Sick of being the only grey-tinged gal amid an ocean of bald blokes at gigs, Vicky Lindsay Warburton decided to start holding her own. Kind of. Grab your utensils and get ready to mosh not mash.
My kitchen, my music, my gig. Same in your kitchen? Only sometimes it’s invaded by those other people that live with you, especially at breakfast time when you’ll find me flinging out cereal and toast to my tunes with the prowess of a prima hippo, twirling and sweating in my fleece fat-suit dressing gown.
Until I was thrown a curveball: the other half is straddling his tool box. WTF. It’s morning and the box is out?
Mr Warby’s voice had changed. Mumbling something I was trying hard to ignore, he popped up brandishing pliers, slavering, “I need yer ‘elp.” Wedged between two molars was a plastic dental stick (he’s not advanced enough to use dental floss) thus resulting in his face fixed in a perma smile/constant grimace.
The foreign object wouldn’t budge and must have felt like a javelin between his teeth, but this no-fuss northern lad took it in his stride, passed the rusty pliers to his dwarf wife and slobbered something about pulling it out.
There’s about a foot in height difference between us so the angle was acute and required excessive squatting on his part. Ridiculous thrusting and writhing occurred to remove said object, as one lonely onlooker, aged five, sat observing the morning’s pantomime while breakfasting, probably thinking, ‘What the fuck are they doing now?’
The operation was successful, but the following tunes were required to quell the adrenaline surge.
After a life of tepid mediocrity, Charles Bradley, a 67-year-old black American funk/soul/R&B singer, is definitely on the boil. He might be grandfather age but Bradley is not babysitting while you’re at a gig – he IS the mutherfunkin’ gig. Trust me, you’ll be sold before you hear his VOICE.
Press play, and you’d be forgiven for thinking this was recorded when you were but a twitch in your dad’s ball sack. Bradley shines a light for the rest of us stuck in dullness – it’s never too late, people.
His third album Changes is out this month on Daptone records and if you’re a soul mother, this will get you shaking talc on the kitchen dancefloor.
If his voice on title track Changes (a Black Sabbath cover) isn’t enough to pierce your heart, then watch the documentary Soul of America (2012), a heart-wrenching watch, informing us in our safe, comfy living rooms of his battles through life’s biggies: homelessness, crushing loss, mental torment and then some. Finally, he’s achieved his dream and broken away from his day/night job as energetic James Brown impersonator ‘Black Velvet’ to perform as himself. Hero.
Commontime is the sixth full-length studio album from arty siblings David and Peter Brewis, aka Field Music, and I’m pushing the track Disappointed. Both have been working on solo projects and making babies, before hooking back up to produce this treat.
His royal purpleness Prince even tweeted about a single from this album (The Noisy Days Are Over), which created a flutter of well-deserved attention for this band of brothers.
Live, Field Music are a delight. At times they produce a complex sound, but are equally able to craft perfectly accessible pop songs. Formulaic they are not. Caterpillar around your kitchen to this pop gem from an eccentric, highbrow turn who don’t give a toss about conforming to the music industry’s whims and fancies.
I’m not quite sure where Dave’s voice comes from (maybe he’s part of a ventriloquist act), but the sounds that shoot from his mouth are rather unexpected – and brilliant.
In the deep freeze: Big Love by Fleetwood Mac from the album Tango In The Night
Shagging, drugs, divorces, fallings in and out… Enough about my family, let’s focus on the one and only Fleetwood Mac, coming out of my deep freeze this month.
Big Love features unfathomable guitar brilliance from Lindsey Buckingham (how is he playing that, and singing at the same time?), and this was his song in all respects – he left just after the release of Tango In The Night.
For me, Big Love best sums up the whole of Fleetwood Mac: a huge tumbling track that crescendos to leave you punching the air and performing your heart out, fingerpicking that air guitar ’til your fingers bleed. Or maybe that’s just me, in my kitchen, clutching guitar pliers and wearing my rock crocs.1863 Views
Vicky is reintegrating back into society as her children are now in school. She teaches mindfulness to teenagers, wears trainers and paddles through the nonsense of life.