Radio Wan: The Nocturnal Sound of Lethmachen
Broadcasting every evening from sunset to sunrise. Thursday to Saturday…
6- 9pm: Dawn’s Early Night. Dawn ‘Storm’ Richardson prepares you for the party you want, but will probably never find. An upbeat if often chaotic and confrontational set of party bangers perfect for that night out on the most haunted town. ‘Whatever Jo Whiley & Edith Bowman are’ explains the 21 year old DJ, ‘That is what I am not’.
9pm-midnight: Lethmachen’s Glory. Our popular magazine show for those enjoying a more sedate weekend. Lethmachen born and bred, author and artist Glory Allan presents three hours of everything that is local and looming. Includes features, phone-ins, music and special guests. Inevitably, the tone often turns supernatural as the witching hour approaches.
Midnight-3am: Relentless Radio. Rick Burke and Roger Hare keep the party going for the post-pub crowd with their notorious ‘Relentless Radio Show’. Wall to wall, non-stop music and banter from the boys. These lunatics have to be heard to be believed, it sometimes sounds as if they couldn’t stop the music and mayhem even if this was all they longed for in the world! Expect all the classic catchphrases: ‘I can’t take it any more!’ ‘Make it stop!’, ‘Just let me sleep!’ etc etc. You probably know them already!
3am-6am: The Small Hours. The enigmatic, reclusive and softly spoken Stefan Small edges us towards dawn with the help of his eclectic, expansive record collection. Stefan is rarely seen by the other DJ’s, always working and leaving alone, carrying his record box home across the fields as day breaks. Spectral and uneasy sounds, some say his show is the essence of Lethmachen.
The Governess: Radio Wan Interview (September 2013)
As Lethmachen institution The Governess prepares to take the stage as a headline act at the Lethmachen musical festival, the enigmatic musician
talks to Radio Wan’s Simon Shoeman about nerves, repetition, and the poverty of ‘folk’.
SS: What was your reaction to the headline slot?
G: Shock. And then worry about coming on after Dean [Childe, from the Heirlooms].
SS: What is worrying you about Dean?
G: He is pretty unpredictable, isn’t he? I am prepared to be upstaged.
SS: And the shock?
G: Well, I’m hardly a household name. Even in Lethmachen.
SS: I wouldn’t say that!
G: Well, yes, it does depend on the household. And I have been around a long time. I think that is why I was given the slot. Some people remember, and I appreciate that. Still, it makes me nervous.
SS: Considering your longevity, and all the interest in folk music, why do you think you aren’t more widely known?
G: Well, that is a bit of my own deliberate doing, but it’s also something beyond my control. There is a sense in which I really did want something other than this. Certainly I don’t fit in with the folk scene. I should say here, by the way, that I think that whole scene died maybe eight years ago.
SS: Why don’t you feel a part of the folk thing?
G: It’s just dull graduates trying to find some meaning in their life. And because they are so dull – I suspect they had neat pencil-cases – the little bit of culture they lay claim to – that structuring authority – is jealously guarded. Communities can rarely come to terms with the violence of their own making, and the folk scene certainly has real issues in this area. Anything that resists easy circulation, they expel with force without ever owning up to what they are doing.
SS: What about the wider alternative scene? Nationally, I mean – and other genres…
G: Yeah, I used to think that the whole thing resisted me. And it does. But now I know I resist it too. I’m not simply a victim. Take production. The last Governess album [Songs of Horror] is getting a re-release on Fraudulent Medium. Gerry [Mander, record label supremo], who I really like by the way, was insistent that we got in mastered, to make it ‘radio friendly’. Look, the radio has no friends. You can put on it whatever you like. Spending 50 quid a track to make it pass the gatekeeper – what’s the thinking behind that? As far as I can see, this is just spending money in order to secure the status of the work. I don’t know where it all began – actually, probably with Crass or Psychic TV or someone like that. But there is a whole Wire aesthetic that – when it isn’t doing its dull Romantic investment in pure sound thing – is about validating expensively packaged rubbish. Really, when did that become what the alternative thing is about? That’s ok for Frieze, but it’s never been what I liked about music.
SS: For those who don’t know your music, what is it like?
G: Well, for all that I’ve said above, it is folk music, basically. Our version of it does away with many of the familiar elements – the appeal to authenticity, the craftsmanship, the strong-armed pleasantness – but the idea of it scuppering notions of the certainty of the authorial voice, the appeal to the Gothic, and the notion of repetition, are bits that I’m happy to work with.
SS: You call it, ‘The Tin-Pot baroque’?
G: Exactly. So the songs have a ballad-y, simple, story-telling structure, the lyrics can be a bit ornate, and when we record, the music ends up sounding delicate, layered and a bit hollow. Live we tend to have a slightly fuller sound, and are a bit more obviously aggressive. I wish that wasn’t the case, actually, but that is the way it goes. Most of the tunes are nicked from ancient sounding popular songs – ‘Greensleeves’, ‘Waltzing Matilda’, that kind of thing. They bring a mouldy feel with them. Also, it’s kind of like The Residents once kind of said ‘there are too many tunes out there, and we don’t want to add to them…’ Pop music is all about repetition, in other words. As I already said, the songs aren’t polished and I can’t really play. But I try really hard to make each song into a little icon. Each one a jewel! That’s what makes the music so easy to dismiss, I think. It is the sound of an amateur trying. And a complete disinterest in making space for an audience. Neither can be tolerated at the moment. But I know – we all know – that it is precisely the sound that is beyond the pale now that will exercise future ears. You have been warned.
SS: Can you tell us some more about the album?
G: Well, we could play a track from it now. Maybe ‘A Walk in the Woods’? That probably is the best one to act as an introduction.
SS: That would be great.
G: This recording is pretty old. I guess about 13 or 14 years old. It’s got a guest vocal by Mario Vendredi. It’s about a father taking his kid up a mountain. The kid’s scared, and he keeps saying, ‘what if this happens?’ And the Dad keeps replying ‘yeah, that would be scary. But what if the reverse were true? It would be worse.’ I think the tune for the verse was nicked from a Nick Cave song, but I forget which one. There are 8 other tracks on the album. Nearer release date, I’ll give you a rundown of all of them if you want.
SS: That would be wonderful. One last question. You are famously reclusive. What do you think about the festival crowd getting to actually see you?
G: [moves hands in ‘mystical’ fashion] Who says they will?
SS: Ah! Very good! Thank you. Here, then, to whet your appetite – and gloriously un-mastered – is The Governess with ‘A Walk in the Woods’.
A Walk in the Woods
(Lyrics reprinted by kind permission of The Governess)
THE SON:
Oh Father, I feel The wood – its wicked eyes, They are fixed upon me all the time
THE FATHER:
Would you prefer That it were blind Its fingers fumbling for you?
THE SON:
Oh father, I feel The forest is alive That thought stays with me all the time
THE FATHER:
Would you prefer It had long since died Laid so cold upon you?
Above the mountain top – The Pines! Shaking against the sky We must go there, you and I You and I
THE SON:
Oh father I can hear A great breast fall and rise As if the wood it were respiring
THE FATHER:
Would you prefer It held its breath And came upon you without warning?
THE SON:
The Forest is in motion Oh father of mine A great beast stalking towards its end
THE FATHER:
Would you prefer it still As a crocodile Cold and curled and waiting?
Above the mountain top – The Pines! Shaking against the sky We must go there, you and I You and I You and I
RADIO WAN ALBUM REVIEW
KELLER & KIN: THE COTTINGLEY TAPES (Fraudulent Medium Records, 2013)
At first you feel like you are eavesdropping. A moment later, you realise how long it is since you have felt that way. The Cottingley Tapes have finally been made available to the public. In the current climate, it is almost unheard of to find yourself reviewing music so steeped in mystery, let alone music which serves not only as an obituary but also as evidence in an ongoing criminal investigation. Inevitably, rumours had circulated regarding the contents of The Cottingley Tapes. Wild hypotheses have dominated online forums for months, spinning tales from conjecture and hearsay. We have been inundated with hoaxes: embezzlers claiming to be in possession of a copy of the masters; failed musicians attempting to pass of their own insipid work as the genuine article. On first listen to The Cottingley Tapes, I can assure you that none of those would be imitators even come close. In fact, within a few tracks, one of the horrors exposed is just how trivial, how uninspired is the imagination of the average musician. Naturally, I would not wish the fate of Keller & Kin upon anyone and commiserate with their friends and family. Yet on listening to the legacy of their final days, as a music journalist I must also pause to lament how rare it is for music to deliver such a visceral, irredeemable impact. Perhaps the power of experience lies in the withholding of information. For once we were spared the leaking tracks, the press releases, the coy announcements on the official website. We knew nothing, we heard nothing. After all, the band were no longer with us. What else was there for our imaginations to do but fill in the gaps, the overawing spaces, and paint them, black?
Many at least will be familiar with the back story, if not with what was to come. Having ceaselessly toured the local circuit over the last few years, Keller & Kin built up a loyal following around the bars of Lethmachen. They even achieved modest sales of their debut album ‘Seems Like Old Times’, issued early last year on Fraudulent Medium Records. Fraudulent Medium supremo Gerry Mander is the first to admit that Keller & Kin’s polished imitation of folk and bluegrass styles is hardly representative of his label, yet is quick to justify the signing. ‘It was business instinct. I knew I could sell those boys to those ageing ex-student, real ale drinker types’. Studio engineer Denny Fox concurs: ‘I know they got a bit of flak when it came out their interest in folk and bluegrass was only really due to a Jools Holland compilation album, but they were a polite bunch of lads and they really could play. There is an audience for that stuff. People who don’t really want that wild thrill anymore. Not from music, not from life They just want to be the same as everyone else, but also better than some’. In an uncharacteristic display of vulnerability, Mander confesses to feeling a degree of responsibility over what befell his protégés whilst they were recording that difficult second album. ‘Nobody could have imagined it would have been that difficult’ he sighs despondently. ‘It was their idea. Edwin Keller wanted to capture a more genuine, earthy atmosphere for this record. But still, I should never have agreed to them renting that isolated farmhouse…’
To be fair, nobody could have predicted the severe, unseasonable weather that ravaged Lethmachen early this spring. Unrelenting snow storms, followed by extensive flooding, rendered much of the county impassable for weeks on end. Worst hit of all was the rural wilderness beyond the village of Flinchley. One of the few buildings still standing out there was the old Cottingley place, a half derelict farmhouse that had remained uninhabited for decades. Unfortunately this is where Keller & Kin had holed up to record, employing a vintage eight track using ferric cassettes to capture an air of authenticity lacking in these days of pro-tools and auto-tune. With them they had taken their instruments, enough food to sustain them for about a fortnight, and very little else. Smart phones, I-Pads and laptops were banned. This was to be a musical journey into the past, escaping the materialism and constant demands of the modern day. ‘I think I might have mentioned Trout Mask Replica to them, how Beefheart recorded that album’ shrugs Denny Fox, ‘They didn’t have much knowledge of music so I turned them on to The Captain. Edwin and the boys liked the idea of locking themselves away somewhere difficult to find, but didn’t intend it to last more than a few weeks. It was just supposed to bring the band in to harmony. They all had young families and had spent some time apart’. When the band failed to return from their hideout after close on a month, and their families were unable to reach the farmhouse because of high waters, rescue services were dispatched to Cottingley. There is some truth in what you have heard. The body of lead vocalist and guitarist Edwin Keller was found hanging from the rafters in the parlour. What were eventually identified as the remains of banjo and accordion player Arlo Windsor-Martin were uncovered in an upper pasture spared by the flood. Bass player Alec D’Uberville and drummer Rupert Winterbottom remain unaccounted for.
With so much left unexplained the local police, by agreement with Fraudulent Medium Records, have now sanctioned the release of The Cottingley Tapes in a desperate hope that someone listening will be able to shed some light on the dark sounds communicated within. And so finally we get to hear the last will and testament of Keller & Kin. As perhaps expected, the first two songs on the chronologically ordered tape do not veer far from the template of their first album. ‘Heartland (No Coward Soul Is Mine)’ and ‘Common Ground’ are lilting reflections on the importance of building relationships with loved ones, full of homespun wisdom and mild achievements. However, it seems the weather turned shortly after the recording of this opening duo. ‘Tempest 1’ sounds like a field recording, possibly taken in the woods outside Cottingley, effectively documenting the rising wind and rain lashing the area, developing a restless rhythm of its own. Although the title references Shakespeare, a key influence on Keller, nothing is ever quite the same again. A sense of unease begins to creep into ‘Remember When We Were Feudal’ and especially ‘Roots’, the latter a rather laboured allegory utilizing the legend of the mandrake plant (‘You say you heard me when I was found/I was already screaming underground’). There then follows a reprise, ‘Tempest 2’, apparently the sound of the band attempting to emulate the hostile weather conditions that were becoming increasingly oppressive. The first half of the recording closes with a bizarre solo effort from Edwin Keller, perhaps simply an attempt to broaden the band’s sonic palate, which can be interpreted as bitterly questioning the supposed raison d’être of Keller & Kin. Unquestionably an attack on nostalgia, with a view of the past that is suffocating rather than celebratory, Keller intones over a fragile piano ‘the passage of time is cluttered/there is no way through the woods/no room for manoeuvre’.
It has been estimated that a significant lull in recording then occurred, for reasons that remain to be established. When the band reassembles, they sound altered; more ragged, increasingly desperate. Their final performance as a full ensemble is a sprawling, untamed epic announced as ‘Birnam To Dunsinane’. Adopting a radically different vocal delivery, Edwin Keller spits out a diatribe against nature, rejecting the primal truths he had previously identified in rural imagery (‘the bird has fallen from the nest/a fish lies stranded on the grass/the dog whines for the leash…’). Closer to some terrifying, unexplored strain of prog rock than their typical gentle folk, this song proved to be the final coherent statement from the band. As the track mercifully collapses in on itself, it segues into ‘Tempest 3’, a recurring motif now represented by nothing more coherent than a chorus of rasping, guttural screams and what some have interpreted as the muffled sounds of violence. Any subsequent titles have been assigned by Gerry Mander in retrospect, as the band’s intentions are no longer explicit. ‘Babel’ covers the seemingly endless section of the tape full of animalistic grunts and slobbering, occasionally shattered by piercing shrieks and squeals, accompanied only by the constant sighs and groans of the timber. This item climaxes in what could be a pursuit, leading from in to out, and possibly a cry stifled. A few minutes of silence follow, then a voice draws in to recite an accappella lullaby, maliciously whispering the refrain ‘blue face in the grass’ ever more quietly, as if retreating from the mike. Some consider the vocal to be performed by banjo player Arlo Windsor-Martin, as his instrument is plucked at random, yet others have suggested that in fact this is lead singer Edwin Keller delivering a mocking impression of Windsor Martin’s trademark falsetto (‘where did you think you would run to? /where did you think you would fall? /when did you think you would go home? /why did you think that at all?’). Immediately after there follows what has been aptly labelled ‘The Howling’, out of which, unpredictably and astonishingly, emerges a fragile acoustic ballad (‘No Inheritance’) sung by a man audibly torn (and usually identified as Keller). ‘Child my hands are empty/I have nothing you want to give/the name I thought would shape you/you will soon outlive’. The tape concludes with the sound of a chair being kicked away.
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Radio Wan Interview: The Red Deeps (October 2011)
Sister and Brother Garage Band The Red Deeps talk to Simon Shoeman of Radio Wan about boredom, friendship and why they are not you know who…
Mary-Ann Liver: So, let’s get The White Stripes thing out the way shall we?
Simon Shoeman: I take it they top your FAQs?
Mary-Ann: Well, I am a girl and Blackwood is my brother and we are in a band that no one else is in, so, hey, why not make the connection?
Blackwood Liver: The White Stripes were an influence on us. There is no question about that.
Mary Ann: I think the Horrors are exactly like the Rolling Stones, by the way. There are 5 of them, and they are male.
Blackwood: You can see why Mary-Ann is upset about this. We do get asked this question a lot. And we are very proud of our songs. They took a long time to work out, and they aren’t actually like any White Stripes songs, obviously. But, you know, we are both brother and sister garage bands, and I actually think the work they have done has helped audiences to kind of get a handle on us.
Mary Ann; Personally, I can say that I never listened to them before a month ago.
Simon: What did you listen to?
Mary Ann: Growing up we were pretty stuffed. I‘d go round friend’s houses, and their parents would have loads of stuff on cd. Rap, and old indie stuff and dub. I think we had – did we have Maria Callas?
Blackwood: Yes.
Mary Ann: And Andrew Lloyd Webber. Both ‘best ofs’. Nothing that looked like anyone had actually made a choice…
Blackwood: There was always music on the radio. And anyway, I think Dad, especially, was really interested in our musical development. He wanted me to be a success in another field, but he always supported my interests. And I’ve still not ruled out going to …
Mary Ann: Could we talk about something else here? I’d like to talk about the music, Blackwood.
Simon: What about music now, then? What do you listen to?
Mary Ann: I like MIA. Also Hank Williams, Last Poets, Nick Cave. Anything with balls.
Simon: And you, Blackwood?
Blackwood: I like Billy Childish. I also have been listening to a lot of ‘Godspeed You Black Emperor’. Commercial-wise, I still really reckon Muse.
Mary Ann: Along with every known farmer.
Blackwood: Mary-Ann…
Simon: You grew up in Lethmachen, didn’t you? Or at least round here?
Blackwood: At Mill Farm. It’s a few miles out.
Mary-Ann: We can’t wait to leave.
Blackwood: Not strictly true. I mean I want to leave, but I think we would have never been in this band if we hadn’t come from the farm. We’ve got an old barn we can practice in, all rigged up, and miles from anywhere. And Dad and Mum have always allowed us to do what we want in our spare time.
Mary –Ann. The situation was, you see, that they didn’t care what I was going to do. I think that had something to do with my lack of a… ha ha ha! And they would let lovely scrumply Blackwood do anything he wanted. Didn’t they boy? Didn’t they? [At this point, Mary-Ann is pretending to pat Blackwood like a dog. The patting becomes increasingly hard, and both the Liver’s begin to struggle with each other].
Mary –Ann: [after this brief tussle comes to an end]. Honestly, the sunshine out of his arse! Thank God for him, though. Imagine if I had been left on my own with only Seth and Lar-kin for company [these said in a ‘yokel’ accent].
Blackwood: we know no-one called Seth or Larkin. We have got a huge amount of supportive friends who have come to gigs and roadied for us since day one. We can do this, I think, go out and play and maybe do a small tour, because we come from a really solid place.
Mary-Ann: Seriously, I almost died from boredom. Bore-dom.
Simon: Tell us about the new record.
Mary Ann: It’s called ‘The Terrible Fire’. It’s about losing control.
Simon: In what way?
Mary –Ann: You know when you start talking, and you know your touching on something bad, and everyone is creeping out, but you just carry on anyway? And you can feel that pins and needles running up yours arms, and your back hunches. And you are not even thinking ‘here comes the fire!’, but there is that feeling of just…kindling?
Simon: So..yeah, like when you know you’ve doing something wrong and you still do it?
Mary-Ann: O Man, I don’t ‘know’ anything! If I knew, I’d be a little know it all. And I’d know to stay away from The Terrible Fire. It’s about a flush, you know? A real f***ing sex flush.
Blackwood: I think what I like about this track, is that we kept from doing the overdubs, even though there is a kind of pressure to do that. Even from oneself, in a way.
Mary-Ann: It is a boney, boney thing.
Blackwood: We got a good production this time, better than before, where I think we had the song worked beautifully, but the recording was just ‘whatever, get it down…’. Everything now is analogue in the first instance. It gives it that Albini kind of kick.
Mary-Ann: Blackwood’s snare actually kicks you in the head [at this point Mary-Ann reaches across the desk and presses her thumb into Simon’s forehead]. My brother’s got a snare that will kick you in the head. Ha ha!
Simon: Right!
Blackwood: I think it’s really best heard. Could we put the track on now, Simon?
Simon: Totally. Here then, and I think this is the first time it’s been played out, right…?
Blackwood: This is very cool…
Simon: So a bit of an exclusive on Radio Wan: this is The Red Deeps with ‘The Terrible Fire’…
For further information on The Red Deeps, contact Fraudulent Medium Records (www.fraudulentmediumrecords.com)
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Radio Wan Interview: Stephanie Pierce (July 2011)
Many local children and their parents will know Stephanie Pierce as a popular school teacher at Lethmachen Primary, where she supervises Year 3 and specialises in science projects. Far less people will be aware she has a second career as a budding musician because, as she admits herself, she has kept this talent hidden from all but a few. However, with the forthcoming release of her first single, it appears fair to say that she will not be able to keep this secret much longer. I met up with Stephanie to discuss her feelings at this pivotal moment:
How long have you been a musician?
Well I never really think of myself as a musician as such, that’s probably one of the reasons I am always reluctant to tell people about that side of my life, I suppose I feel like a bit of an impostor! But I come from quite a musical family, and I used to play the clarinet at school. Some of my earliest memories are of my mother playing the piano, and my dad was an avid record collector, classical mainly. In fact the reason I started playing the synthesiser is because my older brother was in a band when he was at college and one of his friends left a keyboard at our house over the Christmas holiday. Something about it fascinated me and I used to secretly experiment with it whenever I was left alone in the house! I liked the sounds I discovered because they reminded me of listening to the radio late at night. I used to do that a lot. It helped me get to sleep, listening to science fiction serials, light music programmes, even the shipping forecast!
Is it true you build your own instruments?
Sort of, I do like to try and adapt them. People who know me probably think I’m better at breaking my instruments! This all really stems from my interest in science and electronics; I want to know how a sound or a melody relates to the machine, the object, just as much as how it relates to the listener or the world outside. So I am forever dismantling my synthesisers, effects pedals, speakers etc. and putting them back together again. I’ve done that ever since I was a child, when I used to annoy my brother by dissecting his gadgets, remote control cars and things. That side of the music I treat like a hobby, something to occupy me on those weeknights after school when I’ve finished preparing for classes. My spare room is a maze of plugs and wires!
What are your songs about?
That’s difficult to say because I tend to translate ideas into moods rather than moods into precise ideas. Some of the themes I find myself returning to a lot are related to concepts of time and movement, oh and ghosts, obviously. Recently I have been reading a lot about exploration, particularly space exploration, so that has obviously had an influence on the new single. The music for ‘Unmanned Space Capsule’ was intended as a drifting, isolated dub sound, but not without hope, something like being lost in space or moving to a new town by yourself. There isn’t much of a vocal because I consider myself even less a singer than a musician! The few lyrics there are were written quite tongue in cheek, but during my reading I noticed how few women had been involved in the space programme, so they are meant as a comment on that ( ‘Mister Neil Armstrong went weak at the knees/turned to Buzz Aldrin and said/ this was never meant to be’). The instrumental on the b-side is called ‘Maya Deren’ just because it was inspired by watching her film ‘Meshes Of The Afternoon’, which you can rent from Lethmachen public library.
How has living in Lethmachen influenced your music?
I’m afraid I’m a bit restricted about how open I can be about Lethmachen, considering my position as a school teacher. Certainly the town had a big impact on me when I first moved here, which was only two years ago. I was twenty five at the time. Prior to that I had been living in the heart of a city, and had almost forgotten what was like to see the countryside at night, completely silent and unlit. Speaking in musical terms, I think I began to recognise certain sounds again, sounds that had perhaps been smothered by the noise and bustle of the city. The countryside is not as peaceful as some people pretend. On those long walks home, or even on quiet nights in, I often found a melody or a phrase playing around in my head that seemed to have come from nowhere, but had probably emerged from my surroundings. That happened less frequently in the city, where it all gets drowned out. Also I must say how supportive and encouraging so many people in Lethmachen have been, especially those on the local music scene. I was at quite a difficult period in my life when I arrived here, and was not sure how it would all work out, moving away from everything familiar into a completely different environment. Yet over the last year I really feel I have begun to build a future here.
Are you planning any live shows or tours?
Let’s just say there have been talks, but as yet nothing concrete. Personally I’m not convinced I would be that entertaining to watch, and can’t imagine how we would stage the show, but I’m open to ideas! There again, I’m also not sure what my pupils and their parents might make of it all! At the moment I will just be happy if people buy my single and enjoy it. One small step for them, one giant leap for me!
‘Unmanned Space Capsule’ b/w ‘Maya Deren’ by Stephanie Pierce will be released by Fraudulent Medium records on Monday, 1st August (www.fraudulentmediumrecords.com)
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