The fourth book in the Richard Nottingham series, Come The Fear, is now finished and with the publisher, so it’s breath-holding time as I wait to see if they like it. It’s always a good feeling to complete something, especially when I feel good about it (and I certainly do with this one).
Equally interesting, at least to me, is the process that went into it. When I wrote The Broken Token, I more or less blundered my way through it. I had a story I wanted to tell, but equally, I wanted to evoke the Leeds of the 1730s, in feel if not always absolutely historically accurate; my idea was that if a reader emerged thinking they’d experienced the period, I was successful, and it seems many did. I had my characters, and that was about it. I hadn’t even considered it in terms of a series.
But a series it’s become, and I’d like to think my professionalism as a writer has increased with each book. A series is an odd duck. Characters recur. Some leave, some die, new ones enter, but there must be development, and character has always been a central facet. I’ve come to love Richard Nottingham and those around him. When someone important leaves or dies, I actually grieve a little. I feel I know these people intimately, and their lives expand (or contract) as the books develop.
There’s more planning these days. I still essentially have just a starting point and an ending, and the characters dictate what happens, as if I’m watching a movie, but I’ve come to take on the role of director a little more. I sketch out ideas, which may or may not be used, and I approach each book with a much stronger idea of the focus (For Come The Fear that’s very much the poor and dispossessed, even more than in previous books) and how I want to approach it.
These books have their own tone, often poetic among the dirt and debris and an 18th century city, and I’m not even sure how that came about, but it’s part of the book’s landscape, and something I actively consider as I’m writer. I make note of phrases, which either come to me or are inspired by reading others, and these will be inserted, often during the revision phase.
So, publisher willing, Richard Nottingham will be back (book three is due out early 2012). Meanwhile, I’m working on a couple of other projects, a mystery set in the Seattle music scene of the late 1980s (I spent 20 years in the city, quite a few of them making my living writing about music’; for once I’m writing what I know!) and another mystery, a Leeds setting again, but during the Civil War, in 1645. Quite a while ago I knew I wanted to write novels that covered the history of Leeds, and this is the first step outside my comfort zone, so we’ll see how it pans out…
Sunday, 4 September 2011
Saturday, 6 August 2011
Beginner's Guide to Scandinavia
Various Artists
Beginner’s Guide to Scandinavia
Nascente NSBOX079
This 3-CD budget collection really does make a very fair introduction to modern Scandinavian music – that’s Scandinavian in the inclusive sense, adding in Iceland, Finland, Greenland and the Faroe Isles. Each of the discs has a theme – Pop & Contemporary, Folk & Roots, and Jazz, Experimental & Atmospheres, but the borders between them are very fluid – Valrav could easily be in folk rather than pop, for instance, while Kimmo Phojonen might just as easily have fitted in Experimental. The pop disc is nowhere near as fluffy and vapid as it could have been, with Lars Demian sounding Serge Gainbourg weary on “Alkohol” and Cornelis Vresswijk channelling inspiration from Jacques Brel on “Samba For Pomperipossa.” There’s no Robyn, sadly, one of the best pop stars to come from the region, but there is the sweet acoustic indie sensibility of Pascal Pinon, the folktronica of Valravn and Pohjone’s barely contained strangeness.
The folk disc does offerme moderately well-known names – Värttinä, Maria Kalaniemi, Annbjørg Lien and a couple of others, But it does also shine a spotlight on others, such as Eivor, who deserve more fame for their adventurous work, as well as Morild, Hedningarna and BOOT. It goes some way to showing the range of Nordic folk music being produced, and the fact that roots music has enjoyed a real resurgence is some of the countries thanks to university degree programmes (Finland and Denmark), while other countries, like Norway and Iceland, are still lagging behind in delving into their folk traditions, at least on a more global stage.
But its disc three that holds the greatest adventures, the music that tends to defy easy definition. From Benny Anderssons Orkester (yes, the former ABBA man) to the joiking of Wimme and Mari Boine, it’s a lesson in possibilities. Nordic jazz has long show a different, more abstract, sensibility than its American counterpart, and you can hear that in the piece by Karl Seglem, where sax mixes in new, ornate ways with folk music (Gjermud Larsen draws from folk in similar ways, too), or the excerpt from the beautiful, breathless “Judas Bolero” from Lars Danielsson or the voice and ice instruments used by Terje Isungset. It’s perhaps apt to end with a pair of Samí tracks, a people whose nomadic ways have taken them across many of the Nordic countries. Both Mari Boine and Wimme have been relentlessly experimental, and the tracks here highlight that, as well as the innate beauty of the joik. Put all together, it’s a fascinating primer on Nordic music, one that stays clear of the main highways and focuses on the smaller, less-driven roads – but the scenery there is always more interesting.
Beginner’s Guide to Scandinavia
Nascente NSBOX079
This 3-CD budget collection really does make a very fair introduction to modern Scandinavian music – that’s Scandinavian in the inclusive sense, adding in Iceland, Finland, Greenland and the Faroe Isles. Each of the discs has a theme – Pop & Contemporary, Folk & Roots, and Jazz, Experimental & Atmospheres, but the borders between them are very fluid – Valrav could easily be in folk rather than pop, for instance, while Kimmo Phojonen might just as easily have fitted in Experimental. The pop disc is nowhere near as fluffy and vapid as it could have been, with Lars Demian sounding Serge Gainbourg weary on “Alkohol” and Cornelis Vresswijk channelling inspiration from Jacques Brel on “Samba For Pomperipossa.” There’s no Robyn, sadly, one of the best pop stars to come from the region, but there is the sweet acoustic indie sensibility of Pascal Pinon, the folktronica of Valravn and Pohjone’s barely contained strangeness.
The folk disc does offerme moderately well-known names – Värttinä, Maria Kalaniemi, Annbjørg Lien and a couple of others, But it does also shine a spotlight on others, such as Eivor, who deserve more fame for their adventurous work, as well as Morild, Hedningarna and BOOT. It goes some way to showing the range of Nordic folk music being produced, and the fact that roots music has enjoyed a real resurgence is some of the countries thanks to university degree programmes (Finland and Denmark), while other countries, like Norway and Iceland, are still lagging behind in delving into their folk traditions, at least on a more global stage.
But its disc three that holds the greatest adventures, the music that tends to defy easy definition. From Benny Anderssons Orkester (yes, the former ABBA man) to the joiking of Wimme and Mari Boine, it’s a lesson in possibilities. Nordic jazz has long show a different, more abstract, sensibility than its American counterpart, and you can hear that in the piece by Karl Seglem, where sax mixes in new, ornate ways with folk music (Gjermud Larsen draws from folk in similar ways, too), or the excerpt from the beautiful, breathless “Judas Bolero” from Lars Danielsson or the voice and ice instruments used by Terje Isungset. It’s perhaps apt to end with a pair of Samí tracks, a people whose nomadic ways have taken them across many of the Nordic countries. Both Mari Boine and Wimme have been relentlessly experimental, and the tracks here highlight that, as well as the innate beauty of the joik. Put all together, it’s a fascinating primer on Nordic music, one that stays clear of the main highways and focuses on the smaller, less-driven roads – but the scenery there is always more interesting.
Monday, 20 June 2011
Treme
I’ve probably watched more television drama this year than in the past decade or more. But then again, I’ve been spoilt by what’s been on. First there was The Killing, the best thing, apart from folk music, to come out of Denmark, with some superb acting and writing. Then there was the discovery of Nurse Jackie. Billed as comedy, perhaps, but so much more. Then Spiral, the very tough French crime drama.
And now my new love is Treme. Set in post-Katrina New Orleans, it’s a beautifully crafted, very human show. And, of course, there’s plenty of that irresistible New Orleans music and cooking to spice it all up. Thanks to Lovefilm I’m catching up with season one, and enjoying every second. As a drama it does several unconventional things. The focus is on people rather than plot, a very refreshing change. And it’s people who are generally out on the margins rather than those with power. It’s also very rare inasmuch as most of the main characters are black and presented in a very three-dimensional way, not cheaply stereotyped.
The show’s evidently been panned (at least in the first season) for its lack of plot, but that’s part of its power. For most people there’s no straight line plot to life, and that makes it far more true to life. We’re usually made up of small incidents, and in this case, the big one, the hurricane, is always there as the backdrop, affecting the lives of everyone.
It also stands out as a superbly political show, sometimes explicitly, as in John Goodman’s character, and more often implicitly, as in the actions of the police, or the reportage of prison inmates left on the bridge without water, or finding another body. The show brings an awareness of the way the rich and the politicians have been trying to sell out the poor of New Orleans, sometimes quite literally, and the way the Bush administration failed so abysmally in its duties (no real surprise there). It’s a beautiful, unique city, unlike anywhere else in America. To see it portrayed with such honesty, as well as with such compassion, is a joy. It’s also some of the very best television around, and that’s something we need.
And now my new love is Treme. Set in post-Katrina New Orleans, it’s a beautifully crafted, very human show. And, of course, there’s plenty of that irresistible New Orleans music and cooking to spice it all up. Thanks to Lovefilm I’m catching up with season one, and enjoying every second. As a drama it does several unconventional things. The focus is on people rather than plot, a very refreshing change. And it’s people who are generally out on the margins rather than those with power. It’s also very rare inasmuch as most of the main characters are black and presented in a very three-dimensional way, not cheaply stereotyped.
The show’s evidently been panned (at least in the first season) for its lack of plot, but that’s part of its power. For most people there’s no straight line plot to life, and that makes it far more true to life. We’re usually made up of small incidents, and in this case, the big one, the hurricane, is always there as the backdrop, affecting the lives of everyone.
It also stands out as a superbly political show, sometimes explicitly, as in John Goodman’s character, and more often implicitly, as in the actions of the police, or the reportage of prison inmates left on the bridge without water, or finding another body. The show brings an awareness of the way the rich and the politicians have been trying to sell out the poor of New Orleans, sometimes quite literally, and the way the Bush administration failed so abysmally in its duties (no real surprise there). It’s a beautiful, unique city, unlike anywhere else in America. To see it portrayed with such honesty, as well as with such compassion, is a joy. It’s also some of the very best television around, and that’s something we need.
Tuesday, 7 June 2011
Duo Jonsson Coudroy
Duo Jonsson Coudroy
Vind
Bemol Productions BEMO 045
Take a Swedish fiddler and a French melodeon player and you not only have an interesting combination of musical cultures, but a pair of very talented players and composers. There are some traditional pieces here, such as “Gavotte,” and they’re performed with real delicacy and imagination. But the true joy lies in the originals, which exhibit such wonderful sympathy and communication between the pair that it’s almost mystical. Far from seeming empty, they fill each others spaces and do some very interesting things with the music, as on the closer “Sjön,” which uses chordal drones in a highly unusual fashion to create a remarkable atmosphere. That, however, just typifies the approach of this pair, who impress by their willingness not only to play beautifully but also think outside the box. This is a disc that rewards frequent listenings and bodes well for the future.
Vind
Bemol Productions BEMO 045
Take a Swedish fiddler and a French melodeon player and you not only have an interesting combination of musical cultures, but a pair of very talented players and composers. There are some traditional pieces here, such as “Gavotte,” and they’re performed with real delicacy and imagination. But the true joy lies in the originals, which exhibit such wonderful sympathy and communication between the pair that it’s almost mystical. Far from seeming empty, they fill each others spaces and do some very interesting things with the music, as on the closer “Sjön,” which uses chordal drones in a highly unusual fashion to create a remarkable atmosphere. That, however, just typifies the approach of this pair, who impress by their willingness not only to play beautifully but also think outside the box. This is a disc that rewards frequent listenings and bodes well for the future.
Monday, 6 June 2011
Mama Rosin with Hipbone Slim and the Kneetremblers
Mama Rosin with Hipbone Slim & the Kneetremblers
Louisiana Sun
In an ideal world people would hear this on an AM radio or through tinny speakers where there’s hardly any bass. It’s a real throwback to the raw 1950s days of rockabilly, swamp pop and outrageous Cajun music. Mix together a Swiss Cajun-punk band and some London rockabillies, don’t give them long to think about anything, and this is the result. It’s a glorious, fevered workout that time travels through the Southern states of America. There’s some early rock’n’roll – The Cat Never Sleeps and Paint The Town Red – plenty of swamp pop and Zydeco (even a rocked-out two-step), and even one track that could have come straight from the pen of Fats Domino. Add to that the title cut, which is a wild variant on California Sun (in French, naturellement) and you have one of the subversive delights of the year. When people talk about roots rock, this is what they really mean, as it doesn’t get any closer to the roots than this. You’ll need a cold beer or two just to listen to it.
Louisiana Sun
In an ideal world people would hear this on an AM radio or through tinny speakers where there’s hardly any bass. It’s a real throwback to the raw 1950s days of rockabilly, swamp pop and outrageous Cajun music. Mix together a Swiss Cajun-punk band and some London rockabillies, don’t give them long to think about anything, and this is the result. It’s a glorious, fevered workout that time travels through the Southern states of America. There’s some early rock’n’roll – The Cat Never Sleeps and Paint The Town Red – plenty of swamp pop and Zydeco (even a rocked-out two-step), and even one track that could have come straight from the pen of Fats Domino. Add to that the title cut, which is a wild variant on California Sun (in French, naturellement) and you have one of the subversive delights of the year. When people talk about roots rock, this is what they really mean, as it doesn’t get any closer to the roots than this. You’ll need a cold beer or two just to listen to it.
Saturday, 4 June 2011
On Gary Heffern And His New Music
It’s been my privilege to know Gary Heffern for quite a few years now. We met in Seattle, neither of us natives to the place, but it was where we called home. Gary is a superbly talented singer and songwriter with not only an ear for a good line, but also a way of putting it across, a gift of writing songs that truly resonate, that can catch a deep kernel of truth in a few words.
In the new Millennium Gary moved to Finland, the country of his birth, although I didn’t know that until I watched a very moving documentary about the circumstances of his leaving, and what happened to him in California (see http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iPIAux15da0 and it’s highly recommended viewing). He lives deep in the country there, where temperatures are bitter in winter and the nights can seem almost endless. But the dislocation of geography and culture has been good for him as an artist. His new album, Gary Heffern & Beautiful People, stands as one of his best. It’s very much as band album, as his new associates contribute tracks, and yet it hangs together as a whole, although (for me at least) it’s Gary’s work that stands out particularly. “Hand Of The Devil” is an epic opener, almost gospel (you can see the video at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8jLAhIx7iic ) and true redemption, building and building, simple yet ambitious and a true barn burner. “Religions (They Really Worry Me)” riffs on – well, you can figure that out – over a chord sequence that’s reminiscent of REM’s “Losing My Religion,” although whether that’s deliberate or not is hard to tell. As a song it’s certainly in the same class as its better known sibling.
There are touches of Gary’s punk past on “Here Comes The Government,” while “Everything Is Slowing Down” is a meditation on life in part, and the entropy that can come with living and the depressions that can occur, while “It’s Gonna Be A Cold Cold Winter” finds the chill of the heart and soul as well as the temperature.
Gary’s words are everyday poetry, finding the beauty or the heartbreak in the mundane and shining a spotlight on it. With the Beautiful People he has a band that’s made up of some crack musicians who are very sympathetic to what he’s trying to achieve. Finland has been good for his artistic maturity – the material here reaches an entirely new level to his previous work. And this is just the start. Seattle might be far away for us both, in many senses, but moving on can be worthwhile, too.
In the new Millennium Gary moved to Finland, the country of his birth, although I didn’t know that until I watched a very moving documentary about the circumstances of his leaving, and what happened to him in California (see http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iPIAux15da0 and it’s highly recommended viewing). He lives deep in the country there, where temperatures are bitter in winter and the nights can seem almost endless. But the dislocation of geography and culture has been good for him as an artist. His new album, Gary Heffern & Beautiful People, stands as one of his best. It’s very much as band album, as his new associates contribute tracks, and yet it hangs together as a whole, although (for me at least) it’s Gary’s work that stands out particularly. “Hand Of The Devil” is an epic opener, almost gospel (you can see the video at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8jLAhIx7iic ) and true redemption, building and building, simple yet ambitious and a true barn burner. “Religions (They Really Worry Me)” riffs on – well, you can figure that out – over a chord sequence that’s reminiscent of REM’s “Losing My Religion,” although whether that’s deliberate or not is hard to tell. As a song it’s certainly in the same class as its better known sibling.
There are touches of Gary’s punk past on “Here Comes The Government,” while “Everything Is Slowing Down” is a meditation on life in part, and the entropy that can come with living and the depressions that can occur, while “It’s Gonna Be A Cold Cold Winter” finds the chill of the heart and soul as well as the temperature.
Gary’s words are everyday poetry, finding the beauty or the heartbreak in the mundane and shining a spotlight on it. With the Beautiful People he has a band that’s made up of some crack musicians who are very sympathetic to what he’s trying to achieve. Finland has been good for his artistic maturity – the material here reaches an entirely new level to his previous work. And this is just the start. Seattle might be far away for us both, in many senses, but moving on can be worthwhile, too.
Wednesday, 25 May 2011
A Chronicler Of Lives
Tomorrow sees the publication of my second novel, Cold Cruel Winter, a continuation of the Richard Nottingham series begin in The Broken Token. At the end of last week I received the first copy of it, a lovely hardback with a wonderful cover, enhanced by some delightful quotes pulled from reviews for the back cover.
When I began that first book I had no idea that it would become a series, that Richard Nottingham and John Sedgwick would take on lives of their own. But that’s exactly what’s happened. In my head they’re living, breathing people, and the Leeds of the 1730s is as alive to me as the city centre I sometimes walk around.
At this point I’m midway through book 4 – the third should appear early in 2012. It’s a decidedly odd feeling, popping into someone’s life periodically and describing what’s going on with them. But that, I guess, is just what a series of books hopes to achieve, to transport the reader back into this other world again and again.
I’m proud of Cold Cruel Winter. To me, the writing has improved greatly, it flows more easily, and there’s a good tale to tell. There’s more depth to the characters, as I know them more thoroughly, their voices are louder and more individual. They’ve all grown, as part of the real pleasure as a writer is describing that growth, those changes, how lives have moved on. I’m not the author so much as the chronicler of lives, and I’d have it no other way.
When I began that first book I had no idea that it would become a series, that Richard Nottingham and John Sedgwick would take on lives of their own. But that’s exactly what’s happened. In my head they’re living, breathing people, and the Leeds of the 1730s is as alive to me as the city centre I sometimes walk around.
At this point I’m midway through book 4 – the third should appear early in 2012. It’s a decidedly odd feeling, popping into someone’s life periodically and describing what’s going on with them. But that, I guess, is just what a series of books hopes to achieve, to transport the reader back into this other world again and again.
I’m proud of Cold Cruel Winter. To me, the writing has improved greatly, it flows more easily, and there’s a good tale to tell. There’s more depth to the characters, as I know them more thoroughly, their voices are louder and more individual. They’ve all grown, as part of the real pleasure as a writer is describing that growth, those changes, how lives have moved on. I’m not the author so much as the chronicler of lives, and I’d have it no other way.
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