The Multi-Modal Mersey Gate
Knossos Palace Iraklio
Fountain of the Lions
A typical Greek Underground music session.
http://greektravel.com/rembetika/
On Honeymoon
Llandudno 1945
City College
Lenny Bruce
http://www.lennybruceofficial.com/
http://www.kirjasto.sci.fi/lbruce.htm
"Technical Ted from Teddington"
Villivaru
2 of the 1000 Maldive Islands
Biyadhoo
The Multi Modal Mersey Gate
1990s
Chester
…1990
Having settled into a beautiful daily routine of
taking boat trips up the river Dee….I began...once again... to seek out
musical influence and experience….slowly but with intent. Trefor Owen,
Tommy Thomas... a tight jazz drummer... and me ended up in a big
semi-detached house… “The Jazz School”
Each of us taught our respective pupils…..and
developed our own gigs….as well as working together..! Having played
Jazz Quartet gigs with Trefor since 1978… I felt comfortable enough to
set up gigs for PHQ…. The Paul Hill Quartet. I mainly worked with
front-line horn players from Manchester…. Steve Pimlott…Phreddie
Pharret(sic) and John Hulme are the three who produced memorable musical
moments. John played Trumpet with a sensitivity that takes it all to a
higher plain. “My Funny Valentine” and other Miles Davis tunes were
our bread and butter. It was only after I had blagged PHQ onto TV.
that I realised that Bandleaders are Bandleaders…not because of musical
supremacy….but because they do all the admin….organising…and leg
work! I settled into a
groove…developed my left-hand technique all over again…and enjoyed
some great times……fully knowing that it was getting to that time to
move on again…musically..!
By mid 1993 I was once more like a Bull in a
Barn….the space was too small…. and I had too much energy coming out
of my Psyche……the river had served its purpose……enough of Becks
beer after work….. and enough of mediocre music sessions……once again
the yearning in my soul was demanding that I shed a skin…. seize the
time… and “kick some ass…” By September….at the end of
the tourist boat season…I held a car boot sale….. sold everything I
possessed….stored my Bass ……and set out on what was to turn out to
be an adventure that produced another of those defining moments of my
life.
Down at the local travel store….I enquired about
flights to Greece….and in particular…the Southern Islands.
"Kos …. Tuesday…. Rhodes…. Thursday…. Crete….
Friday…" she said without even looking up from her girlie
magazine..!! I heard my voice saying… “Crete…how much….?” as I
vaguely remembered something about caves and people who were 4 ft.
tall…!!
“£180……14 nights self-catering”
“ Err… I only want the flight…..”
“ £100…….return…”
“Err…I only want one way……!!”
“£49.99p…”
It took me all of 15 seconds to figure out
that this was really easy…….paid the cash….and put £1000 in a money
belt and headed for Manchester Airport. I should have read the signs as I
bought Drachmas..after check-in. The Bureau-de-Change overpaid me by £100
UK...then called Security...and chased me around the airport! After the
usual threats...and reprocessing the transax....I finally made the plane
and landed in Crete at Herakliou at
4am. on the Saturday morning!!
After a calm 4 hour flight...the Captain lamely
announced that it was “a bit like the rush hour” down there and kept
us circling for 30 minutes ……before finally putting us down into the
most aggressive scrum that I had seen in years. Planes from Luton…East
Midlands…..Manchester and London had all arrived within 10 minutes of
each other…1000 British holidaymakers with as much patience as a rattle snake….were in the
process of abusing each other at every opportunity!
At this point ...I have always hung back...and
made like David Attenborough...people watching...spotting a like safe
passage....and avoiding trouble where ever possible. I have always
maintained that I could walk into any bar in the world...play a few
songs...make a few friends....and get a bed for the
night....breakfast...and possible a remarkable sexual encounter....and
leave with contacts that will hold up...for years. As the scrummage died
away I reclaimed my back pack and headed for the taxi rank.
As always…the first taxi waiting had a driver who looked well
dodgy….!! But isn’t that how I have always finessed a route to
success…? We negotiated a cheap hotel that he new…. for an all-in
price that included drinks….as he was at the end of his shift. We
arrived…. as dawn broke… sat at the bar….and I began to
relax…..while picking the brains of the barman. Having travelled widely
since I was 16 years old….local knowledge is all….and I had long since
developed the method of finding base camp quite quickly…and constructing
a travel plan within 48 hours.
What I have not mentioned…is Rembetika…!!
Now…with the ease of the Internet…it is possible to type
Rembetika into Google…and the whole history of Greek Folk Blues is laid
out for the reader in nano seconds…!! In 1993 it was impossible to find
any information at all about the 20th century struggle of the
Greek people. All of this musical history had been suppressed by
successive governments…. but
most potently by the Junta that took over in 1967. Because I had just
spent the best part of 15 years studying the history of Jazz…its
origins….. and the repression of 20th century African
American culture… I was keen to find similar pockets of musical history
in Europe and Asia… and Greece was my first call…. because I
remembered a chance conversation years earlier at the party at which I had
first met Trefor Owen in N. Wales. Greeks love to sing and dance… and I
had …as always…been
asking questions…about Roots…!! Now… I had finally created the
opportunity…. once again … to travel to the source of my enquiry…
and it was time for research…!!
Manos Glasdiniou was definitely the man for the
job in Crete. Apart from anything else...Glas is a Welsh word that means
blue or green ...depending on context. I love
synchronicity....and this night was so burgeoning with it...that I felt
absolutely right ...the arrows had been fired out into the ether...once
again. My cheap hotel turned out to be at the end of Herakliou Airport
runway…..and was wildly alive and loud and noisy throughout the night…
until the charter flights had finished arriving from all over Europe.
After about an hour…I began to notice Manos taking payment for rooms
….from men with no baggage….and ladies of the night in tow…..!!
So there I was…resting in a brothel……and
pumped full of Greek beer. There was some paranoia about smoking hash…
as the legacy of the Junta that ruled Greece after the coup in 1967….was
an assortment of secret policemen…. who sat at the bar in provocateur
mode. By 9am..…I had ascertained that because there were no trains in
the Greek Islands…for obvious reasons….the buses were spotlessly clean
and ran like clockwork…and to a computer print timetable that was free
with the local paper. I also had the full rundown on Matala……a fishing
village on the Southern coast ...well away from the tourist strip to the
North....where Jimi Hendrix and Bob Dylan wrote songs together….and
where….to this day…there are caves that are shaped like the claws of a
crab...are approximately 4 feet high….and where the Minoans lived
…4000 years ago… and…on top of all that…the bus ride was 4
hours...and the fare was only £2.40p…!!
I crawled up the stairs…content with the
strategy that was laid out in front of me….and slept all day..!
Matala..Crete..September
1993.
The
bus arrived in the village square at about 4pm….the afternoon sun
blistering the old cobbled street. I collected my bag and walked to the
beachfront and sat and admired the panoramic view.
The Minoan caves …4000 years old and shaped like a crab’s
claws…. sloped out into the sparkling azure Mediterranean waters on both
sides. Old barbed wire fences…leftover from hippy times…slowly rusted
and fell away as they neared the sea. The caves were….. on average
…..4 feet high….about the same size as their original occupants, and
surrounded a small village….with square and market stalls. After about
an hour, I retraced my steps to the square and followed a small ashphalt
road for 5 minutes until I espied a Taverna with rooms to rent.
I spent the first week getting to know the real
local Cretans…..enquiring about everything musical….sensitively
finessing information about the current political situation…the effect
of the Junta that took over in 1967….and anything musical that I could
find. This culminated with me sitting with the owners’ wife…on the
terrace….…touting rooms for the tourists….eating beautiful
stews…while her husband returned to Athens…the place of his
birth…..to vote in the election. He
had started work as a teenager in 1948…working on the Onassis Oil Tanker
Fleet….sending his weekly wages home to his wife in Crete. By the time I
arrived…they owned 3 Tavernas worth about £ 0.75 million UK. For 3 days
I enjoyed a hospitality that was heartfelt…yet modest. I also plucked up
the courage to ask Grandpa why his hand was missing....simply a stump at
the wrist? He replied in pigeon English... "Phissshheeeng...!" I
finally managed to get the family to translate this demonstrative
expression. After the 1939-1945 War....the Resistance had finally driven
the Germans from the Islands. They, in turn, had left behind
thousands of tons of ordnance.... explosives... dynamite! the Greeks had
simply developed a technique of going fishing....by blowing up an entire
school of prime fish....and simply collecting them from the surface.
Grandpa had...unfortunately become distracted ...and forgotten to let go
of his stick of dynamite....Voila...!! By the time the
man of the house returned….his Tavernas were full….and my years as a
celibataire seemed to have made me an eligible man……for I was now
being courted as a suitable partner for their daughter. She was a young
single mother in Athens….and it seemed that her parents were intent on a
perfect match. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. I
spent 3 more weeks relaxing…. absorbing all things Greek…….and then
set a date for my return to travelling….just as this most beautiful
young woman arrived with her infant child. I think that, had I had the
vision and experience that I have now….I would have stayed….but there
was so much more to do….so much more to find out…..so much more to learn…!!
Music..!!
I duly packed up and awaited the return bus
trip…some 4-5 weeks after arriving…..with the offer of a place to stay
in Athens …should I get that far. Sitting in a market square…a long
way from home..... always has been a good place to take stock. I was
relaxed….tanned…….and with a definite sense of purpose. I had been
swimming for hours everyday…. out amongst the caves. These caves were
extraordinarily detailed. Water butts carved into the inner chambers that were
washed out and filled twice a day by the tide. Trenches carved into the
floors which became toilets… sluiced twice a day by the tides.
This 4 feet tall early civilisation had certainly lived a luxurious
lifestyle …and both Jimi Hendrix and Bob Dylan had sought inspiration
for their music here…in the 1960s. The bus arrived….and I travelled
back across Crete as I had arrived…..and was in amongst the bright inner
city lights of Herakliou by 8pm
on the Saturday night. I grabbed a taxi back to the brothel….and the
bar of Manos Glasdiniou….and then sat up half of the night planning the next
phase of this fascinating trip.
Heading North around the Islands and then on to
the port of Piraeus had always been the
plan…….and as I had a good social contact at the Memphis Bar in Rhodes….this was
the obvious next step. I headed for the 8.30 am. morning ferry and sat on
the deck all day as assorted travellers played music…did the “hippie
thing” and generally made me feel so embarrassed as to be English…that
I spoke French wherever possible. We arrived in Rhodes …under a baking
sun …at around 5.30 pm.
Do you ever lie awake at
night…wondering…remembering a small detail…and exploring the
possibilities of how different life may have been…if I had done
“that”…..? As I disembarked the Rhodes ferry….yet another Greek
Goddess appeared as a vision…standing by the dock gates…watching
people arrive……!! I was already programmed to ask her if she new of a
place to stay in the old town…ie..her place…when an empty taxi pulled
up….and I had put my bags into the trunk…before I had fully realised
what I was doing…..!!
“Memphis bar please …”
I heard the words escaping as this
extraordinary vision smiled at me. There have been many times when I have
wondered….about that split-second choice…!
The owner of the Memphis bar was an ex-policeman
from Sheffield…..Geoff....local knowledge was forthcoming…and I was booked into
a room within the hour….! By this time it was mid October….I had
telephoned my dad to wish him a happy birthday….and the year had flown.
A cold wind blew across the northern beaches of Rhodes….. and by about
5.30 pm. each night…the sun was setting. The old fortress town was rich
in secrets and history….and the Turkish coast loomed large…20 miles
away. My plan was always to travel across Rhodes to try and visit the home
of Patric Walker….London Evening News Astrologer…… who had moved out
into the Sun many years before….to the village of Lindos …… and who
single-handedly had been responsible for my original interest in the
ancient art.
After settling in for a few days....I decided to check out the Marina. I walked around for an hour and looked at the boats that were berthed. £600,000....£0.5 million.....£5million.....so a good even spread. But no really large multimillionaire playtime toys were in evidence...! I noticed a catamaran...advertising for crew and approached. Cases of very fine wine were being loaded and the deck was oak...! "Chef/Cook wanted..." I spoke to one of the deck hands who called the owner from below. This face appeared...scarred by fire .....wearing a baseball cap....with a very distinctive ear...severely damaged. " I was looking for a woman..." he replied. "Well ..I could always shave my legs...." was not quite the answer...he expected...!! 6 months cruising the Red Sea was at stake...!! Nikki Lauda....you could have learned something...!!
I entered the Marina office....showed them my newly aquired Boatmasters Licence...and was introduced to the Administrations Manager....Sue-Ellen! Polite...and efficient...in fact she was everything that a stereotype from the TV soap "Dallas" should be. There was an instant "froidieur" and I left...wishing that I had not been so forthcoming about who I was! Each time...that I met some washed up.... old ....gay ex-drug runner ...in a bar.... and listened to their stories about living up the hillside in the old town...and who they used to be....there was an increasingly sinister atmosphere developing...!! I couldn't help thinking about how long Sue-Ellen had been dining out with these losers...and recounting stories of whom she had met that day! One of them...a French African....actually threatened to cut off my fingers. I had made the mistake of telling him that I was a musician... and then abruptly turned down his sordid advances...! He actually expressed incredulity at the attitude of the Algerians...when he visited their country...after the uprising of 1956. I sensed that a corrupt and ignorant community was all around! Time for a Walkabout!
Fate…it seemed had other ideas. I began to meet
the local party people….and in particular …..two 20 year old girls
from the UK who were staying in the same Taverna…in fact …in the next
room. One..... Betty…..was half Greek…spoke fluently….and was a real
babe….although I realised straight away that she was a good Catholic
girl who would marry the man of her parents choice. Her friend…whom we
shall call Rachel……was however… a different bunch of bananas!!
Rachel was besotted with a local Greek boy…..spent her evenings working
as a “promoter” on the street …encouraging the tourists into a
particular nightclub. Typical of her age group…she was paid £5 per
night …and ridiculous quantities of free liquor.
We would meet …as they awoke in the
afternoon…as I returned from my daily swimming routine…..and I struggled
with the notion that this reformed binge drinker was now in danger of
being seen as a moralising old goat! On a more serious note…Rachel’s
travel companion Betty let slip that she was worried about the number of
tablets that Rachel was taking….both slimming tablets and diuretics. Now
let us get a translucent perspective on this. She was as thin as a
rake…..binge drinking….and as likely as not being fed “powders” by
her Greek boyfriend. She also had the habit of throwing up anything that
she ate.
I cognitively entered into a dialogue with
her…..invited her…. and her friend Betty…. to the beach…..and
began….over a period of two weeks …to develop a rapport with her. This
included…swimming….eating salad….and trying to begin to feed and
nourish her system…before the inevitable disaster happened. I also very
gently teased out the truth of her “Greek boyfriend” to the point were
it was obvious that she was being groomed for sex by a man in his late
20s….who was also liasing with at least 5 other English girls who were
of…shall we say…easy virtue! Rachel…while desperate to be the centre
of this pimp’s attention….would lie there with her mother’s words
ringing in her ear. “Keep your legs crossed”. Thus any chance of this
poor child finding a rewarding …emotionally satisfying partner….and
holiday romance…… was pretty much Zero! And as we now know….. the
English girls in the Mediterranean were simply fodder for the local mafia!
To say that danger and alarm bells were ringing……is just not an
eloquent description of my instinct at this time!
Betty….full of frustration at her friends’
complete lack of cooperation…. and selfish behaviour ….finally picked
up her ticket….and left to meet up with family in Athens….an 18 hour
overnight ferry ride. Rachel….flatly refused to leave the
island……and promptly disappeared…leaving all of her belongings in
the recently vacated room next door! I was genuinely concerned…but I am
forever the optimist…. “things like that don’t happen”!!
Days later…I was sitting in the Memphis bar….when Geoff the ex-police officer happened to mention an article in the local paper. An unidentified English girl had been found naked…wandering on a beach…some 12 miles from Rhodes. My normally cheery demeanour went very dark. Nobody believed me… “Its her”…I just kept repeating…..and slowly the drachma dropped….bigtime!!
Geoff….jumped on his little “rev and
go”…me hanging on the back of this motorised bicyclette….and we
headed for the Police Station…..never have I felt so overloaded with
intuitive data…so dark….so uncomfortable…and I guess we call that
“worried”…..but it was….at least…. obvious that she was alive.
The local gendarmerie were
big…oafish……unsympathetic…… “you pig English”…… just
about sets the tone…….for these guys were into “fucking white
girls” just like every other motherf****r!! We sat there for about 4
hours while enquiries were made. We were questioned at length about our
own history…by people stuttering in pigeon English…….until
there….. in amongst them…… stood this Michael J Fox type
character…. who suddenly spoke to me in perfect English. CIA
trained….stamped all over his forehead. Having quietly ascertained that
we were…in fact…the good guys…..he had decided that perhaps we could
help him!
“There is a girl….fitting your
description…in the local Sanitarium” he offered… gently. I had
explained that Rachel had shown me her scars after breast reduction
surgery. Another of her attention seeking…please like me
strategies….There were two small crosses underneath her nipples. Not
that common…me thinks!! We headed up there immediately……..with a
promise to report back to CIA clone.
Rachel had indeed been found 48 hours
previously…wandering naked on a beach….remembered nothing….and
categorically refused to tell anybody her name…..or who she was….and
was thus placed in the “looney bin”…because nobody knew what else to
do! I blagged the top man…that we were there to take her back to
England….and he politely explained that he was about to section her
under the Greek mental health act for 30 days….and that her father would
then be asked to pay £30,000 for her release …to cover costs. Having a
brother who is a medical specialist is a great advantage….and kind of
prepares you to talk to the shrinks….so we agreed to get her out the
next morning….and take her back to England. I then reported back to the
CIA clone that she had suffered an allergic reaction to medication for her
boob job. The clone suddenly said… “ahhh you are called Hill…this
is..I believe…a small mountain…” We smiled…shook hands….said
goodbye….. and agreed to call it a draw. I was of course aware of the
potential embarrassment to the islanders….and by simply getting Rachel
on the morning ferry to Athens… saved him and his men a lot of
paperwork. Little did I know …what I suspect….. he already knew!
Having specifically asked Rachel if she had been
attacked…or molested…and been told categorically “No”…I quickly
put a plan together to get her to Betty in Athens…and then continue with
Plan A and find a boat from Piraeus to the Caribbean! November had rapidly
disappeared……and the regular yearly convoy from the Mediterranean to
the Caribbean had already begun! We picked her up the next morning…I was
given sedatives to keep her knocked out……and watched her try every
trick in the book to get off of the ferry before it sailed! Finally as the
island disappeared behind us…….I began to wonder what to do next….!!
I changed some more money….booked a twin berth cabin upgrade… and
knocked her out with 2 sedatives and went to sleep. The throb of the
engines is both reassuring and somehow worrying as you sail through the
night. Having been asleep for hours…I was suddenly awoken by Rachel….scared..needing
a cuddle….and generally demanding my attention. She climbed into my
bunk…. and proceeded to arouse me as if she was an experienced
seductress. I remember actually saying.. “you know…having sex with
someone who you have sedated….has been entrusted to you….. and whom
you have sedated….would be technically….statutory rape….” As she
returned to her own bunk…I noticed the sedatives on the floor! Didn’t
sleep much after that….but I made her swallow 2 more tablets!
Finally…as we left the ferry in Athens the next morning…and sat on the dock…discussing the next move….she suddenly said… “I had sex ….with a taxi driver….” The next three hours were a revelation. It all came flooding out…!! She had got completely out of her head with the help of her Greek pimp….. finally decided to let her lust and passion of the hook….let go of her guilt ridden mother and all that other shit……and been basically “taken against her will” by a taxi driver. When he had finished with her….he disappeared…..she hitch-hiked along the coast…..and at this point….her returning memory was a mixture of flash backs of being sexed by about half a dozen members of the Greek Army!! Hence ending up naked on a beach at 7am.
I comforted her…made no noise whatsoever…moral
or otherwise…in the hope that she would at least find a road to enjoying
her sexuality…..and left her to sit quietly while I made the next move.
It was a bank holiday….the only place I could cash money was at the
airport…..so we finally hailed a taxi…..tried to find Betty’s
address….. drove around Athens until there was about $100 on the
meter….and finally headed for a hotel. Rachel rang England….told her
parents that they had got split up…and got Betty’s Athens address and
phone number. She arrived….sat up with me all night….as I told the
story as it had unfolded…..and we headed for her uncle’s house the
next morning. I asked Betty to translate verbatim what had
happened….which she did…..and to my astonishment.. her uncle turned
out to be an Athens police officer….who expressed no surprise
whatsoever…..at the suggested behaviour of the male population of
Rhodes. He basically implied that the European girls were there in Rhodes
for the pleasure of the locals….anyway they wanted…and that this was
common knowledge all over Greece.
We were put up in Athens for a week while I
arranged a ticket on the same plane as the two girls back to London
Gatwick. I felt duty bound to return home and hand Rachel back to her
loving family. The Embassy was great…. and to that Athens Police
officer….if ever you should read this….I salute you Sir for seeing
integrity in me…. when all around sought to implicate me. I stayed
overnight in the South of England….had a long chat with Rachels
mother… “erhh you need a Pregnancy test…an Aids test….and perhaps
if you now talk to her as your younger sister…progress will
follow……..” and got a lift back to my home the next day…..!!
The inevitable questions started up in my brain...." What the fuck are you doing back here....?"
Within two weeks….I had a call…..
“Your Dad has got something to tell you….”
December 15th…1993…he had found a
lump in his breast….by January 15th 1994….he had died…!!
I was home…..I could have been on a boat across
the Ocean…….yet something had literally picked me up...turned me
round...and brought me home....and for
good reason.....the following four weeks….were a very special
time…….!!
Chester...December 1993
W.J.(John) and Mary Hill
Lime Street Station
Liverpool 1946
I walked into the lounge…and remember being greeted by a man who was serene…..smiling…resigned to what was waiting for him……and so jaundiced that all I could manage to say was “ It’s just cost me £1000 to get a suntan like that”
We talked privately and without reservation…regret or
restraint…..of his coming journey. He was admitted to a private
hospital….diagnosed with virulent pancreatic cancer….which had begun to
spread around his body….hence the lump on his chest….and given two simple
choices.
My specialist brother arranged for him to transfer to
the local NHS hospital…. he was always… as am I…. a man of the
people……and given a small room at the side of a ward. One of his most
endearing and enduring influences on me was “never forget where you came
from”….and he certainly walked that walk throughout his whole life.
On Tuesday January 10th 1994….he was given
a local anaesthetic and a camera was fed down his throat. The growth on his
Pancreas was about the size of a large banana.
“We can
operate….insert a stent…..and you will live for about 2 months…or….. you
can have Friday night” said the Specialist.
His response was typical of the man……!!
“Friday night”
My brother…..his eldest boy…..my mother…. and
I…. took turns to be with him 24/7 ….a 3 day and night session that saw him
progress into hallucinations and dreams that were indeed his life passing before
his eyes. My brother explained that once the kidneys fail….
“he is rattling a bit” in medical speak….then the passing will take
about 48 hours. He also explained that he would say his goodbyes as a son on the
Tuesday night….go away on the Wednesday….and return as a medical man on the
Thursday…ie…. impassive….emotionally disconnected….and simply helping an
old man to pass on very peacefully. I am grateful that he did this….. to this
day……for I did the same……and prepared myself……!!
By Friday morning….he gave his permission for the
Specialist to examine him in front of 5-6 medical students….. and the cancer
was now the size of a large football….and his stomach was akin to that of a
heavily pregnant woman. This again was typical….he always gave thanks for how
life had been good to him …and was for giving something back wherever
possible.
We took him to the out door main entrance smoking area
in a wheel chair at about 5 pm….where “the condemned man enjoyed a last
cigarette”…….and I pocketed the packet as we put him back to bed….it’s
the little things….moments of intimacy that we take with us as memories….the
spiritual man…..and then my brother’s boy and I found the chapel and quietly
made our peace.
He was given a shot of morphine at midnight….the man
in charge went to great lengths to show me that it was 1/10th of the
dose prescribed……and I went home to sleep. At 5.30 am. Saturday…my brother
and I were called to the hospital….my mother and my brother’s boy were with
him…..and he died with an extraordinary amount of peace and dignity at 5.45
am.
I stood by his bed and quietly recited the Lords
Prayer…….never more appropriate really…..and we all returned to the family
home at 6.30 am. as the dawn broke. In the rush….my brother and I had left
without a key to the house……so there I was attacking the glass panels of the
front door with a hammer…
“He’s only been gone 45 minutes….and we cant even
get in the fucking house….”
His lifetime’s work……his humour under
duress……and his quiet organisational skill were never more significant. I
stepped to one side as the other 3 laughed at the ridiculous irony of it
all….and …as God is my witness here today…a humungously large dog fox came
bounding over the 6 feet high fence to my right…….and disappeared...on down
the road….!!
“See you …Pa”
His recently aquired Vauhall Vectra
….registration JMH 545…..John and Mary Hill…..5.45 am.
His funeral was a difficult affair…all that
pain…. angst.... and misery….that people generate. For me….it was an honour
and a privilege to know this man……to share in the spiritual time that was
his passing. His bravery…. his courage…… his humility…. and his gracious
life enriching presence….made the whole thing a truly enlightening experience.
To this day…on motorways…..I get cars racing past
me….suddenly pulling in front of
me…and escorting me for a while…before disappearing.....and the registration
will say something like...
WJ 94 HOHO….
I chuckle for a while…. and then salute him....."spirit
free maaaaan…”
I asked him once if there was any African blood in his
family…!!
Thanks Pa…..for all of it….!!
Bangor...N Wales 1994
There was a massive conjunction of Sun….Venus
…Mars….Uranus and Neptune in Capricorn on the weekend that my dad
died……all around his natal Moon and square his Libra Sun……I would guess
that he travelled on with a great sense of adventure…..ethereal
…eclectic…electric and… if the look on his face was any kind of
clue….ecstatic! With the transiting Moon and Saturn in Aquarius square Pluto in
Scorpio….he faced his greatest test…and…in doing so inspired me to keep on
traveling this hard road! It is
more than coincidence… as I write this now 15 years later…and Saturn again
squares Pluto ….. this time in the Cardinal signs….that I am now ready to
action the vows that I made all those years ago…!!
In the Spring of 1994…as this massive whirlwind of
change settled down…..I moved back to Bangor …in North Wales…and rented a
house in Garth…near enough to the boatyard to be able to hear the wind in the
rigging at night.
The grieving was very personal…..but
joyous….celebratory……and immensely positive. I got a job ….taxi
driving…..and lo and behold…an Atari computer…. with Cubase
software….the first musical software had finally arrived…..as I knew it
would in 1981. A Roland D 20 keyboard with MIDI interface completed the kit and
I set about transforming all of my digested musical know-how into computer
experience.!! A child in a candy store!!
By this time I had also been celibate….and pursuing my
spiritual quest…. for some 8 years…..and this was proving to be successful...
as I found new levels of experience…..and began to see women as sisters….
friends….. and extraordinary people really.
A small bequest of £5,000 from my father paid for a
Short Wheel Base Land Rover Series 3….and by 1995…..I was commuting to
Manchester….City College…Northenden…. studying an HND B.Tech in Jazz
Studies. From Performance…. to Arranging…. to Computer Generated Score
written in Cubase….to Composition….was I in paradise??
I moved back to Chester……worked 4 days a week on the river with my
Boatmaster’s ticket…..and studied hard. 2 years at City College….and then
2 more years at Leeds College of Music..…to convert the HND into a BA Degree
with Honours.
I have never applied myself more honestly….with more
certainty…or with more application… than in those first 2
years….1995-1997. I discovered that I could write Orchestral Scores. Duke
Ellington’s Jungle Band used to produce 30 arrangements a day when they worked
at the Cotton Club in New York in 1928-29 and 30. I produced one in 3 weeks. But
it swung like fuck….. “ A Blizzard in June” ….with quotes from “White
Xmas” and “Summertime” ….!! And I got a distinction for a computer
generated arrangement of “Some day my Prince will Come” Once you understand
the way John Coltrane used his chord progressions…Dominant 7th
chords against the 7th mode of the Harmonic Minor…the famous Alt
Scale….then moving the melody against them is really quite straight forward. I
also…on a whim…rewrote Miles Davis’ “Blue in Green” for 3 Flutes and 2
Guitars….because the study group had a surfeit of Guitarists and Flautists.
Needs must….and of course by accident or design….beauteeeffuuullll!! My
Atari had such a small memory cache that I had to write one page of Score at
a time …print out the Instruments….and then load another page…while
deleting the first…so the margin for error was simply zero. Result...a
distinction grade….wow….oh….wow!!
Sadly… having spent most of
my adult life in rural settings……working with real…genuine…fully
qualified human beings…. it was then something of a shock to come across the
petty jealousies that students spike each other with. I was 44 years old by this
time…..a child of the hippie 60s……love and peace man…..and lets all get
it on…..Thus finding myself being “grassed up” to the Principle for using
the word “nigger” while explaining the stand up routines of Lenny Bruce in
1960s New York City was a genuine shock…I was apoplectic with anger. A
pathetic little specimen who studied trumpet and was “on the scene” in
Manchester…..marked my card that day….and I never recovered…no Leeds
College of Music for me…. “now look mush” said my tutor…another little
bully….your improvisation on Bass is not good enough….”
I looked at them….with
distaste….Me…a racist…..??
"Lenny Bruce is dead but he didn't commit any crime
He just had the insight to rip off the lid before its time.
I rode with him in a taxi once, only for a mile and a half,
Seemed like it took a couple of months.
Lenny Bruce moved on and like the ones that killed him, gone."
(Bob Dylan in 'Lenny Bruce', from Shot of Love, 1983)
So you learn to play jazz by reading a few notes in suburban Manchester.....Yeah Right....!!!
I returned to Chester with
my HND B.Tech….my musical confidence at an all time high…..and got stuck in
to Computer Software…..and started something! I was £8,000 in debt…… no
hope…. no future…. no prospects…..and under enormous pressure. I delivered
frozen foods for 1 year….earning £120 per week and spending £10 that I new
would be spare cash in 3 weeks time! Then one day…in May 1999…..I passed a
building with windows plastered with posters… “do you need cash?” …
“tele-sales wanted” …. So …in I walked… like you do…!!
“You need to talk to
that chap in there” said the gateman…..I was already being appraised…. and
they decided that “Sales” was for me. I went on a residential course at the
end of Stanstead Airport runway…and became a Direct Salesman with Staybrite
Windows. Now…the funny thing is….my Dad had sold Insurance…door to door
…in Liverpool…in the 1950s…so it sort of came quite naturally really…!!
I did exactly as they told me….and earned £1000 in my first week. Within 2
months …I had paid £2000 for a top of the range bespoke computer rig….and
by Xmas spent £3000 on a 3 week holiday for me and my brand new girlfriend.
After 13 years as a celibataire…spiritually questing…and really working on
personal development….it just happened. The Maldives was a
blast….1999…Xmas and New Years Eve……you can write your own script.!!
1000 islands lit up the night sky....we stayed in Biyadhoo...3 weeks of
Paradise. What a way to end the Decade….the Millenium…….and a life of Jazz studies
that had left me with broken fingers…..broken dreams….. and completely and
utterly broke…..flat….flat broke!!!
Introduction 1970s 1980s 2000-5 2005-10
to be continued…..
Paul Richard Hill
Copyright © 2012. Musicman 1. All rights reserved.
