Mystery hum

"Listen closely, and you'll hear the Earth humming - in not just one note, but two. The source of this second signal is a mystery. For around a decade we've known about Earth's quiet 'vertical' hum, probably caused by the steady thumping of deep waves on the ocean floor. Now a team in Germany has discovered a second 'horizontal' note, too, and nobody knows what's causing this new signal."

And I thought it was from standing too close to the amps, too often. What a relief: it's just the Earth singing.

Link: New Scientist, Mystery hum, 23 February 2008

In Wonderland: Screaming Tea Party, Bar Rumba

"At any rate I'll never go THERE again!' said Alice as she picked her way through the wood. `It's the stupidest tea-party I ever was at in all my life!'

- Alice in Wonderland

Wednesday night. I am alone, both big and small at the same time like Alice down the Rabbit hole; I'm at Bar Rumba in Shaftesbury Avenue. "Drink Me?" asks Alice to the bottle. Oh yeah, I think I will, I'm in the mood for a riddle.

But every time I try to leave for the bar, I can't – what if I miss something? - what are they doing? Oh, I know this song, I think... what's going to happen next? Alice might not like a Tea Party, but I do. Especially one like this: a peculiarly-deranged, Screaming Tea Party.

This is not your average fairytale: it is a hyper collection of vicious riffs and scary lullabies. The band is based in London, but it feels like a trip inside the Manga story, Abandon the Old in Tokyo. The bassist/singer is in a sexy sarong, yet the guitarist is shredding his gaffa-taped axe and wears a black kerchief over his face. Then there's the very lovely kawaii-des-ne? girl on the drums that sorta makes your heart melt.

Every expectation is berzerked: kamikaze-like jumping from amps, old punk favourites readdressed like they OWN it, yet out of nowhere, a touch of the cymbal so soft it's painful; like a sweet lotion after an aural thrashing. The set itself became a fascinating riddle: Death Egg, a futuristic lullaby contrasts with the London punk redux of Between air and air. Like all good songs they are familiar, yet new and uncanny; I found myself saying, in my best nineteenth century voice, "That is very curious!"

I didn't leave the set for a drink... which is a very good sign at a gig, even if it is rather strange for a tea party. But it makes perfect sense at a Screaming Tea Party. What will they do next? Curious and curiouser – and, unlike Alice, I definitely want to go again. And get a bit stupid.

Link: Screaming Tea Party's myspace

Camden Town is burning down

"And to London, this is for London cause Camden Town ain't burning down."
- Amy Winehouse, Grammy speech for Best Album.

I don't even like seeing a pub closed after 11pm – let alone burned to the ground...

After my first thought – nope, it wasn't me – my second thought was, if Amy can start again, and look wonderfuckingful at the Grammys after her stint at rehab (and away from the front page of London Lite), then there's plenty of hope for her favourite gin-joint, the Hawley Arms.

As Noel Fielding from The Mighty Boosh told NME today, "The Hawley will bounce back stronger than ever I'm sure."

And no jokes about crack pipes. Leave the girl alone (I won't hear it).

Link: Amy Winehouse shocked, speechless - wins Grammy

Stagger Lee

Milo Waterfield's short film Stagger Lee

Stagger Lee turns up in songs like a recurring nightmare. He is the original bad motherfucker.

The story has been told and re-told by Lloyd Price, Ma Rainey, Sidney Bechet, Bob Dylan, Taj Mahal, Duke Ellington, Woody Guthrie, Bill Haley & His Comets, Wilson Pickett, Ike and Tina Turner, Fats Domino, Doc Watson, Dr. John, Tom Rush, Travis MacRae, Professor Longhair and later, by The Clash ("Wrong 'Em Boyo") and The Grateful Dead (where Billy's wife hunts down Stagolee for revenge and shoots him in the balls.)

The story goes that Stag Lee killed his friend Billy Lyons or "De Lion" in 1895 over a Stetson hat. Each songs tells its own version of this charismatic pimp and cardsharp. Here's the original hat incident as re-counted in the St Louis Missouri Globe-Democrat in 1895:

William Lyons, 25, a levee hand, was shot in the abdomen yesterday evening at 10 o'clock in the saloon of Bill Curtis, at Eleventh and Morgan Streets, by Lee Sheldon, a carriage driver. Lyons and Sheldon were friends and were talking together. Both parties, it seems, had been drinking and were feeling in exuberant spirits. The discussion drifted to politics, and an argument was started, the conclusion of which was that Lyons snatched Sheldon's hat from his head. The latter indignantly demanded its return. Lyons refused, and Sheldon withdrew his revolver and shot Lyons in the abdomen. When his victim fell to the floor Sheldon took his hat from the hand of the wounded man and coolly walked away. He was subsequently arrested and locked up at the Chestnut Street Station. Lyons was taken to the Dispensary, where his wounds were pronounced serious. Lee Sheldon is also known as 'Stag' Lee.

By the 1910s, the story of Stag Lee was well-known in African-American communities along the lower Mississippi River. Mississippi John Hurt, from the Delta, did the first recording in the 1920s talking about "that bad man, cruel Stagger Lee". The story then migrated to the mountains where musicians played it on porches in the traditional string-band style of the traditional Appalachian ballad.

Po-lice officer, how can it be?

You can 'rest everybody but cruel Stagolee

That bad man, oh cruel Stagolee

– Mississisppi John Hurt

My favourite, and most twisted, version is Nick Cave's Murder Ballads (1996). According to Nick Cave, talking in Stag Lee's voice, he was an openly gay criminal, who killed the macho boyfriend of the prostitute Nellie Bound.

What will be the next incarnation of this folk anti-hero? I'd like to know. It's a story that changes shape as much as the Devil. But one thing's for sure, it's the Devil - and Stagger Lee – with the best tunes.

Link: Old Blue Bus: Down Home with Stagger Lee

Rich hippie rock star

Keith Richards in Morocco with a local kif, 1967

Usually smell evokes our deepest memories of the past; this perfume unburies the deepest dreams for my future.

The dream is always the same. One day I will buy a palace in Morocco with 16 rooms, or enough for all my friends from around the world to crash whenever they "need a break". I'll spend the day in slippers and kaftans, with wafts of this perfume floating behind me in every room. Sharing a shisha and endless glasses of fresh mint tea in the shade on those bright Tangier afternoons. You'll never know who will turn up, sometimes Paul and Jane Bowles will fang by and we'll have a Naked Lunch... Who knows? But I do know: I'll be wearing this –

"Racy, dangerous, sensual tropical floral with extracts of rare Indonesian flowers, Madagascan Vanilla Bean and Clove Bud."

Ooooh, I so want it. Now.

Link: Rich Hippie Rock Star

RIP Jackie Orszaczky - peace brother

Jackie Orszaczky and Tina Harrod

This morning I was told of the death of Sydney funk legend, and friend, Jackie Orzasky.

What a loss to the Sydney music community. The depth of his music was only matched by the depth of his generosity and vision. He nurtured the best talents in the city. Tuesday nights at the Newtown RSL was one of the best nights in the country. You never knew who would jump up - just to have the chance to play with Jack. The atmosphere was always electrifying.

My favourite (and humble) memory of him is when we first met. We were standing outside The Macquarie Hotel, having a cigarette during a break. He turned to me and said, "are you a musician, too?"

I stammered, embarrassed, terrified - "um, no". My friend jumped in (bless her) and said, "Yes she is. J plays the piano".

"Well bring it down next time! We'll have a jam!"

There are many great memories, nights, songs of Jackie. My heart goes out to Tina Harrod, his inspiring wife, and their daughter.

Jack would never say good bye, instead he'd put his hands in a prayer position and bow down to you. Just like some funkadelic Indian swarmi, he honoured the god-like self in you. The same part that we share with all humankind and find in the best music, and that, so often, involved Jack.

PEACE BROTHER


Link: The official Jackie Orszaczky website