Darkness Into Light (For John - Two Years On)

So, I’m here again. Its two years now since we lost John. I’m still a crazy minded muso, I still crash in and out of relationships, I still query, question and over analyse myself. I’m still chasing the stars, and I still wear the same pendant around my neck that I bought on March 12th 2004 with my friend Freya from the indoor market in Canterbury. The reposted diary entry from The Change’s website, recounts what happened the day afterward, when John emerged briefly like the star he was from his terminal depression and reached out in his typically unassuming manner.

But after that, the hands retreated and he got dragged down, and life took him spiralling down like a vortex of futility and he lost himself in a void. Maybe he just burned out – he was 56 - and had never let himself fall in line with the expectations of others. He remained original, genuine and sincere up until the end.
One of my friends told me that he thought it was a cowardly act, the way John chose to let the curtain fall. Its easy for happy and secure fuck wits to look from the outside and pass judgement, particularly as the dead can’t answer back. But I’ll say this in defence of my friend, I know of no-one else whoever gave so much to so many people and never expected anything from it. John only took something once, and it was his to take. Keep this in mind too, he stopped a lot of people taking the same thing from themselves.
Over the thirty years that he lectured at the University of Kent, he was a truly unique figure, and not just as a teacher, but as a mentor and counsellor to thousands, he probably did more for those people than any rock star ever did. I don’t need idols. I reject your icons, your politicians who are engineering this current epoch of highly polished, mediated futility. John might have lost his fight, but the battle is still on. It’s the battle that grew out of the urge to stop us from annihilating ourselves since The Bomb arrived, since we started to realise that we were fucking with our planet, our people and letting the superficial lay siege to our souls. Its my battle too. I might seem to play up to roll of the long haired hippy, but let me tell you this, I’ve had enough of death, I’ve had enough of violence, I’ve had enough of living in a world engineered to perfect the art of self-destruction, oblivion, and alienation. Try to fuck us over anymore and I’ll turn on you as hard as granite. I’ll create something out of your destruction, you fetid gangrenous politicians and ‘Yes Men’ selling us out to save and cover your own asses in gold. I’ve seen what your wars do, I saw it in the eyes of my grandfather as he was dying, and it infected me.Two weeks before John died, I had one of my meetings with Gustav Metzger, we spent about five hours in Milbank Park behind Tate Britain. I finished my thesis as a tribute to John. Gustav knows about destruction, most of his family were murdered by the Nazis, he had his door kicked down by the S.A on Kristallnacht. He engineered the demonstrations in Trafalgar Square against The Bomb, he went to prison for it with Bertrand Russell, he would go again if he had too. But he is a man of tremendous compassion, his character is one of total humility. The living proof that out of violence, death and destruction we have it within our humanity to rise above it, and in doing so, I believe create a pathway out of the mire that the human race has put itself into.

I have sleepless nights. I lie awake –sometimes I fight with my bed – and I am wracked with guilt, because I have made promises, to myself, to my brief as a writer and musician, to the human race. I have been born into a position far better than most, I have a responsibility, a duty, and I have not yet delivered. Please don’t assume that with these lofty expectations that I am pompous, it is born out of total sincerity, I am small cog in a huge machine, but I refuse to tow the line of expectation. I can’t just let go, and choose the “we’re all fucked anyway” get-out clause. We human beings can do great, as well as terrible, things. I just believe that we need to redress the balance somewhat at the moment.

I still miss John. Occasionally I think that I see him on the other side of the road, or I sense his presence particularly in troubled times. In many respects he had a wonderful and colourful life, more so than many, the difference is that his contribution will never be featured as a retrospective front cover of Mojo magazine. Who gives a fuck, anyway?! Real action doesn’t need accolades or reverence. It is still continuing to work through the lives of those who gave so much for so long, until he could give no more. Johnny B, I salute you!

Reposted from May 28th 2005.

It is a year today since my dear friend John Bousfield died. It seems like five minutes since we lost him, and five years too. He was a great ally of mine, a force for good in my life who believed in me, and believed that the power to shape the world was in the collective hands of humanity. We had been pro-active together through the charity Gathering Roots in Canterbury, organising music events that endorsed and handed its profits over to various causes. This is when I first became close to him, enjoying many wonderful evenings with others in his flat eating fabulous meals, drinking copious amounts of wine and figuring out how we were going to change the world.

After we both left the charity, we became close friends spending countless hours together talking over our lives. It always struck me that despite the 30 odd year age gap between us, how similar our problems were…but that was John, and he was forever young until the last troublesome months of his life. He was the same age as my father, who seems to me to be a world apart…but John was always of the moment, and someone who had literally saved the lives of many young people for over thirty years in his work as a lecturer (though I must confess, I never experienced the pleasure of his off-beat, genial, and Fluxus like lectures). Believe me, I do not exaggerate…this man saved lives, not only in the sense of firing the imaginations and spirits of thousands of students but also in his open minded, warm hearted and approachable nature that drew troubled souls toward him in need of good counsel and advice.

This was, however, simply the mark of the man, and although he would hate me writing it, I think that he was truly a great man. We shared a great love of music, and I regret that there was so much that he could have taught me but for which we ran out of time. His influence upon me was to harden my resolve upon the course of my life, particularly with the notion of music’s ability to change, or at least to affect society. We did it. We booked the halls, hired the bands, printed the posters, made the money and made a difference. This knowledge remains a strong force within my continuing need to make music and perform it in a way that, if even for a moment, makes people feel that there is something bigger, and that there is a difference to make.

I think that John was spiritually very advanced. A true seeker, who constantly asked questions and troubled himself over the paths to a higher plain laid out in front of him. I pray that before he moved on that he glimpsed what he was looking for, and that he grasped the silver thread that the divine drops down to us in difficult times. I had hoped that I would carry on down my own spiritual path with John as a close advisor, someone who could guide me and maybe the spiritual growth that we shared will still light my way in the future.

There are many stories that I could repeat here about our times together, but I will relate just one for you here, and it is one that I have told countless times over the past year. John was taken ill over the Christmas of 2003 and had a difficult start to early 2004, my birthday was March the 13th when he was present at my boozy, celebration bash in Canterbury. It was a wonderful occasion for myself, I was surrounded by many friends a lot of whom had never met each other. John was on fine form, leaving a great impression upon many of the people who had brought me through some very difficult times in my life that had been going on over the previous months. It sounds corny to write it, but the love was out in force that night. The man was literally sparking, interacting in his most casual, engaging and fascinating style…that had always been the hallmark in John as social megastar. I remember taking him to one side at one point and saying,
“Y’know John, I’m stoked. It means so fucking much to me to bring all these people together and to see them so happy and into each other.”

John replied,
“Well, its love isn’t it! That’s what it is, its love.”

And that was the very essence of the man. It would be easy for a number of pricks out there to criticise John, he could be self-indulgent and he had pursued and confronted the extremes of many aspects of life within his time. Let them. Ultimately, I can only write about the man who I knew as force for good in all aspects within my life, and someone who wore his frailties on his sleeve but who raged against them as challenges.

When I heard of his death it wasn’t a surprise to me. I had been deeply concerned over his wellbeing for a while, and had tried to help him but to no avail, the story of which is personal and best kept so. It occurred during a time of great difficulty for myself. I was still desperately struggling to come to terms with two deaths within my own family, of startling unique people who were deeply immersed within my sense of self and character. I was drinking heavily, spending days spaced out, clinging to friends who tolerated my self-indulgence and futile pursuits. I was feeling tremendous pressure to complete my thesis on Gustav Metzger, and to make The Change become reality. I was involved in numerous loose relationships, whilst awkwardly distancing myself from the woman with whom I had been inseperable from for two years. I had also become deeply emotionally involved with a girl who was in a difficult relationship, and who was still living with her partner. I was deeply concerned that I might self-destruct, go mad, or worse still follow John into the abyss. The Change had just played a storming hour-long gig at the Penny Theatre in Canterbury three days before he died, my hands were still bandaged and bruised from cutting my fingers on guitar strings through many, many epic windmills. I was in a very extreme, and heightened space, with adrenalin coursing through my veins. Somehow, I made it through…and I think that the key motivation for this was that I wanted to nail my work on Metzger to honour John’s memory, and more importantly follow through on the ambitions that I’d told him about so many times before.

As I write this today, I wonder where I would be if he was still here. He was a great ally of mine, and no-one I think will ever fill that personal void that I now feel. Nonetheless, I am still here…I have passion, ability and a brain too. Nothing will stop me, which in happier times was John’s attitude toward life. Quit now? I haven’t even started!

So, here is to John. A great man, a dear friend, a brilliant teacher (in many ways), the father of a really great son and daughter, and the father figure of countless students who came into contact with him over the years. I hope that in all the achievements of my future, that I can celebrate his memory and still resonating life-force.


Tom.

Post-script:

Here are the lyrics to a song that I wrote in the days following John’s death. There is nothing about the words or the music that I would change.

Darkness Into Light (For John)

You raged in the day,
Stared hard at the night,
Turned away from the sunset
And transformed into light.

We gazed at the rise
Breathed deep on this life,
Danced in the brightness
Then stood up for the fight.

Darkness turns into light,
Darkness turns into light,
Darkness turns into light,
Light breathes into life.

We burned in the shadow,
Drew faith in new heights
Thrust a fist in the air
Then prayed for their plight.

I look at the embers,
And know they’ll ignite,
Love’s fire still burns,
To keep us warm in the night.

Darkness turns into light,
Darkness turns into light,
Darkness turns into light,
Light breathes into life.


You raged in the day,
Stared hard at the night,
Turned away from the sunset
And transformed into light.

Darkness turns into light,
Darkness turns into light,
Darkness turns into light,
Light breathes love breathes life.

An Eve...

Of something rather tragic, sadly. Tomorrow it will be two years since my friend John died. Sadly missed. He was my ally, in many ways a mentor. I will be blogging here tomorrow. I think that I'll need to write about it. It will fall in the middle of a day when I need to be working in my home studio.

I feel nervous tonight. Sad. A little lost.

I remember back in 2004. God, that was a bleak patch...I had so many people I loved who suddenly died. I really became a mess.

Speak to you soon. Hope that you can hold someone you love. I don't have people around me like I used to.

Tom.

Oh Danny Boy...

Am submitting the recordings for Attack Of The Chevron Action Flasher to a chap called Max at the end of next week, and he's going to master it and hopefully give it a silky sound. I'm spending this weekend to record the sound effects. Its going to be awesome - I hope - once the nuts and bolts are firmly screwed into place.

Who knows...it isn't impossible that we'll record a full band version of the opera over the summer - with Danny - and produce something really spectacular. He is a brilliant musician. The perfect drummer for me to play with.

I'm really looking forward to the long weekend. I can get lots done. Tea and joss sticks all the way, as I put the finishing touches to the recording. I want to do a new track too.

Tom

Lost Blogs

I've been blogging on myspace. But I like this blog too. Its better for blogging, but myspace has a bit more of a community. Here are some 'lost' blogs that I've posted on Myspace but haven't here. Hope that you'll forgive me...I still love you blogspot.

He's A Chevron Interactive Flasher!!! 20/05/06

Posted my first bulletin in ages today, humbly requesting for audio contributions for the Flasher Opera's sound effects. I'll be doing my own too, I just wanted to see if I could get other people involved...to see if there was any love out there to be shared.

I have a music mix of the opera now. Finally finished up with something that I was happy with last night. Its 12 mins 16 seconds long. Not perfect, by any means, but neither am I...and so I can but try.

I'm enjoying working away and scheming about it at the moment. I have a few cunning plans on how I'm going to pitch it out into the world. It'll be released on CD as well as the web for sure. Probably on the Roostah Records label, or if not, then through me directly.
I've been sketching out some ideas in very rough form for the art work. I'm going to offer this up to some people and see if they want to do the job, they'll get ABSOLUTE creative control on it. And so will whoever shoots the 12 minute video for it too. YES. That's right. I want a promo video for it. It'll probably get shot on Hampstead Heath. I wonder if Ken Russell has recovered enough from the MRSA superbug that he picked up, to consider doing it. I'll have to plead poverty when it comes to the fee (maybe I can get him to work for champagne and smoked salmon sandwiches).

If you've ever seen Mahler or the Devils, then you'll know why I'd go after him. He's a genius, a lost one, but a genius, with a crazy 'minds eye' imagination. You see, I can envision the story of this little vignette in my head...I've even though about recycling some of the footage from my film, 'In Uniform' (more stutterers and nudity in that one too), but I don't think that I should be behind the camera on this one (or necesarily in front of it either).

So, it might be time to go Ken Russell hunting (unfortunately, I never managed to get a response from him when I wrote my dissertation on him...Gustav Metzger was much more accomodating). I'm working in an office today. But will be back at home later tonight and am hoping to do some more opera work on Sunday.

Catch you later. Peace and Love,

Tom.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

This Number Is Blocked!

Worked on mixing the flasher opera last night. A few technical problems (stretched tapes) but sounding good. Am working on some surreal overdubs for the sounds of policemen busting, flashers flashing, mobiles ringing and Silas screaming. Should be good. Have jettisoned the original sound effects that I did on the analogue. A good guiding point though.

A difficult date coming up for me in a week. Two years since my friend and mentor, John, died in really tragic circumstances. You'll hear more about it at the time. I'll need this blog as a therapy to stop me turning into an advert for Alka-Seltzer. I may post some demos of songs written during that crazy time in '04. They're artefacts.

I think that I've found a good hook and some new lyrics. Its for a tracked called 'This Number Is Blocked' about a man who lets people in and then gets cut off...and how the one who does the blocking leaves the other in a limbo land where they get the bitter end of things. It isn't as futile as it all seems. Expect some hope and love laced between the darkness. More an observation of way life works for us self-obsessives. The alternative is to build walls and hide behind barriers...I used to do that - sometimes I still feel tempted too- but you'll end up blowing up like a pressure cooker (in my case fuelled with various cheap things).

Have to go. Speak to you soon. I have mixing to keep me occupied.

Tom.

Monday, May 15, 2006
You're Only Supposed To Blow The Bloody Doors Off!!!

How many road managers said THAT to their groupies when they were back stage with Jim Morrision and his pals?!!

So, did you find the new track on the page today? Chirpy sounding song title, eh?! Its not a new song at all, it just took me five years to record it. Not because I was overawed by the immense technical challenge of two guitars, a backing vocal and a lead...but because its one of those. Its just one of those. Don't be confused for a minute about the title, The Cancer Is Within, must make me sound like I was depressed when I wrote it. Make no mistake! This song was born of anger. A lot of it. You can get yourself wrapped up in your bullshit, let people and emotions twist and enmesh until the woods become the trees and they scrunch up like roots in your stomach. Tight. Impenetreble. And that's just it, the protagonist in the song is crying out a surrender of self...he's on his knees. Its a prayer, because he can't communicate with people, he takes the next step up. He and the people around him have frozen up. 'In a heart solid with frost', etc, etc.

Right enough of that. What a serious sounding fellow I can be -if only you knew the truth...but don't ask because I'll only distract you, that way no scope for manipulation exists - so, anyway...I didn't record 'Magnets and Stars', I did, at the request of my muso pal and co-conspiritor Llee from Eight Miles High, choose to record this. And we smoked a lot of cigarettes, drank a lot of wine, and burnt two types of joss sticks - occasionally simultaneously. The intake of wine meant that I had to surrender my usual large pots of tea - Earl grey - which I hammer through to keep me interested.

I sketched out a list of some songs that I really should have recorded, but that I've either not been happy with the results of or haven't been able to get round to doing. This is the good stuff. And I'm going to attack them soon, which is equal priority to that other great oddysey of mine, which is finding the drummer and the right bassist. Hmmmmmm, the quest continues.
Here's a list of the aforementioned songs in no particular order, with a few notes (Spider: ' No doubt with bullet points, Rudi, you anal bastard!!!')

Magnets & Stars - music written in a bedroom above Warren Street tube station, and the lyrics outside a pub in Camden when I did one of my mad crazy falling in love binges with an old flame that should have remained well and truly extinguished.

Remember Me - That's what your epitaph will say. A social commentary. I wrote a devastatingly harsh chorus for it.

Freeze Frame - More of the above, but don't get trapped in celluloid cages or enraptured by burning pages, it stretches beyond the subject of Remember Me - I wrote it before it - its an anti-bullshit song.

Simple Silas - My poor orphaned Silas. Sadly missing from my mini-opera because it would have stretched it to 17 minutes and left you all far too bored. So, poor Silas - a beloved live standard of mine - needs to be properly recorded so that you too can listen to the story of a stuttering boy who grows up to speak to thousands at the Albert Hall.

Popular - Ah, ma cherie...once I loved you, but now everyone tells me that you are the best song that I've ever written, that I will never better you, that I will be stuck with you like a mill stone around my neck. Not so, and the original demo for this was quite good, but I think that I can do better without some indie boy producing it for me. So, expect the definitive version. It warns against popularity for popularity's sake, ironic for such a popular song, it will remain 'something bought lustful and spectacular', ad nauseum.

The Brief - Says exactly what it does on the tin. Its my contract. My writer's brief...with busker John who came into the Beer Cart Arms on the night that John Entwistle died in 2002 and danced like a fool as I continued with the show, and there it was...the poor battered man, his face gashed, and putting off going to casualty to talk music with me and eulogise the aforementioned Popular and the cuts on my hands from strummmmmmming like a prize fighter. It was like God touching me on the forehead. I used to do this at the end of Popular, and The Change played it too. I defy anyone who questions my sincerity. Unless I've paid you to do so.

There is more stuff that I have to mix down, and a lot more songs. But these are the ones that sprung to mind today. A long old entry today. Hope that you're well, wherever you are...share the love.

Peace and Love,
Tom.

P.S. Apologies if commenting on my own songs makes you think that I'm up my own arse...but its my journal and I'll cry if I want to...today, I didn't want to, I wanted to share some enthusiasm.

Friday, May 12, 2006

Rock n Roll !!!

Howdy,
I have my producer, friend, bandmate elect, fellow Rugby town lad, Llee coming down tonight to do some recording. Last time we did that, we ended up writing a song about an ugly fat greek man called Stavros, his younger milftastic and glamorous bejewelled wife, a cockney milkman who always gives her an extra pint free. Which ofcourse, leaves them very thirsty...hence:
"Earl grey, darjeeling and assam make three, or a breakfast brew made by you just for me.
Come and have some Rosie Lea with me! My lovely Greek lady!"

I dug out the demo for it by chance last night, when I was mixing down the Flasher opera...but I got drunk in the process which resulted in being distracted. Found some usable takes of a couple of songs that I've written but not done a finished recording of too. One is called 'Fools Wish', and the other is 'Remember Me'. They sound quite good. Potential. Potential Potential!
It should be a good weekend for music making. I'm hoping that I can cut a good demo of 'Magnets & Stars' (I put the lyrics for it in my last blog entry). Its going to be proper Bo, I tell thee!

We'll just have to show a little discipline. I'm adverse to going out on the razzle this weekend...as I will smoke and spend to much, and it will fuck up my voice. So, I'm hoping that we'll just settle for delicately demolishing some large bottles of scotch over the course of recording. Far more civilized. And being ripped off your tits on scotch keeps your head a lot clearer the red wine - it doesn't make you as sleepy either.

The sun here is absolutely gorgeous.

Yo! Give me some noise people on the comments...or I'll change my photo here to the one where I'm checkin' this bad face!

Peace. Out. Mo-fos!
Tom.