fresher than the rock & roll that inspired it in the first place. Imagine that." (ALLMUSIC)

I mentioned to a mate that Deep Purple were on the move this year and might be worth a punt. He made the observation that we had better catch them now, as this is surely the decade that will see the demise of all of the currently surviving bands of that era. The decade of inevitable mass extinction …

I hold tickets to see Deep Purple, CSN and Paul McCartney, and surely none of them will see out the decade as touring acts.

So the question is, do you rush to see these legendary acts one last time or simply let it go?

I saw Frank Sinatra and I saw Ray Charles; neither anywhere near the top of their game of course, but I’m glad I did. I saw the Velvet Underground on their brief reunion tour in the early 1990s – and, although John Cale’s version of ‘Femme Fatale’ was worth the price of admission on its own, it was surely a faint distant echo of what must have been.

I have seen the Stones on each tour in Europe and/or the US since the frankly dismal 1982 outing and each time they have sounded better than the time before. No doubt this owes a lot to technology and spectacle, but perhaps most of all the willingness of the audience to believe in the collective mythology of the people on that stage: the rebellion, the drugs, the sex, the deaths, all safely packaged and served up at £150 a seat.

Similarly with McCartney. His December 2009 show in Dublin was stunning, and I hold to my view that in concert he is absolutely at the top of his game – he has great musicians on stage, top line technological support and a back catalogue second to none. More than any other live act he carries the weight of history and myth. A cultural phenomenon - more interactive exhibit than rock’n’roll concert perhaps, but still more than just a little bit thrilling.

Catch them all while you can … we'll miss them when they're gone.

"Any musicians of today that you like?"
"No. Absolutely not".

10th September 2010, Open House Festival, Belfast. Tickets bought, I feel free to share.

Is it just me or did 'Mad Men' just jump the shark? Just a little bit?

I am off to see Fairport on 9th march with a couple of friends who are in need of a primer. Given the scope of the catalogue I thought I would try to include as many tracks from the current setlist as possible, but the interweb has failed to oblige. Anyone seen the first few dates on this tour; and what were the highlights?

The venue is the Waterfront Hall, Belfast – a gleaming modern testament to the new frontier, and frequently the most soulless of venues. Fortunately we had a front row vantage point, directly in front of the two chairs and three acoustic guitars lined up on stage.

A perfunctory introduction and Lyle Lovett and John Hiatt wander on to the stage. Hiatt has come to resemble Ronald Regan’s Spitting Image puppet, and Lovett, eyes half closed and grinning through tight lips, reminds me of a slightly elongated De Niro at his most method. There was a brief silence as the applause died down and we seemed suddenly to become extras in one of David Lynch’s less commercial offerings. Neither man is a born raconteur; and there began a strange, stilted and quite deliberately self conscious dialogue, that they kept up throughout the show. It seems at once an accurate reflection of their personalities and a gentle send up of the classic scripted ad lib double act.

“Did you sleep well?”.
“I did”.
“Good … you didn’t feel you missed anything?”
“Not really, no”.
“A song?”.
“OK”.

They have very different styles. Lyle Lovett and his material are the more naturally suited to a sit down acoustic show, although John Hiatt’s country blues guitar playing is certainly the more infectious. Alternating songs, they watch each other closely, clearly enjoying the experience. They rarely play or sing together.

“We are not a duo In fact, if you’re expecting a duo, you may have come to the wrong show”.

As the night progresses Hiatt begins to play little embellishments on Lovett’s songs; and once or twice sings harmony on a chorus. The songs from ‘Bring The Family’ and ‘Slow Turning’ bring Hiatt the most applause. It is Lovett’s second album with which the audience seems most familiar; and if there is a better song than ‘If I Had A Boat’ I have yet to hear it

The only proper duets of the evening are the traditional ‘Ain’t No More Cane’ and Hiatt’s ‘Thing Called Love’, and during the latter Hiatt embarks on an extended breakdown - and I mean a full 3 or 4 minutes - repeatedly asking an inscrutably smiling, and resolutely silent Lovett if he can shed any light as to why Bonnie Raitt omitted the middle eight from her hit version of the song.

These guys come from different backgrounds, play, sing and write in totally different styles. On paper it shouldn’t work. On stage it’s a delight.

Tall and elegant, dressed in black velvet, and with her silver hair worn up in the style of an Edwardian suffragette, Judy Collins, at 71, is still strikingly attractive. More perhaps even than Baez, Judy Collins is, at least to the rock crowd, the classic interpretive singer of the folk era and beyond, giving Sondheim his only top 40 hit with her rendition of 'Send In The Clowns'. There is a timeless quality to her voice, somewhere North of folk and South of Broadway, and the stage decorated with a dozen red roses could be set in a small club or grand concert hall.

Tonight, in front of a crowd of maybe 200, she plays 12 string acoustic and is accompanied by her musical director Russell Walden on piano. She leads with 'Both Sides Now'. There is no doubting that her vocal talents are undiminished, particularly when she gives an off the cuff version of 'My Funny Valentine'. And this sets the tone; she tells us of her childhood and early career, breaking into snatches of songs as she goes. Being in Belfast she recalls coming here in 1966 and meeting the McPeake Family who wrote 'Purple Heather' which she sings accompanied only by the crowd singing softly. It was a magical moment; but only one of many.

She recalls meeting a shy Leonard Cohen, who presented her with what he thought 'might be a song', which lead to her recording 'Suzanne', although strangely tonight she chooses to play a bluesy version of 'Bird On A Wire'. Collins tells tales of Dylan, Baez, her relationship with Stephen Stills and more but in a self effacing way, never seeking to place herself at the centre of the story. Her version of 'Diamonds and Rust' sounds more like Baez than Baez these days. She is more than comfortable with her role in encouraging and bringing to notice the talents of others.

The crowd are, quite rightly, reverential and spellbound. I have never been to a gig where the barmen tiptoed about behind the bar, and put ice into glasses one cube at a time, in case they disturbed the performance, and if she can do that in Belfast I think Judy Collins may have quite the career ahead of her.

The guy at the end's not bad. Not great, but not bad. Could go far with the right haircut.

I thought that the Massive might be interested in my latest experiment, or if not actually interested at least sufficiently indulgent to hear me out. (I have posted most of this in the comments section to avoid getting an earful).

It has become increasingly clear to me over the last few years that I have become addicted to acquiring music. Not necessarily listening to music you understand but simply having it. With no restraining hand of an FPO, I find myself constantly buying CD’s, scooping up old vinyl from charity shops, and expensively downloading tracks and albums from iTunes (and less expensively from, ahem, elsewhere).

I realised towards the end of last year that there were dozens of CDs now in the living room many of which I had never listened to all the way through, if at all. A scan of my iTunes library revealed hundreds of tracks that were unplayed.

and I chanced to read the interview with Paul McCartney. Nice free CD too. Anyway he mentioned, apparently only slightly tongue in cheek, that he had been having dinner with Dave Grohl around the time he was putting Them Crooked Vultures together. Enquiring as to whether they needed a bass player, Grohl had sheepishly said they had already spoken to John Paul Jones.

Macca, Grohl, Homme? Interesting certainly.