The other day, the new Album from folk duo Show of Hands arrived. This is an unusual album in that one CD has been chosen by the Band (two tracks from each studio album with some remixes & live versions thrown in) and the other chosen by the fan base, or Longdogs, as they are known.As is often the case with such an album, you stick it in and play a bit of each track. My first impression of this was fairly lacklustre- some songs I knew well (in the form presented here) and some sounded uninspiring, banal even.

however, I put it on in the car going to and from Runcorn yesterday and was delighted to find that another song had got under my skin and was worthy of much closer attention.

The first CD is called “Short Stories” and it does exactly what it says on the box. Each song paints an audio picture of something, whether farming, whaling, or the demise of English culture. One song in particular is called “Cousin Jack” and it tells the story of mass emigration from Cornwall a couple of hundred years ago. The term Cousin Jack is a nickname that denotes origins much as the term Geordie does, often meaning a Cornishman in exile. This song is a chilling lament to the economic failure of the mining industry and the need for miners to travel the world, taking their talents with them, often sending money home to their families the way many immigrants do today. In a couple of verses and a catchy singalong chorus, Steve Knightley manages to encapsulate the entire essence of the County and which way it was heading. Listening to the song, first the tune seeps into your conscience, then the craftsmanship of the playing, the richness of the harmony then finally the words start to stick and make sense. Then you find yourself singing along with vigour to the fishermen’s chorus, resisting the temptation to cup one ear (although you can visualise the singers doing it). Next, you are looking up mining terms on the internet, reading the geography and history of the South West and tracking down other versions of the song. When music grabs you by the gonads like this, you know it is good.

The song opens with the following line;

This land is barren and broken,
Scarred like the face of the moon,
Our tongue is no longer spoken
And the towns all around face ruin

And you know what? This paraphrases my barber lamenting the sad state of Bradford in the 21st Century last time I had a haircut in my lunch hour.

One of the highlights of going to Lindisfarne gigs in Newcastle in the late 70s was getting into the crowd when they did Run for Home, clapping hands over our heads in time to the beat and singing the chorus in the bit where they stop playing and the only instrument was Ray Clements thumping out the beat- dum, duh-dum/snare/… dum, duh-dum/snare/… dum, duh-dum/snare/…

Run for home…(clap) run as fast…(clap) as I can…(clap) WHOOOAAAH …running man…running for home…

(after all, I was a Geordie Cousin jack then).

I’m now really looking forward to seeing Show of Hands next week in Leeds at the tiny City Varieties. I will be watching the crowd with interest to report back to Tom Paine and I don’t expect it to be an albert Hall gig but they do have a close following and it will undoubtedly be full.

If they sing Captain Jack, I can probably do a good job at joining in the chorus;

Where there’s a mine or a hole in the ground
That’s what I’m heading for that’s where I’m bound
So look for me under the lode, or inside the vein
Where the copper, the clay, the arsenic and tin
Run in your blood and under your skin
I’ll leave the country behind
I’m not coming back
Oh follow me down cousin Jack

I might even stick my elbow out and cup my ear…

The song is on YouTube, although the Roots: version is much, much better…

(Sorry the formatting is a bit loopy- I haven’t worked out how to do buffer space round thumbnails properly yet)

Today, I visited The Brindley Theatre in Runcorn. I have never been there before so didn’t know what to expect, other than a probably declining Cheshire market town. I expected it to be near a Canal, assuming the Brindley was James (yes it was, and yes it was).
My route in to Runcorn was over a humongous bridge- the Silver Jubilee Bridge over the Manchester Ship Canal. Despite the name, it was opened in 1961, replacing a transporter bridge made famous by Meccano. Having a bit of spare time, I wandered down to the bridge, finding a promenade complete with ducks. It was a rather dull day so my photos are similarly lacking in contrast.

I also found a closed bingo hall called La Scala where the roof was in a perilous state. (You can see the sorry state of the interior from some recent UrbEx visits at this link.)

The Brindley is three years old and still looks very new, unless you start to look too closely where the inevitable wear and tear of a working theatre shows up. It is a local authority ran venue with a 420 seat proscenium theatre, a 108 seat adaptable studio, a gallery and a cafe/bar. The cafe has a pleasant terrace space overlooking the canal, although it was not in use today.

The building public spaces wrap around the main auditorium, which is known as the Transporter Theatre. It is a tall, narrow space with a glazed roof, giving a good vista of the copper clad roof above. It has seating on two levels with a stalls and circle, although the circle sweeps down to stalls level either side in a similar manner to the Milton Keynes Theatre. There are six boxes, although they are a fair way back and the last to be sold. (The Edwardian Box positions are taken up with technical galleries either side).

The auditorium feels welcoming, even without an audience and under working lights. The seats are a light purple colour, as are the house tabs. The walls are a light grey colour, relieved by curved light ash wooden panels which aid sound reflection.

The stage house is of decent proportions and has a counterweight flying frame for 48 bars, 27 sets which have been fitted so far. It is well equipped with technical systems and the prompt corner is down stage right. As it is a community theatre, Stage Left and Stage Right are used rather than PS and OP, previously blogged about. Backstage, there are five dressing rooms (all with sinks and showers) and a soundproofed music room. Cutbacks are obvious though, mirrors have not been fitted in one of the upstairs rooms (although the mirror lights have). Surprisingly, there is no sub-stage but there is a crossover passage behind the back wall. There is an orchestra pit (which can be covered or made into a forestage) but no Pit Lift yet (although there is electrical provision for it at a future date).

At right angles to the main house is the studio theatre which is an adaptable space. This has 108 seats on bleacher seating which was folded back into the wall on our visit. Access to lighting is from access equipment only but there are 96 circuits available.and it it also doubles as a Cinema with projection from a large control room at the rear.

Either side of the stage tower in the upper part of the building are glazed stair wells which lead up to the grid, plant room, dimmer room and the lighting bridges above the auditorium. There is a perimeter walkway which leads onto a forestage grid area, the two lighting bridges and the follow-spot position. All of the lighting is new, apart from twelve older 2kW profile lanterns which the Chief bought from the Liverpool Empire for £120 each.

The fly floor is stage right and all counterweight sets are worked from here, apart from the house tabs which can be worked from stage level as well. The equivalent gallery stage left has a few hemp sets for occasional use.

One building quirk- the dimmer room for the main house was obstructed somewhat by a diagonal girder. To get round this, the door was split horizontally like a stable, presumably to remind you when you came out again.

Technical control for the main house is from a control room suite at the back of the stalls and there is also a glazed room next door for simultaneous translation. Both lighting and sound can be worked from the auditorium if necessary and the building is bristling with technical panels, even in the art gallery room.

After the visit was complete, we were served tea, coffee and biscuits in dressing room 1. Here was a sign saying “Please respect the theatre” and underneath, someone had added a smidge of irony, with the words “its award winning” below .

I was also amused by the taps…

As we left the building, the sun picked out the bridge over the town. I was into the red zone with my second battery but was pleased to take this final snap and not get drizzled on.

Deano (Friedman)’s most recent occasional email is all about the surfer dude who came up with the theory of everything.

(It makes a change from tour dates and forthcoming releases).

This video doesn’t make much sense to me, but included here just to make you boggle.

The video is provided by new scientist, who have some rather strange videos there, such as oral sex gene helps male fish fake it.

(I bet that mucks up my Google crawler ratings…)

Both Karen and I have bought things for the kitchen that are rarely used, generally because they are more faff than doing it by hand, take huge amounts of cleaning afterwards, or don’t actually do what they say on the tin.

One success story, however, has been our low fat grill, or the George Formby, as we call it. The original one has now worn out and we have updated it with one with a temperature control and removable plates.

There was a spoof USB grill and now an iGrill which can do all sorts. But can it clean windows?

JMB just reminded me of this movie, Sleuth from 1972. I must track it down.

I’ve just noticed it has been remade- with Michael Caine playing Larry Olivier’s role. Curious…