Ice-cream for Crow

I don't know why but walking from Waterloo to Peabody's office in the sun this morning Captain Beefheart's Ice-Cream for Crow came to mind. Then kind of would not leave. Like most of my musical tastes my affection for the Captain is down to John Peel. This song was my introduction to the great man's work. It was a combination of the wonderful slide guitar (boy I am a sucker for a bit of slacker slide guitar) and the 'he's making up the words as he goes along but of course he isn't' vocal.

What cemented it in my mind was a spread in the NME that followed shortly after, not so much the article but those iconic Anton Crobijn pictures of the band. Stark black and white pictures with Captain Beefheart looking out with eyes that had seen everything. A shamen.

One of those perfect comings together happened in 1990 at the Reading Festival. John Peel was there to introduce The Fall, and to announce his own arrival gave the crowd a salvo Ice-Cream for Crow. Standing in the sun, listening to the Magic Band over the speakers, pinging with anticipation for The Fall was just a beautiful moment.

Most of the full on Beefheart fans rave about Trout Mask Replica but for me that is a work I can more easily admire than love. It's with Ice Cream for Crow that my heart lies.

Candide - Everything is for the best

‘Everything is for the best in this best of all possible worlds’ is the essence of the philosophy of Dr Pangloss. A philosophy that Voltaire lampooned in his story Candide, by passing the titular hero through a series of hideous adventures, where despite all the suffering it is all for the best. 

Candide was one of the first books I ever read. I was slow to reading and was 13 I think. Despite the archaic language it was short and didn’t hang about with the action, the two key requirements for me then. Its always had a place in my heart since.

When Voltaire wrote the book it was in reaction to the prevailing philosophy of his day having witnessed the death of many thousands following an earthquake. Mark Ravenhill picks up this thread in his adaption of the story. He equates the glib optimism of Pangloss with what he sees as a blind acceptance of the excesses of capitalism and the baseless presumptions of some new age thought. Not that this message is delivered as dry rhetoric. In this relentlessly funny, angry, provocative play one is both challenged and engaged in a thrilling way.

The play begins with Candide, in the clutches of a lascivious Countess watching a play based on his own life.  This funny playful introduction had enough ideas bouncing around for most plays. But just as one is settling in for comfortable amusing theatre there is a shattering shift of pace. We shift, with a funky disco soundtrack to a girl’s 18^th Birthday party where she unleashes her murderous despair in the human race on her family. Railing against capitalism, globalisation and most of all empty optimism she concludes self-destruction is our only positive step. After taking her own life only her mother remains.

The play then moves forward and back in time until as still youthful Candide is met by the lover he has always pursued Cunegonde. But now she is an ancient and battered woman desperate for his kiss. But s no longer the woman he loved, his reluctant compliance to provide a happy ending is underlined by a harsh but fitting finale.

The sets and the use of music powerfully underline the action on the stage. The cast are incredibly powerful  and exuberant. Some of the more overtly political speeches risk being heavy handed, though one is not always sure if that is deliberate, as most of this play is so beautifully crafted.

Ultimately people will take from it what they will. What I appreciated was that was both funny and angry. But also brave enough to try and make a point. It rails against the shoulder shrugging that pervades much of the reaction to the recession we are in. The dismissing of any ideas or philosophies that believe they can improve on what we have got. Bad luck if your job and home is gone, it is necessary part of the process.

The artistic response to the recession so far has been pretty thin, it is good to see a play that is so much fun, has so many ideas, standing up and shaking its fist. Ravenhill may be wrong but at least his Candide is brave enough to put up a fucking fight.

Duo Normand #2 – All’s well the ends well (Part 2)

Its the night before the race. By now minds were turning to the serious business of the race, and the wind ups and mind games got going in earnest. I maintained a stance that I was there to get a personal best and how others did was not a major concern. I was of course lying through my teeth. The stakes were raised when Oz suggested a sweep stake where we had to nail our colours to the mast, stating our predicted finish time. Iain and I know our objective, beat 1 hour 30, so we put down 1.29.30 and quietly digested was others expected. Bashers, playing his cards close to his chest ducked and dived to avoid having to name his price.

When the debutantes Jon and Julian said they were aiming for 1hr 50 nobody suggested they were underselling themselves.

Most of us had ridden plenty of TT’s before, but riding on this bigger occasion, with a proper pro start ramp, with following cars, with a grandstand and people cheers added just a little to the apprehension. Arriving in the village, when Jon asked the question ‘Has anyone seen my wheel?’ I guess apprehension was something of an understatement. Now it was not a fatal loss as somebody would have been able to lend them something, but not quite how you would want to start your first race.

Once again we were saved by a combination of good fortune and honesty. Jon has left his wheel in the car park the previous day and we had all been scrambling to sort things in the wet. Somebody had found it and handed it in.

Riding in the veterans category Iain and I set about warming up, wishing our team mates, and the guys from Bigfoot well. The event is such a pull for British Testers it is like going to a kind of Time Trialists Glastonbury. Well without the mud, or the music or (hopefully) the drugs (maybe). We had a game plan; I would put in an extra shift on the flat bits while Iain would pace me up the climbs and lead into the more technical bits. Having ridden with Iain a good few times in team TT’s we felt well placed to make the most of it. We got a reminder that it is not without risks after 10km when we passed the team from Welwyn. One of their riders was standing beside the road, but his teammate was down.

The weather turned out to be near perfect, with damp roads drying out. As we came pasted the Grandstand with 6 km to go we knew we would be there or there about on our objective.

Kev and Dave caught us with 2 km to go, given their form this was a decent outcome. In the final 500m’s we skipped around Northern Jon who had been driving their support van and crossed the line. My Garmin said 1.32.04 by the time we came to a halt. Knock off a minute for the start, and a few seconds at the end, we had done a long 1.30. Iain was not convinced, but I knew we had just missed it. It was a good ride, a personal best but just a few seconds shy of our goal. Good but….

I went off to get changed; the other guys came in, Paul and Steve, and Gary and Paul C putting in strong rides. Peter and Bash doing a cracking time, Bash looking like Peter’s ‘Picture of Dorian Grey’ at the finish. You could tell he had tried.

Walking back via the event HQ I picked up the Vets results sheet that had just come out. I scanned the results I Hawthorn and A Green 1.29.52!!!! Yessss! I only then remembered that I had started my clock two minutes for we went, not just one. Iain was already in the know when I came towards him beaming.

Jon and Julian despite being debutantes had by some whim of the organisors been placed in the 3rd Cat Riders, due to go off three hours after us. In France, the 3^rd Cats are young, lean superfast racings snakes on top class carbon TT bikes with all the gear.  And Jon and Julian. For both this was unbroken ground. Iain drove the support car for them, with Paul K and me on board to offer insults and encouragement. We got a grandstand view of their ride.  We had been in their shoes a few hours earlier and knew what they would be putting in. We also knew what lay in store. But the kept it together, riding strongly for each other. They looked a good combo and as we followed them into the final few KM’s we knew they were going to smash their 1.50 target to bits. By the final Km we were shouting and cheering and banging. The came through in 1.44, a time that was well inside the respectable category, and for two newbies on road bikes was absolutely cracking.

Back at the ranch we ate, drank and were merry, having about as much fun as it is possible for 14 middle aged men to have without breaking any laws or marriage vows.

Great trip – Middle Aged Men in Lycra 1-0 Dying of the light

All’s Well That Ends Well.

Duo Normand #2 – All’s well the ends well (part 1)

Having spent the weekend in Stratford upon Avon, this Shakespearian title seemed appropriate for the Old Portlians storming of the Duo Normand a week ago. That six OPCC teams completed the race, objectives were met and a good time was had by all is something of a miracle given so of what happened on route.

In the dark of a Friday morning we set off in convoy that looked somewhere between a pro cycling team and Mad Max. Six teams and two Directors Sportif. Never had so much OPCC grunt been assembled in one place. Maybe.

The tight timings for getting to Portsmouth quickly began to drift.  Running late Iain was thrashing his Land Rover to maintain the speed limit for us to a have any chance of making the ferry. The man on the dockside suggested we slowed down and the ferry would not leave without us. There was all round relief when the four vehicles we on board and the ferry door began to close.

To ride the Duo Normand you need six things. Two riders, two bicycles and two racing licences (ideally belonging to the two riders).

Our relief was short lived. When Kev told us ‘Gary lost his passport, he had to get off’ we had a few seconds of denial. He is having a laugh. But no, Gary was definitely not there. Opening up for Paul C, Gary’s team mate was the chasm that no Gary meant no race.

Now while it is unlucky to lose a passport, it is then very lucky when your daughter finds it in the gutter where you dropped it. So was Gary’s good fortune. All he had to do was get back the West Wickham, and find some way of getting to France. Easy.

Once in France the main group after some faffing found the farmhouse we were due to stay in, and a fine place it was. As we headed into San Lo for dinner, we knew that Gary was getting the overnight ferry so all was well. It was only on returning that Paul C began asking. ‘Has anyone seen my wallet?’ Now credit cards can be replaced, and money is money. But a racing licence lost in France the day before sign on is more of a problem. Paul was faced with the prospect of greeting Gary with the news that they would erm well hmmm, not be able to race after all. We thought, maybe we could print off his British cycling membership page from the website; find somebody at British cycling on a Saturday to vouch for Paul. Given that our French language skills amounted to saying ‘pain au raisin’ and looking hopeful, things were looking grim.

We set off to reconnoitre the circuit. The 54km route around Marigny has something for everyone, a fast downhill bias at the start, a flat section over the levels, followed by draggy climbs. As we queued for the toilet a woman emerged from the town hall. ‘Are any of you Paul C…..’? By some miracle Paul’s wallet had been found by the waiter in a bar, the bar owner had sufficient savvy to check, and when he found the racing licence he presumed the owner much be there for the Duo. I then took the trouble to call the organisers who took the trouble to reunite Paul and his licence and once again the show was on the road.

When I did this event 2 years ago it pissed down. Halfway through this warm up lap the heavens opened and grim memories started flooding back. Not so much of the ride, the hours spent trying to keep warm in the van beforehand. We dried off as best we could then set about one of the little treats the Duo offers. They lay on a fantastic lunch for entrants in the town all. Starters of cold meats fish and salad, followed by sausage, pork with chips and pasta, finished off with lovely cakes. Suitably fuelled we headed back to base.

To be continued......