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Dream baby

In dreams

Sweet dreams

Dream baby (how long must I dream)

Dream

All I have to do is dream

Beautiful dreamer

Big as I can dream

When I stop dreaming

(All I can do is) Dream You

Afraid to Sleep 

In the real world




Roy Orbison’s dream


/


Afraid to sleep.

   (dream)

how long must I dream



in dreams / in the real world

all I can do is dream. Dream you,



Dream baby.



in dreams

all I can do is dream you

beautiful dreamer



All I have to do is dream-



dream

Big.



as I can dream

In dreams

In the real world



When I stop dreaming

 sweet dreams



(how long must I dream?)



Roy Orbison's dream - a poem/text work built of Roy's song titles mentioning dreams. An experiment in  words which straddles that thin crevasse between song and poetry. The word 'dream' now appears completely foreign too me. As when one repeats a word aloud too and it loses any meaning, reverting back to just sounds. It seems this can happen with written words as well. Too many dreams, Roy, too many dreams.

The Beatles are holed up in a hotel in Tokyo, I am holed in up a (largish) 1 room flat in Malmö












Here are The Beatles painting their only jointly made artwork holed up in the Tokyo Hilton in June of '66. Paul's cigarette pack poking out of his shirt pocket looks like some sort of egg roll sushi brooch, of all things.
They are engrossed - it seems like a nice escape and probably a relief to be allocated a specific corner for your own artistic style. There is only so much collaborating one can do I guess.

I have been sick today, my body feels like a wet woollen jersey - slow, heavy and uncooperative. My head likewise. I am terrible at being sick, any days not working seem like a wasted opportunity to be productive, and I cannot focus on one thing for an extended period of time. Today alternating between reading snippets of Joan Didion's Slouching Towards Bethlehem and watching The Beatles Anthology while continuing to work on an artwork which feels increasingly futile and has no end in sight. I wanted to spend today writing: but my energy has been siphoned out of my brain, perhaps through the snot dribbling out of my left nostril - the right one remains resolutely blocked.

I don't write long things, I struggle to maintain words over the length of a A4 page. These texts are just ideas observed and described. I never write dialogue. Like everything, the only way to improve one's writing is to increase one's output, which is a new intention. I had thoughts of three separate texts to work on when I went to sleep last night, I woke up this morning with faint recollections of two of them and a left arm that had refused to wake up with the rest of me and lolled around like a tentacle.

I have spent the majority of today trying to remember my third idea and reading maybe every fourth sentence of Slouching Towards Bethlehem. It still counts.

My tutor in my second year of art school, Richard Orjis, asked me once something along the lines of 'What's up with all this nostalgia? What isn't interesting about what is happening now?' and the fact that I am still thinking about this 6 years later means it must have made some sort of impression on me. I am not exactly sure what that impression is, except that I associate the word nostalgia with a sort of menacing dread, and I realise I have spent today (along with many many other days) entrenched in the music and writings of the mid sixties. I am listening to Rubber Soul as I type this.

Perhaps tomorrow I can begin to associate with the contemporary world, for tonight I am feeling irrelevant.

Fountains flowing into musical streams









click image to enlarge! 

"Here is a musical streams-of-story, an appealing history of 'marketing trends and stylistic patterns in the development of pop/rock music.' Topping the chart is a time-series of popular and rock music as a share of total record sales, although the names are not scaled in proportion to their contributions to the grand total. Bold letters indicate some of the 24 stylistic categories, fountains flowing into musical streams,  (eg Schlock Rock, lower left). Several fashions, including Bubblegum and Surf, did not last, to the relief of a grateful world. In these overlapping parallel time-series, a few names of the 470 artists are repeated, as they resurface in fresh currents. The multiple parallel flows locate music-makers in two dimensions - linking musical parents and offspring from 1955 to 1974, and listing contemporaries for each year. With an intense richness of detail (measuring in at 20% of the typographic density of a telephone book), this nostalgic and engaging chart fascinates many viewers - at least those of a certain age. Also the illustration presents a somewhat divergent perspective on popular music: songs are not merely singles - unique, one-time, de novo happenings - rather music and music-makers share a pattern, a context, a history.

Library find of the day: Chart of musical groups and movements from 1955 to 1974, discovered in an Interloan book 'Visual Explanations: images and quantities, evidence and narrative', Edward R. Tufte, 1997. A fascinating chart, which I have also printed out to put up on my walls, and hopefully will work as a blueprint by which to discover more bands. And I could even do that chronologically.

Febreze in, febreeze out

Febreeze from florencewild on 8tracks Radio.

(If Bree and I were prepared enough, we would have worn suits of fries).


While in New Zealand, I was lucky enough to have the opportunity to play some tracks with my good pal Bree Huntly at local watering hole Golden Dawn. It was a warm evening of good songs, good beers, and many friends stopping by to indulge in both of the activities mentioned above. Thank you Matthew Crawley for letting us lose on the unsuspecting public (but really it was a win-win situation) 
Special shout outs need to go my NZ fan base of young female B grade celebrities who made an appearance for this one night only event - Keisha Castle-Hughes, Annabel Fay, Ruby Frost and others whose names I have already forgotten. Hope you mentioned us in the social pages, ladies.



Drum 'n' organ



Swedish friends are great to have, and I am lucky to have one who introduces me to amazing things like this 60's duo, Hansson & Karlsson, one on drums, one on organ (and everyone knows organ is the best instrument ever). I can't really put it better than the introduction to their biography on Spotify:

"The two members of Hansson & Karlsson are both better known for other things - Bo Hansson as the composer of the progressive fantasy album Lord of the Rings, and Jan Karlsson as a second-rate actor."

Fortunately in the 60's they combined to create this moody, manic mish-mash of amazing sound that I am going to spend all afternoon lying on my bed listening to, trying to drown out the thumping bass emanating from downstairs.

Be sure to watch the video above - special moments to watch out for - Karlsson (drums) grinning like a buffoon the entire time, Hansson (organ) the 'serious' one obviously, but who also happens to play in socks, and random guitarist who keeps cropping up (sorry dude, it's just drums and organ), and when they go crazy at the end and all pound gongs.

And best of all their albums are all on spotify for your (and my) listening pleasure.

Set it to Music



 The Owl and The Pussycat - The Bards // The Seventh Seal - Scott Walker

 I am listening to a compilation called 'The History of Northwest Rock vol 2: The Garage Years. One of the songs compiled is The Bards' take on Edward Lear's magnificent nonsense poem from 1871. The poem has wonderful memories for me of my grandmother, and the only downside is that they don't manage to fit in my favourite line (someone please put 'runcible spoon' into a song):  

"They dined on mince and slices of quince, which they ate with a runcible spoon"

 This in turn, naturally led me to think of my favourite Scott Walker song 'The Seventh Seal' in which he recounts the events of Ingmar Bergman's cinematic masterpiece as an equally powerful pop song. If you do not have the mettle to sit through the film, you can at least listen to the song, which will give you enough knowledge to follow a conversation about the film with people you are trying to impress, or even subtly divert the conversation with the comment "have you heard Scott Walker's interpretation of 'The Seventh Seal'?" which will surely garner you respect and admiration from all (and therefore continue the conversation along lines well traversed by you. A win-win situation).

 Here are a few choice lines from the song:

Anybody seen a knight pass this way / I saw him playing chess with Death yesterday / His crusade was a search for God and they say / It's been a along way to carry on 

 My life's a vain pursuit of meaningless smiles / Why can't God touch me with a sign / Perhaps there's no one there answered the booth / And Death hid within his cloak and smiled 


 My life's a vain pursuit of meaningless smiles is such a wonderful phrase.

Untitled: The 12th Man

Alain Delon as Tom Ripley in Plein Soleil (1960). A great film I watched recently. based on Patricia Highsmith's The Talented Mr. Ripley, and Delon's first starring role. Here he is most likely listening to 'The Only One' by Roy Orbison.

I have spent the weekend listening and dancing to some great music on Friday and Saturday nights. Nothing quite like twirling around on an empty dance floor to a favourite song with a Red Stripe in your hand. People watch you and they can see, that for that moment, you are having a good time.
These 12 songs are a collection of Florence staples and recent discoveries, a mixture of songs I own on record, ones sourced through various compilations I have inadvertently stumbled across, and recommendations from certain people who usually know what I like before I do.
I seem to be naturally drawn to songs whose lyrics are of a more sombre nature, and these days, the more organ the better. Great songs to listen to in the evening while nursing a gin & tonic and reflecting upon life, or a soundtrack to accompany a spring clean on a Sunday morning.





Untitled: The 12th Man* 


Hurt - The Futuras
She - The Monkees
Disillusion - The Minute Men
Always With Him - The Living Daylights
I've Got A Way With Girls - Lavender Hour
The Only One - Roy Orbison
Mirage - Tommy James & The Shondells
My Baby Is Gone - The Untamed
Don't Think It's Me - Smokey Robinson & The Miracles
So Many Times - The Sweetarts
Lonely Weekend - The Remains
So Hard To Bear - The Banshees

* I felt the need to give this collection of songs a cricketing title, having had just watched the West Indies' triumphant win over Sri Lanka at the Twenty20 World Cup. Titling things is hard, perhaps I should do the opposite to what I do with artworks, which are often named after songs, and name mixes after artworks. On that note, let's just add an 'untitled' in there for good measure.

Alone Again

In May I started compiling a collection of my favourite songs about crying. Crying, tears, general sadness. I was hoping to play it at a clubnight or something similar - a misery laden dj set of a sort. But then my life changed drastically and I was unable to listen to 'In Tears', as I tentatively called it - because I have literally been in that state for the past 5 weeks or so. I have been told that crying is a side-effect of a particularly malignant disease known as 'heartbreak'.
I moved across the world to build a life with someone, and now I do not have that anymore. I do have a collection of amazing songs that seem to know how I feel though - even if no one else does.

I don't know what I will do with these songs. Maybe one day I will stand at a DJ booth in a small and relatively empty bar - I imagine it will be raining. Now a relative loner in this town, none of my friends would be there, and the regulars in the bar would be unable to appreciate the mixture of tearful moody-garage tunes, and woeful sweeping ballads, but I could at least play them in a respectively atmospheric surrounding.

In any event, I made a playlist of this set, for people to enjoy in the comforts of their own home while on a steady diet of Gin & Tonics (whatever gets you through the night, eh). But sad songs are always good to keep on hand, you never know when you might be needing them.

Enjoy! (if that is the right word to use in this situation) IN TEARS



Senast Inkommet


A collection of recent acquisitions I have amassed recently: one a birthday gift, one found on ebay, another at a second hand shop, and the rest picked up today in Lund at a record fair and in Repeat Records, where I also came across a copy of Simon & Garfunkel's Bookends, which I quickly snaffled up.

Scott Walker - Jackie b/w The Plague / Glen Campbell - Wichita Lineman b/w Back in the Race / The Hollies - I'm Alive b/w You Know He Did / Jane Birkin - Je T'aime... Moi Non Plus (with Serge Gainsbourg) b/w Jane B / Nina Lizell & Lee Hazlewood - Hey Cowboy b/w Vem Kan Segla Förutan Vind / Chuck Jackson - Somebody New b/w Stand By Me / Ketty Lester - Love Letters b/w I'm A Fool To Want You /  The Rokes - Piangi Con Me b/w Che Colpa Abbiamo  Noi / The Poor - She's Got The Time (She's Got The Changes) b/w Love Is Real / Simon & Garfunkel - The 59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin' Groovy) b/w I Am A Rock / Nancy Sinatra & Lee Hazlewood - Did You Ever b/w Back On The Road /

I have always considered myself to be more of an LP than a single sort of music listener, but this is apparently changing, as I have 2 Love 45's hopefully winging their way towards me having bought them on Tradera. Long Players are not forgotten though, with The Moody Blues' debut 'The Magnificent Moodies', and Van Morrison's 'Astral Weeks' and Paul Butterfield Blues Band's 'East/West' taking their rightful places on my shelves.

At this rate, I may be able to do a dj hour of new records of my collection to accompany the playlist I am creating of songs about crying, which hopefully I will play 'live' in it's entirety somewhere in Malmö. For some reason I can't find enough sad songs to cover more than 1 ½ hours.

Sad songs


 Chuck Jackson's debut 1962 album was 'I don't want to cry!'. Along with Lesley Gore's debut 'I'll cry if I want to' and Steve Alaimo's 'Every day I have to cry' both released in 1963, the album featured tracks solely devoted to the subject of crying.
Not only amazing collections of misery-laden songs, the covers for these three records have to be some of the best I have seen, the expressions of sorrow on the face's of Gore and Alaimo especially perfect, while the dark Lynchian anguish on Jackson's debut seems ahead of it's time.
These three portraits would make an excellent triptych, and the track listings read like a emo's teenage poetry.


I don't want to cry! (Chuck Jackson)

I Don't Want to Cry
Tears on My Pillow
My Willow Tree
In Between Tears
Tear of the Year
I Cried for You
Lonely Teardrops
Don't Let the Sun Catch You Crying
Salty Tears
I Wake Up Crying
A Tear
A Man Ain't Supposed to Cry


I'll cry if I want to (Lesley Gore)

It's My Party
Cry Me A River
Cry
Just Let Me Cry
Cry And You Cry Alone
No More Tears (Left to Cry)
Judy's Turn to Cry
I Understand
I Would
Misty
What Kind of Fool Am I?
The Party's Over


Every day I have to cry (Steve Alaimo)

Every Day I Have to Cry
I Don't Want to Cry
My Heart Cries for You
I Cried All the Way Home
Cry Me a River
I Wake Up Crying
Side 2
Cry
She Cried
Don't Cry
Cry of the Wild Goose
Cry Myself to Sleep
Don't Let the Sun Catch You Crying

I have been listening to a lot of Chuck Jackson recently. Perfect Saturday morning music. Though I think the time calls to this to these three collections of tearful tunes back to back, while waiting for winter to hurry up and stop trying to prolong it's stay. Sad songs and grey skies, go well together.

Orange



Today I spent up large at the small record/comic book store by Lilla Torg, coming home with a selection of 9 LP's and 3 45's. The three I found for myself appear to have a sort of orange theme running through them.
Sometimes I forget how much I enjoy shopping for records - I think I had grown weary of it in recent months because I never seemed to find anything, and would always get so flustered at record shops because I could never decide what I was in fact looking for. There is nothing so disheartening as flicking through scores of records and finding nothing piquing your interest. Now I am excited about expanding my collection again, hunting for albums in Malmö and New Zealand, and exploring different music genres.

The Walker Brothers - Images (1967) / Stan Getz & João Gilberto - Getz/Gilberto (1964) / Bob Dylan - Lay Lady Lay b/w I Threw It All Away (1969)

a short cameo

This time last week I was about to start playing a few choice morsels of music in a small, rather unnecessary effort to assist Kris with djing at the Ganglions gig at Debaser here in Malmö. Kris was playing until around 3am and so had a playlist reaching over 100 songs. I struggled to find 29 songs that I thought complimented each other well enough to be played, and always seem to end up making djing out to be more stressful than it actually is. In the end, I felt my 29 songs were just the right amount for my brief cameo behind the decks between the bands, and a little thereafter.

The songs I played, in no particular order:

The Band - He Don't Love You (And He'll Break Your Heart)
Love - Can't Explain
The Longboatmen - Take Her Anytime
Lee Hazlewood & Suzi Jane Hokom - Califia (Stone Rider)
David Bowie - And I Say To Myself
The Miracles - Way Over There
The Rooks - Bound to Lose
The Shags - Don't Press Your Luck
The Malibus - Leave Me Alone
Neil Diamond - Girl You'll Be a Woman Soon
Fleetwood Mac - You Make Loving Fun
Tommy James & The Shondells - Crystal Blue Persuasion
The Trolls - Are You the One
The Four Tops - Baby I Need Your Loving
Veronica Falls - Bad Feeling
Normie Rowe - Tell Him I'm Not Home
Neil Young - Cinnamon Girl
Look Blue Go Purple - Safety In Crosswords
The Rolling Stones - Under My Thumb
Paul Messis - What Am I Going to Do
Sonny & Cher - You Don't Love Me
The Rare Breed - Beg, Borrow, And Steal
Blondie - Pretty Baby
Duane Eddy & The Rebelettes - My Baby Plays The Same Old Song On His Guitar All Night Long
The Eighth Day - How Can I Stop Loving You
The Majestics - (I Love Her So Much) It Hurts Me
Randy & The Radiants - My Way Of Thinking
The Rokes - Piangi con me
Glen Campbell - Guess I'm Dumb









Song Choice

On Saturday my friends in New Zealand banded together to celebrate one of my best friend's birthdays in true karaoke style. It pained me not to be there to join in the hours of drunken fun, but at least gave me a moment to ruminate of what I would have sung had I wished to assault them with my strained vocal chords.
It is quite hard choosing a truly worthy karaoke song: you want a song everyone knows, so that they can join in on the chorus or take over if you are truly mutilating the said song. You would not want a song to be too long, with a drawn out guitar solo, as no one goes to karaoke to hear someone sing an instrumental. Preferably the song should have a poignant or meaningful memory associated with it and others present, possibly you have drunkenly listened to at a previous time. I have discovered that the most enjoyed karaoke songs are ones people don't take seriously - its is most likely they have been played on solid gold - perhaps even over the christmas period.

And, if you are someone such as myself, the song should be relatively easy to sing. Therefore, as my now preferred karaoke song of choice, taking all of the aforementioned points into consideration, I can only conclude that next time I am in a karaoke room I shall break into a slaughtered rendition of

Rod Stewart's Maggie May

Diet

As 'The Thin White Duke', Bowie's persona throughout 1976, his diet consisted of 'Red pepper, cocaine, and milk".

A Cowboy in Sweden



Momus in Sweden: giving a lecture in Lund which I sadly could not attend, and performing at Brogatan last night in a cramped and sweat inducing cellar, which was rumoured to have posed as a strip joint in a previous incarnation. The small confines and slightly disreputable hearsay of the venue only complemented Momus' intoxicating and beguiling presence, such an entertaining time at a gig I have not experienced in quite a while.

A friend asked me if I had spoken to Momus, and I had to reply that sadly no, I had not. I suppose, having only heard a few of his songs, and followed his tumblr, I preferred to keep him at an arms length, uphold the enigma and all that jazz. Besides, I would have had no idea what to say. Sometimes I would rather just be an innocent bystander enjoying watching everyone else.

17 Lies About A Shed In Lund lecture photo via Mrs Tsk*.
See more of Momus in action here.

If I Were A Carpenter

Last Thursday night I had the rare and always appreciated pleasure of being on the receiving end of a song dedication. The band (La Sera) dedicated their rendition of "Dedicated to the one I love" to us (the DJ's - well I was more of a musical advisor less of a dj I suppose), and the whole scenario felt a little more special as we had played The Shirelles' version earlier on in the night when no one was there bar us, the bands, the guy setting up the merch table and a staff member writing up the evening's specials on a black board and making a bit of a hash of it. If I was ever in the position where I could do a really swell cover of a heartfelt song and dedicate it to someone, I would choose this:




To take a squizz at the mammoth list of pretty excellent songs played by the tally ho's partner in crime 'RECORD TURNOVER', please stop by.

At Home with Camouflage





Rock Stars at home with their parents and colour co-ordination. While attemping to high-light the marked generation gap and lifestyle differences between rockstars and their 'olds', Olsen also seems to inadvertently blend his subjects into their not so staid surrounds. An interesting balance between a subject 'at one' with his environment, and 'at odds' with the others he shares it with. Frank Zappa with ma and pa and David Crosby with the old man.


Photos by John Olsen for LIFE.