A great record shop - Coda Music

There aren't many record shops left today, and still fewer which specialise in folk and world music. So it is good news when one such shop seems to be making a success against all the odds. This is Coda on the Mound in Edinburgh which has a huge stock of excellent CDs, books and magazines and where the staff are knowledgable and very helpful.

I could happily spend a lot of time and money here - and I just did so during a short trip to Edinburgh!
I hope the shop continues to be a success so I can go back again for more.

Matthew Edwards

The art of busking badly; "There's brass in codology."

Wilfred Pickles as "Owd Thatcher" in the BBC
Northern Regional radio programme 'Under
the Barber's Pole' written by Tommy Thompson

In 'The Trumpeter', another story from Lancashire Pride, the Lancashire dialect writer Tommy Thompson tells the story of Joe Slater "the highly esteemed cornet player of the Beesham Temperance Silver Band" and his encounter with a pavement artist on the same instrument whose playing puts his teeth on edge. Joe demonstrates to the busker just how the cornet ought to be played, but is then thoroughly disconcerted when the street "hartist" completely outplays him;-

"Ah axed thee afore," said the player. "Han' we getten any brass wi' thi good playin'?"
"Not a sausage," said Joe.
"There's no money in good playin'," said the player. "Thee ax th' Hallé lot."
"There's no money in bad playin' either," said Joe lamely "Is there?"
"There's brass in codology," said the player. "Tha has to get sympathy."
"Tha didn't get mine," said Joe.
"Ah worn't playin' for thee," said the player. "Ah have me own public. Sithee...we'll go up this narrer street an' Ah'll show thee. Thee stop on th' flags."
He went into the middle of the street and blew "Home Sweet Home" as though it was the first time he had heard it. Joe covered his ears with his hands and watched the hat fill with coppers.
"What did Ah tell thee," said the player as he filled his pockets. "Codology! Tha con keep thi art for art's sake. What about slippin' in for a quick un?"
"Ah could do wi' one," said Joe. "Ah'm stunned."

If capitalism is the answer then what was the question?

One of the few pleasures of the current global financial crisis has been the emergence of John Lanchester as a writer on economics. His articles on the topic in the London Review of Books are classics of clear explanatory writing; like Cobbett he uses plain English prose to get to the heart of the matter, so that the reader actually understands it.

He has now written a book Whoops! which is probably one of the best guides to the mysterious world of high finance since J K Galbraith's account of the Wall Street Crash.

His analysis of the economic and political climate in which  the crisis occurred is that with the collapse of Communism the capitalist Western countries no longer had a comparator to demonstrate to their citizens that their model delivered a better way of life. When the Berlin Wall fell the capitalist model stood supreme and unchallengeable.

If anyone dared to suggest 'there must be another  way' the West could reasonably respond; 'Show me.' John Lanchester's book shows quite clearly the consequences of allowing capitalism to go unchallenged and unregulated. He exposes the sloppy thinking behind the belief that a free market regulates itself, as well as the sheer intimidatory power that the market uses to prevent any form of regulation.

Now the West has been forced to embrace a strange sort of social capitalism and take the banks that were Too Big To Fail into various schemes of public ownership. However these act like cuckoos in the nest, greedily requiring so much for their own sustenance that they choke off almost all other forms of public activity. The business of government becomes providing a life support system for business itself, with the bank threatening to die if the system is switched off - and to take the government, and the country with it. However at some point the banks that have been Too Big To Fail are going to become Too Big To Rescue - there simply won't be any resources left to sustain them. What happens then?

What will we do if we have no money?
O true lovers, what will we do then?
O we'll hawk through the town for a hungry crown,
And we'll yodel it over again.
(Mary Delaney's song)

Matthew Edwards

RNID name change

Action on Hearing Loss

I've just received the new issue of the RNID magazine one in seven, which announces the new campaigning name for this charity: Action on Hearing Loss. It is a good change in that it does capture the essense of what the RNID is about, and it is much better than the current confusing set of initials (my bank for example seems to think that I'm paying my membership subscription to the RNIB - but I've checked and despite getting the name wrong they are sending my money to the right place!)

However the new name is still rather a mouthful; I don't know what the other options were but I would have quite liked HearingAid, or DeafAid or even DeafAction. I am not personally a BSL user, but I hope the redesigned logo will find a way to incorporate a stylised combination of the signs for 'deaf' and 'action'.

Anyway there will be an opportunity to comment on proposed changes to the logo, colours and fonts through an online survey open from Monday 18 October to Sunday 29 October at www.rnid.org.uk/brand2.

Matthew

New hearing aid

I've been wearing my new hearing aid since February this year, and I've just been back to my audiologist for a review. I had to report that I've been absolutely delighted with it; it's the best one I've ever used. I hardly ever touch the volume controls any more as the aid is sensitive to the different acoustic environments I go through and adjusts itself automatically. The windblock technology is a special advantage as I can now go walking in the country and up in the hills without having to put up with the wind howling in the microphone; I used to have to switch my old hearing aid off when walking up Snowdon &c because the noise from the wind was just unbearable!
I chose a silver coloured aid this time (it matches my hair!); perhaps next time I'll be bolder and choose a bright primary colour like the ones David Hockney wears. I don't want to hide my deafness by wearing a "discreet" device which nobody can tell is there.
All the same it is amazing how much is packed into such a tiny device; as a child I wore a bulky body aid which I clipped into my shirt pocket and which was connected to the earpiece by a long wire. I hated the rustling noise from clothing, but to this day I still always choose shirts with a breast pocket.
The aid is a Phonak Versáta Micro; it is a powerful device which suits my fairly severe hearing loss. I'm looking forward to future developments which will enable me to connect easily to my mobile phone and other devices.
I got the aid privately; it cost me a lot but it is just so much better than my NHS aid that I reckon the higher quality is well worth paying for. I'm keeping hold of my NHS aid as a spare, though.
I'm still having to relearn to listen to music, and to join in singing effectively, as the new aid protects my ears from sudden surges in volume. There is a special music programme available for the aid which I'll look at on my next audiology review.

Matthew

Lancashire Pride

Tommy Thompson (1880-1951)

Tommy Thompson was best known as a writer in the Lancashire dialect, and he wrote short sketches of Lancashire life for the back page of the Manchester Guardian from the late 1920's until his sudden death on February 15 1951. He also appeared regularly on the North Regional programme of the BBC in the 1940's, where he gave Wilfred Pickles his first break as Owd Thatcher in the barber shop where many of the sketches were set.

Most of the sketches from the Manchester Guardian were published in a series of books which were very successful in their day, and apparently were also very popular with American servicemen stationed in the North of Britain during World War II. He also wrote three novels Blind Alley, Crompton Way, and Cuckoo Narrow which were less successful, as well as a one-act comedy Stick-in-the-Mud, and his "little autobiography" Lancashire for me written in standard English.

Bernard Wrigley, the folksinger sometimes known as "the Bolton Bullfrog" has read some of Tommy Thompson's sketches on BBC Radio Lancashire, but I don't think he has recorded any of them. I hope the best of the sketches, and the autobiography, will one day be republished, as they well deserve a new readership.

The short pieces are full of a gentle humour, which can actually be quite sharp at times, and his characters are fully rounded individuals who come to life in a few short, pithy phrases. The rambling discussions in Owd Thatcher's barber shop are excellent of their kind; Tommy Thompson had a real genius for dialogue. The language is rich and expressive, and it is a real pleasure to read slowly while relishing the clear picture Thompson draws of some very extraordinary 'ordinary folk'.

Here is a short extract from a piece in 'Lancashire Pride': Music Hath Charms where the men in the barber shop are talking about music.

  "When Ah wor in th' village band we played 'Faust,' " said Jim Gregson.

  "Which on 'em?" said Young Winterburn, "Gounod or Berlioz?"

  "Both," said Jim. "We'd only five copies o' either. Ah wor on Gounod an' our Sam wor on Berlioz. Ah showed him who could play cornet. He never played a note after that do."

   "It'd sound like Wagner," said the barber.

   "When Ah wor a choir lad," said Farmer Platt, "we sung under the vicarage window when th' parson lay on his death-bed. He didn't tarry for an encore."

   "It con be terr'bly soothin'," said Owd Thatcher, "con music. That's why they play it in eatin'-houses. If tha chews a bit o' tough steak to a good tune tha con down it in no time."

   "Ah like chamber music," said Young Winterburn.

   "What's that?" asked Owd Thatcher.

   "Why," said Jim Gregson, "there's about four or five on 'em sits in a ring, an' one fiddle says 'Tiddley oom,' the t' other fiddle says 'Piddley pom,' then th' owd big fiddle chips in wi' 'Grunt, grunt,' then they o' han a do at each other 'ell for leather until it's oppenin' time."

   "In th' owden times," said Young Winterburn, "folks used to stop in an' sing madrigals."

   "They knew no better," said Alf Higson. "We're civilised now."

From:Tommy Thompson, Lancashire Pride, 1945

Lime Street Station, Liverpool

What a difference the new entrance to Lime Street station makes. It is a wonderful open public space, with a terrific uninterrupted view of the whole station frontage. The Central Point Tower has gone, and so has the giant mechanical spider seen clinging to it two years ago!

The Real Amazons!

Mandy Vere from the Liverpool radical bookshop News From Nowhere recently published a letter in the Guardian to protest at the pricing policies adopted by Waterstone's. News From Nowhere is a small haven in Bold Street where they sell real books and act as a focal point for many community groups. Waterstone's 3 for 2 aggressive pricing may seem to give the customer cheap books, but the policy actually reduces the choices available to book lovers.
Its been a struggle for this shop to keep going, but where many other independent shops have buckled under the strains this women's co-operative has stayed around.
Visit their website News From Nowhere, or better still visit the shop in Bold Street, and buy your books from the Real Amazons!

Matthew Edwards

The return of Henry Bohn

After my earlier lament for the disappearance of this valuable Liverpool institution, I'm pleased to be able to report that the shop has reopened around the corner in London Road (next to the Empire Theatre box office). It has actually been open for a few months now but I've only just been inside again today. There are lots of books stacked in chaotic order; many of them still in cardboard boxes awaiting pricing, so a persistent explorer may turn up all sorts of surprises. I was very pleased to discover a wartime edition of  Lancashire Pride by the Lancashire dialect writer Tommy Thompson for £3.50. This contains many of the wonderful articles he wrote for the Manchester Guardian in the 1930's and 1940's. Apparently the book sold well to American soldiers stationed in the North of England, so there must be some bemused children and grandchildren of those veterans who are struggling to understand the earthy humour in these tales. I'll add one of these tales in a later blog.

Matthew Edwards