Wednesday, July 30, 2008

Let's Make A Racket - XVIII

Two posts in one again. Bargain Thursday!
Car Porn and Racket all in one.

Today, let's celebrate Aston Martin.
I could write reams on the history of these beautiful cars but instead I'll simply give you a link to their own history page and you can check it out if you want to.

Today we are here to ogle …
To gaze in wonder and to sigh and moon over pure car porn.

Let's start at the very top.

I give you that most rare and perfect marriage between England and Italy, the sublime quintessence of elegance that is the Zagato-bodied DB4.
If that doesn't make your heart leap with joy then you have the soul of a tax collector.

We've seen this before but I for one am not going to resist posting it again.
Feast your lucky eyes on Sir Stirling Moss's LeMans DB3, still racing today, as is Sir Stirling himself.

A snarling beast enrobed in beauty.

A lovely line of Astons, from DB1s to DB3s, all with immaculate racing pedigree.

I just wish you could hear this.

How many cars make you want to fondle them like this one does?

The DB4 oozes grace and power.

Something they still manage to capture today, though with not quite the same charm.

The beast within.

It's what weekends are for.

"Nobody Does It Better".

So … We've feasted our eyes; let's torture our ears … To the Racket!
Searching the archives once again for car-related music, I dug really deep into the past and came up with this recording of The Blind Willies playing Tom Waits' "Old '55".



Recorded in my dining room many years ago, this features Michael on my crappy old Yamaha keyboard playing "piano" and some overdubbed "strings", while I play my Strat straight into the desk.

"Straight into the desk" means just what it says on the box; the guitar is plugged directly into the mixing desk without being put through an amplifier so you get a nice "clean" sound and get to hear the guitar's natural tone.

To hear the same guitar played through an amp, try comparing it with this one from earlier in the Racket series.



Boring stuff for Istvanski now:

My old custom Strat has Fender Lace Gold pickups and a Bartolini active circuit.
The first two of those lovely vintage Telecaster knobs do their usual job of volume and tone but the third one cranks in the active circuit so I can get infinite sustain and perfectly controlled harmonic feedback.
Cheaty, but cool!
The long note at the start of the second solo in song two is this knob turned up to about "3". It's great for songs like Boston's "More Than A Feeling", where you need to hold notes for bloody ages, or shove it up to ten if you want to seriously party!
That sucker eats valves for breakfast, though, so I use it sparingly as new sets of Boogie bottles don't come cheap.

The guitar body is refinished in Lotus Sports Cars "Opalescent Pearl" paint (it was originally white). Phil bribed security with chocolate, sneaked it into the factory one night and used around £150 worth of paint on the job. It looks beautiful under stage lights; all the gorgeous pearl colours wash over it as it moves. It's finished with a hand-applied cellulose lacquer; hard to get these days outside of vintage car restorers but sonically so much better than the plastic crap they put on guitars nowadays.

The neck's a deep, round-profiled flame maple and the fingerboard birds-eye maple, cut to my favourite 21" Les Paul radius rather than the usual 17" Fender radius and with Gibson fat frets.
The dot markers are abalone and get smaller as they go up the neck like my Martin D18; a more elegant solution than a normal Strat.
The switch below the middle knob cuts out the active circuit when I don't need it and a pull-switch incorporated into the same knob gives a cut in tone shaped to sound like Robert Cray (that dates the guitar for you).
The trem is a Kahler Flyer. They don't make those any more, which is a damned shame. Its a "cam" style trem rather than a pivot like the Floyd-Rose, so if I break a string it stays in tune so I can finish the song. It also means double and triple stop bends don't detune the upper strings like they do on a Floyd.
Combine that with a graphite nut and Sperzel Trim-loks and I can change a string mid song while still comping with my left hand.

Hokay … Boring stuff over. Suffice to say I love this guitar.

Car Porn - The Silverstone Classic

As I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted by some llamas:

Silverstone! Yaaaay!

Phil waits on the pit wall for the start of the first race.

And here they come!
The growling engines of sexy Jaguars.

Woohoo! Pure auto-eroticism on wheels!

A pack of supercool Lotuses.

Roaring and thundering around the track at ear-buggering volume.

Tearing down the home straight, leaving in their wake a bunch of deaf people reeking of burnt rubber and hot engine oil.

Slipping slideways through the corners, glinting in the sun.
Sigh …

There'll be some of this later in the week.

And probably some of this, too.

A smidgeon of this.

And very likely a dollop of that.

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

A Reginald Perrin Moment

Stupid bloody trains.
They got me home just in time for bed last night, so I've not had the time to go through all the weekend's photos and do another Car Porn post.
Yesterday the sun was shining so we started with "heat-related speed restrictions" being imposed and then the signals failed all over the place, the trains that had to sit in the sun broke down and the whole crappy system ground to a halt.
This happens every week of every summer.
In the winter we have "the wrong kind of snow", in the autumn, "leaves on the line" and in spring, "reduced track adhesion" (it's raining).
This morning they added a new excuse to their lame lateness list: "Llamas on the line".
You heard …
Llamas.
Fifty minutes late because creatures from Patagonia had come over here for their holidays and decided to do a bit of train-spotting.
Llamas!
For fuck's sake.
Thank goodness I'll be working from home tomorrow and Thursday.

Sunday, July 27, 2008

Car Porn Summer - Week Three

Just a quicky tasty taster for yet more car porn to come as we have been at the Silverstone Classic meeting this weekend.

Jag porn.

Sir Stirling Moss's Aston Martin.
How sexy is that?

The view from the pit wall.
This close, the sound is amazing! Actually it tears your ears clean off.

Stirling's old Aston in action.

1970s Formula One cars screaming past our VIP lounge (YAY).

Right now I am super-pooped and going straight to bed. There will be more of this kind of nonsense all week.

Interlude

I'm off to Silverstone for yet more motor racing.
While I'm away, here is some light music.
The lovely Richard Hawley moaning about not getting laid in Sheffield on a Saturday night.

Saturday, July 26, 2008

Not Fade Away

Fuck me.
Today, Mick Jagger qualifies for his old age pension.

To keep me from despair, let's remind ourselves just why we loved the Stones in the first place.

This is fucking awesome!
Footage of the Stones playing live at the 1964 NME Poll Winners' Awards Show, just prior to their first US tour.
Introduced by creepy Jimmy Saville, Mick, Keith, Brian, Charlie and Bill thrash their way through Not Fade Away, I Just Want To Make Love To You and I'm Alright.
Brew up a coffee and sit and enjoy this.
Feel free to scream.

Friday, July 25, 2008

Holy Crap! He's HAPPY!

Hokay!
It's Friday night and I'm feeling perky.
Something strange happened today. I feel fit as a fiddle and happy and healthy for the first time in months.
Lethargy Boy got a kick in the ass and has spent the day sprinting all over London and up and down hundreds of stairs without even getting out of breath.
And we're off motor racing for the third weekend in a row, which is fun, fun, fun for the saggy old man who never grow'd up.

So, as I've got a head full of nuthin' and a nice chilled glass of Gewurztraminer, let's celebrate the weekend with a couple of spiffy songs.

First up: As it's Mister Moose's birthday over at Savannah's place, here's a wonderful video he posted a while back but which has since disappeared as he has renewed his blog.
Watch and learn.



And here's one of my favourite protest songs of all time. Weel and myself used to hum this whenever our old boss walked in the room.
Mavis, Pops and the girls giving it some serious righteousness.
Pops can write a lyric that cuts the bullshit clean away and smacks you in the face with the truth.
I love it!

Thursday, July 24, 2008

Let's Make A Racket - XVII

It's Thursday so it must be time to make another racket.

Inspired by the example of the Trachtenburgs in yesterday's post I dug up this little gem:
A sleazy mess of shambolic cacophony that brings a hitherto unattained level of incompetence to the term "untogether".
We were having fun, though. Can you tell?
This crappy track exemplifies all that I love about sanity bands. We are simply a bunch of musicians in the same room having a whale of a time.
Ah, the sheer, childish joy of not giving a fuck.

I give you Michael, Steve, Dave, Laurie and myself, down at the blues club, stumbling and lurching our joyfully befuddled way through "Waiting On You."

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Best Party Ever

I love happy coincidence.
After yesterday's post on schadenfreude, Phil pointed me at my Dilbert desk calendar, which I hadn't checked since the weekend.
Lo and behold …

Hee hee hee. How cool is that?

And talking of cool coincidences:
Katie's post yesterday mentioned Katharine and Otto's 1962 vacation movie, which immediately rang bells in the stranger parts of my brain.

Many years ago, the wonderful Peahen introduced me to a band whose link has been in my sidebar since day one (take a look; it's still there).

I wrote:
"There's a strange band over there in the States called the Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players (their link is in my sidebar, inevitably). They take all those old home movies and sets of slides and set them to music (imagine a hilariously amateurish They Might Be Giants tribute band with a nine-year-old girl drummer and a mom who operates the projector). They did a great song called Mountain Trip To Japan, 1959, starring some folks' holiday slides they found in a yard sale. They also performed a short opera based around an early 1970s Mc.Donald's staff training slideshow. They'd have a whale of a time with your postcards."

To which Katie replied:
"Dive if you can believe it, I've actually SEEN the Trachtenburg Family perform LIVE! Yes, for 3 months in 2003 I lived in my sister's apartment in Williamsburg Brooklyn and got to see them at a local joint. They were absolutely hysterical, the daughter especially, and I just loved what how they combined the slides, movies and their music."

So here - for any of you who wish to bathe in the glow of Katie's über-coolness - are the glorious Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players performing "Moutain Trip To Japan, 1959".



Check out the rest of their stuff, too. They are a cure for both the blues and sanity.
They're still going and still wonderful.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

A Blasphemer Writes

Ah, schadenfreude …
A guy got on the train this morning at Ipswich and was struggling up the aisle, looking desperately for a seat.
Big guy. Smart business suit, briefcase, laptop bag, newspaper under one arm, coffee in one hand.
He suddenly rears back and lets rip with an enormous sneeze, at the same time raising his hand politely to cover his mouth.
As a result, he sneezes into his latte and sprays three rows of seats, then drops it and it spills coffee all the way down his front, at which point he tries to catch the falling cup and drops the rest of his stuff before falling flat on his arse as the train lurches into motion.

True!
I make no apology for laughing so hard I nearly wet myself. The rest of the carriage found it pretty funny, too - even those poor sods who got sprayed with coffee and sneeze.

Shadenfreude is the most basic form of humour; laughing at the misfortunes of others.
No matter how much we like to think of ourselves as enlightened, caring, civilised beings we still laugh like the pack of fuckwit chimps we really are when someone walks smack into a lamp post or Wily E. Coyote blows himself up with his own Acme dynamite.

Schadenfreude does of course carry with it an element of "there but for the grace of God go I".
But you shouldn't be thanking God for letting you off, you should be thinking "Holy fuck! What kind of sicko deity does that to somebody?"
Some twisted old git of a God sitting at a wall of CCTV screens, seeing this poor bastard and hitting the "SMITE" button, then sitting back and giggling at His own cleverness.
Twat!

If it turns out there IS an afterlife I'm going to track down that old fucker and kick His arse so hard!
Then we'll see who's laughing.
If Robyn and Shan are right and He is up there, glaring down at me, then all I can say is "Your aim is off. You'll have to do better than that, beardy."

That's the trouble with religion: we've made our Gods in our own image so when Hans Moleman gets smacked in the nuts with a football our Gods find it just as funny as we do.
Actually, that explains just about all of the Old Testament …

Our ancestors were simply too crap to think up a decent God.
Sigh.
The Greeks imagined a bunch of layabouts bickering amongst themselves and shagging anything that moved.
The Hebrews gave us a bullying big brother, "Don't you mess with MY God! He's bigger than yours and He'll thump you!"
The Hindus … well, that's just weird, but at least it showed a bit of imagination.
The Japanese had eight million of the little fuckers scurrying about. "Everything has a spirit so treat it with respect or it might bite your ass".
The Buddhists dispensed with a God altogether, but replaced it with the silly idea that if you behave yourself you might get reborn as a bald bloke in an orange bedsheet … or an ant.

Religion … almost as funny as schadenfreude.
God walking into a lamp post. Now THAT would be funny!

Monday, July 21, 2008

Oh, Crap! More Car Porn

Hey!
Here's something new.
Motor racing!

Hokay, so I know I posted motor racing all last week but what the hell. I enjoy it.
Just a quickie taster from yesterday's splendid day out with Phil and Andy at Snetterton Circuit in Norfolk for the Lotus Celebration Day.

Oooh! A 211! Just like the one Phil was racing in last Sunday.
This one's sitting in the pit garage.

Now it's giving it some serious welly out of Russell Chicane. Yeehaa!

Sex.
No other word for it.
Aston Martin DB4.
Fuck, yeah!

More sex.
Aston Martin DB4 chasing down a DB5.
Sweet!

EEEEEEEEEYikes!
That's gotta hurt.

Hey! Check out this spooky cloud!
Phil thought it looked like something from cheesy Yank-wank movie, Independence Day; I thought it looked like a pie crust.
I'm right.

To cheer up everybody's Monday, here's something that always makes me happy.
Morning Musume! Yay!



I want to sleep with the whole damned band.
Is that so wrong?

Sunday, July 20, 2008

Same Old Same Old Sunday

Hey! Guess where we're going today.

Yup.
Motor racing.
Hee hee hee. I heard that chorus of groans.
Don't worry. Next weekend I'll be staying in and doing the ironing so things will get back to whatever passes for normality (NEVER "normalcy") around here.

I love the expression on this guy's face.

Anyhoo. While we're off at the races, here's a song to sing along to. Another classic from one of my all time favourite bands, Bongwater.

Everybody sing:
"Some have teeth
Some have hair
Some have soft, sweet petals
Some look like Cher

I am woman! Hear me roar!
I'll get down there on the floor …"
etc.



Happy Sunday.

Friday, July 18, 2008

Car Porn Week - The Race!

Yay! It's Day Five of Car Porn Week and at last we get to go racing with Phil up Goodwood's Hill Climb Course at the Festival of Speed.

In THIS! Yeehaa!
The totally gorgeous Lotus 211.

Cue a hatful of "helmet" gags as Phil and Nick (from Lotus Racing) try to avoid running over a fat bird who thinks day-glo orange is "flatteringly slimming".

Let's take a look at some of the competition in the Sunday Times "Supercar" class, shall we?
An Aston Martin GT3 LeMans racer, followed by the Caparo T1, which had rather a lot of trouble sitting in the queue without conking out. Then a bunch of Ferraris (what's the word for that? A herd? A flock? I think it's a "pose" of Ferraris).

Yay for our fellows from the Lotus team in the astonishing Tesla.
When this baby flashed past us the only sound it made was the whoosh of tyres on tarmac, accompanied by the gasp of the crowd.

A sweet pair of Astons: a DBS in front and an awesome V12 Vantage RS behind it.

A closer look at the strangeness that is the Caparo T1, waiting in the paddock before the start.

Not your average car park contents.

Some serious groats on display.

More helmet gags as the boys wait their turn.

The run down from the paddock to the start straight.

This is the tyre warming area. A delicious stretch of squealy, smoky mayhem as each car spins it's wheels like a maniac to try to get the tyres hot enough to stick to the road.

The Ariel Atom gets ready for the off.
The Lotus waits with the others.

Holy crap! We're off!

You can make your own FREEEEEEOWM noises.

See that tiny speck of yellow way off in the distance?
That's the boys.

A bit closer …

I only had time for three quick exposures before they roared past at a shit scary velocity and disappeared round the corner.
At this point, Phil and Nick are going FUCKING FAST!

Coming back down the hill at a more leisurely rate. Time to pose.

And time to take a photo of Andy and Dive …

… taking a photo of Phil and Nick.
More posing.

This time with Jodie being interviewed behind them.

Heading back toward the paddock.

"Kink."

"Look what we did!"
Phil and Nick watch the video footage.
See the tiny camera strapped to the middle of the roll bar? That was attached to the camera Nick's holding.
As soon as he gets round to it we'll post the thing on here so you can all share the experience and see just how damned scary and fast it was.

An awesome day!