Amazon exiles discussion
Music chat
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I always wanted to be Keith Moon.....
For me it would either have been a saxophonist who gave a distinctive sound to a band (e.g Nik Turner of Hawkwind) or, more likely, a drummer who was in the middle of things rather than at the back. When I was a teenager/early-twentysomething I would listen again & again to Phil Collins & Chester Thompson of Genesis on the long instrumental lead-out of the Seconds Out version of The Cinema Show, Alan White of Yes on the middle section of The Gates of Delirium and Neil Peart of Rush on almost anything, but especially The Weapon. When I got into jazz at a later age it was still the drummers who I wanted to be: not just out-and-out front-men like Buddy Rich and Gene Krupa but also others who were clearly central to their bands' sound, like Peter Erskine (Weather Report), Jon Hiseman (Colosseum, Barbara Thompson's Paraphernalia), Paco Sery (Zawinul Syndicate), etc.But if you wanted me to plump for one, I'd say Neil Peart.
i always felt it would be cool to be kid congo powers, as he had stints in the cramps, the bad seeds and the gun club, but his solo stuff is nothing special!.......or a shorter, tubbier and less energetic nick cave, lux interior or joey ramone! mibbe a shorter, tubbier, less shy scott walker!
but for instrumentation, i would go for the BASS - robbie shakespeare, or more appropriately errol 'flabba' holt!
I’ve never had the slightest desire to perform in public in any capacity. I’ve never even sung Happy Birthday and spent all my school years miming in assembly. However I did once play solo violin (Snowdrop Waltz) in a school concert. Don’t know how I managed that!
Lez wrote: "I’ve never had the slightest desire to perform in public in any capacity. I’ve never even sung Happy Birthday and spent all my school years miming in assembly. However I did once play solo violin (..."I'm the same too, although I have sung happy birthday numerous times. I hated being on stage at school and tried to avoid it at all costs...I "famously" played a tree in A Midsummer Nights' dream, and had to down half a bottle (or more) of cheap wine in the sixth form common room before going on stage as one of the members of Take That! I have never had any desire to be famous so there is no particular person in the world of music I would want to be.
Helen The Melon wrote: "I hated being on stage at school and tried to avoid it at all costs..."I think my experience might be fairly typical for boys. I was always happy to join in with things at primary school (I was Ali Baba in the school play one year, sang or did comedy in revues, etc.) but stopped completely when I got to secondary school and found myself among very large numbers of kids, most of whom I didn't know. I was in the sixth-form revue but it had taken me the six years up to that point to acquire the confidence to do that.
Although I now spend a lot of my time in front of audiences (teaching students, speaking at conferences, etc.), nobody who has the misfortune to be among those audiences would suggest that I am in any way entertaining. I have never had any musical talent at all, so my wish to be Neil Peart implies a wish to be able to play the drums like him.
Helen, you’ve reminded me, I was also a tree - in ‘Havelock The Dane’. Sometimes it helps to be tall ;-) Some girls waved their arms but I decided it wasn’t windy enough.
I was a Roman centurion in an outdoor production of The Tragedy of Julius Caesar. I even had a line to speak!Lez - What kind of tree were you, I sort of picture you as a birch, slim and elegant:-)
I once sang in the National Concert Hall in Dublin. I was one of a choir of 200, I have to admit, but I was the 2nd person to walk out on the stage. It was an amazing experience.
I was slim then, yes. It was probably an elm. BN will be pleased to know some of the story was set in glorious Grimsby.Derek, was your line in Latin?
Lez wrote: "I was slim then, yes. It was probably an elm. BN will be pleased to know some of the story was set in glorious Grimsby.Derek, was your line in Latin?"
Lez - No my line wasn't in Latin thankfully.
I was going to say elm but changed my mind at the last moment!
James Jamerson of Motown fame, to have played on all those sessions with the Funk Brothers and creating all those great bass lines, amazing!
I always wanted to be Doris Day, or more precisely I wanted to be Doris Day as Calamity Jane in that buckskin outfit, before she capitulated to social norms and started wearing floaty frocks. Still do. Gosh a'mighty, Bill.
My husband had a longtime major crush on Doris Day. Don’t know why he chose me. As nc can testify, all I have in common with her is being female.I have show-biz connections though, my nephew had excellent reviews for his part in an amateur production of ‘The Wiz’ at Harrogate theatre. As did my niece (a very feminine attractive girl) as Mrs Danvers in Rebecca. Even my sister has given talks on her time nursing in Newfoundland.
Lez wrote: "My husband had a longtime major crush on Doris Day."Me too, Lez :-)
as well as doris day? oh globbits!
I was a robin in "Where The Rainbow Ends".I'm with Lez and Helen - hate being in the spotlight. The only mercy in having a funeral is that I won't be there to see/hear anything.
I've been on stage loads of times, sweeping up!
Qashqai 57 wrote: "I've been on stage loads of times, sweeping up!"I was a member of stage crew (colloquially known as humpers) when I was a student. So I was on stage a lot before & after the audience was in the hall, but not while.
I learned a lot from roadies, though surprisingly nothing including the syllables 'amph' 'et' 'a' or 'mine'. I've been much in demand ever since to help people move house, as I acquired a few of their tricks to get the largest amount of bulky stuff into the smallest possible space without damaging anything.
I was chosen three times to be the Angel Gabriel for the Nativity Play at Primary School - when I was six, eight and ten - and I remember, almost like it was yesterday, standing there and being far more terrified of moving around in case the huge crown of Gold Tinsel suddenly slide off my Head than in worrying about forgetting my lines or facing an audience ;o> I have an old school friend from that time who still likes to call me 'Gabriel' rather than Sarah or Suzy whenever we occasionally bump into each other - LOL!
I also got to play Mary once, which I quite enjoyed, apart from all of the lines that I had to learn - and I can still quote most of the Magnificat to this day. I remember looking over to my Mum who was so proud of me that she cried all of the way through it ;o>
The rest of my time in Primary and then in Secondary School I got to play Trees or dead bodies because of my 'amazing ability' to keep stock-still and to look like I was barely even breathing - no doubt skills all learnt and then perfected from my earlier Tinsel Crown balancing acts! - LOL!
Musically? - I often thought it might be fun being Toyah? We used to have the same hair colour before she opted to go more Blonde as she got older and I always loved her Hair styles, Make-up and attitude on stage ...
♫ ... "I'm gonna be me! - I'm gonna be free!" ... ♫
Ohhh, and I have always wanted (and still do) to learn how to play the Drums. I asked once at Secondary School and got such a shocked response from my (male and rather elderly) Music Teacher that "girls don't play Drums!!!" - and the offer of Violin lessons instead which didn't interest me in the slightest and so I immediately turned them down ;o<
Lez wrote: "I was slim then, yes. It was probably an elm. BN will be pleased to know some of the story was set in glorious Grimsby.Derek, was your line in Latin?"
'Glorious' Grimsby? The constituency is titled Great Grimsby but that's an areal thing I expect and no measure of quality!
Havelock, the Danish boy prince, was rescued from a capsized boat in a storm by Grim who then used the timber of the wreck to build the first house in what would become Grimsby. There's a school named Havelock and a housing assoc. There was also a statue of the naked Grim striding ashore with the rescued prince on his shoulder. It stood in the grounds of the FE college but Grim's appendage would regularly be violently detached by vandals so the statue was removed.
I'm not one to want to be the centre of attention either. When I was at school, I played bass in a band and a couple of times we performed in front of 2- 300 at end of school concerts. My hero then was Gary Thain of Uriah Heep who tragically died when only 27. I hate standing up in front of people and making speeches but have had to do it in the past as Chair of Governors and much more recently at my own wedding. I was dreading it, but it seemed to go down OK
My nephew's wedding was last weekend and they did the speeches first so they could enjoy the meal which my head thought was a great idea but my belly thought my throat had been cut as we'd been told to arrive no later than 1.30. Actual ceremony wasn't until 2 then photos took us to 3pm and a glass of fizz (with half a strawberry, talk about posh) so I asked if the leftover ones were going begging; they were so I obliged. Then they announced we'd to go to the bar so I had a bag of crisps and a pint. At 4 we were finally called through only for the speeches to take us to 4.30 - I'd had my breakfast at 9! Good job I had an ice-cream from the van in Himley Hall grounds just beforehand, even if the beard needed a wipe after.I have little memory of my own groom's speech save that, as a pedagogue, I began with 'Accustomed as I am to public speaking.......'.
I was (one of two) best man for my mate's unusual nuptials. The legal ceremony, stripped of all superfluous wording; so much so that it was over before the Registrar had managed to do the fancy penmanship on the certificate, and with mate and partner turning up in shorts and t-shirts, she with a home-made badge misspelled with 'wiffey' on it, to show their general disdain for tradition and religion was on the Friday (only day I ever had to 'twag' off work - no point in asking for it).
They had the celebration in Hinchinbrooke Hall with all sorts of assorted reading and performances from friends and communal singing including Disney's 'Bear Necessities', it has to be said to most people's discomfort when it came to the 'prickly paw-paw' tongue-twisting bit, and my only role predetermined was to drive the groom about in my Escort with a bit of white ribbon on the front. I'd asked several times what my role was to no conclusive answer. The other best man arrived with about an hour to spare from the USA and after the meal he was asked to read some of the cards and telegrams.
Meanwhile they'd got her dad to make a huge batch of home-made wine with their mugshots as labels. Feeling that my role was basically over as a glorified go-fer (I also had to relay the gormless friend-photographer's requests for different groups to assemble), I indulged with abandon ignoring the 8.5 months' pregnant wife's looks of reproval. The groom himself delivered an epic as a book of bets was taken on how long it would be.
Finally, when it looked like things were over and done the bugger turned to me and invited me to speak! I think I spoke two sentences; one to express my surprise at being asked, the second to declare that folks'd been listening long enough and that the bar was open. I heard a collective sigh of relief and was roundly applauded. Luckily t'missus didn't drop early as I proceeded to get well and truly smashed and, you'll be pleased to know, suffered the hangover from hell the next day ...... ALL day. I can safely say I haven't drunk a drop of home-made anything alcoholic since. Mind you there could be some truth in the old saying; Beer then wine - you'll feel fine; wine then beer - you'll feel queer? Or it could just be sheer quantity imbibed?
that would get an 'added to discussion' vote! :)i once (and once only!) made home brewed beer, pilsner to be exact, and, simply, it was pish, put a few bottles in a cupboard just in case it 'matured'! forgot all about them for a couple of years!!!, and thought 'i wonder?' - it was beautiful, really, and a half bottle got duly swallowed, no more, as it was about this time that everything went green (literally, i was tripping on beer)! for the good of all, mrs t.s. poured the rest down the sink! :)
Tech wrote: "that would get an 'added to discussion' vote! :)i once (and once only!) made home brewed beer, pilsner to be exact, and, simply, it was pish, put a few bottles in a cupboard just in case it 'matu..."
My dad-in-law brewed lager which he stored under the stairs. One bottle blew up at 4.00am, sending a mouse to its death 😢
that's one elaborate mousetrap! :)
My dad was heavily into home-brewing of wine in the 70s out of economic necessity. He once had a go at making some whiskey using potatoes as the base. The resulting potion was deemed unworthy but wasn't poured away, rather it was stored at the back of the hut and forgotten. Then came Her Madge's Silver Jubilee in 77 and an impromptu street party began at the top end of our drive. People just brought out what food or drink they had and someone brought out a stereo so I helpfully offered to fetch my copy of 'God Save The Queen' which got many plays as I think they were trollied and not actually listening.The limited amounts of booze quickly ran out (the days before everyone could afford to develop cirrhosis) and Dad's memory was triggered, 'I've got some potato whiskey but it's not ver......' He didn't get to finish amid the cheers; 'Some booze, hallelujah, some booze'. He fetched it, they drank it and one neighbour fell backwards off her wall (30 inches on the street side, 10 feet on the other) and broke her arm. She was whisk(ey)ed off to A&E and the party carried on. Many sore heads the next day.
When I still stayed at home, my late stepdad used to make his own beer. I would sneak the odd couple of bottles here and there and hide the empties under my bed. Happy days (burp). In a shop with my Mum a couple of weeks back I was totally surprised to see said home brew kit that my stepdad used to buy. It's called Geordie (his nickname).
Collette wrote: "When I still stayed at home, my late stepdad used to make his own beer. I would sneak the odd couple of bottles here and there and hide the empties under my bed. Happy days (burp). In a shop with m..."My dad (a geordie) also used to make beer with Geordie home-brew kits. The smell was vile. Didn't taste so good, either, so far as I remember. I was a bit young to have more than the occasional tiny taste, though.
A few years later my brother went to Newcastle University. His hall of residence was about half a mile downwind of the now-defunct Scottish & Newcastle brewery (the Broon factory). I couldn't believe that people could bear to live so close to the smell of boiling hops (I don't mind the smell of yeast or malt - it's just the hops). It eventually became clear that I was unusually sensitive to the smell of hops and that most other people either didn't notice it or didn't mind it. I have a similar reaction to beetroot: I can't stand to be in the same room - or even the same building - as beetroot because I can smell it over & through any other odorants and it makes me feel severely nauseous.
You shouldn't have told us that Gordon - now we know your Kryptonite!
Gingerlily - Mistress Lantern wrote: "You shouldn't have told us that Gordon - now we know your Kryptonite!"You're going to release a beetroot bomb over mid-Shropshire?
Our house in Liverpool was close to the Hunter’s Handy Hams factory. They made those tins of steak and kidney pud which smelt unutterably vile.
Gordon wrote: "Gingerlily - Mistress Lantern wrote: "You shouldn't have told us that Gordon - now we know your Kryptonite!"You're going to release a beetroot bomb over mid-Shropshire?"
Hah! Now I know where to aim it....
*rubs hands together in glee*
Lez wrote: "Our house in Liverpool was close to the Hunter’s Handy Hams factory. They made those tins of steak and kidney pud which smelt unutterably vile."I live about a mile away from the Tayto crisp factory. When the wind is in the right direction I used to get the smell of stale cooking fat when I opened the door. Apparently, if you parked in the car park next door you got a thin film of oil on your car windows.
Lez wrote: "Our house in Liverpool was close to the Hunter’s Handy Hams factory. They made those tins of steak and kidney pud which smelt unutterably vile."Were they the forerunners of Goblin?
I spent a year in the mid nineteen-eighties working in the pharmaceutical section of a Swiss chemical company. The site of the works was right on the Swiss/French border at the north-western edge of Basel. The pre-clinical research building, where I worked, was separated by some distance from the rest of the buildings (intriguingly, the building's car park was actually in France; as is Basel's airport, of course).
A railway line ran through the site, allowing easy transport of bulk chemicals, etc. This line was shared with an abbatoir, which lay just to the west of the company's site. To get to the company's other buildings - including the staff canteen - you had to walk down a road next to the railway line, passing the abbatoir. It has to be said that the aroma emanating from the abbatoir, particularly on hot days, wasn't especially appetizing. The sounds weren't always conducive to enjoying a nice juicy steak, either.
Gingerlily - Mistress Lantern wrote: "When the wind is in the right direction I used to get the smell of stale cooking fat when I opened the door."I was stuck in a traffic jam in Stoke-on-Trent a couple of weeks ago. As everyone will know, it's been unseasonably warm recently. I was overheating in the car and opened the window all the way to cool off. That's when someone drove past in a diesel-engined car running on chip fat. The smell was disgusting.
I didn't think anyone was stupid enough still to do this. It's so easy to detect and the police will hand over anyone doing it to HMRC, who are likely to estimate how much fuel duty has been evaded by the driver and issue a hefty bill for immediate payment.
Gordon wrote: "I couldn't believe that people could bear to live so close to the smell of boiling hops (I don't mind the smell of yeast or malt - it's just the hops). It eventually became clear that I was unusually sensitive to the smell of hops and that most other people either didn't notice it or didn't mind it"That's why I'm very SO glad that I live in a large Village on the outskirts of Stockport and not any nearer to Robinsons Brewery - the smell of Hops is just so strong and so sickly at least once a fortnight that I simply can't bear to be out and about in Stockport Town Centre.
My beloved Nan rather wickedly always used to tell us Kids that they must be burning the bodies at Stockport Crem ! ! ! ;oO
My college was right next door to a cigarette factory. 3 years of smelling it, and I am not a smoker.
The McVities Factory situated on one of the main roads between Stockport and Manchester however has an absolutely glorious smell of freshly baked hot Biscuits that makes you feel so hungry every time that you drive or walk past it ;o>
suzysunshine7 wrote: "The McVities Factory situated on one of the main roads between Stockport and Manchester however has an absolutely glorious smell of freshly baked hot Biscuits that makes you feel so hungry every time that you drive or walk past it ;o>"Hmm. I often drive past the Mr Kipling factory in Newcastle-under-Lyme. I don't find the smell very appealing.
That reminds me of a story told by a former colleague of mine. She grew up in Leek. During the summer after taking her A-levels she worked in the Mr Kipling factory, where her job was putting the swirls in the icing on cherry Bakewells. The day before the A-level results came out she was at work and panicking about what she'd do if her grades weren't good enough to get her place at university confirmed. The women on the production line were very kind and reassuring. One of them nodded at the cherry Bakewell in my colleague's hand and said, "Any road, duck, if you don't get into the college, at least you've learned a trade."
Gordon wrote: "..."My bad. The Mr Kipling factory is in Trent Vale, Stoke-on-Trent. I've been working on the edge of that conurbation for 14 years and I still can't work out where Stoke-on-Trent ends and Newcastle-under-Lyme starts.
EDIT: I was interested to see on the Mr Kipling web site that they have a cookie policy.
Gordon wrote: "My bad. The Mr Kipling factory is in Trent Vale, Stoke-on-Trent. I've been working on the edge of that conurbation for 14 years and I still can't work out where Stoke-on-Trent"I think if I had to live alongside the constant smell of anything, even if it was something as mouth-watering as freshly baked Biscuits, I would eventually get to the point where I probably simply couldn't stand it any longer? I much prefer the novelty of being driven past it on the way to some of my Hospital Appointments instead ;o>
A friends's brother worked in a coffee shop that was next door to a fish and chip shop. He said the smells combined put him off both for years.
Gingerlily - Mistress Lantern wrote: "A friends's brother worked in a coffee shop that was next door to a fish and chip shop. He said the smells combined put him off both for years."My dad used to do maintenance work on the machines at the Cadbury factory during the summer shut-down. He was never particularly keen on chocolate but the smell close to the machines made him even less keen. And then having to remove masses of congealed chocolate from the machines to work on them increased the nausea levels.
When I was at primary school nearly everyone's parents worked either at Austin (later British Leyland) in Longbridge or at Cadbury in Bournville. The kids whose mums worked at Cadbury used to bring in bags of chocolate waste (the mis-shapes that couldn't be packaged for regular sale), which were sold dirt-cheap to employees. It seemed that there were no particularly rigorous rules preventing workers in the production areas from eating the wares because nobody who was surrounded by chocolate all day felt much like eating it. They weren't allowed to swipe it to sell to outsiders, though.
My mum worked in the office at Jacob’s biscuits and had to run the gauntlet of the raucous be-turbanned ladies of the chocolate room.Every month all staff could buy 12” x 12” tins of misshapen cream crackers, Munchmallows, custard creams etc for half-a-crown (12 and a half pence). Also a marvellous collection of broken bikkies.
I know I’ve mentioned this before but there’s always a new audience 😀
One of my first jobs after leaving school at 16 was a few months at Dad's Cookies/Snackpack. One side made biscuits, the air was so thick with a sweetly sick smell you could cut it with a knive, the other was various nuts and snacks which was rich in the odour of frying oil. However they used to do those little packets of cheese sandwich crackers - very tasty. We also had a Smiths Crisps factory, on a windy day the stench was unbelievable and carried for miles. I can only imagine what the inside (and out) of a petfood factory was like.I also remember Woolies selling loose broken biscuits as a child.
Broken biscuit selections always seemed to have loads of fig rolls. Yuk!
I like fig rolls. I'll eat the ones you don't want.
Sorry Derek, it seems your original post has been somewhat waylaid and wandered of track, not an uncommon occurrence from us exiles. It may return at some point or divert to another theme (most likely), we do enjoy a good old natter! We are easily distracted to, oh oh, look out, here comes nursey with the evening meds.
Gingerlily - Mistress Lantern wrote: "I like fig rolls. I'll eat the ones you don't want."Martin wrote: "Sorry Derek, it seems your original post has been somewhat waylaid and wandered of track, not an uncommon occurrence from us exiles..."
And, if Schizoid Mark were here today, comments might be made regarding the inevitable drift of all threads toward the topic of biscuits.
The Who were local band for me and three of them (apart from Keith) went to the same school as me albeit about 4-5 years ahead of me. First heard The Who on my tiny transistor radio and it was love at first listen, and mainly because of Keith Moon.
For me Keith Moon pretty much re-invented the role of drums in a rock band, changing it from just being there to keep everybody else on time to being a lead instrument. His sheer showmanship, power and attack, along with John Entwistle's bass leads, changed the whole traditional balance between the drums, bass and lead guitar.
So, musically, who did you always want to be and why?