Music To Plant Potatoes To...

Back for a third series and they haven't replaced my titles music so - hurrah.

And Beechgrove is back on BBC Scotland, BBC ONE Scotland & BBC TWO...

Phil Cunningham wrote the iconic Beechgrove titles music, of course. But as a close family member puts it, my music is used "when they plant potatoes..."

If you like Paul McCartney and you haven't heard it, I can recommend...this.

I loved hearing that "Junk" was inspired by Steptoe & Son...

I'm down with Succession.

Makes a change to watch a drama where you are not rooting for anyone.

So. Recently I made a tentative, off-peak, mask-wearing return to...*drum roll*...cinema going!

No Time To Die was up to the usual standard of user-friendly hokum....

...I grooved to The Velvets doc which looked great and sounded even better...

I dug the recent dementia-friendly screening of The Man Who Would Be King at Glasgow's good ol' GFT.

And this was a stylish, mannered hoot, in my opinion....

Every other shot was a celebration of set-design, framing and/or composition. Very glad I saw it on the big screen. In the spirit of Wes Anderson's own stylish sense of symmetry and balance however, I should also report the loudly-voiced opinion of another audience member as the credits rolled: "Life is too short - why do we sit through this sh*t?"

See you in July?

...or maybe in September?

Adios x

Thanks, Moe

 A pal sent me this and I'm glad he did:

*boast warning* I'm chuffed that 2 x projects for which I composed music have been nominated for Scottish BAFTAs: this one and this one. *warning ends*

Yonks ago I flew with BMX Bandits to Japan via Aeroflot, the lowest rung of the ladder in terms of customer service; you flew Aeroflot or you didn't go.

Unsmiling staff stomping about serving disappointing food. Loose carpets and ceiling panel. And (though I didn't witness it myself) my fellow travellers claimed that a steward and stewardess got under a blanket together on the back row for a mid-flight snogging session.

We had several grimly boring hours to kill in Moscow airport where the toilet hand dryers didn't work before our connection to Tokyo. And that, along with subsequent jaunts to Talinn and Helsinki with Teenage Fanclub, is as close as I've ever come to visiting Russia. But Russia has been on my mind more and more in recent times. 

Following on from the profoundly brutal "Last Witnesses: Unchildlike Stories" I found this interesting:

And I enjoyed this radio doc about Russian Bells. 

Speaking of Russia, I had occasion to re-watch Rocky 4. A montage-laden hoot...

I'm now reading this:

I read the novel years ago but can't remember much about it. I do remember loving "True American Tales" which was edited by Paul Auster. Maybe I'll have another look at that sometime.

I had a wee look around the Scottish National Gallery Of Modern Art.

Talking of mental health and black metal, which we weren't, I stumbled across this

I've got 2 x episodes of ye olde BBC production of "Smiley's People"  to go.

I'm glad to hear there's going to be a Ghosts christmas special.

2 episodes in to "The Hairy Bikers Go North" and I am giving serious consideration to their recipe for Key Lime Pie.

And doesn't this look a bit good:

Farewell, Robin

 I enjoyed working on the music for "Show Me The Honey" - my first CBBC project...

(...with apologies to Rimsky Korsakov in the titles track.)

Mary's back and she is still using my titles music...

...so yay for that.

I watched the first episode of Rentaghost, probably for the first time in...45 years!?! (*screams hysterically and jumps out nearest window*). Edward Brayshaw as Harold Meaker is my favourite. Although McWitch, Miss Popov and the pantomime horse don't pop up until later, of course.

I loved Smiley's People and I'm looking forward to feasting my mince pies on the old BBC series with Alec Guinness. I'll do another Le Carré in good time.

But for now, I'm reading this...

...wretched and harrowing and grimly compelling.

The North Water was a quality BBC drama production. I'm now watching A Killing In Tiger Bay and a 2-part Kim Philby doc (both BBC).

I can confirm this works (*burp*)

I like this: Brian Wilson playing an instrumental piano version of "Wouldn't It Be Nice".

I just heard that sad news that Robin Morton passed away. 

Around 1986 and thereabouts I was in A Parcel O' Rogues, a 4-piece folk band formed at school; our fiddler one John McCusker.

We made a demo tape which I think we gave to Robin at a Battlefield Band gig because he was their manager. Robin came to see us (twice?) at the Rowantree folk club in Uddingston. Invited to do a floor spot, he didn't get up from his chair but sat and sang a funny song about a hapless fellow trying to shoosh a roaring baby. Everyone joyously joined in on the last word as Robin threw out his arms. We clubbed together and bought him a bottle of whisky (likely Bell's) for his birthday: "Oh aye, the cheap stuff", says Robin, sticking it into the pocket of his tweed suit jacket. Robin produced our album, initially released on cassette then later on yon new-fangled format CD.

Me, second from the right, about to boot McCusker for wearing white socks

A Parcel O' Rogues played a couple of Battlefield Band's Highland Circus festivals. Robin went on to poach invite McCusker to join Battlefield Band in order to replace the departing Brian McNeill. (Likely his plan all along.) Robin was cantankerous and hilarious, full of great stories including a snotty Bob Dylan in early sixties Greenwich Village and Van Morrison getting thrown out of Belfast folk clubs for playing blues. Robin rarely spoke a sentence without swearing. Where some folk might say "hmm" or "u-huh" Robin would likely say "f*ck". He was forever complaining about, among other things, the PRS model of sampling which meant the likes of Paul McCartney ended up with more money, to the detriment of smaller artists.

We were young folk but he didn't patronise us. During sessions in his converted church recording studio we'd break for McVite's digestives and tea brewed by the ever-hospitable Alison Kinnaird. If we were unsure of some of his advice he'd come back with, "Don't listen to this old man...". At the end of each session our producer would wave us out intoning, "Go home, boys...".

Some people leave a deep impression for the longest time, teaching you more than you realized. My thoughts are with Alison and family and also with my best pal John who says goodbye to a man that had an enormous influence on his life and career.