onionbagblog

I was met with distinctive Constable skies as I strolled out and made my way around the 10 km Estuary Wilds walk on Friday morning. I often find it hard to define Big Essex Skies. It’s sometimes just best to look above and marvel at the emptiness of the landscape, and then how the clouds clutter up the brilliant blueness from the estuary and beyond.

Shit. I’m turning into a bloody hippie.

The ground underfoot was slightly soft in terms of race conditions. We’ve had a couple of downpours but everything else is absolutely bone dry. If I ever get myself match fit again then the only bonus from the recent heat waves is that my summer estuary running route may be extended well into the autumn muddy months.

I wasn’t alone in strolling out towards Alresford. I must have passed half a dozen or so other mid-life crisis single all males doing the exact same thing. We’re all living the best years of our lives; we’ve all given up on work. Back of the fucking net.

I made slow progress but not as slow as the old boy I saw rowing single-handedly heading out into the greater reaches of the estuary beyond Fat Bloke’s Bench. I was a little fearful as to how he would fare once he entered the more choppier waters past the Creek.

Looking slightly lost was a swan in an adjacent field who seemed to have taken over on where the cows normally go about munching their way through what remains of the grass. I approached with caution. This didn’t stop the swan having a hissy fit at me.

Ford Lane and the road towards Alresford was reached. A couple of geezers were out trimming the overgrown hedge. The homegrown peppers on the balcony overlooking the Creek look ripe for picking.

Another day, another plod.

Plod to live, live to plod.

The annual Bank Holiday Art Exhibition at The Nottage was defo worth a visit this year. Each year four local artists exhibit in the rather antiquated, yet still very scenic surrounds of The Nottage down at the Quayside.

Local artist Colin Smith always seems to anchor the event with his brilliant and bright acrylic scenes capturing familiar surrounds. The radiance coming out of the colours was quite stunning, both for daytime and sunset compositions.

He is joined this year by a Kristin Handley. Her artwork displays a lighter touch. Some of the local scenes, such as the Trail, were almost fairy-like, with a magical illusion as the daylight collided with the green scenery.

This artwork contrasted well alongside work being exhibited by Vicky Rosenthal. Her style was a lot more harsh, almost industrial. This also suits parts of the town, with regular head nods to the fishing heritage and history.

Completing the quartet of artists at The Nottage this weekend is Julie Bowes. Her work was more animal-themed, alongside some portraits which showed human form morphing into images that wouldn’t look out of place in fairy tale books.

We were encouraged to see a couple of the artists at The Nottage performing their art and carrying out some live painting sessions.

This almost inspired me to dig out the canvas I have somewhere and make the most of my CSE Grade 3 in art to capture the local cricket club this weekend.

Can you tell what it is yet?"

We made our way over to the Table of Dreams on Friday morning. There were bright and blustery conditions. The ground below appeared as if it had never rained. It’s going to take quite a few soakings for the Estuary Wilds surrounds to soften up once again.

I felt there was more pressure on us during the warm-up than in the actual game itself. We’ve slipped into the routine of practising forehand corner to corner at some pace, and then immediately followed by backhand corner to corner. It certainly improves your playing style but also frustrates your playing partner when you fuck up.

I fucked up.

The game was quite competitive. We attracted the interests of a more mature dog walker in the park.

“You’re playing for the Wivenhoe Championship!”

…she exclaimed with a rather unnecessary enthusiasm. Erm, nope, luv. We’re just filling in time to be honest, Whatever.

I went in far too early with my spin. This is always a sign that I’m bored and I want to start showboating. I wasn’t quite in a position to do this.

I realised the error of my premature ways and returned to TWATTING the ball as hard as possible in the very next game.

One particular shot projected the ball half way down the other end of the park. Enjoy the walk, playing partner.

I somehow walked away with a 3-2 win.

Sonny Rollins and What’s New - that’s what’s new, natch. This was another album that appeared on my daily feed as part of Album of the Day. I always knew that Sonny was a saxophone player but that was about it.

And then by pure coincidence the always excellent Late Junction dropped a track from the album the following week. I didn’t recognise it as Sonny Rollins at first. It sounded so contemporary, the kind of tune that GP might play.

This is a great album that not only has Sonny’s distinctive sax playing but also some almost tribalistic percussion sounds. Plus the cover art is simply cool as fuck.

Erm, saxy.

James were always a singles band. They follow a great tradition of English artists such as The Jam, Madness and The Smiths in being perennially on Top of the Pops with a series of absolute bangers week in, week out. Laid captures this moment quite perfectly.

And so what we have here is a series of singles that I’d pretty much forgotten about and don’t ever trouble any FM radio stations these days. That’s a shame. James were always a lot more cleverer than some of their counterparts with their song writing. Plus they had the balls to back this up with Tim Booth up front.

There’s some pretty grand sweeping statements on this album. Sometimes is a great example, building up the sound and creating an almost industrial image of life in a Northern time.

The bass playing on Say Something is exquisite. The track just bounces along, making a very painful lyric somehow uplifting. That’s quite a feat.

Respect for early 1993 gender-swapping vibes.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐

“I cannot ignore the thought that the contradiction between these two pieces of news reflects the nature of our times. The Brewery decision reveals a government in thrall to big money and big tech in the quest for growth at any cost, despite the objections of more than 7000 people.”

The 17th Annual Report from Spitalfields Life

“We humans are doing a fine job of wrecking everything, all on our own, denying climate change, giving into the same old tricks that lead to WWII and the Holocaust, so maybe it isn’t the worst idea to turn management of everything over to the machines. "

via Dave Winer

Confession: I truly love this album - more so than the debut. I know that’s almost heresy in late 80s, early 90s indie circles but the Second Coming was worth the wait. Sure it’s bloated. It drags on far too long and could have done with some decent editing. It’s worth it for the mix of the funk and some of the killer riffs. It’s also a very bitter album, not surprising given what the band had been through at the time.

I listened to it again this morning for the first time in probably a decade or so. For a short period in ‘95, pre the big Britpop explosion, it was all that I listened to. I became a little obsessed by it to be honest. I’m sure there are some deep dark secrets and messages buried away within. I attached my own personal tales about what was going off in my personal life at the time around the songs. That’s a young person’s thing, right? It’s certainly not how I approach music these days.

I kind of cringed at hearing the lyrics once again this morning and how I used to interpret them. I managed to overcome my embarrassment with the sheer grandness and ambition of the project that is on offer here. The Roses became bigger than they actually were per se. It was the legend that carried this album forward. No wonder they fell apart shortly after it was released. The scale of the Second Coming toppled them. What a memory.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

SHOUT OUT for the new album by JIM, The Curious Case of Existence. This was another find via GP. He dropped a track that sounded almost mid-2000 Ibiza vibes - and then the vocals kicked in.

Woh.

SHIT THE BED. It’s only Jason Williamson from Sleaford fucking Mods. He hasn’t plugged this across any of his channels in the past few weeks. The JIM album is set to drop later in September.

I love the breakbeats and hardcore noise created by Andrew Fearn of Sleaford fucking Mods, but this is quite something else. It allows Williamson to have his distinct NG1 accent against a more chill out vibe.

I often wonder if Sleafords have pushed it as far as they can: two men, one MacBook, and some very, very SHOUTY live vocals over the top. There’s only so much of it that you can take, right?

Actually not. They’ve yet to release a crap album that doesn’t help me to vent my anger.

But this track by JIM opens up all sorts of possibilities for future collabs. Really cool laid-back summer vibes with slightly less anger - and profanities - from the front man.

A woke industrial album before woke and industrial music were even such a thing? Blimey. It’s hardly Marv’s What’s Going On, but I kinda like the general vibe and message here. What saves it for me is the Jam and Lewis production. Jam and Lewis could produce Black Lace and it would still get my feet tapping. It’s such a distinctive production sound that is so tight and identifiable. It’s not a bad album but Lauryn Hill took this to a different level.

⭐ ⭐