Well well well, what a busy month it's been hereabouts. So we'll just get right on with it shall we ? I should warn you that this post is going to be very long, and you may need some stamina to get through it all.
HIGH VOLTAGE MATCH REPORT
End of July saw attendance at the Festival apparently "Built By Rock Fans, for rock Fans", namely High Voltage, held in Victoria Park in London's glamorous East End. I've had some lovely times with Marketing and PR folk, but I do sometimes wish they wouldn't insult the punter's intelligence by strapping bollocks like that mentioned above to their events
The “Festival built for Rock Fans By Gouging Shysters”, might have been closer to the mark. That said, the line-up was pretty spectacular, if you like that kind of thing, which I do. As soon as I knew ELP were to reunite and play together, they had my money. I make no apologies.
In a sudden rash of generosity, or stupidity, I also bought so called VIP access which bought me, well not very much really other than a cloth bag with a load of mags I already had and a T-Shirt that doesn’t fit my currently ample frame. It wasn’t entirely the "behind the velvet rope" experience that was promised, although it did deliver in terms of toiletage and bar area.
I'm told that the festival wasn’t very well attended, although it looked pretty full to me, but it is true that the VIP area was very quiet, which was kinda nice to have that retreat as I'm not that fond of crowds (so you may well ask why Iwent - but then, I've never claimed to be consistent). Of course, once in the VIP area, it became clear that one was merely inhabiting the outside circle of a range of concentric circles, each more exclusive than the last. It was a bit like that Frasier episode where the brothers get invited to join an exclusive Spa only to find that there are a series of doors beyond which they cannot venture without a further “exclusive” invite, which of course as the shameless social climbers they are, leads to total mental breakdown as they pursue the unreachable dream.
In the High Voltage version, just beyond the fence there dwelt stars of rock's firmament, such as Jimmy Page, Steve Wilson, the whole of BigElf (who got my prize as the most Rock STAR-ry group of the weekend - all tall, long hair, Californian tan and incredibly handsome, but very polite and humble too) and a load of other people I can't be arsed to name drop.
Not that I was bothered, of course... ;-)
Following a long hike from Mile End tube to Victoria Park (whoever said it was a 10 minute walk is a sadist) another hike within VP to get to the site, a 30 minute wait to collect tickets and then a queue to get in, it was unfortunately too late to catch the very first bands (Touchstone), set. I arrived just in time to see the hardest working man in Prog, Johnny Mitchell, guesting on the encore, throwing shapes and unleashing a brill solo.
After a lengthy reconnoiter of the site, including availing myself of the VIP facilities, I caught a bit of Luke Morley’s new band, The Union, who impressed mightily in a Thunder kind of stylee.
For the rest of the day, it was a sojourn under the big tree near the Prog Stage (it was very hot the first day so the shade was welcome, as was the nearby beer tent. Although £4 for can of something called "Tuborg" seemed a little steep).
By the time I arrived there from the Main Stage, I was amazed to see a huge number watching Dutch veterans Focus (famous for the yodeling hit, Hocus Pocus). Clearly as mad as a box of frogs, they pulled a crowd of all ages.
They were followed by BigElf, who have to be seen to believed. Fronted by a mascaraed, top-hat wearing musical polymath, they combine Glam and Prog sensibilities from the 70's with a keen modern edge. BigElf have their own sound, readily identifiable and uniquely theirs, together with a fantastic songwriting talent. They deserve to be massive.
Next up was Dweezil (son of Frank) Zappa, whose incredible band served up, what was for me, the highlight of the weekend. By this time, I'd imbibed a few "Tuborg's" and was hanging out with prog friends Mike Evans (photographer to the stars) and his mate, Owain one of the guitarists from Welsh band The Reasoning. He turned out to be a top chap and a Zappa freak, so he guided me through the set, not being familiar with Zappa's canon myself. Side-stage, Mike Portnoy, a well known Zappa devotee, lived every drum fill and was clearly enjoying himself immensely. At 5pm, on a warm, sunny Saturday afternoon, under the prog tree, slightly drunk, Dweezil Zappa playing up a storm with his Father's music was just perfect.
I've never liked Asia, a bit to twee for me, but I thought that they were brilliant doing the right thing by making use of their 50 minutes by playing their debut album in it's entirety. Then came Transatlantic...
Transatlantic are a prog 'supergroup' made up of members from Dream Theater, (ex-) Spocks Beard, Marillion and the Flower Kings. They get together about once every 5 years, and last year delivered an album called The Whirlwind. Never a band to avoid excess and prog-rock cliches, this album consists of one, 76 minute long track (although subdivided into 12 chunks) which sounds excessive, and indeed, is.
I hated it when I first heard it, and decided to skip their recent tour this year (I saw them once at the Astoria in London years ago, and thoroughly enjoyed it, but found even my patience wearing thin when they announced a 30 minute song for the encore. The whole gig had the smallest ratio of songs to time that I've ever attended.) I'm kind of glad I did, because that would have taken the edge off a superb performance of the entire album, which really came together live.
As I said at the time, Transatlantic were simply transcendent, and they topped a fantastic gig off with a encore of Return of the Giant Hogweed (early Genesis track) with a guesting Steve Hackett sending the crowd off on a cloud.
And that was Saturday.
Sunday was a tad more overcast, which actually was pretty good for me. It seemed to me that a lot more people attended on Sunday; certainly there were more people around the Prog Stage. Looking back though, as ELP were headlining I guess that brought out more people of that persuasion. In all, the line-up for Sunday was nowhere near as strong as for Saturday. Certainly, with the exception of the Reasoning, Steve Hackett and Argent (who must take the prize for writing the most songs that were huge hits for someone else award) the acts on the Prog Stage were pretty turgid and uninspiring.
Oh, sorry, better not include Marillion in the "turgid and uninspiring" category either..
Elsewhere, on the Main Stage at some point, I caught UFO, who plagued with technical problems delivered a bit of a disjointed set - not their fault but a bit of a shame nonetheless.
The main event on Sunday was of course the headlining appearance of the peerless Emerson, Lake and Palmer, the musical equivalent of Millwall (everyone hates them, and they don’t care). After a delay caused by up-their-own-arses behaviour by Joe Elliot and Ian hunter, who really ought to get a perspective on their positions in Rock's firmament, show time brought a huge crowd to watch these old masters. Whether it was idle curiosity or a real desire to watch a legend in the flesh, the crowd was made up of young and old alike, including a rather satisfying number of Rock Chicks intent in shaking their stuff to 9/8 polyrhythms.
I think the thing that people miss about ELP is that they come from a completely different place to most rock groups, in that they are not grounded in the Blues and Rock and Roll, and people just don’t “get it”. They have effectively been written out of rock's history by the revisionist musical historians, who discount Prog Rock in general and ELP in particular, only lending it validity as the catalyst to explain the so called Punk Explosion of '76/'77. But I can tell you that what they did was musical risk taking of the highest order; can you imagine anyone today taking a complete classical work like Mussorgsky's Pictures At An Exhibition and turning it into something extraordinary and daringly different ? Actually, can you imagine a group even capable of doing such a thing today ?
Danny Baker got it right when he pointed out that somebody bought those albums in their millions in the 70's, and I refuse to accept that there isn’t a market and a desire for it today. If nothing else, ELP bankrolled the Island label for years, so if you still aren’t convinced, just remember that without ELP, their would have been no Bob Marley, Nick Drake and a whole host of other musical icons that the critics would have you believe are more worthy of their place in the pantheon.
For me I say, look on their works, ye Mighty, and despair.
As for the actual gig, it was one of those weird events where the magic of expectation and the sheer fact that one was THERE seemed to draw a veil over what, actually, was a fairly hit and miss performance. That said, this stuff is not easy to play and it's easy to be overcritical. As it was the crowd loved it, and so did I. It was a shame that there were some technical problems, and a sense that the musicians couldn’t really hear each other, as there were a number of missed cues and some pretty ropey timing in places. What was impressive though was Emerson's demonstration of the power and range of analogue synths. Frankly, I've never heard bass notes like it, as he coaxed that famous Moog modular synth through the Lucky Man solo. A word too for Greg Lake's voice, which seemed in fine nick.
Star of the show though was Carl Palmer, an extraordinary drummer whom I'd never seen live. His solo was fantastic, topping even Neil Peart (sshhh !) IMHO and he carried the show, being the axle to Emerson and Lake's wheels.
True to form, ELP were completely uncompromising, playing songs that were by turns obscure, tricky and far from popular from their oeuvre. And quite right too - this was their gig and they had come to reclaim what was theirs, and by and large, notwithstanding the above, they did.
And that was High Voltage. Despite the high prices and the complete arse ache of getting there, and a less than inspiring bill on the Sunday, I thought it worked pretty well and proved to me at least, that the market for the Classic Rock, Prog and Metal genres is healthy and not just confined to the tour-t-shirt wearing over 40's. There were so many young, good looking, fit and vibrant youngsters there across all the stages, that it gave me confidence that our music is in good hands and that the battle against skinny white boys playing jangly guitars and singing about the suburbs is in good hands...
The ROCK will continue !
BOB HAS A CURRY
I think I caught a bit of a cold at High Voltage, as the following week I felt a bit odd. I didn't bother with my normal Gym trip on the Saturday, and when it came round to tea time, decided to have a "red hot Vindaloo" to see if I could shift it.
At about 4am on the Sunday, I awoke with a burning pain in my chest, which no amount of indigestion treatments or Peppermint Tea could shift. It eventually eased though, but was still there, but at least I cold get back to sleep.
At about noon I checked the NHS Direct website for advice, and it said "Call 999 immediately" in big, red scary letters. I decided to not do that, but to make my way to A&E anyway. Once there I was triaged within about 3 minutes and 2 minutes later found myself on a bed and the first of a series of needles inserted into me.
About an hour later, during which time I'd convinced myself that it WAS just indigestion, as otherwise if it were something more serious, they wouldn't have left me so long, a Doctor appeared saying that I had an "elevated Troponin count" in my blood but that my ECG was OK. Troponin is an enzyme that gets released into the blood if the heart muscle suffers some damage, although at the time, I was told that it was probably angina.
I was given the choice of having 2 injections either in my arm or in my stomach, which didn't really seem to be much of a choice and off I was wheeled to the Cardiac Ward. By this time, my family was panicking, as I had not been able to speak to them as there was no signal in A&E. Instead, a well meaning nurse proceeded to scare the bjeesus out of them, and me, by announcing that I had had a heart attack.
The funny thing I find about hospitals is that they are designed for the sick, weak and old; I never felt any of those things applied to me, so when I was being talked to, very slowly, by various Nurses and Doctors it seemed to me that I had slipped through to an alternative reality, where time and motion seem to be 10 times slower than the real world outside. Frankly, I felt it was a somewhat out of body experience which given the circumstances, was somewhat worrying.
Reality soon impinged by way of another needle, this time a cannula, which was attached to some bag of liquid, purpose and type uncertain although I'm sure it was explained to me. There then also began a series of visits by Doctors of increasing seniority, asking me the same questions over and over again, and followed by another cannula, this time in my left hand pumping some clot busting drugs into me.
The pain in my chest, now a "1-2 out of 10" score on my personal pain-o-meter was subsiding, but not quick enough for the Doctors, who decided that enough was enough and told me that they were going to perform an emergency Angioplasty.
All this came as bit of shock, I can tell you. Having never been "ill" before and not "in the system", I was completely unprepared. More than that, I'd never felt ill, and felt sure that had I been at risk, I would have had some warning signs. Now, all of a sudden, I was lying on a table with a Doctor telling me that there was a small risk that I might die from the procedure, but not as high as the risk of me dying if I didn't have it done.
Another fine choice...
What one is supposed to say at times likes that is beyond me, and I think I just sort of murmured "OK". I was left in the hands of a couple of nurses to prepare me, one of whom was very kind to me as he realised that I was absolutely terrified. It's an odd thing that your brain does, or at least mine does, in moments of great stress. Intellectually, I completely understood what was going to happen, the rationale and the risk equation and I was able to absorb and understand it completely. My higher brain functions were in perfect working order, acutely aware of the predicament. My lower brain functions, the bits that say Run, Hide, Eat, Sleep etc were also sharply tuned to my predicament and it was all I could do to suppress my fight-or-flight reflex. Both those separate streams of consciousness were there, both at the same time, my upper brain desperately trying to sooth, via intellectual process, the panicky lower brain that wanted to run down the corridor.
I don't know how much of this you want to know really, but the Angioplasty procedure is a modern medical miracle. A small catheter is inserted into your radial artery in the arm or, if you're decrepit, the femoral artery in the groin. This catheter is fed through the artery into the chest and thence to the heart. During my procedure, I could feel the catheter moving up my arm to the extent that it hurt quite a bit. I was given some Morphine, which resulted in an extremely weird 5 minutes or so.
I was asked whether the pain had gone, and I answered that it hadn't but I didn't want any more of "that f*****g stuff" in me.
Once the catheter is near the heart, a X-Ray senstive dye is released into the blood vessels around the heart, whilst a big X-Ray machine moves around one's chest, tracking the dyes progress through the coronary arteries and displaying the results in real time, on a bank of video screens in view of the Cardiologist.
 |
| A Cardiac Cath Lab Yesterday |
They said I could watch if I wanted.
I declined
Once the blockage is found, another catheter is fed through containing a balloon and a small cylindrical metal cage called a stent. This is placed at the narrowing point and gently inflated, thus opening the cage and opening the artery. The cage is then left in place, and everyone hopes that it'll keep the artery open.
Cutting a long story short, by the time I got back to the Coronary Care Unit I felt fabulous and spent the next 2 days kicking back before being discharged with a solemn promise from me to the Consultant not to smoke, ever, again, a whole load of books about being a model citizen and an armful of drugs which I now have to take every day.
From what I've been able to discover since then, given the high enzyme level and a weird ECG, they tell me that I had a mild heart attack, in my case caused by a blockage in the left circumflex artery.
At 45, I'm not especially proud of this, and don't actually feel that I've led too unhealthy a lifestyle to cause it (stop sniggering at the back). But the facts speak for themselves, so to avoid a repetition I have to make lifestyle changes, principal amongst which is giving up fags and losing weight, and then a whole load of dietary stuff that we all know. Luckily, my other arteries are fine, so I'm hoping that I can prove the case and not suffer any further incidents.
That said, there are still dangers of complications, as well as no evidence of long term success of the procedure - basically as a fairly recent innovation, no one really knows the how long stents last. I'm trying to put those thoughts to the back of my mind and concentrate on getting well and fit again.
Brushes with one's own mortality are a fairly chastening experience, so I'm going to try to be a better man and enjoy stuff a bit more, moan less and not get so angry about stupid shit. I worry a little about work, as doing my job, at least the way I do it, is a pretty full-on experience during which it's not easy to relax and which brings more than it's fair share of stress. It's pretty relentless and I don't know whether I, literally, have the heart for it anymore. Still, it won't be too long before I jump on board
that horse again, and find out.
Above all, my recovery has been helped by the enormous kindness and well wishes I received from many people, some of whom, frankly, I never expected to hear from. They were all welcome, and I thank you all very very much.
As I'll never get the chance to build one of those 'thank you' lists you see in the booklets of CD's , I'll finish off by adding one here.
Bob would like to thank the following people for their love, kindness, best wishes and help:-
Jacqui, Edan and Erin, Mum and Dad, Uncle Rod and Aunty Hilary, m-aunty Kate, the family Quilliam, John and Jane Betts, John Reid, Wendy Reid, JD, Roger Tubby, Lesley Tubby, Andy and Jools Banks, Shaun Brown, Steve Day, Marky Barham, Neil Maclennan, Rosie, Carl Grant, my lovely proggy friends - Nellie, Pedro, Mouse, Racing Hippo, Catherine, MikeEvs, Livingforever, Bromman, RogerG, Johninblack and Jonboyes. Paul Tapping, Rob McKillop, Steve Phillips, Allana MacDonald, Nick Phillips, Ian Gladstone, Paul Skippings, Julie Miles, Ricky Ling, Mike Bolton, Katherine Bell, Jemma-Louisa and all my colleagues on the DCS Transformation Programme - thanks for the fruit. Gary Blunt, Tony and Katie Potts, A.J.Giordano, Caroline Furniss, Kim Futter, Gavin McKee, Rowland, Lara Jephson, Jane Wilson, Melanie and Steven Rolfe, Karl Wharam, Anita B, Victoria B, Kev Blazer, DA, Fred Robinson, the staff at Capital Tower, James Youngman, Justin Bowen and the staff at Spring, Jem, The Fishtankers - JamesA, Robh, Ashleaze, The Amazing Wilf, Jim, Robert, Simon, Uncle Bulgaria - see you at the BRS launch party and...
the Doctors and Nurses at the CCU
I think that's everyone :-)
That is all for now. Toodle pip !!
