The Fantascapes

Posted in Art, Entertainment, Music, Writing with tags , , , , , , , on August 23, 2008 by kevmoore

It’s been a while since I produced any new music, so I was pleased to help my partner, the French Artist Miki, when she asked for a short film and musical soundtrack to introduce her “Fantascape” series to the world. I love these particular art pieces that she’s created, so it was a joy to try and create a musical atmosphere to complement them.

I went for an ambient kind of percussion feel, with washes of ethereal-sounding keyboards, a mellow bass and some distant, cranked-up messy lead guitar to round it all off….Enjoy!

Kev Moore

The Guardia Civil, or, Fascism and intimidation are alive and well in Spain.

Posted in Life, Thoughts, Writing with tags , , , , , , on August 6, 2008 by kevmoore
I'm sorry to tell you fellas, it's not intimidating and macho - you just look like a bunch of twats..

I'm sorry to tell you fellas, it's not intimidating and macho - you just look like a bunch of twats..

It’s soapbox time, folks. So I drove down to Alicante airport to collect my son and his friend for a holiday over in Spain with me. We drove down to our place in Mojacar. After grabbing a bite to eat at Subway, we were heading home in the car around midnight. We were pulled over at a roundabout by at least 6 Guardia Civil officers, shining torches in our faces. I provided I.D., Driving licence, Insurance. They noticed the insurance seemed to have expired and I tried to explain that it had been paid by bank direct debit and was up to date. I called my partner Miki, who speaks fluent Spanish, but they refused to speak to her, just kept jabbering on at me in 100mph Spanish. They ordered me, my 16 year-old son, and his friend out of the car, searched us all, all our bags, the car…and came out with a knife. It is a tiny, foldaway knife that Miki uses for sharpening her pencils for art, and occasionally for cutting chorizo or cheese when we’re travelling. They treated this “find” as though I was an armed terrorist. They kept on at me, until eventually I said, “you speak to my partner on this phone, or you speak to me in English”.

Reluctantly, the least psychopathic of the gang, for that is what they were, an armed gang in a uniform, spoke to Miki, telling her there was a law against carrying weapons. Well, I wasn’t carrying it, and I subsequently have discovered it is too short to qualify for their law.  They kept it, of course, eventually letting us go.

My car is Spanish registered, road tested and insured and I was carrying my licence. These thugs love these roadside dick-measuring contests. Franco’s spirit is alive and well here, living in the rotten fascist underbelly. Spain needs to shake off this corrupt, bullying image, or the people who brought money and prosperity to this country will up and leave and bestow it elsewhere.  You can see it in the Guardia Civil’s eyes. They are the bully at school, given a gun and a uniform and the chance to show off. It’s sickening.

A Guardia Civil chappie showing off his Penis substitute recently...

A Guardia Civil chappie showing off his Penis substitute recently...


Kev Moore

23 injured in attack on Norway refugee centre

Posted in Life, News, Politics, Thoughts, Writing with tags , , , , , on July 25, 2008 by kevmoore

It’s completely off-topic for my blog, but I have to speak here.  Look at this news article:

OSLO (Reuters) – Twenty-three people were wounded when a gang of 40-50 men armed with steel bars and machetes attacked residents at a refugee centre in Norway late on Thursday, officials said on Friday.

No one was seriously wounded, but 10 were sent to hospital and 13 treated at a local clinic, hospital officials said.

An official at the centre in Oestfold south of Oslo said the attackers were Chechens and the victims Kurds. Police declined to confirm or deny that and said they had made no arrests so far.

“There was an attack from outside the asylum centre by people who don’t live here, Chechens, 40 to 50 men armed with steel bars and other weapons,” Ole Morten Lyng, an official at the centre, told NRK public radio news.

Well my milk of human kindness has now officially dried up at the teat. So the Norwegians let one bunch of spongers in, followed by another bunch of spongers who hate the first lot. The result? A peace-loving country is subjected to backward, violent outbursts. I’ve got a great idea. Send both these bunches of losers back to their homeland where they can knock the living hell out of each other for all I care.

You want an allegory? It’s like inviting a tramp in off the street out of the goodness of your heart, feeding him, then finding he’s shat on your carpet.

Please leave comments, accusations of racism, and bleeding-heart liberal diatribes below.

Kev Moore

First bass No.6 – Reflections on an Icon

Posted in Uncategorized on June 4, 2008 by kevmoore

I’d often been told that I bore a passing resemblance to Phil Lynott, bassist and singer with Thin Lizzy, and when Simon, our drummer in Tubeless Hearts suggested that I audition for Stars in their Eyes as him, it seemed like the natural thing to do. I’d met Phil very briefly back when Lizzy had their first twin-guitar album, Nightlife out and were touring the UK in support of it. As a starry-eyed kid, I was amazed to come face-to-face with him in the refectory at Derby college, prior to their gig!  I’d always loved the music, and wanted to honour his memory.  To that end, I bought  a Fender Squier bass and had it “Lizzied-up” , with the famous mirror scratchplate that he memorably employed after supporting Slade and seeing how the lights played off the mirrors on Noddy Holder’s top hat.

It became a favourite for a while, as evidenced by these photos, onstage with Graham Oliver performing Saxon’s greatest for charity event:

Kev Moore and Graham Oliver

….and at a festival in Germany with Christie:

Kev Moore with Christie

But, inevitably, it went the way of many others, however, this time to a good home. My good friend and producer Clyde Ward, a fellow Lizzy fan, bought it off me while we were working together  writing and recording material for my daughter Hollie. It took pride of place on the studio wall!

Kev Hollie and Clyde

Kev, Hollie and Clyde in Mojacar around 10 years ago

Kev Moore

First bass No.5 – Off with his head!!

Posted in Uncategorized on May 12, 2008 by kevmoore

So, here we are with yet another bass guitar in my fickle fingers…

This is an 80’s classic – the Westone Superheadless. Its name , as you can see by the pics, is self-evident.  It had a Steinberger inspired tuning section below the bridge, but its weak point was the string clamp that held the strings at the blunt end of the neck.  It featured one bar that clamped across all four strings at the same time, so in a gig situation, a solitary string break meant that you had to slacken off ALL the strings at the same time! Nightmare! I had mine modified to take a more user-friendly 4 -point system that allowed clamping and release of individual strings. This model seemed quite rare to me. I never saw another one quite like it, it had see-through pillar-box red paint, with a beautiful birds-eye maple visible underneath, and all-black fittings, whereas most others I saw were an unappealing dirty-brown colour. This one saw off my Aria pro ll and became my favourite for a few years in the 80’s.

You won’t be surprised to know that it went the way of the others eventually…for a short while I had a Status headless – supposedly a wonderful instrument, and considerably more pricey than this Westone, but I hated it with a passion, it played like a cricket bat, and probably sounded like one. Small wonder I have no pictures of it!

These shots were taken at a charity show in South Yorkshire. I remember very little about it – except that we were on with a band called Slug the Nightwatchman!

Kev Moore

Jess Roden – Beginnings -The Alan Bown Set

Posted in Entertainment, Music, Thoughts, Writing with tags , , , , , , on May 2, 2008 by kevmoore

There’s been a few mentions about the recent Alan Bown compilation featuring Jess recently, so I thought I’d do a small piece on it. Enjoy!

You probably have to be of a certain age to remember the English soul club scene of the 1960’s. but for those of us who discovered the mighty larynx of Jess Roden a few years down the line, as his solo career was flowering, the journey of discovery back in time is a rewarding one.

If you missed Jess’s debut on the London stages first time around, this well-packaged release on Sequel records should get the adrenaline flowing, and satisfy Roden completists.
Entitled The Alan Bown Set – Emergency 999, it gathers together the first 5 singles, complete with B sides, plus the rarity, “Jeu de Massacre” (the killing game) a bona-fide oddity written by Jaques Loussier and included on the soundtrack of the movie of the same name, which previewed at the Cannes film festival.

Boasting 21 tracks, this compliation also gives us rare demoes, and  a live set, originally released on the London swings-live at the Marquee club LP – a peculiar release that saw The Alan Bown Set  and Jimmy James get a side apiece!

Jess joined the Alan Bown Set  in time for their second single, and remained with them throughout their name change to The Alan Bown! -which signalled their metamorphosis from soul band to psychedelic pop outfit. This set contains the song “Mr.Job” , which signalled their new direction, but had never been released until now, though it proved to be a useful debut for Midlands band Jigsaw to launch their career.
It was the rise of the discotheques that eventually put paid to the popularity of soul bands like The Alan Bown Set.  Clubbers could now dance the night away in the company of Sam and Dave, and James Brown. For the Brits, it was a case of adapt or die, but the Summer of Love was never really going to be the answer to their prayers.

So if you want to immerse yourself in a steamy Marquee, or Flamingo and catch the buzz that was around in those early days, this CD is your time machine, come on in and listen to Jess’s youthful, vibrant soul, hinting at the catalogue of classic performances  that were ahead of him.

Kev Moore

Travellin’ Light….

Posted in Uncategorized on May 2, 2008 by kevmoore

It hardly seems five minutes since I got back from the double-header in the U.K., but once again I’m duty-bound to hit the road for a concert appearance in Torgau, Germany.

I am presented this weekend with a logistical convolution that sees me board an entirely unnecessary flight this afternoon to Stansted in England, where I will spend an entirely unnecessary night in a Days Inn before meeting up with the rest of the guys and flying out of Stansted airport tomorrow lunchtime bound for Altenburg in Germany. I will then repeat the process on Sunday, resulting in my arrival home here in Turre at about 2 a.m. early Monday morning. Yes folks, this is the glamour of showbiz. Oh, and did I mention, tucked a way in the middle of all that is a 1 hour show?

It’s a big debt of time that I pay, an hour onstage costs me 60 hours away from Miki. It is a high price.

As a result of years of these escapades, I have become somewhat adept at downsizing in the luggage department. That is to say, I have no luggage. I am a professional hand-baggager. I can last for weeks on the contents of my trusty yellow-and black regulation sized holdall. Not for me the lengthy queues at the airport, I’m straight through with priority boarding, as opposed to being treated like a second -class citizen because I had the temerity to buy a suitcase. I even arrange to keep one of my bass guitars in the U.K. to prevent the need to transport one on the plane. Oh, yes siree, I’m through that airport like sh*t off a shiny shovel.

Except this time. The German promoter, who very kindly booked me a perfectly pointless flight via the U.K., perhaps in the mistaken belief that I missed my homeland, also was kind enough to reserve baggage entitlement for me. This is unalterable, and will result in me queuing with the great unwashed for no good reason at all. I will wait for an hour, just so I can tell the girl on the desk that I have absolutely no luggage whatsoever. Just my little bag. The relentless march of airport efficiency goes on, grinding the hapless passenger under its giant cogs like so much grist for the mill…..

Kev Moore

Friends Reunited

Posted in Life, Music, Short Stories, Thoughts, Writing with tags , , , on April 29, 2008 by kevmoore

The Hit List decide that black is the

When you reach a certain point in your career in this business we call show, one’s obligations tend to fragment into different projects, be it either by accident or design.  This leads to a number of things, confusion being but one of them.  One week, you might be performing reggae in a solo show, the next, an in-your-face punk bash with a bunch of undesirables, followed by a pop extravaganza in post-communist Russia, it’s all very eclectic and enjoyable of course, but on occasion, leads to one being  gored on the horns of a dilemma.  Dates clash, and obligations are compromised. What to do?  Well, the same lengthy, well-networked and varied career that got you into this mess can also be your saviour. You call up old mates and arrange a “dep”. A dep, for the purposes of this article, is a reliable, musically proficient, and most importantly, play-by-the-seat-of-your-pants former musical cohort who you would bet the farm on.

And so it came to pass that an upcoming show in Scarborough, UK  required us to find a dep for both Mike on guitar and Pete on drums, both of whom had unavoidable prior commitments.  Within a few hours the services of Dave Sargent and Simon Kay were secured, and voila, it was basically my old band THE HIT LIST performing together again!

I’m extremely lucky to have a job that gives me a chance to catch up with my old mates and get paid for it at the same time!   Check out how THE HIT LIST used to sound in the sidebar of this blog.

Kev Moore

First bass No.4 – Aria on a budget

Posted in Art, Bass guitars, Entertainment, Life, Music, Short Stories, Thoughts, Writing with tags , , , , , , , on April 28, 2008 by kevmoore

Kev is inevitably upstaged by the understated simplicity of the sleek black Aria

Somewhere in the North East of England, I’m guessing near Sunderland, I’m on stage, seemingly willing my bass to levitate. This picture is notable for several things. Firstly, note Simon Kay, Tubeless Hearts’ drummer, behind his highly collectable Ludwig Vistalite kit. He bought it with money he won at the Casino, and although he admittedly sold it so he could buy Phil Collins’ actual kit from the Genesis “Duke” album and tour, he was financially too embarrassed to hang on to this classic. Note also, my doomed John Birch from an earlier entry, now relegated to being propped up against the amp as a spare bass, and if you look really closely, you can see how I let some half-assed “luthier” (I use the word loosely)  install a Fender p-bass split pick up with a brushed aluminium plate, at the expense of the original John Birch pickup. What was I thinking? Obviously not a lot, as the John Birch soon left my hands in order to bolster my ailing bank account.

In retrospect, I suppose a guy who wears a sports headband in an ill-advised Dire Straits moment, and Aladdin Sane make-up 8 years after Bowie had discarded it is always going to be accused of bad judgement. So let this be a lesson to all of you…..

The bass around my neck, (if not actually in my hands) is an Aria Pro 2. I think the model is an 800b or something. It comes with a simple single pickup configuration, and a coil tap switch. it was quite simply, the heaviest b*stard in the world, and I’m pretty sure I can trace my recent visits to a chiropractor right back to this joker.
The upside was, I found it in a second-hand shop in Leeds  for 125 of your English pounds, in pristine condition, complete with hard case, and in fairness, it produced a lovely rich tone, which was not surprising, considering the wood had a density rivalling that of a white dwarf. (the star, not a small Caucasian person).

It became my constant companion for several years…

Next time; losing my head….

A Tale of two Cities

Posted in Entertainment, Life, Music, Short Stories, Thoughts, Travel, Writing with tags , , , , on April 28, 2008 by kevmoore

Last weekend presented me with a lightning tour of two of the U.K.’s most ancient and famous seaside towns, both situated on the singularly uninviting East Coast, their almost identical parades of sweet shops and slot machines standing defiant against the grey forbidding, seething mass that is the North Sea. The North Sea has been a graveyard for Vikings, intrepid fisherman, U boats et al, in equal measure. one does not bathe in it willingly. therefore people’s desire to holiday anywhere within its proximity is concept I find completely without merit.

Nevertheless, a deal is a deal, as they say, so I boarded my flight, and headed for Luton airport, there to be met by our lead guitarist, amiable Dane Michael Koch.Mike steals a trolley Our first port of call was Skegness, where the flatlands of Lincolnshire bravely kiss the North seashore, and usually receive a meteorological smack in the mouth for their impudence. This famous seaside town’s motto “Skegness is SO bracing” can be easily translated to mean “it’s so goddamn windy here, if you buy one of our stupidly inane “kiss me kwik” hats, you’d damn well better staple it to your head”. Clever marketing that. Tell the public that the weather is awful, but in a nice way. I didn’t buy it for a minute.

We were playing in a venue called The Skyline, which is best described as follows: Take about five large electricity pylons, and stick them in the ground at strange angles, then get one enormous white rubber sheet and stretch it over the whole shebang, making it look pointy and stuff. there you have it. Looks great. Acoustically good? Forget it. It’s like playing inside a giant tent. Come to think of it, it IS playing inside a giant tent.

Fortunately, we had Nathan, our hired sound engineer for the evening. With almost no time for a soundcheck, due to the fact that the management unhelpfully allow the place to be swarming with punters all day long, we feared the worst. But we needn’t have worried, everything was crystal clear, great monitor sounds, I could hear every syllable I uttered. I cannot over-emphasise the sheer unfettered joy when it comes together like this and your crew is as professional as the band. the guy on the desk has the power of life and death over you, whether you triumph or fail is ultimately in his hands. On this night, we all did our job, and we stormed it. One down, one to go!

I cannot, in all conscience however, leave Skegness without mentioning the management. The company that run these resorts is legendary for its unwillingness to “go the extra mile” for the bands that entertain its patrons. We were denied accommodation, and meals, told to go and eat where the holidaymakers eat. We were given a plate of sandwiches though…..

This “no room at the inn” policy resulted in us having to strip our backline and leave the gig immediately after the show and get on the road for the next jewel of the east coast; the surely ironically-named “Great” Yarmouth. This, after I’d been up since 5 a.m. U.K. time. So, after 21 hours, three long car journeys and a plane ride, my head finally hit the wafer thin pillow on the pelmet masquerading as a bed in our cozy caravan at Vauxhall Holiday Park. But I won’t have a word said against them, we were afforded TWO free nights accommodation, whilst performing only one. Are you listening, Skegness?

My frustration at missing The Blockheads show that evening was tempered by the knowledge that the following day would bring reunions with old friends from SAILOR and SMOKIE.

The morning surprised us with its clearly sunny intent, and morphed into the hottest day of the year so far. Mike and I, feeling particularly healthy, opted for a walk into town and breakfast in a greasy spoon cafe, where the knowledge of the walk back eased our guilt at the cholesterol-fest that was placed in front of us.

Mark and Pete opted for an exercise-free self-cooked cholesterol fest in the comfort of the caravan. Our “portakabin” residence was something of a dichotomy. Worth perhaps the equivalent of a bundle of firewood, it boasted state-of-the-art kitchen appliances, including a seriously expensive looking Aga-style cooking range. Given the fact that most of the punters were busy gorging themselves on fish and chips and hot dogs, culinary luxuries like this seemed a little excessive.

The afternoon brought the wonder that is the multi-band soundcheck, where everybody plugs in everything and plays at the same time. To be a sound engineer presiding over this cacophony must surely require patience of herculean proportions.

To add to the chaos, we all renew acquaintances and talk about old times instead of getting things done. I love it. Guitar lead in hand, I ignore my responsibilities, and ensure that Phil Pickett, of Sailor, does too, as we discuss the pros and cons of living abroad. Phil is responsible for the massive Culture Club hit “Karma Chameleon” and played on most of that band’s albums, after his own success with Sailor. Our conversation is fragmented as we struggle to do our jobs, and I move on to annoying Grant Serpell, their drummer, and a dear friend. He is more concerned with getting back home to tee-off the following day, and to this end is determined to borrow everybody else’s drums and not use his own. He is a master at this, and inevitably succeeds. I know this will lead to me searching for Pete’s drumstool at the end of the evening. I mention to Grant Miki’s passion for golf and her attempts to teach me. “Ah” he says in his cultured tones, “You need to read my golf self-help book” I look at him, puzzled. “it’s called How to play like a twat” he offers, helpfully.

Later that same evening, he accosts me as I leave the stage , resplendent in my new jacket that i had bought that very afternoon. “ah” he says “you’ve been reading my other book, How to DRESS like a twat.” I’ve missed these guys….

While Sailor invited the crowd to drink from their “Glass of champagne” I spent time backstage with Terry Uttley, original bass player with Smokie. We’d last got together in Essen years ago, and spent the whole aftershow in the hotel nightclub, emerging for breakfast at 6am. Needless to say, we were both taking it a little easier these days! Smokie’s second singer, Alan Barton was a friend and near-neighbour, when I used to live in Yorkshire, who tragically succumbed to injuries sustained in a motorway crash while travelling to a show we were due to perform together in Stuttgart. It became a tribute concert to him.

A chat with Terry is always good value, he has so many stories, ranging from his working in San Francisco with the legendary guitarist Pat Thrall, to playing in the Kremlin, summoned for a New Years Eve command performance by Vladimir Putin. One happy outcome of our chat is that I will be able to reconnect him with an old friend, the singer Peter Sarstedt, with whom he’d lost touch.

For our part, we played out of our skins for the second night in a row, and were blessed again by a great onstage sound, courtesy of another professional crew. These nameless people, frequently hairy, frequently unfeasibly large, and usually both, generally go unsung, but they are the glue that hold these shows together, they are the magicians that make your heroes really appear larger than life, and they deserve the thanks of both the audience and the artists.

We wandered out front to watch some of Smokie’s show, and of course BC Sweet and Smokie’s sets share a common bond, the songwriting genius of Nicky Chinn and Mike Chapman. Virtually every hit single both bands played that night were written by those two guys, an incredible achievement. A fitful sleep followed, as much a result of continued adrenaline levels as uncomfortable beds, but we were extremely satisfied with our job over two nights. It’s a constant challenge to step up to the plate and keep the standard high, usually against the odds, i.e. long flights, long waits, bad sound etc, but this week the pieces came together beautifully. Pete and I hit the road at 8 a.m. in order for me to get my fight from London Stansted back to Alicante, and with a rushed breakfast in the airport Starbucks to see me through the flight, I prepared to do it all again next week, only this time in Germany.

Text and photos by Kev Moore