Rain In The Summertime

My buddy Daryl, who owns Diamond Jacks in Soho, recently posted some pics over on his instagram feed about what's happening to that particular area of London. It's been happening for years. I first noticed it in the early 2000s when I went to interview Dave McKean and had cause to head into part of the city I hadn't been to since the early 90s. It's amazing what can happen when they chip away at small parts of a thing over a long period of time.

And now we have come to a point in time at which it's no longer small parts. Now we are down to the Big Parts. The scaffolding has moved in. Shops that once made Soho into Soho are no longer there and there's very few still holding their own. They call it progress and as much as I adore coffee of the Starbucks variety, even I can walk 50 yards around the corner to get one. There is no need for a handy venue on every street in London... but that's what we're going to get whether we like it or not.

Then one day in the days of future past, people will discover coffee causes an incurable disease and one by one they will all close down leaving a million empty shells across the city-scape. Cities all around the world will collapse into their underground train systems because Starbucks was the only thing holding the damn place together. Then the revolution will arrive (but it will not be televised) of people wanting record shops, book stores and umm... shops that sell ropey magazines to old men normally best avoided in long coats because some motherfucker also turned off the internet.

Anyway, on my travels through Soho, I found this house and I guess when they finally take that sign off the door, Soho will officially be closed and that will be a sad, sad day for individuality.

Or maybe they will just change it:

"This is not a Starbucks. There is no coffee at this address."


Elektra (my new Gretsch) and I are getting on just fine together thanks for asking. I've got one eye on the white 12 string variant still, so that's only a matter of time but while I had one eye on that, the other eye discovered a guy called Israel Nash who I had not heard of before, but there he was on the Gretsch website flaunting one of the family for all the world to see. Here he is in action:

Here's the cover of Rain Plans. I have fallen in love with this so hard that I haven't played anything else this week. In fact, that's something of an understatement. It may not be his latest release but it's gone straight to the top of the list of greatest things I've heard this year... with a bullet:

Inspiring is what this is. Listening to it has given me ideas way above my station to pursue but it's all good. It's also good to feel like somebody else knows where your soul is coming from when you have 'one of those things' draped across your shoulder..

Go listen - most of his work is around on the streaming things.


In another bullet from the heavens this week, one of my favourite writers who likes to loiter around the world in the shape of Michael Marshall Smith has a new book out called Hannah Green and Her Unfeasibly Mundane Existence. I think it may have been out a few weeks now and I just missed it in my busy-ness, but regardless of that, I'm going to drop the needle back to the beginning of Rain Plans, turn on the lamp and get lost in one of his worlds.

As luck would have it, here's a book trailer for it:


It would be irresponsible of me to not mention at least once a week that if you sign up to the thing that appears across the top of all and any pages you look at here, you'll get an email fall into your inbox on a Saturday morning that contains everything I post here across any given week. 

Some I cross link to social platforms, some I don't, so it's a good way to catch everything... unless of course you have a desk job and get bored easily, in which case, feel free to check back as often as you like. 

Interlude: Something About Gods...

One of the finest books ever written surely? And if you happen to have mislaid your signed first edition of American Gods from back in the day... well, I guess this looks very much like a worthy replacement:

There's going to be a lot of press about this as a TV show when it lands but even if it's the finest TV ever made, it still won't eclipse the novel. If you're in the market for such a thing of beauty you can get yourself a copy right here.

Everything Neil Gaiman touches may turn to gold but everything Dave McKean works on was gold before it even left his head.

THE HOUSE AT THE END OF THE PIER

Yesterday morning, the guys at the office needed to send me a package via TNT, but TNT dropped it onto the wrong van and it went AWOL. In the time that we were trying to figure out where it had gone, one of the guys asked me if I lived anywhere 'weird'.  Somewhere so weird that even Tom Hanks couldn't find it. What he actually said was this:

"Do you live anywhere weird like at the end of a pier? I can see you living at the end of a pier - it would suit you. People would say things like 'don't go down to the end of the pier, that's where the guy with crazy hair lives. Best stay away from there'."

This is one of the nicest things anybody has ever said about me and got the day off to a good start. 

My brain made some tentative connections at the mention of the phrase 'crazy hair' and I sent him a link to the book Crazy Hair and then because they live side by side on a shelf here, I also sent a link to The Day I Swapped My Dad For A Goldfish - and my pier quoting friend at the other end, promptly ordered them both.

Package still MIA with no sign of Mr Hanks anywhere, I went back to work and wondered how, out of a stupid conversation I had managed to sell two Neil Gaiman/Dave McKean books without even trying but none of my own.

Note to self: fix this.