24 hours in Hull, city of culture 2017

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The city of Kingston upon Hull, abbreviated to Hull, located in the north-east of the United Kingdom, is basking in its status as the city of culture for 2017. It lies upon the River Hull at its confluence with the Humber estuary, 25 miles inland from the North Sea. The town of Hull was founded late in the 12th century. It was an early theatre of battle in the English Civil Wars. After suffering heavy damage in the Second World War, Hull weathered a period of post-industrial decline. Hull is a city redefining itself as it shakes off its industrial past. The grittiness of that era is however still very much in evidence. The economy of Hull was built on trading and seafaring, firstly whaling and later seafishing.

Renowned American guitarist Pat Metheny had been invited to headline Hull Jazz Festival’s 25th anniversary, so it was for this reason that I journeyed by train from Hertfordshire to attend the concert. The quartet comprised UK pianist Gwilym Simcock joining the brilliant Malaysian-born bassist Linda Oh and long-time Metheny sidekick, drummer Antonio Sanchez. A Romanian jazz band busking in the town centre seemed to set the tone for the friendly atmosphere I experienced from locals proud of its current status. Even the weather, crisp but sunny and dry, decided to play ball, for the time being at least.

The box office at the City Hall doubles as a tourist office, so I decided to explore the historic Old Town, Hull Marina and Museum Quarter along what is known as the Fish Trail Route. Hull boasts a diversity of interesting architecture, in particular along a narrow street at the bottom of Whitefriargate known as The Land of Green Ginger. Hull Minster, which dates back to about 1300, contains what is widely acknowledged to be some of the finest mediaeval brick-work in the country. A truly stunning and beautiful building, it is the largest parish church in England by floor area. I had timed my visit well, as the church was hosting an open day, not only as part of the culture celebrations but also in preparation for the Armistice Day commemorations signalling the end of WWI. In one of the wings of the minster, a kitchen had been set up where tea, coffee, cakes and soup were being sold. In another section, a remembrance sculpture created by Martin Waters, of figures covered in poppies, representing fallen soldiers, took pride of place. Currently, as part of the 2017 celebrations, Trinity Square outside Hull Minster features an art installation comprising 16 six-metre high steel columns clad in galvanised steel mesh, placed in a grid.

Hull is a city renowned for philanthropist William Wilberforce, born in a house on the High Street. He began his political career in 1780, eventually becoming an independent Member of Parliament for Yorkshire (1784–1812). In 1785, he became an Evangelical Christian, which resulted in major changes to his lifestyle and a lifelong concern for reform. Wilberforce was persuaded by a group of anti-slave-trade activists to take on the cause of abolition, and he soon became one of the leading English abolitionists. He headed the parliamentary campaign against the British slave trade for twenty years until the passage of the Slave Trade Act of 1807. Hull’s Museum Quarter, on the High Street in the heart of the Old Town, consists of Wilberforce House, the Arctic Corsair, the Hull and East Riding Museum and the Streetlife Museum of Transport.

My accommodation for the night was the Hull Trinity Backpackers, located on Market Place, just around the corner from Hull Trinity Minster and Square. I secured a bed in a 4-bed dormitory-style room with ensuite bathroom, which I had all to myself, as it transpired. It turned out to be clean, perfectly situated and fantastic value for money. The proprietor, Glen, based in Sheffield although originally from Hull itself, secured the business a year ago. You couldn’t ask for a nicer, friendlier host. Preceding the concert I was attending was a parade of street performers dressed as giant creatures weaving their way through the city early Saturday evening, as part of the City of Culture 2017 arts festival, the procession aptly named The Land of Green Ginger Unleashed.

The colourful facelift of Drypool Bridge, created by artist Sarah Daniels, was inspired by the work of 19th century Hull-born mathematician and philosopher John Venn, to reflect the city’s links with the internationally-renowned Venn Diagram.

Like most cities in the north-east, Hull truly comes alive at night, as locals party the night away in a variety of bars and clubs around the city. Whilst cosmopolitan London and other larger cities has experienced a dilution of its traditional English population, demographically speaking, Hull seems to me like stepping into another world. As one examines the features of many of the locals one might pass by in the street, you could be forgiven for thinking you might be in Scandanavia. There may of course be no substance to this theory.

The Viking kingdom, Danelaw, covered almost the whole of the north and east of England, with three main areas: Northumbria (which included modern-day Yorkshire), East Anglia, and the Five Boroughs of Leicester, Nottingham, Derby, Stamford and Lincoln. The most important city in Danelaw was York, or Jorvik.

I was blown away by the mere 24 hours I spent in this north-eastern city. A cultural heritage intertwined with its gritty industrial past, Hull beguiles and charms.

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Pink Floyd V&A Exhibition Oct 2017

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Pink Floyd: Their Mortal Remains is an exhibition on the history of the British rock band Pink Floyd, which opened on 13 May 2017 at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, England, and was originally scheduled to run until 1 October. After high visitor numbers, the exhibition’s run was extended by two weeks, to 15 October 2017. The organisers planned to tour the exhibition internationally, for up to ten years. In November 2017, it was announced that the second venue would be Rome, Italy, opening on 19 January 2018.  I attended the exhibition Saturday, 7th October, 2018.

My first real awareness of Pink Floyd was hearing the track Obscured by Clouds on the radio, around the time I started getting into progressive rock and electronic music. Strangely though, I never actually bought the Dark Side of the Moon album though there was a DJ on SABC radio who had a late night music program and would play the iconic tracks Time or Money with regular monotony. Though Brick in the Wall was first released on vinyl in 1979, I distinctly recall buying it on CD in a record store in Germany whilst backpacking tour across Europe. I used to have a thing about the crackling caused by static when playing vinyl records. It drove me crazy so CDs were like manna from heaven.

It was in the mid nineteen nineties that the big opportunity came, when I got to see them live for the first time, in 1988, at the old Wembley Stadium in London, with all the props on display at the 2018 exhibition. My lasting memory of the audience was someone passing around a joint, making its way down the row of people.

It is clear that a lot of thought and planning has gone into Their Mortal Remains. The amount of music gear on display is quite unbelievable. The elaborate stage designs, lighting and huge visual props synonymous with Pink Floyd’s live shows illustrate the extent to which they pioneered modern popular music. They all met at Cambridge University. His architectural studies clearly influenced the thinking of Rogers Waters in this respect. No stone is left in terms of the historical detail either. On display is the Cambridge school punishment book with the record pencilled in, relating to the caning of Rogers Waters, which emerges as a theme in Brick in the Wall.

I learnt something new at the exhibition. English architect Sir Giles Golbert Scott, known for his work on the Cambridge University Library, Lady Margaret Hall, Oxford, Battersea Power Station, also designied the iconic red telephone box. Battersea Power Station features on the cover of Pink Floyd’s Animals album, designed by Storm Thorgerson of Hipgnosis, who was at school with Waters and Syd Barrett. There is a story too behind the huge inflatable pig used on the cover. It had been tied by rope to the roof of the building. A sharp shooter had been hired as an emergency, as fears arose that in event of any problems, it could drift into Heathrow’s flight path. Those fears were realised on a windy day and the balloon was eventually found in a field in Kent. The farmer phoned up claiming it had scared his cows.

Another of Pink Floyd’s iconic cover images is the row of iron hospital beds on A Momentary Lapse of Reason. This was on the days before the advent of Photoshop. Real beds were hired at enormous cost and placed on a beach in Devon. Due to bad weather the photo shoot was postponed to a later date and the process had to be repeated.

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[Official site]

 

 

Canal du Midi, Negra to Argens, 3rd -10th July 2017

Along with my friends Ralph and Marion Pina from Cape Town, the decision had been taken to celebrate our birthday milestones in Europe. Most of planning resulted in two objectives, one, a canal boat trip in southern France and two, a visit to the Pyrenees just across the border in Spain.  The first of these, cruising a section of Canal du Midi, is described here.

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Day One – Negra

A week-long cruise down Canal du Midi from Negra to Argens, with my friends from Cape Town, Ralph and Marion Pina. Met up in downtown Toulouse on the morning of 3rd. The trip thus far has not been without its drama, what with Ralph’s luggage on an international flight going AWOL. Introductions upon arrival by Melanie and Jean-Pierre of Locaboat, including a quick driving lesson to check if we were up to it. First much needed lunch on penichette Gey. A phone call from Toulouse airport and Ralph’s hopes were up again. Miracles do exist, it seems. An hour layer than scheduled at the rendezvous point in Negra, two black dudes pulled up at the base, bringing the unfortunate suitcase saga to a satisfactory conclusion. Hopefully we’ll finally set off tomorrow towards Carcassonne. Finished off the day with a hour-long celebratory cycle at dusk along the canal on 3-speed granny bicycles.

 

Day Two – Negra to Castelnaudary

First lock of the voyage encounterd at Laval, a double lock in fact, proved to be quite a shock to the system, putting us through our paces. Luckily it was manned, the young female lock-keeper empathetic to this being the first challenge faced by novices setting out from Negra.
At Encassan, another double lock, the lock-keeper beckoned on our approach. Normally red or green signals provide a safe and clear indication anyway – trust Ralph to own up at this point to suffering from colour blindness.
This was where we encountered an enterprising Swedish family with young kids, who had funded their own vessel which to navigate streches at a time, as funds and vacation permitted, from Sweden through Denmark, Germany, the Netherlands (Amsterdam), France via Paris all the way down to the South.

Boat roles become defined at an early stage in terms of what each feels comfortable with. Generally Ralph took charge at navigating in and out of locks, Peter operated the locks and Marion handled the ropes.
The canal is the life and soul of this part of the Langudoc region, transforming the landscape. The cycle path adjacent to the canal is chocablock with cyclists young and old. A particularly pretty stretch of waterway shrouded by trees led us into Port Lauragais, an exposed marina, where we stopped for lunch. An attempt to shop and stock up on provisions at a local business well stocked on the ‘haute’ rather than the necessary proved a disaster. Oblivious to the fact that most people passing through want basic essentials like bread, milk and bottled water, somebody needs to do some market research for them. ‘Baguettes? No, not on Tuesdays apparently.

To begin with, my French was a bit rusty however now it’s slowly starting to come back and beginning to pay dividends in some tight situations. Usually useful when asking for help or directions.
By the end of the day with 23-odd km covered and 12 locks navigated, everyone is pretty knackered. All the quayside stations in Castelnaudary were either taken or booked, so we found a shaded possie near the island (Ile de la Cybelle) in the Grand Bassin, comfortable despite not having an electricity connection. For dinner I prepared my customary quick dish of pasta, onions, tuna and pesto. Ralph asked for seconds, so it must have been edible.

Day 3 – Castelnaudary to Villesequelande

In contrast to the tail end of the previous afternoon which had turned out to be quite humid and muggy, the wind having picked up considerably overnight, making navigation interesting. Although the distance covered was only 16 km in total, the locks, all of them manned, are more condensed. The downside being the stations are shut for lunchtime siesta, so at Villepinte lock the only choice was to do as the locals do and park off for a bite. Our target for the day was Bram, just after the lock of the same name. Upon arrival however the shutters at the office had been pulled up entirely, so connecting to facilities was out of the question. At this point my linguistic skills came in useful. As we suspected we might be running low on water in the tank, we decided to press on, after taking advice from a German couple, who spoke of a spot further down the canal “some distance” after the lock at Beteille, with a row of wooden tables on the canal bank.

Reference was made to an English couple in a large boat who had in their possession a suitable connector for the tap. The location was also confirmed by the lock-keeper, though a kilometre or two lapaside I was beginning to think it may all have been lost in translation. After navigating along a beautiful tree-lined stretch of the canal, the spot and the large boat we had all but given up on , came into view immediately after the bridge at Villesequelande. A berth near a tap materialised and the owner of said tap connection located. I felt somewhat vindicated after that. Job done as regards filling the tank and we set off on the granny bicycles into the old town and the village of Caux beyond, where we stopped for a quick beer, before tracing our way back across the countryside courtesy of Google Maps (picture Ralph pedalling with one hand on the handle bars and the other holding a Samsung Galaxy S6).

Day 4 – Villesequelande to Carcassonne

Having exceeded our target distance the night before beyond Bram, the pressure in having to reach Carcassonne was off, so we sauntered down the canal at a leisurely pace, with only a handful of locks to contend with, two of them, Lalande and Herminis, being only 300 metres apart.
The latter also housed a small restaurant which beckoned most invitingly. A chalkboard listed the items available on the lunch menu however it was a second sign sporting the word ‘crepes’ that attracted our attention and got us salivating. Much to our dismay we discovered it could only be ordered in the afternoon. The owner seemed totally unperturbed despite our palpable disappointment, even suggesting that we could try in Carcassonne. I mean, it’s not as if he has the luxury of a significant, endless stream of clientelle passing through that way. We returned to the boat and put the kettle on instead.

That morning the sky was partially overcast to begin with but got warmer as the morning progressed. It was around lunchtime whereupon we eased into Carcassonne marina. The port captain was on lunch so we indulged in a light snack ourselves. Said captain turned out to be a smiling, delightful blond with sparkling eyes and bursting with energy, who directed us to a berth beyond the lock, in a more public area. After locking up the boat we headed off through town, following the path through town leading all the way up to Carcassonne Citadel. Ralph and I opted to go inside, which included watching a short film and a walk along the ramparts, whilst Marion stayed outside. We conveniently stumbled upon a small local pizzeria just across the road from where we were moored which just about hit the spot.
Back on the boat our stern resolve to get to bed earlier failed miserably. The sloping grass embankment appeared to be the gathering place for groups of youngsters partaking in the inhalation of stronger substances until the wee hours, much to the consternation of Marion. We had the option of using the showers at the Carcassonne base, which Ralph and I took advantage of. The availability of washing machines was offset by the fact we didn’t have any washing powder.

Day 5 – Carcassonne to Marseilette

If the revellers of the night before weren’t enough, then the noise from the traffic coupled with local council workers deciding to mow the lawn next to the boat early would undoubtedly wake us from our slumber.
After some quick shopping at the nearest Supermache, whilst able to locate washing gel at another on the way back from buying tarts to enjoy later with our morning tea, we filled up with water and set off. A humid day it turned out to be, as most have been on this trip. We stopped for tea along a tree-lined stretch between Fresquel (triple lock) and l’Eveque, tying to stakes, provided by Locaboat for the purposes of such impromptu, spur of the moment stops.

Unfortunately, berths were in short supply in Trebes so we stopped a bit further on. In the heat of the day with temperatures into the thirties, we had neither the energy nor the appetite to explore the town. Given the longish haul to Homps awaiting us, we reluctantly decided to press on to Marseilette.
A virtual traffic jam evolved at Trebes triple lock, with boats queueing in both directions. The lock-keeper, Christoph, was quite a friendly geezer and we chatted about Johnny Clegg, shortly due to retire due to ill health, doing his last every world tour. I had been told by a French enginèer I once knew that he had been a household name in France in the 80’s and that his songs were sings by kids in schools, even in the remotest villages in France.

Marseilette proved a relatively uninspiring place, however as luck would have it, the locals had decided to paint the town red on a Friday night, directly next to where we had moored. A local disco had been hired to play to an audience on a stage set up for the occasion, like some major rock stars. With no second invitation, we elected to fire up the engine and move on a few hundred yards, out of earshot.
On a positive note, we encountered our Swedish friends once again, husband and wife and three tiny kids, two of them twins, whom we had passed several times en route.
To round off the day, we explored the small town on bicycles, as far afield as the neighbouring Capendu.

Day 6 – Marseillette to Le Redourt

In the middle of the night, the Swedes had moved too, so we exchanged greetings once more as we went by shortly after breakfast, as we headed to the first lock a short distance away, taken from the name of the town. The double lock of Aiguille has been brought alive by its lock-keeper/sculptor Joel Barthe. A series of figures sculpted in wood and metal adorn the area around the lock. Puicheric lock was shut for lunch upon arrival. After reopening, for the first time on this tour, we witnessed four boats crammed inside the lock.

We arrived in La Redorte, a neat little quayside, early to mid afternoon. It was then to my horror I realised that I could not locate my wallet and cards. I searched the boat high and low but realised I must have lost it along the canal bank outside Marseillette. I called the banks to place a blocker on my debit card. After lunch we took a walk into town but my heart wasn’t really in it. Neat shuttered buildings line the high street in La Redorte. The townis built around an attractive chateau. A wedding was about to take place in the town hall. Marion’s umbrella, designed to provide shelter, seemed to attract attention from three women in the midst of a gossip on the roadside bench. The day is not complete without sampling French pastries bought locally in town, enjoyed later on Gey, with Marion’s customary pot of tea.

A small ablution block housed not only a traditional French loo (hole in the ground) but also shower with cold water only, allowing me to simultaneously rinse clothes I’d had soaking on the boat in a bucket. Marion and Ralph pushed off for a cycle down the canal towards Homps while I manned stations.
A large boat had pulled up ahead at the quayside. Not only had we discovered that they were fellow South Africans, but learnt too that Fanie Marais was an estate agent who had sold a house on Welgedacht estate in Cape Town to my eldest brother Edward. A small world indeed. It gave me an opportunity to practice my Afrikaans.

Day 7 – La Redorte to Argens

Ralph and Marion had had a brainwave, suggesting that Ralph and I surface early and cycle the 12 km back to Marseilette, to see if we could locate the missing items that had caused me so much consternation. This we did, setting off into a headwind on the granny bicycles at about 6:30. Ralph got to the canal bank ahead of me and began searching in the thick grass where we had been. All of a sudden he turned and spotted the small Ziploc bag lying in the undergrowth. He stooped down to pick if up and then held it up with a grin on his face. My jaw dropped in astonishment at our sheer good luck. We high-fived. The resolve of both Ralph and I had been put to the test on this trip, having lost personal possessions whilst retrieving them in the end.

Buoyed by the find, we hurried the 12 km back, on average downhill, to La Redorte, with the wind behind us and in our sails too. The neighbours hadn’t yet surfaced. My shirt was drenched from the sweat so another cold shower was in order. After breakfast the assortment of t-shirts and underwear draped across the bicycles to dry came down and we motored into the morning sun.
Jouarres lock, a deep lock, necessitated a long wait for boats scheduled to arrive in the opposite direction. I bought a bottle of Rose so that we could celebrate the uplifting events of that morning. Here we encountered more South Africans, on two of them. Our fellow citizens and we appear to be taking over Canal du Midi in a big way.
It wasn’t long before we ambled into Homps port with the engine purring.
A sheltered spot out of the sun for Lady Marion was duly found as ordered. Tart and ice-cream bought at a patisserie literally five steps across the road was summarily washed down with, yes, that pot of afternoon chai. The town was recennoitered.

Homps lock buildings were probably in a worse condition than any of the other locks on the entire trip, in a word, drab and unkempt. The lock-keeper seemed to reflect the state of the place. He kept us waiting up to 20 minutes until more boats arrived, before we were allowed to proceed. The double locks at Ognon and Pechlaurier however, lush and almost entirely surrounded by trees, provide a stark contrast.
The 14th century chateau on the hill dominates the landscape on the western approach to the town of Argens-Minervois. We seemed to be encountering more and more South Africans and Argens port was no exception. The office was shut by the time we arrived so a final checkout would have to wait until the morning.
The Negra – Argens Canal du Midi cruise had turned out better than I had expected. With 40-odd locks navigated in the space of 6 days, there’s never a dull moment. Only three on board means everyone’s participation is key and any lapse in concentration can potentially be fatal.

 

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A collage of UK hikes from 2017

Here are some of my UK hikes and activities from 2017, which often end up being walks close to where I live in Hertfordshire, not far from the town of Royston, where I live. Occasionally I do undertake walks further afield, with my good friend Tammy, in her neck of the woods, close to the North or South Downs.

Eastbourne ‘Seven Sisters’ walk Saturday 4th Nov 2017

A walk was arranged by my good friend Zoltan on a weekend trip from the continent, to meet up with old acquaintances Martin and Vanda from the Xerox Hiking Club. Having travelled down to their home in Twickenham at an early hour, we journeyed on to meet up with our Hungarian friend, who had booked into a hotel in the town of Eastbourne. The plan was to leave one car in Eastbourne and rive back to the start at Seven Sisters Country Park near the Cuckmere River, not far from Seaford. The path follows the Eastbourne coastal cliff-tops past Birling Gap and Beachy Head, the highest chalk sea cliff in Great Britain.

[Photo Album]

 

Goudhurst – Cranbrook High Weald circular walk – Aug 2017

The south of England, in particular the North and South Downs and the area in between, known as the Weald, had become an area of particular interest for me, notwithstanding its numerous hiking possibilities. Having stopped off recently in the Kentish village of Goudhurst whilst returning from the 1066 walk, I had paid homage to the family history by visiting the pub once owned by my great grandmother in 1911. This account could arguably be re-titled as ‘Walking into family history in the Kentish countryside’. The word Goudhurst is derived from Goud Hurst, the “Good Hurst” (an opening in a forest) due to the hill’s strategic position within the local landscape.

[Photo Album]

 

1066 Country Walks – Battle to Hastings – August 2017

Southern England boasts some of the finest walking in the United Kingdom. The Weald is an area in South East England situated between the parallel chalk escarpments of the North and the South Downs. The name “Weald” is derived from the Old English weald, meaning “forest” (cognate of German Wald). The High Weald Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty lies in the centre and extends across the counties of Surrey, West Sussex, East Sussex and Kent. On the southern edge of High Weald lies the small town of Battle, the site of the Battle of Hastings, where William, Duke of Normandy, defeated King Harold II to become William I in 1066.

[Photo Album]

 

Great & Little Hormead, Furneaux Pelham – Herts Walk August 2017

Much of the hoped-for weather in the month of August in the south-east of the United Kingdom had flattered to deceive, as usually tends to be the case. The summer Bank Holiday weekend however lived up to its name, with record-breaking temperatures having been forecast. Sunday 27th August proved no exception. The route chosen for the day involved setting off from the Three Tuns pub in the charming village of Great Hormead, located near Buntingford, in Hertfordshire. There are two churches in close proximity to one another, and St Nicholas at Great Hormead is the larger one, founded in the early 13th century, and considerably extended in the 14th, including the creation of the tower. It’s also the younger one, as an earlier church had already been founded up the road at Little Hormead.

[Photo Album]

 

Lea River to Epping Forest Walk March 2017

Enjoyed a walk with Tammy in the heart of Essex country near Harlow, just north of the M25 and Epping Forest. Not quite the start of spring. The chosen route necessitated leaving cars left at either end, one at Roydon station on the Lea River canal, the other at the Visitor’s Centre in the heart of Epping Forest. The walk, which followed the Three Forests Way, covered a distance of 11.8 miles over 6 hours or more across a varied landscape of open terrain and harvested farmland, Nazeingwood Common being a good example, as well as the forested areas close to Epping Forest, near the village of Upshire, often muddy underfoot after heavy rains. What with Tammy’s excellent GPS device and my unquestionable map-reading skills as backup, we couldn’t go wrong! As we approached our destination, even a group of Duke of Edinburgh hopefuls trying to find their way around Epping Forest benefited from our experience.

[Photo Album]

 

Barkway circular walk Feb 2017

During a lull in the wake of storm Doris battering the UK shores, the sunshine broke through on the morning of Sunday, 26th February, before the next cold front made its way across the British Isles. Taking advantage of the break, I set off on a four hour circular walk from Barkway via Nuthampstead, Cheapside (near Anstey), across London Road, towards Buckland, before returning to Barkway along Church Lane.

[Photo Album]

 

Walking Rivers Rib and Ash valleys Feb 2017

Bleak skies but mild, rainless conditions, perfect for a walk across along the river valleys of the Rib and Ash, East Herfordshire. It was an occasion to put my Hungarian friend, Zoltan, on a visit from Zurich, through his paces on English soil. He rose to the challenge, though it probably paled in comparison to that offered by the lofty peaks of Switzerland. The walk is a short drive from Royston to Standon, west of Bishop’s Stortford. The path starts on the outskirts of the town, heading due south through the village of Latchford, which lies directly adjacent to the Rib.

[Photo album]

 

A spectator to a Royston winter hill run Feb 2017

Mad dogs and Englishmen, it seems, are more likely to go out in all sorts of weather, fair or foul. Pick a Sunday when you’re out for a walk yourself, with temperatures barely above freezing. The local athletics club, in their wisdom, schedule a 5 mile run across Therfield Heath, on the outskirts of Royston, Hertfordshire. Nothing the elements can throw at them will deter an Englishman or woman, for that matter, from making the most of even the most adverse of weather conditions. A resilient bunch, to say the least.

[Photo Album]

Therfield winter landscapes Jan 2017

On my return from warmer climes during annual holiday to escape the UK mid-winter, a walk his lasting several hours, starting out from the Fox and Duck in the heart of the village of Therfield, North Hertfordshire, not far from Royston, where I live. The circular route, largely flat, trundles on through Reed End towards Buckland, Barkway and Reed, straddling both sides of the A10, once an old Roman Road. Temperatures on this day in early Spring rose to no more than a few degrees above freezing.

[Photo Album]

A frosty start to a Royston walk, Jan 2016

A frosty start to the day with temperatures at 1 degree above freezing, in contrast to the summer temperatures I encounter on my annual holidays in Cape Town. That did not deter me on this occasion. Life goes on despite the inclement weather conditions, something I’ve learnt from the British bulldog spirit. This is a regular walk of mine, starting out directly from my front door. I’ve done it more times than I care to remember. There are some variations to the route but can be narrowed down to one of three possible options, on this occasion a circular walk via Therfield, Thrift Farm and Therfield Heath. Th frost thawed a tad and blue skies put in an appearance but it still felt cold. Folk passing by gazed at my hiking shorts in astonishment. “Didn’t realize it was summer”, said one. Always three hours well spent.

[Photo Album]

 

Chris Squire 1948 – 2015

chris-squire-yesOn Monday morning, 29th June, when I heard the sad news of the passing of YES bass guitarist Chris Squire, having been diagnosed with Acute Erythroid Leukemia, I bawled my eyes out, me, a grown man. The loss of Chris Squire touched me deeply, as if I had lost a family member, a musical family member in this case. I thought I was starting to get over it but every time I read a fresh tribute, like the one from Billy Sherwood, the tears came flooding back. Cringeworthy some may say. I sat there, realizing the significance of it all being that the so-called classic YES line-up would never get together for one more album. He was the only remaining founder member in the current incarnation of the band, the only member of YES to have played on all their albums and in every one of their concerts, having never missed a tour. They had scheduled an August 2015 North American joint tour with Toto  yet despite the news regarding Squire’s illness, the tour would proceed without the legendary bass guitarist. It would have been the first time since the band formed in 1968 that they will have appeared live without him. Chris Squire passed away a month after his illness was made public. Chris Squire. Gone. Forever.

Chris Squire and the triple-neck, during Awaken.

Chris Squire playing the triple-neck during Awaken (Peter Groves).

I have adored YES music passionately for the best part of 40-odd years. I remember when I was just in high school in Cape Town, South Africa and walked into a record bar one day in my local town.  The owner put a vinyl record on the turntable: “I’ve got a new release you’ve got to listen to. I think you’ll like it”, she exclaimed excitedly.  The song was “Roundabout”, the first on the album “Fragile”. The band was YES. The song started with the reverse tape effect of a single minor chord played on a grand piano, following by some gentle acoustic guitar before launching into the first verse of the song, featuring the subtle interplay between jazz-like drums and rumbling bass guitar underpinning the angelic vocals.

That trebly, metallic bass guitar sound emanated from Chris Squire’s 1964 Rickenbacker, a trademark sound that was to become a cornerstone of YES’s music and single out Chris Squire from any other bass guitarist at the time, although it wasn’t the only feature of his distinctive bass style. In the mix were Rick Wakeman’s keyboards, Steve Howe’s “noodly” guitar bits as well as Jon Anderson’s alto voice and strange lyrics. The album was a powerful creative blend of rock, jazz and classical influences. I was blown away from that moment on. Through the medium of vinyl alone I grew to love YES all the way through to the release of “Relayer” or thereabouts, which was probably when I first acquired a compact disc player. The love affair continued as I re-acquired the band’s catalogue on the newer format. It wasn’t the only thing I was listening to at the time. I was into jazz fusion– Return To Forever, Weather Report, Brand X, as well as the chamber-style ECM jazz  however YES was the thing for me.
Chris-Squire-1From this point on in my musical development, I devoured any YES-related articles and news I could find in magazines, hoping that one day I would realize the dream of seeing them live. The closest I came, apart from seeing a South African YES tribute band who were pretty good, was when Rick Wakeman controversially played  in the country in a solo capacity and later with the English Rock Ensemble. I started a YES scrapbook.  I even wrote about the band in my school magazine when “Close To The Edge”, arguably the greatest Prog album ever made, was released. I remember the day I had some school friends around, one a budding young guitarist of note. I played “Tales From Topographic Oceans” on my parent’s old stereo hi-fi system. The family joke to this day, during one of Rick’s monophonic moog synth solos on “The Revealing Science Of God”, was my brother calling out from his bedroom for me “to get my foot off the cat’s tail”.

For a variety of reasons, I wasn’t able to see YES live until the mid-1990’s, during the “Open Your Eyes” tour, in the UK, when the band had changed, not for the first time in its history. The most notable difference in the 70’s was the replacement of drummer Bill Bruford by Allan White. Significantly, and this is the key point, the power of the music alone had sustained itself for all those years and touched me time and time again. Having never seen the band live up to this point, it was excitement and deep love for the music that had kept the interest alive. Every time I play YES music, I get goosebumps, even to this day.

Chris Squire

Chris Squire at the Royal Albert Hall 2014 (Peter Groves)

On that Monday morning, I received an e-mail from an ex-colleague of Iranian descent, now based in South Korea. We had not corresponded for some time. He had stumbled upon a blog post of mine documenting my customary ritualistic practice, whenever my favourite band is in town, that being to attend several concerts on any given tour, 2014 being the last occasion for such hedonistic excess: Newcastle, Birmingham, London and Bratislava.

I was preparing a reply when I stumbled upon the devastating news of Chris’s sudden departure. I had just booked for the band’s next European tour in 2016 and had wondered if Chris would have made a full recovery by then. It is true I had been less than enamoured by the band’s most recent studio offering “Heaven and Earth”, an album which promised so much and yet delivered so little. In the knowledge that these guys won’t be around forever however, I still wanted to attend whatever live shows I could, yet I I continued to long for the return of Jon and Rick to the fold, for the classic line-up to return to the studio to create one final masterpiece. Chris’s sudden demise has put paid to that.

Chris on Stage, Hammersmith, 009 (Peter Groves)

Chris on stage with YES, Hammersmith, 2009 (Peter Groves)

Yes, he has left a tremendous musical legacy and his musical spirit will live on. He has influenced a generation of musicians, as Rick Wakeman put it: “We have now lost, who for me, are the two greatest bass players classic rock has ever known. John Entwistle and now Chris,” Wakeman wrote. “There can hardly be a bass player worth his salt who hasn’t been influenced by one or both of these great players.”. It remains to be seen what transpires with the band, whether the very capable Billy Sherwood (arguably Chris’s protégé) will assume a more permanent role, however there is the nagging thought….of what might have been.

Much has been written about the Rock ‘n Roll Hall of Fame’s reluctance to recognize 70’s prog bands, including YES.  In the face of such bias, it has demonstrated that it is not representative of rock musical culture if it chooses to embrace all forms of musical expression. It therefore renders itself as a body with a meaningless, subjective and largely irrelevant opinion, with no bearing on the world of rock music. Who cares whether they have a problem with 70’s Prog? The music itself has value and whether a band is inducted or not does not enhance or diminish the contribution to the world of music or reputation of any artist whatsoever. The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Foundation was created by Atlantic Records founder and chairman, the late Ahmet Ertugan, himself a huge fan of YES. He will be turning in his grave.

ChrisSquireChris wasn’t known for his bass guitar alone. He was a great songwriter. He had a fine voice too, his ability to harmonize honed from his days as a young choirboy. He was a significant part of the YES musical tapestry. Not to diminish his solo work or collaborations with other artists, it’s been said that “YES has always been larger than the sum of its parts. As a founder member of this great band through the ever-changing line-up, Chris Squire was the glue, the linchpin that kept the band together during its most fractious periods. His physical presence as he strutted the stage during live performances notwithstanding, notably during the bass/ drum Whitefish solos, Chris’s stature as de facto band leader has left a huge hole in YES, as well as in rock musical history, one which will be difficult to fill.

Gone. Forever. R.I.P. Chris Squire. 1948-2015.

Related links:

Yesworld – Tributes from family, colleagues, friends and fans

Chris Squire, bass guitarist – obituary (The Telegraph) & Chris Squire obituary (The Guardian)

Chris Squire Tribute & Chris Squire RIP Yes Bassist Dead (YouTube compilations)

Fish Out Of Water & Chris Squire – Inside “Fish Out of Water”

Chris Squire of Yes – Meeting Jimi Hendrix

Chris Squire – Great Rickenbacker Bass Sounds (Whitefish solo)

Yes – Heart of the Sunrise (Live, 2015)

YES – Roundabout (Live, acoustic)

YES- Long Distance Runaround (Live, acoustic)

Chris Squire’s Swiss Choir

Squackett – Can’t Stop the Rain

Chris Squire Alan White – Run With the Fox

 

 

 

The FIFA debacle is more about a power struggle than it is about corruption.

I strongly believe that the vitriolic hounding of FIFA president Sepp Blatter, particularly by opponents, has more to do with a power struggle between the European bloc (essentially UEFA) and the African/Asian bloc and less to do with corruption. That does not discount the fact that alleged corruption probably does exist within the ranks of FIFA. With so much at stake, is it at all surprising? Is football unique in this aspect? After all, it manifests itself in other areas of our society, in business and in politics. Furthermore, under a different FIFA president, would anything be different?   Just look at the list of potential candidates.

seppblatterOne of Blatter’s strongest critics has been Michel Platini, president of European body UEFA, who  had called for Blatter’s resignation last week before the vote. It would not surprise me if he made himself available for the FIFA presidency. Ironically, it was Platini who supported the Qatar bid, not Blatter. So if corruption secured Qatar’s bid, was Blatter accountable in this case?  Responding to the assertion of Blatter, that the Qatar 2022 World Cup was a “political” choice by European voters, the UEFA president, Michel Platini, confirmed in 2013 that “political and economic influences” were a factor. He admitted voting for Qatar and lobbying for the move to winter, insisting that a much scrutinised meeting with the then French president Nicolas Sarkozy, the now Emir of Qatar and the Qatar prime minister did not result in pressure being put on him, despite the fact that he (Platini) knew Sarkozy wanted the people from Qatar to buy French club Paris-Saint Germain.

Under Blatter’s rule since 1998, investment in football in developing countries has undoubtedly grown, and rightly so, which has only served to peeve the wealthier, more powerful European bloc. Sepp Blatter is a champion of world football, as this article states. Since 2011, according to FIFA, Chad, as an example, has benefited from 26 projects undertaken by the world governing body. I’d wager a bet that, if FIFA’s power were vested in the  Europeans, we would have been less likely to have witnessed World Cup tournaments in South Korea/Japan, South Africa and elsewhere in the developing world. Michel_Platini_2010Blatter’s contribution to football in Africa and Asia through FIFA is barely given credit by European lobbyists and the media focussed in bringing him down. Essentially, the Europeans want that power base back again. If they were able to achieve that, it would deepen the divide within the football world between the haves and have nots.

It saddens me that South Africa’s bid is tarnished by an alleged payment by FIFA Secretary General Jerome Valcke of $10 million into a bank account controlled by Jack Warner, as President of CONCACAF. No-one doubts that in 2010 Africa’s time to stage the World Cup had indeed arrived. No one could pretend that the World Cup would solve the economic or political problems of South Africa. In fact, I was highly critical at the time of the fact that FIFA did not invest more. Again, it was the sceptic Europeans who lambasted the awarding of the event to South Africa, claiming in advance that its organisation would be a disaster. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Scenes of the nation’s and indeed Africa’s euphoria will live long in the memory, not to mention the involvement the father of South Africa’s democracy, Nelson Mandela.  Giving the proverbial two-finger salute to the arrogant Europeans couldn’t have been sweeter.  Having said that, I admit that, for a variety of reasons ranging from human rights issues to the practicality of staging the World Cup there, I am less than enthusiastic about Qatar’s bid.

Greg Dyke, the FA chairman, has returned a £16,000 watchOn BBC news the day Blatter announced his resignation, politicians waded in, transformed to ‘authorities on the subject’ overnight. In all of this, there’s FA Chairman Greg Dyke. On radio this morning someone suggested he wakes up in the morning with Blatter on his mind and in the evening, it’s the last thing he probably thinks of. He has a lot to say about Blatter. But then cast your mind back to when Dyke was given one of a limited edition of Parmigiani watches by the Brazilian FA during a FIFA congress meeting in São Paulo during the World Cup. When the watches were recalled, Dyke initially refused to hand his back having promised to donate it to the FA’s official charity partner. A straight talker, he strikes me as someone who would be quite adept as a used-car salesman. But then would I buy a used car from him?  I think not.

Following the YES rock ‘n roll circus – a trilogy of UK concerts.

Yes_LogoI was probably about 14 years old when I walked into Melody Inn record store in Parow, a suburb of Cape Town where I grew up. Though the town was tainted with a certain social stigma, to some extent it sowed the seeds of my cultural roots, as it was here in this store where, as a teenager,  I later sold guitars on a Saturday morning to earn some pocket-money and where I heard the opening acoustic guitar riff of YES’s Roundabout, the first track on their newly-released album Fragile, my introduction to a band that has evolved into something of a love affair ever since. It was the first album featuring classically trained keyboard wizard Rick Wakeman.

Rick Wakeman, then aged 32, performs Journey to the Centre of the Earth in Durban, South Africa, in 1981.

Rick Wakeman, then aged 32, performs Journey to the Centre of the Earth in Durban, South Africa, in 1981.

 A year or so later, I got to write a review of the album Close to the Edge in our high school magazine called Chatman , which in those days was still being printed by hand on a rotating drum. 

On July 11th, 1981, I was in the audience at the Durban City Hall in South Africa (having flown up from Cape Town) to see the 32-year old Rick perform his Journey to the Centre of the Earth epic with a local orchestra. Yet here I found myself, over 3 decades later, in the Royal Albert Hall (RAH), London, to experience the live recreation, for possibly the last time, of the extended version of the classic work, re-recorded in the studio just a year earlier.

The original live recording at London’s Royal Festival Hall in 1974 was cut in length by 20 minutes and 2 songs, so that the 40-odd minutes of music could fit onto vinyl. The decision to record it live was taken because Rick apparently couldn’t afford the cost of recording the original album in a studio, given that it was to feature the London Symphony Orchestra and English Chamber Choir.

Meet & Greet with Rick at a charity event in Braintree, Essex in 2003.

Meet & Greet with Rick at a charity event in Braintree, Essex in 2003.

It was also somewhat ironic therefore, that the staging of Rick’s Journey to the Centre of the Earth in London would be followed just a short week later by YES, in the 46th year of the band’s existence, playing three of their classic albums (The Yes Album, Close to the Edge and Going for the One) in their entirety, at the very same venue, sadly, without their legendary keyboardist at the helm.  Rick’s role in the band has for some time been filled by Geoff Downes, also of Asia. Also missing from the YES  line-up would be founder member vocalist Jon Anderson, now replaced by American singer Jon Davison for the soon-to-be-released Heaven and Earth album. 

Meet & Greet with Rick and the gang.

Meet & Greet with Rick and the gang.

For the 2014 version of Journey, I had purchased a Meet & Greet ticket, the latest money-making racket in the music industry, entitling me to sit in on the sound-check and meet Rick and the band personally before the show. I find these meetings uncomfortable, though, to be honest,  I was wholly unprepared, this being an opportunity of hauling and dusting off all the old memorabilia out of the closet,  for the maestro to autograph. The event did however result in a chance meeting with a fellow fan and genuinely nice bloke by the name of Erich Zahn, from Aachen, who had flown over that morning from Germany. It was nice to get the rundown on April’s Cruise to the Edge extravaganza, a cruise from Miami via Honduras and Mexico, over 5 days, featuring an assortment of prog’s elite, headlined by YES. A ship laden with dope-smoking rock ‘n roll fans doesn’t necessarily go down well with all and can ruffle a few feathers in the process (see article).

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At the pre-show soundcheck for Journey to the Centre of the Earth, RAH, London (taken from mobile).

A show split into two halves, with the Journey concert proper taking up the second half,  it was a polished production overall and thrilling musically, though it lacked a bit of visual stimulation perhaps, most notably the farting dinosaurs. The visuals projected onto the two large screens barely inspired. The Orion Symphony Orchestra and English Chamber Choir, however, were simply fantastic – conductor Guy Protheroe deserves full credit for this. Rick was also backed by the competent English Rock Ensemble, despite their roles being restricted largely by the score.

I loved the way Dance of a Thousand Lights (from Return to the Centre of the Earth) was skilfully fused into the original version of Journey itself. Vocals featured the sassy young Hayley Sanderson (also providing some visual stimulation) and Rick’s mate on many of his earlier recordings, including the original Journey, Ashley Holt. A fine singer, he worries me, despite the fact that I do like his voice. Fidgeting constantly might be construed as a sign of nervous energy but when he’s not singing, he paces the stage incessantly, which can be quite distracting.

Rick and guitarist Dave Colquhoun prog it up! (photo courtesy of Erich Zahn)

Rick and guitarist Dave Colquhoun prog it up! (photo courtesy of Erich Zahn)

HayleySanderson

Hayley Sanderson

His behaviour is  akin to a hyperactive schoolboy, at times bordering on the unpredictable.  You almost expect him to do something really daft. Leaving the stage momentarily at the end of a vocal section, Holt’s hand motioned towards a tuning machine of Matt Pegg’s bass guitar as he passed him. The young bassist’s initial reaction was to pull back but the look on his face said it all and I doubt he was amused. Yet it was the singer’s somewhat inappropriate movement of his nether regions, as he stood behind his co-singer during Ride of your Life (which formed part of the encore) that really astonished me.

Despite London being in the midst of a Tube strike,  I had got to the venue without a hitch on the Victoria & Central lines (albeit whilst running a limited service) however it was at the show’s conclusion that I almost didn’t make it home. Despite missing a step and taking a tumble whilst hastily attempting to board a bus, I managed to make it to Kings Cross 4 minutes before the last Cambridge train departure.

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As the weekend approached, my attention turned to YES. On a whim I had bought an unused ticket from a fellow YES fan who travels the globe to see the band. This was to see them for Saturday’s 3-album concert at the City Hall, Newcastle, a splendid, charming, old-world venue, having already booked for Sunday’s performance at Birmingham Symphony Hall (BSH). I hastily arranged my budget accommodation and train journeys for what amounted to a triangular traverse across the United Kingdom over a Bank Holiday weekend.

YES in fine fettle at the Royal Albert Hall, London.

YES in fine fettle at the Royal Albert Hall, London.

Arriving early to pick up my ticket, I had to wait for the box office to open around seven. Despite having all the required documentation, arrangements were complicated by the fact that the ticket had in fact been mailed to the original purchaser in Australia. In the interim, I had a rather interesting conversation with Alan, from Las Vegas, in charge of YES’s European Meet and Greet arrangements, who, given the circumstances, insisted on referring to me as “Anne”. “You’re both good looking”, he added.  Let’s not go there, I suggested. One thing was clear – there was no way Anne’s pint-sized complementary T-shirt was going to fit me!

YESRoyalAlbertHallLondon2014-38tngamSSteve Howe was in cracking form. What an ace guitarist! I had never seen him play his acoustic solo piece ‘Clap’ with such gusto and ferocity. As to new lead singer Jon Davison? He has an amazing voice however I don’t view him as a replacement for the irreplaceable Jon Anderson, who has been such a major creative force for YES for so many years. Yes, he can hit the high notes but Davison’s voice tone and inflections are quite different to those of Anderson, not to mention their differing on-stage personalities. Having said that, the amicable Davison probably got the biggest cheer at the end of the evening.

They’re all having fun and it shows. A couple of glitches, like Steve having problems with his pedal. This presented Chris Squire with the opportunity of relating Rick’s famous curry story he claimed happened at that same venue many years ago. Rick apparently  ordered a curry on-stage mid-concert via one of the roadies during the Tales from Topographic Oceans tour. I do miss Rick on keyboards though. Geoff is good but doesn’t quite have the same charisma and incisiveness, one example being the synth solo during Parallels. Perhaps it was down to my vantage point however to my ear, he wasn’t quite able to reproduce some of the keyboard sounds one might be familiar with on the original recordings.

Chris Squire

Chris Squire

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I hopped on a bus immediately after the show and made my way to my pre-booked accommodation at Newcastle Rooms, about 2.8 miles from the city centre. The bus driver was exceptionally kind in pointing me in the right direction upon alighting, after initially heading the wrong way in a state of disorientation. The old ramshackle establishment falls way short of your average B&B standards, summed up by some late-night revellers yelling in the corridor in the early hours, however at least I had a comfortable bed for the night. On the Sunday morning, I milled around exploring the Newcastle town centre as well as the food and flea markets along the Tyneside Waterfront towards Gateshead till the early afternoon, before making my way south courtesy of Cross Country rail.

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Newcastle town centre

 *                    *                    *

The train journey from the north-east to the English Midlands was marked by throngs of students furiously finishing their assignments, whilst simultaneously playing musical chairs, having boarded without reservations, only to be moved on by passengers who had. I was impressed by the train conductor, who competently dealt with a young couple with broad Yorkshire accents who initially boarded the train at York accompanied by a dog, without even having as much as a ticket, despite claiming to have booked one on-line.

Geoff Downes

Geoff Downes

Here’s a tall story, I thought, taking one look at them. He being cocky and a tad too confident, tattoo-adorned, with a certain gift of the gab, I wondered how they were going to wriggle their way out of this one. They managed to keep the entire coach in suspense as the saga unfolded. Much to my surprise and contrary to what first impressions might have led one to believe, they finally managed to retrieve their booking, though not shy to enlist the help of a student onboard, who happened to be online on her laptop.

I thought it likely that I would form a different impression of the show in the Symphony Hall, Birmingham, a fine venue with brilliant acoustics but quite different to Newcastle. A modern building in itself reflecting the huge transformation the city is undergoing, it was packed to the rafters with the die-hard YES faithful. It’s quite extraordinary what a difference one’s position in an auditorium can make. Whereas I had been seated about 5 rows in front of Steve Howe the night before and way over to the left, the sound in the Symphony Hall was more balanced and clear, given m vantage point. At least I could hear more of Geoff on this occasion.

Steve Howe

Steve Howe

Man, Mr Davison has one helluva voice, once again delivering a fine vocal performance, not to mention a commendable attempt at tackling Jon Anderson’s repeating harp loop (on keyboards) midway through the epic Awaken. As it gradually builds momentum, he is accompanied by Geoff’s church organ sounding arpeggios. They absolutely nailed Wonderous Stories and Awaken.  Indeed, another cracking performance from the band. Rumour had it Bristol’s Hippodrome performance was to be filmed for a DVD.

Boarding a bus at the other end of the town after the show, I descended into the murky depths of Birmingham’s suburbs. I was grateful for the help from a fellow concert-goer, as I hadn’t a clue where I was. Further advice was to head indoors as soon as I got off the bus. Oh golly, my accommodation for the night at the Prime Lodge undoubtedly turned out to be even more creepy. I rang the bell, entered and checked in. I was then told that breakfast would be ready at a quarter past seven, the woman in attendance emphasized.

Jon Davison

Jon Davison

The cheap linen, dirty shower, broken bathroom tiles, a smoke detector hanging from its own exposed wiring and not least, two solitary teabags on a bedside table saucer which might conceivably have been lying there for an age, made for a rather unfulfilling experience.

Breakfast was an even more bizarre experience. I was still in the shower when a heard a knock at the door and a voice from nowhere at…………a quarter past seven. I walked into the dining-room to discover a cooked breakfast already waiting for me. I got the inkling I might well have been the only client. A notice at the reception desk read: “Leave the key here”.

I stepped out into the Birmingham morning sunshine. It’s extraordinary how a bit of sunshine can brighten up even the worst of places. To be fair, the neighbourhood didn’t look all that bad.  I had a bit of time to kill on a Bank Holiday Monday before catching the cross-country train home via Cambridge, so I wandered along New Street towards the City Hall. A preponderance of the odd burka-clad figure in the city centre gave some idea as to the city’s rich ethnic mix.

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Birmingham City Hall

*                    *                    *

Having had the privilege of attending the gig in the Birmingham Symphony Hall on Sunday night, it finally dawned on me how bad the acoustics in Royal Albert Hall truly are. I was seated 7 rows from the front dead-centre however the comparative and distinct lack of clarity was quite marked, given they weren’t playing at particularly high volumes either. What the venue lacks in sound quality, it makes up for as one of nostalgia. It was such a privilege to see the band that close up, grey hair and wrinkles notwithstanding (apart from Jon, of course).

Jon Davison on lead vocals.

Jon Davison on lead vocals.

Once more a full house packed to the rafters, terrific atmosphere, the audience only really seemed to wake up after interval, during The Yes Album. I appreciated Geoff’s contribution much more, so I’ll ease back on comments I made previously – he was superb. His staccato piano solo during A Venture, a track I’ve never heard YES play live, proved to be a breath of fresh air. I managed to get my camera out for a couple of shots between the intervening, bobbing heads, despite the proximity of the venue’s stewards.

Chris produced a triple-neck bass during Awaken though not the original one used on Going for the One, which now hangs proudly in a Hard Rock Cafe. He’d had a new copy made.  The original owner of the triple-neck bass was none other than Rick Wakeman!  It was apparently conceived during prog’s notable era of excess because Genesis was using a double neck, so they thought hell, why not do a triple.  Jon Anderson has always been derided for his fairly obscure lyrics over the years, generally viewed more for their sound value and the use of the voice as another instrument rather than having any particular meaning but Jon Davison’s animated gestures seemed to convince us all that maybe he had discovered their inner meaning. 

Steve Howe and his trademark Gibson ES175D.

Steve Howe and his trademark Gibson ES175D.

On the title track of the album, Jon (Anderson) permits himself a moment of self-parody:  “Now the verses I’ve sang Don’t add much weight To the story in my head So I’m thinking I should go and write a punchline But they’re so hard to find In my cosmic mind So I think I’ll take A look out of the window”. They may once have been prone to the excesses that the prog world is notorious for but there is no doubting the sheer strength of YES’s compositions and their individual as well as collective musical ability.

Chris Squire and the triple-neck, during Awaken.

Chris Squire and the triple-neck, during Awaken.

I couldn’t help but notice the demeanour and body-language of the person sitting to the left of me, who seemed pretty unanimated throughout. At interval I risked asking him what he thought of the performance. Bad move!  It transpired that despite having seen YES many times before, he had precious little in the way of anything positive to say for this performance, disappointed that the arrangements sounded too close to the original recordings. Hello, I thought that was the point of doing the 3-album tour with the tracks played in the original sequence in the first place?  In one breath, he started moaning about Chris’s and Geoff’s portly appearance with an air of disgust, then only to lambast the Rabin-era YES in another. He struck me as someone with a penchant for complaining, so I merely brushed aside his remarks at that point.

YESRoyalAlbertHallLondon2014-49tngamSJust to the left him two morons, die-hards though they might have been, decided that all and sundry should be afforded the privilege of being aurally assaulted by their insufferable, tuneless vocal accompaniment. You can’t always escape them at gigs.

The final word goes to British transport once more. The London Tube strike last week on the night of Rick Wakeman’s Journey gig almost left me stranded in London for the night.  It was perhaps wishful thinking to hope that my journey home on this occasion would be rendered trouble-free. As luck would have it, trains were no longer operating beyond Hitchin station due to maintenance, so we were treated to the customary but slower bus-replacement service. No matter, the strains of YES’s anthems were still swirling around my brain.

YES website

Rick Wakeman website

Journey to the Centre of the Earth concert review

Cruise to the Edge – website

Review of YES at the Hippodrome, Bristol

Cruise to The Edge – the official review…..not

Jon Anderson interview

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