I can tell you now that I have found a new love in music, and that´s pretty damned exciting at seventy years. What a voice, what superb accompaniment and recording values, what a play-list, in short, what an album. Listen out ofr Moopn To Gold by Karla Harris and the Joe Alterman Trio
Our taste in music, looking back now, was probably quite similar, and as I say the last time we met was coincidentally at the same gig. During the interval Andrew and I (with his mate joining in) struck a conversation / debate / argument (delete as you think appropriate) about the relative merits of American and British contemporary song-writers. As many readers will know, music to me is all-things Americana but Andrew Moorhouse is a man of the world, with his love of music reaching out around the world with British writing at its core. I was getting a nit more hot under the collar as the ´chat´ developed but I do remember that in his calm and moderate manner Andrew just smiled beatifically, and cited Elvis Costell as the model musician.
Miranda Lambert had a hit with John Prine´s That´s The Way The World Goes Round, or what had long become otherwise known as the happy enchilada song for reasons that Terry Wogan would have appreciated with his love of mondagreens.
Some reviewer I am. I don´t know where to begin to describe tonight´s incredible concert other than waffle on, as above, in the hope the words will fall to the floor and rearrange themselves, Countdown fashion, into something that makes a vague sense.
The Sidetracks And Detours management team is eager to fly soon to mainland Spain to see The Adsubian Gallery. which is top of our list of places to visit. We are already enchanted by web site photographs of the gallery and its charming, village setting. The Gallery keeps us informed of their events, from exhibitions to workshops to arts courses
London had never seen anything quite like the brothers Kray, the sadistic twins who ran a protection empire and palled around with cafe society.
“If people call me a Sunday painter, I’m a Sunday painter who paints every day of the week.”
LS Lowry
Artist L. S. Lowry lived with his overbearing mother, Elizabeth, until her death in 1939. Bed-ridden and bitter, Elizabeth tries to dissuade her bachelor son from pursuing his artistic ambitions, while never failing to voice her disappointment in him.
We all know the famous artists whose work sells for millions – Salvador Dali, Andy Warhol, Damien Hirst, David Hockney, Pablo Picasso and Jeff Koons (and now Lowry?) to name but a few. It doesn’t take a genius to spot the common denominator – they’re all men.
As important as The Lowry Theatre has become as a venue for spectacular events, the manner in which they host t hem is also something of which they should feel very proud. I had the privilege of working at The Lowry as a travelling writing facilitator on a couple of occasions and was always well looked after.hem should
