Search Results

A to Austr album - 1970 A to Austr Production/Contribution Menu Future Past BILL: "Global Village" Bill Nelson played guitars, including steel and Hawaiian. Production/Contribution Menu Future Past

2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2013 William's Study (Diary Of A Hyperdreamer) February 2008 Jan Aug Sep Oct Thursday 14th February 2008 -- 9:00 pm My stepfather George passed away during the early hours of 30th January. Less than 24 hours after being admitted to the Hospice in Wakefield. Emi and I drove over there, as mentioned in the previous diary entry, but George was sedated, barely conscious and breathing with difficulty when we arrived. The deterioration in his condition from only two days previously was quite shocking to see. There were a couple of extremely fleeting moments of recognition from George but it was impossible to ignore that the disease was in its terminal stage. He died sometime around 5:30 am, surrounded by his family. George's funeral was held at Wakefield Crematorium just over a week ago. A short but well conducted service which included music of George's choosing. Afterwards, the mourners gathered at Holmfield House in Wakefield Park for an informal buffet. George's daughter Jennifer, over from Australia where she lives, had assembled a laptop slide show of photographs from George's life. It was placed on a table for friends and relatives to view. George has gone now and nothing can change that but my mother Jean is left to face the tribulations and lonliness of widow-hood and there are serious concerns that I need to help her with. Emiko and I have driven over to Wakefield to support her almost every day. She's beginning to find her old resilience and strength again but it will be some time before she can discover a new path in life. She will be 80 years old this year and has health issues of her own to surmount but, despite her soft, generous and non-confrontational nature, she's a pragmatic, intelligent and aware woman, and certainly not one to give up the ghost. Nevertheless, at this point in time she's terribly vulnerable and needs time and love to regain her sense of self. I'm feeling the responsibility of caring for her keenly, particularly as my younger brother Ian is no longer with us. I've missed Ian even more these last few weeks. This sad situation has really underlined his absence. In many ways he was much tougher than me and his no-nonsense attitude would have been a tremendous asset during the last month or so and particularly in the weeks ahead. But the Nelson clan is not large and I'm now the only remaining offspring from the original union of my father and mother. Of course, my mother has grandchildren, (and let me just put on record that Ian's two sons and daughter have been wonderfully supportive of my mother during her latest bereavement). And mum has a wonderful great-grandson in the form of Luke, (my eldest daughter Julia's son). But, as the only surviving offspring of Jean and Walter Nelson, I guess I'm very much central to my mother's well-being. Poor mum, stuck with me as her only son. I make a pretty poor 'head of the family,' being generally hopeless at dealing with my own problems, but, whatever my shortcomings, I must do my best to help my mother through this difficult time. Awareness of mortality and the brevity and fragility of existence has been with me for much of my life but it has increasingly and painfully been brought into focus these last 18 months via a whole series of bereavements, both of family and friends of family. It inevitably casts a shadow across my own life and emphasises the need to work diligently at my music whilst I'm still able to. Morbid to think that way, I know but think about it I do (and probably far too often than is healthy). Music making has taken a back seat to recent pre-occupations but I have managed to maintain some sort of momentum by working late at night after returning from Wakefield. I've fallen behind schedule with the 'Silvertone Fountains' album, which I'd hoped to have made available by now but this hasn't neccesarily been a bad thing as I've had time to re-think aspects of it. I think I've finally settled on its ultimate form after several atttempts at it. It is, as of today, a 15 track album. Here is its track list: 'SILVERTONE FOUNTAINS.' 1: 'BEAUTY RIDES THE LAST BUS HOME.' 2: 'THE FABULOUS WHIRLIGIG OF NOW.' 3: 'AUTUMN DROWNS APPLES IN GOLDEN TIDES.' 4: 'SILVERTONE FOUNTAINS.' 5: 'LA VIE MODERNE.' 6: 'SLOW CLOUDS.' 7: 'HAPPY IN MY HELICOPTER HAT.' 8: 'DECEMBER WALTZ.' 9: 'THE WORLD SLEEPS LATE ON NEW YEAR'S DAY.' 10: 'YOUNG DREAMS, WHIRLED AWAY.' 11: 'SPEARMINT AND MOONBEAMS.' 12: 'WE VANISH AT SHADOWFALL.' 13: 'THE BELLS OF VILLEFRANCHE.' 14: 'FISH ARE DANCING IN THE FOUNTAIN OF DREAMS.' 15: 'SHOWER OF SPARKS.' There were so many tracks left over after I'd made the above selection that I decided to create a second, companion piece album which I've titled 'ILLUMINATED AT DUSK.' I intend to release the two albums simultaneously shortly after Easter. The track list for 'ILLUMINATED AT DUSK' is as follows:- 1: 'SWITCH ON THE SKY, LIGHT UP THE STARS.' 2: 'THE VIEW FROM MOUNT PALOMAR.' 3: 'DANCE OF THE LUMINOUS DIALS.' 4: 'THE VENETIAN CONJURER.' 5: 'A SPIRIT MAP OF MONTPARNASSE.' 6: 'ANGELS OBEY BELLS.' 7: 'NO MEMORIES HERE TO MAKE YOU SAD.' 8: 'ART IS MY AEROPLANE.' 9: 'SILVER SAILBOAT ON SAMSARA SEA.' 10: 'SPRINGTIME COMES A' DANCING.' 11: 'THE VANILLA SUMMER OF MR. WHIPPY. 12: 'FRANKIE UKELELE AND THE FIRE IN THE LAKE.' 13: 'LAKESIDE.' 14: 'THE ETERNAL FASCINATOR.' 15: 'THOUGHTS WITHOUT FRICTION.' 16: 'SUMMER OVER SOON.' 17: 'LITTLE KISSES WRAPPED IN CHOCOLATE.' 18: 'ILLUMINATED AT DUSK.' Packaging artwork is almost complete for 'Silvertone Fountains' and just begun for 'Illuminated At Dusk.' Mastering has yet to be done for each album and I need to book my good friend John Spence at Fairview Studios to accomplish this. The two albums offer 33 new pieces of music but there are STILL several pieces left over to be used as possible Nelsonica 08 album tracks. No doubt by the time autumn and the Nelsonica convention rolls 'round, I'll have a few more out-takes and misfit tracks to add to the list. For now though, 'Silvertone' and 'Illuminated' represent an intense period of work that began last year with the now abandoned 'Frankie Ukelele' project. This is a very rich and dense seam of music which will, I hope, reward the diligent listener for quite some time to come. For whatever reason, (and the reason is beyond both my control and understanding), music keeps coming down the pipeline and, despite all the work I've done over my career, despite all the previous music I've recorded, I'm still searching for creative satifaction...But it's hard won. Maybe I'll never find it but I'll keep on trying until I can't try any more. Very little else makes much sense to me in this world, more's the pity. Top of page

Soluna Oriana Bill Nelson download single - 30 June 2010 Singles Menu Future Past TRACKS: 1) Soluna Oriana NOTES: "Soluna Oriana" is an exclusive instrumental piece composed especially for a fund raising campaign launched on behalf of former Japan bass guitarist, Mick Karn, who was then undergoing treatment for cancer. Sadly, on the 4th of January, 2011, Karn lost his battle against the disease. Initially Nelson had written an exclusive song to donate to the Mick Karn campaign called "Bluebird", spending a week working on it in June 2010. With the track nearing completion though, Nelson re-thought his plans, concluding that the lyric to "Bluebird" was not in line with his original intentions, and he immediately set to work on "Soluna Oriana". The download was made available through SoundCloud, where it remains as a tribute to Karn. CURRENT AVAILABILITY: Available as a free digital download on this page, or in the Free Downloads section . BILL'S THOUGHTS: "Soluna Oriana has turned out to be an ethereal, floating, gentle piece, featuring an e-bow improvisation over a modal 'puzzle pattern' backdrop. It's a track that I would have been pleased to put on any upcoming album of mine but am excited to offer as a free download for those of you who would like to contribute to the Mick Karn appeal and receive a heartfelt little musical gift from me in return." _____ "I have fond memories of working with him in the 1980's. A wonderfully talented musician and artist." _____ "Like so many of my titles, the sound and juxtaposition of the words is enough to make the thing attractive to me, but...'Soluna' could be interpreted as a marriage of 'Sol' (Sun), and 'Luna' (Moon). Which, alchemically could be thought of as male and female, yin and yang, etc, etc. 'Oriana' suggests to me the 'Orient' and East, or even 'Queen Oriana'...certainly, to me, something royal and mystical. But above all, it feels poetic and exotically beautiful. In the context of the music it brings identity to the piece, but the real meaning is to be found in your own heart when you hear the music and understand the reason for its existence." Singles Menu Future Past

2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2013 William's Study (Diary Of A Hyperdreamer) June 2010 Jan May Sep Nov Dec Tuesday 15th June 2010 -- 7:00 pm (Begun Sunday 13th June 2010 and concluded Tuesday 15th June 2010.) Well, what a fabulous week it's been! Last Sunday, 6th of June, I received an email inviting me to attend Mojo magazine's annual 'Honours List' award ceremony in London. The email informed me that the magazine was planning to give a special signature award to one of rock n' roll's legendary artists and that they would like me to personally present it to him at the event. Well...you could have knocked me down with the proverbial feather. I was both excited and terrified by the prospect. The truth is I'm never really at my best in these 'celebrity situations,' being rather quiet and maybe a little shy compared to many rock musicians, but THIS was something that I couldn't possibly pass up, this was something REALLY special: Mojo magazine's 'Icon' award was going to be bestowed upon the legendary American guitarist Duane Eddy, an artist who, I can genuinely say, I owe my love of the guitar to. I've cited Duane many times in interviews over the 36 years since Be Bop Deluxe released their first album and journalists took an interest in my musical roots but, for the record, I really should tell the story again here. In fact, I'll throw caution to the wind and allow readers of this diary a sneak preview of my unpublished autobiography. This short excerpt from the book relates how Duane came to inspire my original passion for the electric guitar. So, here's an exclusive peek at the relevant section. Remember, at this point in the autobiography, I'm just eleven years old: "Around this time, Rock and roll entered my life in a big way via radio, television and records. My parents had bought a second-hand radiogram, a big console model with a beautifully veneered cabinet and an automatic turntable. It was a vast improvement on the family's ancient wind-up gramophone. A number of records came with the purchase, mostly old 78 rpm discs but with a few modern 45's scattered amongst them. Some were early Elvis Presley records and others were English 'skiffle' music, the precursor of rock n' roll in the UK. Whilst listening to the console's radio one day, I heard a BBC programme, (hosted, I think, by DJ Johnny Walker), that used a beautiful instrumental recording as its opening and closing theme. It was a single, released on the 'London' record label, by a young American guitarist called Duane Eddy. The track was titled 'Because They're Young.' It was originally composed as the title theme for a movie in which Duane briefly featured with his band, 'The Rebels.' (The film also featured actress Tuesday Weld.) Duane Eddy was cool and handsome, a kind of rock n' roll James Dean. He developed a highly distinctive and original approach to the guitar. Duane played a beautiful Gretsch 6120 electric archtop, (although I wasn't aware of such technical details back then), and, as a result of the sound he created with producer Lee Hazelwood, became known as the 'King Of Twang.' This new and unique sound was achieved by playing the melody mostly on the bass strings of the guitar, which were then amplified and fed through a reverberation chamber, often with the addition of tremolo. I discovered, many years later, that Duane had actually used a Danelectro baritone guitar on this recording, rather than the Gretsch he was so often photographed with. When I first heard 'Because They're Young' on the radio, I had no idea who was playing the piece, all that I was aware of was a beautiful, deep, shimmering sound, offset to great effect by an orchestral string arrangement courtesy of Lee Hazelwood, the record's producer. But this sweet little tune, played so perfectly by Duane Eddy, was the spark that lit the fire under me, the one record that inspired all my consequent guitar dreams. Not long after, I caught some flu virus or other and was allowed to stay at home to recuperate, rather than go to school. Resting in bed, I asked my mother to switch the radio on so that I could listen to 'Because They're Young' at it's usual broadcast time. She evidently realised my delight in hearing this piece of music and somehow made a note of its title and the name of the artist performing it. The next day she went into Wakefield and purchased the 45 rpm single for me in the hope of cheering me up and encouraging my recuperation. I was ecstatic about being given the single and asked for it to be played over and over on the radiogram which stood majestically in a corner of the living room. I vividly recall laying on my bed, the sound of Duane's guitar floating through from the front room, echoing across the narrow hallway of 28 Conistone Crescent, and into my bedroom. Somehow, it was as if the future had finally come knocking at my door. The B-side of the single was titled 'Rebel Walk.' This was a supremely moody piece, a kind of beatnik, 'film-noir' theme, based around a haunting, simple riff augmented by wordless backing vocals in a kind of 'Jordinairs' (Elvis Presley's backing vocalists), style. I enjoyed this piece just as much as the 'A' side. Looking back on this, 50 years later here in the 21st Century, I now realise that I had found my life-changing 'eureka' moment, the sort of moment we are never able to never forget, a moment to appreciate forever, and, yes, to feel genuinely grateful for. If I had to sum it up in one single word, it would be: 'Magic.' Actually, I still have the original 'Because They're Young' single in my possession and treasure it greatly. Owning that record inspired me to attempt to play 'Because They're Young' on my recently acquired Zenith guitar, but I only got as far as the opening few bars of the main melody. The size of the real guitar's neck was much bigger than the toy guitar that I had been more familiar with, and the steel strings were much thicker and cut into the ends of my fingers. I was temporarily discouraged but it didn't diminish my passion for the sound of the instrument. Or the look of the thing. In fact, the visual appeal of the guitar was very important to me. Not long after getting the single, I discovered a photograph of Duane Eddy in one of my mother's magazines and was impressed by how sharp he looked and how 'sci-fi' his Gretsch electric guitar appeared with it's shiny pickups and mysterious controls. I made a life-sized copy of this guitar from a flat piece of cardboard which I cut to the appropriate shape and then painted, gluing it to a piece of wood to represent the neck. (The wood was appropriated from a child's painting easel I'd had for a few years. It was the first time that I sacrificed the visual arts to music!) To emulate the controls of the guitar, I glued old shirt buttons onto the cardboard body, totally unaware of the function of these controls on the real thing. Once my non-playing facsimile was complete, I would stand in front of my bedroom mirror and mime to Duane's record, throwing the appropriate shapes, as observed from his publicity photographs." Ok, dear diary readers...I'm not going to give away any more of my autobiography here...but the above brief excerpt should give you an idea of the impact that Duane had on the life of an eleven year old schoolboy living in a council estate flat in Wakefield, fifty years ago. Fifty years ago? Wow.... And THAT'S the amazing thing. I've held onto my original 'Because They're Young' single and kept it close to my heart, (and all that it symbolised), for fifty years. I guess that the unassuming young guitar player who recorded that track had no idea of the power it contained, the ripples that radiated out from his far away American reverb tank, out across the world, to a skinny schoolboy here in Yorkshire. As an eleven year old kid, I would sometimes dream about meeting Duane Eddy and, in these dreams, I'd ask him about guitar playing and he'd pass on a secret technique or two. But if anyone had said to me, "one day, fifty years from now, you will personally present Duane with an award recognising him as an icon of rock n' roll." Well, I would have thought that they were crazy. But, it seems, magic happens. (Well, I of all people, should know that!) Something about the award ceremony itself now: The three days before travelling to London were excruciatingly stressful. I hardly slept, worrying about what to say, about my appearance, my clothes, worrying about every single thing to the point of feeling physically sick and ill with it all. I tried to keep as much of this trepidation to myself as possible but it leaked out in even the most mundane tasks around the house. Emiko was not able to travel with me to London to attend the Mojo awards. She had been given an important and prestigious freelance floral design commission which required her to work long hours thoughout the week if she was to prepare all the complex arrangements for her client. At first, I thought that I wouldn't be able to face the stress of the Mojo event without her by my side. I am not naturally gregarious in social situations and my nerves often betray me. Emiko has the quiet charm and ease that I lack, and her gentle presence is a great asset whenever I have to socialise in such circumstances. Don't misunderstand, I'm fine and dandy around people who I've had the opportunity to get to know and trust, but the superficial celebrity charm that seems to work for other people often evades me. Anyway, I called my friend Paul Gilby and asked him if he'd be at all interested in accompanying me to the event to lend a little moral support. Paul, very encouragingly, said he'd be honoured to do so and I felt a little less anxious about the whole thing. However, once the day arrived, my nerves kicked in again...even more excruciatingly than before. I was shaking at York station, shaking on the train to London and trembling like a daisy as I changed at the hotel before being whisked off in a limo to the event itself. All I could do was think of the alternative, which would have been to stay at home and later regret not accepting this wonderful opportunity to say 'thank you' to my first ever guitar hero. I HAD to do this, for Duane and for myself. First little miracle of the evening came when the limo arrived to pick me up to take me to the event. As I walked out of the hotel door, there in front of me, (actually with his back to me), was a person I thought I knew. He turned his face, ever so slightly, to speak to someone standing next to him. The resultant half-glimpsed profile was instantly recognisable to me. It was Peter Hammill, an artist who I'd toured with many, many years previously during the early days of Be Bop Deluxe. I probably don't need to introduce readers of this diary to Peter's extensive and highly respected work as a singer-songwriter and founder member of the band 'Van der Graaf Generator.' He is a unique and very special artist who anyone interested in music as an art form should be aware of. (And shame on you if you're not.) Peter has chosen to plough the same deep furrow as all those artists who are driven by something other than the lure of the corn market. In short, he's the genuine article. The first ever tour Be Bop Deluxe undertook as a support act was with Peter Hammill, on one of his solo concert tours. I remember it with great fondness. Peter treated us kindly and sympathetically. We landed our contract with EMI records during the course of that tour and Peter seemed genuinely overjoyed for us. To celebrate our signing, Peter bought a bottle of Polish White Spirit for us...(a fierce alcoholic drink with pyrotechnic capabilities). I remember a drop or two of it being poured onto a wooden bench in the dressing room of a venue on that tour. And a match being set to it...It caught fire in a whoosh of incandescent energy. We were lucky...the entire building could have burned to the ground, such was the drink's potency. Rocket fuel in a bottle. We each, (this was the original line-up of the band), had a sip from the bottle...but it was far too fierce and strong a medicine for us. Remarkably, the band's drummer, Nicholas Chatterton-Dew, seemed able to handle it without the top of his head coming off in a cloud of fire and brimstone. What a guy! Towards the end of the tour, Peter gave me a copy of a book of his lyrics and poetry that had recently been published. In the first pages of the book he drew a little caricature of me and signed it. I still have that book and treasure it, along with the now distant memories of that first Be Bop Deluxe tour. So, meeting Peter again, after all these years, was a very happy experience for me. But, back to the Mojo Honours List awards: There was a red carpet awaiting at the venue. And a line up of press photographers. A kind of modest Hollywood Oscar moment, I thought. I had my photograph taken by the gathered photographers and, despite my trepidation and natural inclination to be dismissive of the importance of such things, I somehow slipped into the grin and bear it mode that was so often required during my Be Bop Deluxe years. "This way Bill...", "Could you look into the camera, Bill?", "Head up a little Bill...", Etc, etc. It wasn't too difficult, just a bit embarrassing. I guess it's that, 'once you've learned to ride a bike' syndrome. All bollocks, of course, but a kind of acceptable bollocks. Most artists just grin and give out what's required of them, no matter how ridiculous they feel or how surreal it all becomes. I suppose we're all flogging our individual horses, dead or alive, according to public perception. Truth is, I don't mind this sort of thing at all really. In fact I almost enjoy it, musician's egos being what they are... Entering the interior of the venue, I mingled with the crowd who had not yet been invited to sit at the circular tables situated before the stage where the actual awards would be given. The stage was designed to resemble an oversized stately home library, or something similar, complete with fake wood panelled wall, a giant fireplace complete with a video fire, (a pair of Gibson Les Paul guitars crossed above it like armorial bearings), and a huge screen and table filled with the actual Mojo award trophies. All very impressive I thought, but also a little overwhelming. Amongst the crowd of celebrities I came across my old pal John Leckie. Ah...here was someone I actually KNEW and could relate to without pretence. John is a dear, dear friend who has always remained the same sweet and lovely person he was back in the '70's when we first worked together. And that despite his fame and success as the producer of many well-known bands during the intervening years. I was relieved and pleased to see him. We'd last met at the 2009 Nelsonica fan convention when John and I gave an on-stage interview about our years of working together. John's also coming up to this year's Nelsonica. I think he really enjoyed himself at last year's event. But there were other familiar faces too: Some I knew personally from other situations, (Mark Powell, Peter Blake, John Foxx, Marc Almond, to name just four), but also people whom I had only previously been able to admire from afar, (Rufus and Martha Wainwright, Richard Thompson, Emmylou Harris, Jimmy Page, Jarvis Cocker, Roy Wood, Wilco Johnson, Mark Mothersbaugh of DEVO, Roger Daltrey, Tony Christie, Richard Hawley and others.) The place seemed to be teeming with pop and rock celebrities. Shame Julian Cope didn't show though...it would have been nice to thank him for the kind words he's written about me on his website. The table at which I was seated was graced by Beth Orton, Alex James from Blur and Andy Gill and Jon King from Gang Of Four. All very nice people. A combination of shyness, nerves and ambient noise from the hall limited my entering into anything other than superficial conversation with my fellow diners, but it was good to be seated amongst them, even though my mind was constantly fretting about the daunting task ahead of me. We were served a three course meal, (vegetable terrine starter, braised lamb main course, then bread n' butter pudding desert). Each table was groaning with its own vast supply of booze: several bottles of wine, a crate of beer, even a bottle of Scotch. I stuck to water, worried that I might become a bit too 'loose' if I drank the wine. It then turned out that the Mojo Icon award was going to be the final presentation of the evening, the culminating event. I would have to sit through all the other presentations before I could do my bit and relax. As the evening went on, my nerves became more and more acute. I watched in envy as each presenter took to the stage and announced the various awards in witty and professional style. How could I compete with such bravado? My nerves leapt up another octave, almost to the realm of 'screech.' Ok...maybe just a half glass of wine wouldn't go amiss. I'd prepared a pre-composed speech which I'd printed out, as a back up, just in case my nerves got the better of me but, as it happened, the format of the presentation was slightly different to what I'd expected and the speech would not have worked in the actual context of the show. A very nice girl, one of the event's staff, came over to our table and explained the drill to me. The format was that I would take the stage, say a few words but not reveal who the award was for. I then had to say, 'and let's have a look at his work' which would cue a short video presentation. At the end of the video, I was then to announce Duane's name, he would come on stage and accept the award from me. Right...(mild panic). It looked like I'd have to wing it, come up with something reasonably spontaneous but loosely based on my original idea. I decided to trust to the moment and play it by ear. I watched the various award trophies being handed over to their recipients by the presenters until there was just one award left. I took a deep breath and began to squeeze my way between the closely packed tables, heading toward the stage. I was expecting the ceremony's host, Mojo editor Phil Alexander, to say something basic along the lines of, "and here's Bill Nelson to present the Mojo Icon award...". But, Phil was very generous and said some quite flattering things about my work, which came as a welcome surprise and gave my confidence a much needed boost. (Thanks for that Phil, it was very kind of you.) I'd got up from my seat a little too soon so stood at the foot of the stage for a few moments until Phil's introduction was concluded...it must have appeared as if I was incredibly eager to get onto the stage but, the truth was, I wasn't expecting such a nice introduction. Finally I was on stage, shook hands with Phil and walked to the microphone. I'd taken my 50 year old copy of 'Because They're Young' on stage with me. I began my short speech with "Some people will try to tell you that records don't change lives..." (Then I held up my Duane Eddy single), "But THIS one changed mine...!" I'm afraid that was all I could remember from my prepared speech, the rest of it I made up as I went along. I can't recall exactly what I said now as the next five minutes or so became a dream-like, near hallucinogenic, blur. I managed to give the cue for the video, (which showed various album sleeves of Duane's whilst a selection of his tracks played,) then said, "Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome, the legendary King Of Twang, Mr. Duane Eddy!" Then suddenly, walking towards me across the stage was the man whose music had launched an 11 year old boy on a fifty year long journey to here and now. I can't describe how emotional a moment it was. Quite unbelievable! Duane walked right up to me and gave me a big hug and thanked me warmly for my introduction, then took the microphone and spoke to the assembled celebrity audience. He was given a wonderfully enthusiastic reception by everyone. We were then both led backstage where we were to be photographed together, then on to a joint interview for the Mojo website, then a few more photographs. Next came the group photographs with a selection of winners and presenters lined up in three rows. I stood on the back row next to Richard Thompson. Rufus was on the next row down and Duane sat at the front. As I said, it was all a bit of a blur and quite unreal.Duane and I were then asked to sign a Gibson Les Paul guitar that will be auctioned to raise funds for the War Child charity. It's not every day that my signature sits on a guitar alongside the signatures of Duane Eddy, Jimmy Page and Richard Thompson. Another honour that I'll treasure. Duane also offered to sign my original 'Because They're Young' single...which was what I'd hoped he'd do. I plan to frame it along with a photo of Duane and hang it on my studio wall, next to my Les Paul, Hank Marvin and Joe Pass framed photographs. One more nice surprise: Duane and his lovely and thoughtful wife Deed thanked me for all the things I've said about Duane in interviews and on my website over the years. I had no idea that they were aware of me at all so this came as a happy surprise. Duane's wife told me that she supports Duane in the same practical ways that Emiko supports me, so it seems Duane and Deed actually read this diary sometimes. What a thrill to discover that! Duane asked for my 'phone number and we exchanged email addresses. It would be terrific if we could keep in touch and perhaps collaborate on something in the not too distant future. I would definitely be thrilled to create a track for both of us to play on. Oh, I also gave Duane two albums of mine, 'Rosewood Volume 1' and 'Here comes Mr. Mercury.' I'd grabbed them just before setting off to the station to travel to London. I hope they're a good choice for him. With such a large and varied catalogue of music, it's sometimes difficult to know what to choose when I want to introduce someone to my work. None of it follows the usual routes anyway, but these two albums might have one or two tracks on them that a guitar player might enjoy. Next, it was off to the aftershow party. This was held in a little cellar club, just across the road from the awards ceremony venue. The place reminded me of a 'sixties club called 'Cafe Des Artistes' which, all those years ago, used to be in Fulham Road, (I think). I'd visited it in the latter half of the 'sixties when I'd spent a weekend with an art school pal whose parents lived in Hampstead. (And THERE'S another tale to tell in volume 2 of my autobiography!) The aftershow party place however, had a much louder sound system than any 'sixties club. The DJ played some classic music from the past, 'Green Onions' by Booker T and the MG's, and other tracks that evoked a groovy '60's retro atmosphere. Great track choices but it was just a little too loud, and of such an aggressive mid frequency that conversation was nigh on impossible. It would have been nice to have a slightly quieter environment where people could have met without having to literally yell in each other's ears. Nevertheless, it WAS enjoyable to hear some classic tracks and watch several rather attractive girls dance a 21st Century version of the 'Hully Gully' or whatever. I almost joined in but thought better of it...best to hang on to whatever decorum that remains to me as a 61 year old! John Leckie and I shouted into each other's ears for an hour or so and I managed to catch a few words from Mark Powell and a nice guy from the band 'Kasabian.' (At least, I think that's who it was.) I also met a guy from Gibson guitars who was very helpful. I had my photo taken with ace vocalist Tony Christie too. What a very nice chap and looking enviously slim and youthful too. Oh, and I managed to wish Roy Wood well, just as he was about to head back to the hotel. I first met Roy on a Kid Jensen radio show, quite some years ago now. He's another lovely chap...he'd been given a well deserved songwriter award at the Mojo Honours List. I still recall those early Move singles...they were a band I very much enthused about back then. The noise levels eventually got the better of me and Paul and I decided it was time to head back to our hotel in Bloomsbury. A car was summoned, I thanked everyone in sight for allowing me to bestow my first ever guitar hero with the Mojo Icon award, and fell gratefully into the back seat of the car and set off for the hotel, tired and happy. Next morning, I awoke, after little more than three hours sleep, with a very sore throat and an extremely hoarse voice, probably a direct result of the previous evening's aftershow yelling. I met Peter Hamill in the hotel foyer and we exchanged emails and 'phone numbers. Then Paul and I wandered down the street for breakfast, and then to Foyles bookshop so that I could peruse the 'Ray's Jazz' section. Bought a book dealing with English swing bands of the 1930s and '40s. Also a Bill Frisell album titled 'Where In The World' that I'd not previously heard. Whilst in Foyles, I got a call from Richard at Opium on my mobile. He was calling to say that the Mojo site had my 'red carpet' photo' on it. Then it was a taxi ride to Kings Cross and the train journey back to York and home. And a huge sigh of relief. Saturday morning, I helped Emiko to deliver the final part of her important flower commission. She had enlisted a friend of hers to help her on the Friday morning, whilst I was in London. Everything went to plan and her client was overjoyed with the many arrangements that Emi had created for her. I'm so pleased when people recognise the sophistication of her designs. Our new kitchen is now, finally, complete. (Fanfare!) All that remains is to move various items back into it, a task which Emiko and I began this weekend. We've almost concluded that process now and it is so good to have our kitchen back, in much brighter and shinier condition than before. There's more to tell, as always, but this diary entry has taken up more time than I expected. I'm now going to catch up with some recording work. But what an unexpected and much appreciated honour that was. Duane, thank you so much for being so gracious to me. And Mojo magazine...thanks for giving me this once in a lifetime opportunity. All I can say, to end this diary entry is: WOW! ***** The images accompanying this diary are as follows:- 1: Bill and John Leckie at the Mojo Honours 2010 event. 2: Bill and Peter Blake at the Mojo Honours 2010 event. (Note Jarvis Cocker in the background.) 3: Bill and Duane Eddy at the Mojo Honours 2010 event. (Bill holding his original 50 year old 'Because They're Young' single, now signed by Duane.) 4: A close up of the single that Duane signed for Bill. It reads: 'To Bill, thank you so much, Duane Eddy.' 5: Bill with Tony Christie at the Mojo awards aftershow party. 6: The Gibson Les Paul guitar, signed by various guitarists, including Duane and Bill, at the Mojo awards. This guitar will be auctioned to raise funds for the 'War Child' charity. All photographs taken by Paul Gilby with the exception of the close up of the signed 'Because They're Young' single which was taken by Bill Nelson in his home studio. Top of page

Air Age Anthology retrospective 2CD collection - 17 February 1997 Be Bop Deluxe Collections Menu Future Past TRACKS: 1-01) Axe Victim 1-02) Love With The Madman 1-03) Sister Seagull 1-04) Heavenly Homes 1-05) Ships In The Night 1-06) Twilight Capers 1-07) Kiss Of Light 1-08) Crying To The Sky 1-09) Sleep That Burns 1-10) Life In The Air Age (Live) 1-11) Electrical Language 1-12) Panic In The World 1-13) Maid In Heaven 1-14) Between The Worlds 1-15) Blazing Apostles 1-16) Lovers Are Mortal 1-17) Down On Terminal Street 1-18) Darkness (L'immoraliste) TRACKS: 2-01) Adventures In A Yorkshire Landscape 2-02) Night Creatures 2-03) Music In Dreamland 2-04) Jean Cocteau 2-05) Beauty Secrets 2-06) Life In The Air Age 2-07) Speed Of The Wind 2-08) Modern Music 2-09) Dancing In The Moonlight 2-10) Honeymoon On Mars 2-11) Lost In The Neon World 2-12) Dance Of The Uncle Sam Humanoids 2-13) Modern Music (Reprise) 2-14) Fair Exchange (Live) 2-15) Autosexual 2-16) New Mysteries 2-17) Surreal Estate 2-18) Islands Of The Dead 2-19) Visions Of Endless Hopes 2-20) The Bird Charmers Destiny 2-21) The Gold At The End Of My Rainbow NOTES: Air Age Anthology is a double CD compilation offering the new listener a thorough introduction to Be Bop Deluxe. No room was found for any rarities, but three tracks came with previously unheard studio talk (Nelson counting in a couple of tracks, and ending one take with the observation "we'll keep that one"). The set was enhanced by a nicely illustrated booklet with a sleeve notes written by Kevin Cann. PAST RELEASES: 36 of the 39 tracks on this compilation album were taken from the six albums released in the band's lifetime (issued between 1974 and 1978), with the remaining 3 tracks originally released on The Best Of and the Rest Of double album (1978). See individual entries of those albums for full details including vinyl editions of the same material. CURRENT AVAILABILITY: This compilation is now out of print in physical form, but is available to download from online stores. Collections Menu Future Past

Pedalscope Bill Nelson album - 26 June 2014 Albums Menu Future Past Purchase this download TRACKS: 01) Pedalscope One 02) Bicycle Building 03) Dream Cycles One 04) Velorama Pastoral 05) Dream Cycles Two 06) Bumpcycle 07) The Cycle Factory 08) Pleasure Bikes 09) Dream Cycles Three 10) Uphill 11) Downhill 12) Cyclebumps 13) Workcycles 14) Pedalscope Two ALBUM NOTES: Pedalscope is an album of instrumental music issued in a one off print run of 500 copies on the Sonoluxe label. All but 4 tracks on the album were written for the film Velorama (directed by Daisy Asquith), a nostalgic look at cycling, that was being made in celebration of the 2014 Tour de France. Work on the music began in January 2014 with Nelson working without the benefit of the finished film to compose to, and to a very tight deadline. (The film premiered on 28 March 2014.) With the music for the film delivered on time, Nelson then prepared additional material to complete the work on Pedalscope . These appear as tracks 11-14. The soundtrack was released on 26 June 2014 and was sold out on 29 July 2014, but within a week was available as a digital download from Bandcamp. In November the Velorama film was made available on iTunes to purchase digitally. CURRENT AVAILABILITY: Available for purchase as a digital download here in the Dreamsville Store . IF YOU LIKED THIS ALBUM, YOU'LL PROBABLY ENJOY: Picture Post , Map of Dreams , Simplex , Neptune's Galaxy , All That I Remember , Albion Dream Vortex , The Years , Model Village BILL'S THOUGHTS: "Well, today is the day when I can officially reveal the exciting project I'm currently working on: As part of the Tour de France festival, I'm collaborating with BAFTA award nominated documentary film maker Daisy Asquith on a film titled 'VELORAMA'. The film is a celebration of UK bicycling throughout history using rare, historic footage sourced from the British Film Institute and Yorkshire Film Archives. Daisy is editing and assembling this footage and I am composing and recording the soundtrack music. The archive footage will cover various themes such as leisure cycling, cycling to work, wacky uses of bicycles, bicycle building, sport and so on. Some of the footage will go right back to the early 1900's, and all points from then up to now. The project first started last year when various creative teams were competing in a bid to secure funding for a film to be screened as part of the Tour de France event. I was asked to be composer on one of these teams but, at that time, there was no guarantee that we would be awarded the job. However, we did win the bid and the project is now underway." "The music I have made so far is rich and complex. I understand that there will be no spoken narrative so the music needs to be strong and illustrative. I very much like what I've come up with so far and only hope that Daisy will too. I've put in long hours and taken great care over the choice of sounds and tried to pack the music full of potential visual edit points." _____ "Well, part of the brief from the film's director favoured something along Kraftwerk lines...but I have to admit that I wasn't really sure of that approach, mainly because Kraftwerk had already made an album inspired by the Tour de France and, as much as I enjoyed Kraftwerk back in the '70s and early '80s, I harbour no nostalgia for that style...unless quoted as a kind of kitsch homage. However, I did my best to hint at that sort of thing whilst attempting to hold true to tonalities that were a little closer to my own sensibilities. One of my approaches was to combine the techno thing with a hint of the nostalgic British orchestral sounds from the original British Film Institute archive footage which furnished the visual component of the film. Inevitably, whatever one's intentions, and the problem of realising them in the real world, the end result is its own thing and emerges independent of the artist. It's this unexpectedness which makes these projects truly interesting." _____ "You may be surprised but it wasn't me who came up with the title! It certainly seems like something I would have dreamt up, but it came from within the creative team. Lots of different titles were bandied about. I'd suggested calling it Pedalscope and 'When Britain Dreamed of Bicycles' and was trying to put the word 'Velocipede' into a title too. (A Velocipede is a bicycle in olden day language.)" FAN THOUGHTS: BenTucker: "It's a real breath of fresh air, and has a sense of wonder and new directions. I bet the film makers felt like they'd struck the national lottery jackpot, getting music like that for their film." "Bicycle Building": "my favourite at the moment, due to the glorious sound and the multiple directions it takes. Very evocative, quirky, "visually" colorful, Cinematic with capital "C"." G. Vazquez: "It sounds amazing! Like a Kraftwerk's "Tour de France", but played by a human being, with a beating heart inside his chest!" Paul Andrews: "What a jolly soundscape it makes. There's a certain whimsical optimism throughout." felixt1: "I think Pedalscope could well turn out to be one of the gems. It's not Picture Post , it has a different vibe. But it does share a sense of optimism and sunshine. Is that Jan Hammer playing keys on "Bumpcycle"? "Bumpcycle" is awesome!" "Pedalscope definitely has a 'Get up and go' vibe. It’' been a particular pleasure to have it playing, while I work. The sun has even come out again..." alec: "Pleasure Bikes": "It is such a pleasurable journey this track, that it's a film unto itself with shifting light, shifting vistas, shadows of clouds moving across landscapes." Ed: "It's quirky, surprising, inventive, highly hummable, just a touch nostalgic, and I'm sure it's going to be a fine soundtrack to the film, which I aim to watch very soon (thank heavens for YouTube!)." mr manchester: "Pedalsope shot into my personal BN top ten. Reminded me a lot of the sounds heard on albums like Map of Dreams and Chance Encounters (maybe I'm delusional). There are some truly exceptional tracks on this album. I'm not familiar with the titles yet, but there were a few moments that I swear I could hear a Pathe-like voice-over. A very evocative album." damian dale: "The music is wonderful though, and makes me want to pedal to town. Now where did I leave my bicycle pump?" "Thanks for another musical gem, Bill!!" Albums Menu Future Past

Acquitted By Mirrors - Issue Ten - Published July 1984 Back to Top

Auditoria Bill Nelson 3-CD album set - 01 December 2018 Albums Menu Future Past Purchase this download CD1 - These Stars Are Fire 01) What Furnace Is Thy Brain? 02) My Dreamy Life 03) The Latest Delay 04) Icing On The Cake 05) Summer Comes In Colour 06) Raindrops 07) Weatherproof 08) These Stars Are Fire 09) Auraville 10) A Song Of Heart And Mind 11) Bugging Me 12) Contrary Wise 13) Let Me Dream You From Afar 14) Wide Awake/Half Asleep 15) All Hail The Dreamer (Miss Futurama Smiles) CD2 - Mysterium 01) Beyond Yonder 02) When Midnight Falls 03) Forevertron 04) Holy Of Holies (Waiting For The Night) 05) Mysterious Mysterium 06) Orson's Ghost 07) Back Of Beyond 08) Who's That Floating Above The Trees? 09) Mystere 10) Astra 11) Luna Rosa 12) Ghosts Of Ancient Orchestras 13) Only One Blue Moon 14) A Long Time Ago 15) Alone In A Lunar Light CD3 - Plus U ltra 01) Dali's Dream Of Venus 02) March Of The Metaphysicians 03) The Science Of Extraordinary Things 04) In The Neighbourhood Of Normal (My Style Of Writing) 05) Aqua Celeste 06) There Is A Moment 07) Whirlaway 08) From Another Place 09) The Eye Of Heaven Shines 10) In The Land Of Far Beyond 11) Super-Hyper Hocus Locus 12) Waiting For The Midnight Flyer 13) Plectricity 14) Rockers Of The Rosy Cross 15) An Ordinary Man 16) The Last Transmission ALBUM NOTES: Auditoria is a triple album of vocal pieces and instrumental tracks issued on the Sonoluxe label in a limited edition of 500 copies. The Auditoria album was recorded between February and August 2018, and was especially created to tie in with Nelson's 70th birthday event, Plectronica – Bill Nelson at 70, staged at Leeds University Clothworker's Hall on 1 December 2018. The album began life as a single album initially given the title Stylus , but was barely a month into production when it grew into a double album with a revised title These Stars Are Fire . Never one to let his plans remain fixed for too long, Nelson continued recording more material for the album and expanded his plans a second time, resulting in These Stars Are Fire becoming his first triple album (of entirely new material). With over 40 tracks completed for the project Nelson was forced into replacing his trusty drum machine, an Akai MPC 2500, that had served him so well over the past decade or so. As a replacement unit, Nelson invested in a new Akai model, an MPC X. By August, Nelson had accumulated an astonishing 55 new recordings for the project, at which point he was settling on the final track listing and considering how the 3 CD set should be packaged. Not only had the album been expanded into a triple, Nelson also assigned a new title to the work, Auditoria . However, each album within the package would be given individual titles. Disc 1 of the set retained These Stars Are Fire as its title, with disc 2 named Mysterium . Nelson had several alternate titles for disc 3, with his initial choices being either State of Play or This Way or That . Soon both titles were abandoned in favour of Secret Knowledge , only for that title to be replaced with Plus Ultra . The album was mastered by John Spence at Fairview between 29 August and 31 August 2018, although not without a nerve-wrecking incident that threatened to derail the entire mastering session. The frustrating tale involves a jammed DAT tape, a malfunctioning back up disc, and in general - gremlins! For a detailed account of these unexpected hurdles see Nelson's journal entry here . With the album successfully mastered, Nelson then turned his attention to the artwork. Initially he had intended that the album would be housed in a triple fold out digi-pack. But concerns over the costs of that design caused him to re-think, settling instead for 3 individual jewel cases to house each album, all contained within a card slip case. Assembly of the sleeve design fell to Martin Bostock working from images that Nelson had selected in early September 2018. Among the material listed for possible inclusion on Auditoria, but omitted from the final track listing, are a number of currently unused pieces, namely: "The Clock that Tells the Time", "Drifting Through Your Dreams", "The Woman of Tomorrow", "The Driving Force", "Through These Windows Wonder Comes", "Billy's Blues", "My Shadow Cast By Midnight Moon", and "Everycat". It remains to be seen what Nelson does with this surplus material. Auditoria was initially made available exclusively to attendees of the Plectronica – A Celebration of Bill Nelson at 70 birthday event held on 1 December 2018. All copies sold that evening had been signed in advance by Nelson. The remaining 325 copies went on sale through SOS on 3 December 2018 and sold out in less than 24 hours. CURRENT AVAILABILITY: Available for purchase as a digital download here in the Dreamsville Store . BILL'S THOUGHTS: "Feeling very positive about everything on the sessions so far, though I've yet to call a halt and sort through all the finished material to choose the album's final running order. I'm really enjoying the process though and feel completely at one with my guitars which, in their various guises, are providing me with lots of inspiration. The album will cover a lot of the musical territory I've traversed over the years. There's rock, pop-rock, left-field jazz, ambient, experimental, a touch of acoustic, some synth based stuff and plenty of vocals and instrumentals. I intend to mix it all up and not divide the three discs into separate generic categories...a surprise on every track for every listener." _____ "Many of the vocal pieces have surreal, 'stream of consciousness' lyrics that contain their own illogical kind of logic. An example: "The driving force is in the fuse/Eddie sings the 'Summertime Blues'/The square of the hypotenuse is not my style..." And so on... " _____ "The track I remixed [today] is titled "The Science of Extraordinary Things". It's a vocal piece in an almost '70s country waltz style but mutates into a jazzy coda which then mutates again into a kind of abstract sonic assault. A track that, on one level, is quite straight but, on another level, utterly bizarre. Don't know whether to love it or hate it. Emi, it seems, loves it for some reason. Says it reminds her of Be Bop Deluxe. (She hasn't heard the chaotic racket on the end though!)" _____ "It's not a perfectly honed, tightly arranged album. It has many rough edges and spontaneously improvised components, but it is, nevertheless, an interesting amalgam of many facets of my music, a kind of cornucopia of styles...maybe something for everyone?" _____ "It's a very rich feast though...I would recommend that listeners don't attempt to take the entire three discs in in one listening session. Just enjoy one disc at a time, allowing it to sink in. It's one of those albums that will grow with repeated listenings, some of it is easy, some of it challenging, but all of it will be satisfying, over time. " FAN THOUGHTS: Skyrocket : "Loving it! Some very beautiful stuff on all 3! Been listening to it a lot! Fave of the whole set at the moment is CD2, track2, 'When Midnight Falls'...Just beautiful! Too short!" Axe Victim: "Bill never fails to amaze me, and always produces quality albums. Auditoria has been on constantly since I was fortunately able to get a copy at Nelsonica. Beautiful sounds, layers & textures. I have recently had some bad news and this album has been a huge help to me when I've been in the deepest and darkest of places and because of this I will treasure this piece of work/art/music. Thank you Bill." Palladium: " 'Immersive' seems an overused term these days, but I think it applies to Auditoria . Also, after noticing the varied styles, it now seems a very cohesive trilogy to me. I think the packaging helps in that (I was lucky enough to get the physical album) and certainly colours the way I experience the music - in a subtle way at least. I've been listening to it a lot; it really does create a whole universe you want to spend time in to recharge the batteries of poetic sensibility, as it were (and to get away from the more depressing and tedious aspects of everyday living!)." Mr. Curt: "Any amount of Mr. Nelson never seems enough. Single, EP, album, multi-album, MEGA-ALBUM - he's a prolific whiz that will never stop. Bravo, sir!" Albums Menu Future Past

Dazzlebox Bill Nelson double album - 30 April 2021 Albums Menu Future Past Purchase this download DISC ONE TRACKS: 01) Antique Gods 02) Show Home 03) Art Deco Dance 04) Sleepless City 05) In A Streamlined World 06) Reverse Engineering 07) We Run Before The Wind 08) My Amigo 09) Covered In Chrome 10) Our Friends In The Stars 11) The Road To Elsewhere 12) The Clockwork Light Machine 13) Otherworld 14) A Cottage On The Moon 15) Unearthlings DISC TWO TRACKS: 01) Squeaky Toytown 02) Radio Rialto 03) North Yorkshire Moors Rain (For Harold Budd) 04) Blue Spin 05) Venetian Submarines 06) Tweetime 07) Green Tiger In The Gold 08) Selectatone 09) Tremola 10) Experimental Erotica (Scene One) 11) In The Realms Of The Unreal 12) Billy's Blues 13) Footsteps In Rain 14) Spy Vs Spy 15) Experimental Erotica (Scene Two) ALBUM NOTES: Dazzlebox is a double album of instrumental pieces issued on the Sonoluxe label in a limited edition of 1000 copies. The album was recorded throughout 2020 and during January and February 2021. The 30 tracks included on Dazzlebox represent a fraction of the material assembled during the above period. Dazzlebox represents the second Bill Nelson album to be released since the composer moved to his recently established Cubase recording set-up assembled in 2019 and which he began utilising from January 2020. Plans for the album were first announced on the Dreamsville forum on 16 December 2020 when Nelson provided a list of 22 tracks recorded with this album in mind. However, the proposed track listing, revealed on 25 February 2021, included just 16 of the original tracks considered for Dazzlebox alongside 13 new titles included since that initial forum post. For a brief time, Nelson considered delaying the release of Dazzlebox in favour of Phantom Fuzzbox , an album completed back in 2014 which remains unreleased. Within days though, he reverted back to his initial plan to release Dazzlebox as his first album of 2021. However, Nelson was concerned that the material might prove too much to absorb as a double album. Consequently, he revealed an intention to reduce Dazzlebox down to a single album, the unused material being allocated to a separate album called In Tick Tock Land . In spite of these conflicting plans, on 23 February 2021 Nelson confirmed that, in line with his initial intentions, Dazzlebox would indeed be a double album. As the deadline for the mastering session approached Nelson made a couple of late changes bringing the number of featured tracks to 30. Dazzlebox was mastered at Fairview Studios by John Spence on 19 March 2021with artwork created by Martin Bostock working with images selected and manipulated by Nelson. With the UK still dealing with the Coronavirus pandemic any sort of public event to launch Dazzlebox was understandably out of the question and consequently the album received no such fanfare. Pre-orders for the Dazzlebox were announced by Burning Shed on 25 March 2021 with it being released on 30 April 2021. Physical copies of Dazzlebox sold out in November 2025. CURRENT AVAILABILITY: This digital download is available to purchase in the Dreamsville Store . BILL'S THOUGHTS: "Dazzlebox is the second release of recordings made using my relatively new Cubase recording software. It is an instrumental double album with a variety of stylistic twists and turns. The tracks sometimes use 'distressed' drum and percussion sounds, electronic effects and keyboards but always layered with a rainbow of electric guitars. "The thirty tracks presented here provide a rich, sometimes complex listening experience. It will require a patient and attentive ear to fully appreciate, but I hope you will take the time to unlock the music's charms and find much to enjoy." Albums Menu Future Past

Six Strings For Sara Bill Nelson download single - 26 November 2007 Singles Menu Future Past Purchase this download TRACKS: 1) Six Strings For Sara NOTES: "Six Strings for Sara" is an instrumental track that was the first exclusive musical offering to be made available through Sara's Hope Foundation , a charity for which Nelson was a patron. The Charity was set up in the memory of Sara Hoburn, who tragically lost her battle with colon cancer in 2001 at the age of 16. Inspired by Sara's strength, warmth and positivity, her family and close friends raised the funds to build and run a holiday retreat in the sun for children facing similar battles and emotions. After meeting Sara's dad at a fan convention, and hearing how brave Sara battled the disease, the guitarist was so moved that he decided to compose and record the instrumental. All proceeds from the download have been kindly donated by Bill to the foundation. Fans could download the song in return for a modest donation to the charity. The track was re-released on a special ' Bill Nelson (Charity Single)' Bandcamp p age on 30 October 2023. CURRENT AVAILABILITY: Available to purchase from the Bill Nelson (Charity Singles) Bandcamp page. BILL'S THOUGHTS: "You'll never be able to hear this piece of music anywhere else, and it's a corker... And don't forget, by choosing to listen to it, you'll be bringing a little sunshine into the lives of people who will really appreciate, and benefit by your generous support. So, show your good, kind hearts, citizens of Dreamsville and go for it!" Singles Menu Future Past

Sounding The Ritual Echo Bill Nelson album - 8 May 1981 Albums Menu Future Past Purchase this download TRACKS: 01) Annunciation 02) The Ritual Echo 03) Sleep 04) Near East 05) Emak Bakia 06) My Intricate Image 07) Endless Orchids 08) The Heat In The Room 09) Another Willingly Opened Window 10) Vanishing Parades 11) Glass Fish (For The Final Aquarium) 12) Cubical Domes 13) Ashes Of Roses 14) The Shadow Garden 15) Opium ALBUM NOTES: Sounding the Ritual Echo is an instrumental album recorded at Nelson's home studio, The Echo Observatory. The album was initially released as a limited edition free album available with both vinyl and cassette copies of Quit Dreaming and Get on the Beam . It was packaged in its own album sleeve, which slipped inside the Quit Dreaming cover, or simply as side two of the cassette edition. Once Nelson had left Mercury and transferred more attention towards Cocteau for releasing his own albums, Sounding the Ritual Echo became the first album to be re-issued on Cocteau in July 1985 (on vinyl only). By then Nelson had released the four-album box set Trial By Intimacy , and the new edition of Sounding the Ritual Echo was redesigned (in terms of artwork) to fit inside the box set as a companion piece. In fact, when Trial By Intimacy was conceived, Sounding the Ritual Echo was originally one of the four albums to be included in the box, but then a new recording, The Summer of God's Piano , took its place. PAST RELEASES : The UK and US CD issues from 1989 are both long out of print. Sounding the Ritual Echo was reissued by Esoteric/Cocteau Discs in December 2017 as part of a 3-CD set of Bill's early soundtrack work, entitled Dreamy Screens . CURRENT AVAILABILITY: Available for purchase as a digital download here in the Dreamsville Store . BILL'S THOUGHTS: "Sounding the Ritual Echo was recorded in the privacy of my own home on broken or faulty tape machines and speakers, each track possessing its own technological deformity. For this I offer no apology as the music owes its existence to a very personal and selfish obsession. As a direct result, some pieces will require a little patience." _____ "At the time, I saw 'Ritual Echo' as being more indicative of my inner, deeper self (in 'artistic' terms), whilst Quit Dreaming was perhaps a little more superficial, closer to my commercially minded work. Perhaps I was still chasing fame and fortune with one hand but rejecting it with the other. Here and now, in the 21st Century, the production quality of Ritual seems, (to my ears), simplistic and dated, but its approach and content feels contemporary and connected to my current creativity." _____ "Many of those old four track or eight track recordings were done as sketches or demos, ('though mainly the song-based material), as I felt frustrated by the technical limitations of the recording equipment I had at that time. I always added the qualification to the sleeve notes that these were, in a sense, little more than rough blueprints for work that would be refined if I ever had the opportunity to record them to a much higher standard in a 'proper' studio. However, these technical limitations sometimes worked to the music's advantage, particularly when it came to recording minimalist instrumental pieces. "The enforced simplicity and primitive recording technology suited the stripped back form of the pieces that went into albums such as Sounding the Ritual Echo , Chamber of Dreams , The Summer of God's Piano , Pavilions of the Heart and Soul , Catalogue of Obsessions , Simplex and the two 'Orchestra Arcana' albums. "Whilst I understand that some people might have thought of these recordings as 'experimental' or 'avant garde', I never really approached them in that way...for me, they seemed accessible, direct, and far from difficult... All I wanted to do was make music which transcended limitations of genre and instead came across as beautiful and timeless. To achieve that goal, now more than ever, is the driving force behind my music." _____ "My interests have always been fairly broad so, for me, it feels natural to enjoy a wide range of musical expression without worrying too much about genre limitations or fashionable fads. But if there was a key to my musical identity, I think it could be found in the instrumental work, rather than the vocal things. It's from there that the essence of my creativity flows. It's always been that way, even with Be Bop Deluxe. "As John Peel once said, "You get the feeling that Bill just wants to get the singing bit out of the way as soon as possible so that he can tear into another guitar solo". (Or words to that effect)." _____ "Here's something you may not know regarding the above Ritual Echo photograph: I took the photo in a field on the edge of the Yorkshire village of West Haddlesey, where I lived at that time. The two large mirrors, (one reflecting a tree behind my position with the camera and the other reflecting the sky), were originally made for a Be Bop Deluxe tour. They were designed to reflect, to the audience, Andy Clarke's hands playing his keyboards. "After Be Bop and Red Noise, the Mylar mirrors were stored in my garage at Haddlesy House and, one day, I thought I might be able to use them in a photograph of some kind. I carted them out to the edge of the village and propped them up using some guitar stands, (hidden behind the mirrors). The wind kept blowing them away as they were rather like sails, but eventually the weather gave me a still moment to take the photograph you see above. Unfortunately the original print and neg have long ago been lost but it remains one of my personal favourite photographs and chimes nicely with those in my 'Arcane Eye' photographic book." FAN THOUGHTS: Waspy: Sounding the Ritual Echo : "was the icing on the cake. Here was an artist doing everything on his own terms, a one-man cottage industry conjuring up intriguingly evocative sound-worlds and getting them down on tape before the moment passes. The hand-written liner notes, photography and graphic design, the DIY nature of it all - it made a mighty big impression on a kid in a regional town in Australia. (Thanks, Bill!)" Boat to Forever: "What I really like about the instrumental albums of that period - Ritual Echo , Trial by Intimacy , Chance Encounters - is the strange, ethereal and completely unique sound of those records. A kind of other worldly quality that is only enhanced by the low-fi and basic production of the albums." paul.smith: "As soon as this time of year comes along with some good weather it always reminds me of that summer of '81 when [ Quit Dreaming ] was released...and I always follow it up with Sounding the Ritual Echo as a matter of course...made me look at music in a very different way did that..." " Sounding the Ritual Echo eventually had more of an an effect on me than its parent -- it is probably part responsible for the way that I started to look at certain things as a young kid - not just this fractured set of sounds full of intention and serendipity but titles such as "Glass Fish for the Final Aquarium" really got my imagination. It's a haunting album full of sounds that conjure up images I can't ever explain. I played QDAGOTB on the way to work today because of these posts reminding me of the 30 year anniversary and played Sounding the Ritual Echo on the way back - I think it's got to be one of the most evocative albums I have the pleasure to possess." "The Echo Observatory always conjured up fanciful images for me all those years ago listening to Sounding the Ritual Echo ...I used to picture this remote and isolated whitewashed dome overlooking the ocean with Bill hard at work inside as the sea rolled in silently in the distance, grass blowing in the wind - that sort of thing... ...the reality was a little different though, but I still maintain it's a great name and playing STRE always brings those kind of images to mind even after all this time." Returningman: "Love every crackle and click on this as it brings back some very keen memories. Turned me on to "ambient" all those years ago." Southern Dreamer: "The other wonderful aspect about getting hold of the two LP release was being able to listen to Sounding the Ritual Echo . That particular album opened up a whole new experience of listening to Bill's 'ambient' music (although personally I have never really liked that particular label for his instrumental works). Whilst I was not surprised at the nature of the recordings on that album, having listened to "The Shadow Garden" on the From Brussels with Love cassette many times over the previous year; having a whole album of this instrumental music to sit (or lay) back and just drift or dream along to, gave me an real appreciation for a whole different side to Bill's music, one that has remained just as vital to me as his rock/pop side ever since." wonder toy: "I never thought of this music as ambient or new age, etc. To me it was electronic, futuristic and necessary." "Thank you for being curious and never stopping in the face of many challenges." John Izzard: "A quick word about Bill's demos and sketches. It was many of those early demos, including Sounding the Ritual Echo and the Trial by Intimacy box set that inspired confidence in me to make my own music and helped shape my attitude towards the creative process. Those records taught me that it was not necessarily about the big production, budget - or 'being signed', but the seed of an idea being the important thing. I'm sure many other musicians, here and elsewhere, feel the same. It was brave of Bill to release those pieces in their raw form...although the truth is, the music and ideas were strong enough to stand naked and proud, without the need for further stylisation or polish." Albums Menu Future Past

2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2013 William's Study (Diary Of A Hyperdreamer) August 2009 Jan Jul Sep Oct Nov Dec Thursday 20th August 2009 -- 8:20 pm (Noon) Feeling tired, sad and somewhat less than chipper. Was up at 6 am this morning to take Emi to Leeds/Bradford airport. She is flying to Japan today (20th August), to visit her mother who is terminally ill. The last few weeks have been very difficult for Emi due to her mother's deteriorating health, plus having to honour a freelance wedding flower commission which made it impossible for her to fly to Tokyo any earlier. But now she's finally on her way to be by her mother's side. We waved a sad goodbye to each other at the airport this morning after a 45 minute drive through the pleasant Yorkshire countryside. Couldn't help thinking how different Tokyo will seem to Emi. She's become as fond of the beautiful North Yorkshire landscape as myself. Leeds/Bradford Airport, which is actually situated near the village of Yeadon, is very convenient for us, far more so than Manchester, (which is where Emi flew from last year). Unfortunately, there are no direct flights to Japan from Leeds/Bradford Airport so Emi's journey is via Amsterdam where she will have a three hour wait for her connecting flight to Tokyo. Her flight from Manchester Airport last year wasn't direct either so, really, there's no particular advantage in travelling all the way to the far side of Manchester when there's a much more convenient departure point just 45 minutes drive from our Yorkshire home. And, as I said, it's a pleasant, scenic drive free from motorway pressures. The early morning sunshine warmed the hills and fields as we skirted the edge of the en-route Harewood House Estate, (where we'd been guests at the Eric Clapton concert last year), before turning off the main road onto the A659 winding its way through the village of Arthington, then on to Pool, then left, before Otley, and up the hills towards Yeadon and the airport itself. As the journey progressed, the golden sunshine gradually gave way to grey clouds, suitably matching our increasingly sad mood. We'd both been dreading the moment of parting, trying not to think about it...but when it came it was emotional and distressing, made even more so because of the reason for Emi's trip and the uncertainty about when she will be able to return to England. Although her return ticket is booked for the 4th of September, (in two weeks time), there's a very real and worrying possibility that she will need to stay in Japan for quite a while longer than that. It all depends on her mother's condition over the next two weeks. It doesn't seem very long since Emi's previous trip to Japan, last year, when her mother was admitted to hospital for surgery related to intestinal cancer. At the time, the surgery was deemed to be successful and Emi's mum made what appeared to be a reasonably good recovery. Sadly, it was not to last and now we've now been told that nothing can be done to stop the progress of the disease. Emi has regularly called the hospital in Tokyo to speak with her mother but each time, her mum seems to have become weaker. Such a vast distance between England and Japan...It's made the situation really hard for Emi to bear. My heart has gone out to her but I've felt helpless. All I can do is try to be supportive and understanding. But now Emi and I are to be separated by thousands of miles too and my help will be little more than words on a telephone line, stretched half-way around the world. We both need to be strong. Emi's eldest brother has warned her that she will be shocked when she sees her mum's physical condition. Equally worrying is Emi's impression, from her calls to the Tokyo hospital, that her mother is becoming increasingly weak and depressed and has given up her struggle to fight the illness. We're praying that Emi's arrival in Tokyo will ignite some spark of energy and hope in her mother. But, it's a time of suffering. It seems the last few years have been blighted with one mortal situation after another. We're at that time of life, I guess. My lonely drive back home from the airport this morning was filled with dark thoughts and dark clouds, the mood lifted only for a couple of minutes when my mobile 'phone rang. It was Emi, calling on her mobile from the airport departure lounge to tell me that she was now waiting at the gate to board the 'plane to Amsterdam, which was on time, and that she wished I was by her side. As I've attempted to explain before in this diary, we are a very close and fortunate couple in that we complete each other, live for each other and, even though we were born on opposite sides of the world with quite different social and cultural backgrounds, we have a quiet, gentle, almost telepathic relationship. Soul mates in so many ways. And, despite the fact that I'm not the easiest person to live with, (aren't most artists obsessive, driven characters with a stupidly stubborn streak and a desperate need for love?) Emi stoically accepts my negative attitudes and heroically nurtures whatever positive ones I can muster. I'm extremely lucky to have her to share my life with me. But, right now, here I sit totally alone in the house, (except for two sleepy cats), contemplating what might turn out to be several weeks of solitary existence. No choice in the matter. I'll have to get used to it. Of course, I have plenty of work to attend to. I always have, 'though today I'm not much in the mood for anything other than writing up my sorrows in this diary. But I must try to get on with my work as best I can...and soon too. There's still tons of Nelsonica work for me to prepare. I've been so busy these last few weeks, creating new video and live performance pieces for the event. I've now completed several brand new backing tracks to improvise with. The problem is, only a scant few of these tracks appeal to me. Many of them are 'shunters,' (ie: they'll end up on next year's convention album). Nevertheless, I've probably got enough decent new pieces to add to the older pieces in my solo performance set. I THINK... Having said that, I've yet to choose ANY pieces to perform, old OR new, let alone deciding upon their sequence before mastering the backing tracks at Fairview. Actually, there's another new instrumental piece in progress at the moment...it might be completed by tomorrow evening. (Or it might not.) No fixed title for it as yet but it's definitely shaping up to be a contender for the Nelsonica set list. Took a break after the above paragraph, during which I received two more 'phone calls from Emiko. She's arrived safely in Amsterdam. First call was to tell me of that...second call an hour later to tell me she's bored with waiting for her connecting flight, but that the airline is soon to begin the boarding proceedure. She'd found a noodle bar on the Amsterdam airport concourse and treated herself to a lunch of Japanese-style Ramen. Noodles are one of her favourite Japanese foods. At this stage, the psychic umbilical cord that connects us doesn't feel too stretched. Hearing her voice from Amsterdam is like hearing her call from York to home to ask if there's anything I need from the supermarket. But soon, as her flight carries her further and further away, the sense of distance will become more and more acute. It was only two days ago that I helped her deliver and set up the wedding flower arrangements that she'd created for a reception at the rather splendid Rudding Park Hotel on the edge of Harrogate. She'd worked very hard all last weekend, without any assistance, sculpting away at a huge array of flowers, including some stunning roses, to provide several table arrangements, a big mantlepiece arrangement, two large bouquets for the mothers of the bride and groom, plus the bride's own bouquet, etc, etc. When we delivered the arrangements to the venue, the wedding supervisor at Rudding Park praised Emi's work, saying that it was 'absolutely beautiful.' Everyone who sees her work says the same. Nice to have such a genuine response, I think, especially when Emi is so modest and unassuming about her talents. I'm very proud of her. Another break since the above. It's now 6:32 pm. The clouds cleared briefly this afternoon but the sun shining through my studio window made it difficult to see my computer screen...so I decided to go into town for a while. Needed some treats for Django and Tink and something easy to cook for my dinner. There will be lots of microwave tv dinners over the next few weeks I suspect. I have no time or inclination to cook something decent for myself. I expect the village fish n' chip shop will see me more frequently than usual too. Had to negotiate heavy traffic on the way home from York city centre. It's the races, 'The Ebor' I believe this particular one is called. Whilst horse racing brings business into the city during the season, they're a curse for those of us who live nearby and get stuck in the constant tacky parades of stretch limos and excursion coaches. Always amusing to see the drunken race-goers staggering along the pavements from the racecourse though...Men with hilarious footballer-style haircuts in bad suits accompanied by women with orange-coloured skin, dressed in bust-revealing frocks at least a size too small for them, wobbling about on heels unsuitable for anything other than bedroom entertainment, whilst clinging on to hats that might be better employed straining a salad. I overheard one worse-for-wear guy mumbling to someone on the other end of his mobile 'phone: "Well, I didn't actually WIN anything...but I only lost a few hundred quid." Yes I know I shouldn't laugh, but I did. Change of subject: Les Paul, a guitarist whose work, (both as a musician and inventor of studio technology), had inspired me since I was a young man, has sadly passed away. The news came as something of a shock, even though I knew he was 94 years old. Les always seemed invincible, having survived all kinds of physical set backs throughout his life. He was, to quote the old cliche, 'one of a kind.' A unique and brilliant artist to whom all modern day guitarists owe a debt. His albums grace my shelves and his fortitude and attitude continue to inspire. And, his little note to me is framed here on my studio wall, something I will always treasure. And now a break for dinner. A Tesco microwave fantasia of salmon fillet in watercress sauce with two new potatoes with some peas and broccoli. Close the door and ZAP! Instant dinner. Emi isn't the only one suffering airline food. It's now 8:28 pm. I ate the microwave meal, (which actually wasn't bad), then spoke with my mother on the 'phone. We speak to each other two times per day, morning and evening. She's a compulsive worrier and needs regular reassurance. That's where I get my own weird nervousness from, I guess. Anyway, I'm now back in my little studio, typing these words, a glass of Merlot by my side. Django and Tink are outside in the fields somewhere, terrorising the rodent population. I'm wondering whether I should attempt to post this diary entry on my website now or have a shot at mixing the previously mentioned backing track first? I need to decide on some images to accompany the diary, which means a little computer re-sizing and tweaking work. Or, maybe I'll finish this diary entry tomorrow and attempt the backing-track mix tonight, or at least get the first stage of it set up. Hell no, it's now 9 pm and I'm far too tired to start a mix. I'll try to post this entry on the Dreamsville site instead...maybe add some photo's of Emi's flowers and a snap of my autographed Les Paul note. Then watch a movie on tv, or a DVD. In any case, tiredness aside, I'm hoping to be awoken in the early hours by a 'phone call from Emi to tell me that she has arrived safely at Narita airport. Another diary entry soon, I suspect. Need someone to talk to. ***** The photos accompanying this diary entry are of Emiko's recent wedding flowers, plus a pic of the framed Les Paul autograph that hangs on my studio wall. Top of page

All Dressed Up In Your Art School Clothes Bill Nelson download single - 3 November 2023 Singles Menu Future Past Purchase this download TRACKS: 01) All Dressed Up In Your Art School Clothes 02) Five Flying Horses NOTES: "All Dressed Up In Your art School Clothes" is a single Bill composed and recorded exclusively for the Sara's Dream Foundation . The charity's aim is to raise money for the families of children suffering from cancer to help provide some happiness and to create special memories. Fans can download the songs in return for a donation to the charity. The single also includes a 'b-side' entitled 'Five Flying Horses' which is an instrumental version of the single's title track. "All Dressed Up In Your Art School Clothes" was released on a special ' Bill Nelson (Charity Single)' Bandcamp p age on 30 October 2023, with news of the release first announced in a Dreamsville newsletter on 3 November 2023. CURRENT AVAILABILITY: Available to purchase from the Bill Nelson (Charity Singles) Bandcamp page. Singles Menu Future Past

What, Me Worry? album - 1982 Yukihiro Takahashi Production/Contribution Menu Future Past BILL: Guitar and E-Bow Production/Contribution Menu Future Past

2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2013 William's Study (Diary Of A Hyperdreamer) February 2005 Mar Apr May Jun Jul Aug Sep Oct Dec Tuesday 22nd February 2005 -- 9 pm Snow these last two days. Heavy yesterday. I decided to drive Emi to work rather than let her risk the treacherous roads on her own. Today a slight thaw and now a freeze. Icy conditions tomorrow. Still working intensely on the website images with Dave Graham. Slowly but surely coming together. This is just the 'skin' for some areas of the site... Soon, the cavities beneath the skin will have to be created and filled with content from my archived 'private' sources and also from the Permanent Flame files supplied by Chuck Bird. Still a long way to go before we're fully operational but things will be added as time progresses. It will be several months before the site approaches the kind of strength and complexity I've got in mind. I'm also working on visual content for Paul Sutton-Reeves book about my career. Due to various things beyond his control, he's had to come back to me for more photos to go into the book. I've spent the last few days scanning things from my own collection and have just put out an appeal to fans to send in any photographs they may have of Red Noise. As Red Noise's career was relatively short, I don't have much visual material relating to the band. It's one area where my archives are a lacking. Duncan Ahlgren and Garry Nichol have sent in some of their own personal shots of Red noise though and we should be able to use a couple of these for the book. Also working on the possibility of major label re-releases... the EMI box set and Universal's proposal to re-issue the 'Mercury' years. It's a complex project though, particularly the latter as much of the material has been issued as part of my Cocteau Records catalogue. Adrian at Opium is trying to get to the bottom of it. Adrian just got back from the Grammys in L.A. Sounds glamourous. Not sure I'd want to go though, other than to ogle those girls in almost non-existent frocks. Oh, yes... I saw them on TV and thought, 'lucky Adrian'. Yes, maybe I would go, given the chance... drool all over their chiffon like the shameless old dog I am. Adrian shared a table with the Foo Fighters who, so Adrian told me, said very nice things about my music. Credibility time with Elle and Elliot again, then. A brownie point for me. My acoustic guitar based instrumental album at a standstill. Frozen like the weather. No time available to work on it right now. I hope I can get it finished in time for a spring release. I've got more ideas in mind for it though... more little snippets of composition that I ought to record before they melt into air. I'd like to assemble a guitar instrumental compilation album too, as I may have mentioned before in these pages. Pull together some of my favourite pieces from across the years and add in a couple of unreleased tracks for good measure. Could be an interesting combination of things. Lots of other little things nagging away in the background. Some I can't speak about here yet... but some very interesting developments coming up soon. Quite exciting, I think. I'll tell more when the time is right. Enough work for today. Maybe I'll watch TV for a while until bedtime. Unwind. A short diary entry but, to be expected considering my tiredness. Some more website visual promo attached to make up for it. Top of page Saturday 26th February 2005 The snows have melted and the view across the field from my studio window is green again. Quite cold, nevertheless. Became frustrated by the constant visual scanning and photoshop work I've been so busy with and decided to put it all to one side and spend a day or two recording some new pieces for my electro-acoustic guitar album. This thing seems to take a different turn each time I return to it after a lay-off. Two new tracks completed and more ideas bubbling under. For an acoustic album, it seems to have developed a jazzy turn of phrase. Jazz has always been a subliminal force in my music, even from the pre-Be Bop Deluxe days. ( I didn't chose the words 'Be Bop' just for the sound they made.) As the years advance, however, I seem to be mutating into some kind of 'jazz' guitarist, though not in the sense that other musicians would generally recognise within the academic implications of the term. As a man who neither reads music nor has ever had a guitar or music theory lesson in his life, I'm ill equipped to deal with jazz in its orthodox, commonly accepted sense. Perhaps I shouldn't really use the word in this context at all. It's just that, for some time now, I've found myself feeling increasingly more inspired by (and empathetic with), the lives of jazz musicians. For all the glittering (if dumb), excess of rock music's iconic figures, it seems to me that jazz music's icons lived their musical lives more completely, intelligently and profoundly. Equally as self-destructive as some rock musicians (sometimes perhaps)... but even so, as a species, it's obvious that there's something a bit more evolved going on. My real bottom line is that it's all just music and that categories are as much a restriction as a help. We're all victims of the kind of conceptual packaging that sorts music into conveniently labelled boxes... boxes that not only divide the music up but also restrict our free movement within music's ocean of sound. Perhaps it is naive of me to believe that it is possible for anyone to respond positively to the whole range of musical expression available to us as 21st Century consumers but I like to think that an ability to appreciate a broad range of music is everyone's birthright... even the girls who work with Emiko in the flower shop who seem blissfully unaware of any music outside of the radio and disco 'norm'. I've said it before but, we need a higher standard of musical education in our schools... the subject needs taking much more seriously than at present, particularly with reference to music's wider implications. By this, I mean abstract thought, pure aesthetics and philosophical development. For me, naturally, it's the one true religion and always has been. All else is heresey. Which brings me to a very special event: I've now been given permission to write about a concert that I'm to be involved in on the 21st of May this year. It is (for want of a better term), a tribute concert to my long-time and very dear friend Harold Budd . Harold announced his retirement from performance and recording last year, his latest album, 'Avalon Sutra' purporting to be his last. He played a farewell concert in Los Angeles towards the end of 2004 but there is now going to be a similar event here in the UK as part of this year's Brighton Arts Festival . A number of artists are to take part in this and a band is being put together around Harold for the final segment of the concert. The artists involved in this are myself, Michael Nyman, Jah Wobble, John Foxx (of Ultravox), Steve Cobby (of Fila Brasilia), Robin Guthrie (of Cocteau Twins), Steve Jansen (of Japan), The Balanescu Quartet and others still to be confirmed. Channel Light Vessel was once given the title 'ambient supergroup' by the music media but this event promises to take that term somewhere else entirely. Harold has been dropping me letters and e-mails over the last couple of months or so about the project and I'm pleased to see that it is finally coming to fruition. Harold naturally had some personal reservations about the project, unsure of what stresses and strains might be involved but I think these have been overcome. Everyone taking part in this event has a personal respect and love for Harold and his work and it will be a privelege and sheer thrill for me to take part and honour Harold alongside everyone else. And of course, I will be absolutely terrified too. Neverthless, when all's said and done, it will be an absolutely unique, one-off event that anyone who gives a damn about the possibility of art within music should not miss. I should spend time with Emiko today. I've been working late in the studio every night for some weeks and Emi has to sit downstairs watching TV when she comes home from work. Saturdays and Sundays are usually the only time we get to do anything together socially. I'll switch off the music and visuals and take her out somewhere. Recharge my own batteries too. Top of page

2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2013 William's Study (Diary Of A Hyperdreamer) March 2011 Jan Feb Apr Dec Tuesday 8th March 2011 -- 9:00 pm I really should be dealing with the upcoming television show preparations, but have found myself pottering about on the 'Dreamsville' website every day, answering questions and responding to fan's postings. It's as if I'm trying to deny that the 'Legends' television appearance is actually going to happen, even though full band rehearsals kick in on the 19th of this month. Trying to pretend that the programme doesn't exist is one thing, but denying the presence of stress in my life as a result of it is impossible. I've not had a full night's sleep since this thing appeared on my horizon. I wake up at crazy hours with endless details of this or that or the other buzzing around in my head like a vicious swarm of synaptic bees. Lack of confidence, I suppose, and a general uneasiness about appearing like some flickering digital ghost in the electronic picture frames of our nation's living rooms...Or maybe I'm simply frightened of looking like an ancient fish in a haunted fishtank. I wonder, will I regret doing this? As I've said before, my gut instincts are screaming 'run, run, run, run away...!' But common sense and commercial expediency says, 'do it and damn the torpedoes... 'I've been trying to choose some solo pieces to add to the 14 band songs that we are planning to perform. I've decided to include a couple of melodic familiars frommy solo concerts: 'For Stuart,' and 'A Dream For Ian.' Both pieces were written as deeply felt tributes to people who are sadly no longer with us: the first to an old friend, the second to my dearly missed brother Ian. Perhaps these tunes will reach out and touch those who are unfamiliar with my more recent work, (provided nerves and failing memory don't make me screw them up). I also want to include something a wee bit more left of centre in the show, something that dances a little closer to my current sensibilities...At the moment this look like being 'Golden Dream Of Circus Horses' and 'Above These Clouds The Sweetest Dream.' Neither piece could be considered radical or avant-garde, I admit...but they're probably more than enough enough of a challenge for anyone unaware of my musical development since the 1970s. Recurring themes throughout my creative life: Dreams, reveries, memories, meditations, musings, coupled with desperate attempts to get to grips with it all, to try to figure out what it all might mean, if indeed it means anything at all. Always the age-old tension between an egotistical desire to mean something...and our deeply repressed awareness that, ultimately even the most profound artistic commentary amounts to absolutely nothing. Had to search through some old photo' albums today to find images of a particular guitar I once owned. Looking through these albums I was shocked to discover how badly deteriorated many of the photographs have become...colours changed, contrasts lost. Washed out memories, once taken for granted, now precious and fragile, fading fast. I realised that I need to spend time scanning them into my computer and adjusting the quality as much as possible if these old images are not to be lost forever. There are polaroids taken on US tours in the '70s, very early black n' white shots of Be Bop Deluxe, family archive photographs...etc, etc. All suffering from the accelerating effects of entropy. So...I made a decision to try and scan and restore some of them each day. And not just do this but also publish them here in Dreamsville. As the only means of personal access I have to the site is this diary and the Forum, I've decided to do a sort of 'archive photographs' version of the diary. It won't have much to say about what is going on here and now but will comment a a series of photographs that I'll upload. The text will be brief but the images will hopefully speak volumes. I'll flag these types of diary entry up on the forum in a way that will distinguish them from my more usual 'journal' type entries. This particular entry will introduce the first six images from my archives. It may be that I've posted some of these images on the site previously. If so, my apologies...but stay tuned over the next few weeks for some regular updates on these visual archives. Here are the first six photographs: 1: Bill Nelson in the grounds of The Century Plaza hotel, Los Angeles, USA, 15th April 1976. 2: Bill and Be Bop Deluxe standing beneath a Be Bop Deluxe 'Sunburst Finish' advertising billboard on Sunset Boulevard, Los angeles, USA, April 1976. 3: Bill Nelson standing by a vintage American Car, New York, USA, 1970s. 4: Bill Nelson at the Mayflower Hotel, Washington DC, USA, 26th March 1976. 5: Bill Nelson rehearsing at S.I.R. sound studios, in Los Angeles, USA, 1970's. 6: View of Beverly Wiltshire Theatre frontage with billboard announcing Bill Nelson solo concert, Los Angeles, USA, early '80's. Top of page Wednesday 9th March 2011 -- 3:00 pm Another in a new series of diary entries specifically intended as a way of sharing a few of my personal archive photographs with fans on the Dreamsville website. Nothing new to report progress-wise so I'll get straight to the six images that I've attached here. These are all from 1977, (35 years ago!) 1: This is a photograph of Villa St. George, in Juan-Les-Pins in the South Of France. It was where Be Bop Deluxe began recording the songs that eventually made up the band's 'Drastic Plastic' album. Sadly, this lovely villa was demolished more than several years ago. The last time I visited Juan-Les-Pins, all that remained was a huge quarry-like crater in the garden where it had stood, although the gates and perimeter fence were still intact. Recording in this location was an unforgettable experience, one of the most treasured memories of my life. We were a particularly happy group of people, all working together to make the album, but in a romantic, relaxed and idyllic atmosphere. In this photograph of the villa you can see the white Range Rover which was used by the band for travelling to concerts in the UK. It was taken to the South Of France to serve as general band transport, although I travelled there in my black Daimler. On the left of the photograph you can glimpse the Rolling Stones mobile recording truck which we used on these sessions. The band played in the lower room (with the white shutters). Microphone cables were run from the truck, (which contained the 24 track recorder and a mixing desk), into the villa to capture the performances. The balcony with the red sunshade was part of my bedroom. The views down to the sea were wonderful and I recorded my vocal for 'Islands Of The Dead' on that very balcony, a microphone set up so that I could gaze out to sea as I sang. 2: This photo' shows me standing on that same balcony although the angle doesn't reveal the full view. 3: This photograph shows me sitting at the grand piano inside Villa St. George. It was a lovely old French piano, a 'Gaveau' I believe, ('though I may have got the spelling wrong). This was the room where the majority of the recording was done, although I think this photograph was taken just before we left the villa to return to England as the band's equipment is no longer set up in the room. The villa was filled with lovely old French furniture and had some nice vintage light fittings. Most evenings we ate in the villa's dining room, our meals being cooked by wives and girlfriends who were with us. I forget exactly how many people made up our team but we had John Leckie and Haydn Bendall and their wives and children, our crew and road manager, sometimes our business manager and his girlfriend...mealtimes were a communal affair.After dinner we might do a little more recording but usually we'd amble down the road into the centre of Juan-Les-Pins and take a couple of tables at one of the open fronted bars, (usually 'Le Pam-Pam'), and indulge ourselves with colourful cocktails and ice cream extravaganzas whilst watching the beautiful local girls and boys parade around the block in their open-topped Ferraris and Porches. 4: Just to show that I was once a lithe young thing before the years took their terrible toll, here is a photograph of me sitting on the rocks on the edge of one of Juan-Les-Pins beaches. I had to spend rather more time at the villa recording than the other guys in the band so didn't get as much time as them for sunning and relaxing. However, once in a while, I'd take a few hours out of the day to work on my tan! 5: And here's another photograph of me at Juan-Les-Pins enjoying the salt-water sparkles and the glorious Cote D'Azur sunshine. Again, taken 35 years ago. 6: This photo' shows mestanding outside the gates of the Villa Santo-Sospir on the little peninsula of St Jean Cap Ferrat. Cocteau lived at Santo Sospir for quite a time and decorated the interior with his artwork. I actually own an original Cocteau letter which is written on Santo Sospir headed notepaper. Like these old photographs, the ink is fading on the letter now but I bought it over 35 years ago and it hangs on my dining room wall today. It took me a little while to find Villa Santo Sospir back in 1977. I didn't have a full address, though I knew from books that it was somewhere in St. Jean Cap-Ferrat. I also had seen a photograph taken in the villa's back garden and noticed that Cap Ferrat's lighthouse was visible in the background. When I decided to try and find the villa, I located the area where the lighthouse stands and drove up and down various streets until I finally discovered Villa Santo Sopir on Rue De Phare. Like some sort of crazy groupie, I sneaked into the villas front garden and pulled up a small flowering plant which I eventually took home to England where I planted it in my own garden at Haddlesey House. I've no idea if it still grows there as Haddlesey House's gardens have sadly been turned into a housing estate by a local building company. But for a while, a little piece of Cocteau's Santo Sospir grew in the Yorkshire sunshine of my garden. Well, that's all for today...not really a diary entry, more of a reminiscence, but hopefully an entertaining one. I'll perhaps continue this theme tomorrow. Stay tuned! Top of page Thursday 10th March 2011 -- 1:00 pm Emi has caught a nasty cold and is in bed feeling poorly. We suffered a sleepless night due to a combination of Emi's restless coughing and the wild weather. Strong gusts of wind and rain rattled the windows and stormed the rooftops all night long. Feeling tired and without energy today. I now have to avoid catching whatever virus Emi has come down with. Not easy when we live in such close proximity to each other. The last thing I need at this point in time is to fall ill. Rehearsals for the tv show start soon and then the show itself. Strange how this has happened now...the same situation cropped up just before last year's Nelsonica when I was desperately trying to stay clear of a bug that Emi had caught at that time. I managed to avoid it but succumbed to a different flu virus right after Nelsonica was concluded. Today's diary entry once again serves as a means of publishing more photographs from my personal archives. This selection continues with yesterday's theme of Be Bop Deluxe in the South Of France. All these photographs are from 35 years ago. Photograph number 1: Here is a snap of John Leckie and myself in Juan-Les-Pins, strolling from the town's central square and heading towards Villa St. George to get back to work on the 'Drastic Plastic' album. I think we'd been for an early morning coffee and croissant. 2: A portrait of myself taken in the bedroom I had at Villa St. George. The guitar pendant I'm wearing around my neck was a gift from EMI Records. They had it specially made for me. I think it may be made, (legally I hope), from old ivory. It has solid silver fittings and I still own it today. That blue, flecked shirt is rather nice too. I remember buying it in the Kings Road in London, before Kings Road became just another corporate chain store high street. I don't have the shirt anymore but, even if I did, I wouldn't be able to squeeze into it! 3: On the final day of recording at Villa St. George, we had a sort of 'wrap' party. Lots of good food and wine and a fun jam session, part of which featured Charlie Tumahai playing my acoustic guitar, Simon Fox playing the harmonica and myself playing percussion, (which I'm doing in this photograph). The guy in the pale grey shirt on the left of this photo' was, (if I recall correctly), called Mathieu. We'd befriended him at one of the bars in Juan-Les-Pins. He turned out to be a purveyor of the odd 'jazz woodbine.' ;-) 4: Another shot of the same jam session at Villa St. George. I think that is Andy Clarke behind me holding the drumsticks. 5: Whilst we were working in Juan-Les-Pins, the Queen's Jubilee day occurred. None of us were staunch royalists or anything but we used the Jubilee celebrations as an excuse to stage an open air party in the grounds of Villa St George. We decked the place out with red, white and blue bunting and balloons and laid on a very nice feast for everyone, even inviting in locals we'd met at various locations in town. One of the people who turned up to our party was Bill Wyman, at that time still in the Rolling Stones and living nearby, close to the walled hilltop town of St. Paul Du Vence. This is a snap of him having a drink and a snack in Villa St. George's garden. The Jubilee party features in my 'Be Bop Deluxe In The South Of France' video on the 'Picture House' DVD. In the video, Mr. Wyman can be glimpsed popping in to the Stones truck to have a listen to what we'd been up to. 6: A snap of me with my Canon home cine camera, the one I used to capture the footage that I would eventually edit to make the 'Be Bop Deluxe In The South Of France' video. This photo' was taken during those sessions at Villa St. George in 1977. Well, that's all for today. If I find time, I'll scan some more archive photo's and post them here tomorrow. Top of page Friday 11th March 2011 -- 3:00 pm Woke up this morning to the shocking news of a huge earthquake off the coast of Japan. The 'quake is the largest in Japan's recorded history and has caused a huge Tsunami that has swept inland carrying all before it. The scenes on television were unreal, like something from a Hollywood disaster movie. Predictions are that the effects of the earthquake will result in Tsunamis throughout the Pacific region over the next 24 hours, reaching as far as New Zealand and South America. Tokyo has suffered some damage as a result of the earthquake itself but the coastal towns to the north east of the capital have suffered most. Here both earth and water have conspired to cause devastation. Emiko's brothers are in Tokyo and it seems that they will be ok. However, Emi has a Japanese friend called Akko who lives in the next village to us here in Yorkshire. (Like Emi, she married an Englishman.) Akko is originally from Sendai, the Japanese town nearest to the centre of the earthquake, and Akko's mother still lives there. She must be very worried about her. Emi's 'cold' has turned out to be 'flu. She felt much worse yesterday evening and developed a high temperature. Today, her cough is quite severe and she feels terrible. She has remained in bed and I'm doing my best to look after her whilst trying not to pick up the virus that has laid her low. I dread to think of the consequences if I should catch it. The entire tv show could go belly up. I did have a sore throat and a headache this morning and have taken all the precautions possible, multi-vitamins, echinacea, several glasses of fruit juice, etc, etc. Fingers crossed that it doesn't get me. I'm continuing with my archive photo' presentations in the diary today. Here are six more from my personal snapshot albums: 1: This is a polaroid photograph of Eddie Condon's jazz club in New York, taken in 1976. That's me in the long coat with the fur collar, standing in the club's doorway, beneath the striped awning. I was first introduced to this club by a guy called Bob Bonis who worked for an American agency who handled Be Bop Deluxe's concerts in the 'States. Bob was a lovely man and became a good friend to the band and myself in particular. He had been the Beatles AND the Rolling Sones tour manager when they first toured America. Bob was a big jazz music fan and knew many famous jazz musicians personally. I remember him trying to get me to go and sit in with the great Joe Pass, (who was also one of Bob's friends), one evening, just to have a jam. I might have had more confidence in my playing back then then than now but, even so, I was wise enough to know that I'd be completely out of my depth and so politely declined the offer. What I really should have done was just go to see Joe play and let Bob introduce me so that I could shake Joe's hand and tell him how much his music meant to me. But Bob took me to Eddie Condon's club, and to Jimmy Ryan's club which was right next door. I'd known about Eddie Condon since my early teens when I'd read Condon's 1948 autobiography, 'We Called It Music.' Eddie Condon played tenor guitar with various bands before running his own band. He worked throught the 1920's, '30's and '40's with many famous jazz musicians including Louis Armstrong. He established his 'Eddie Condon's Jazz Club' in 1945. Eddie died in 1973 but his guitar was still hanging behind the bar when Bob Bonis first introduced me to the place. Eddie Condon's and Jimmy Ryan's became favourite places for me to visit whenever I was in New York. The atmosphere was mellow and sophisticated and the live music sublime, even when played by musicians who were not so well known. I have fond memories of spending a relaxing evening or two there whilst enjoying the food and music so was shocked when, several years ago now, I was in New York and went to visit these two clubs only to find that they had been pulled down. All that was visible where they once stood was a car parking lot. Such a shame. As a footnote to the above story, I came across an article in the March issue of Mojo Magazine regarding a recently published book of photographs Bob had taken of the Rolling Stones. This book, ('The Lost Rolling Stones Photographs: The Bob Bonis Archive 1964-'66') collects together Bob's personal photographs of the Stones, taken whilst acting as their US tour manager. It wasn't until I read the piece that I realised that Bob had actually passed away. I then searched the internet and discovered thatBob died in 1991...10 years ago now. I had no idea. I've never forgotten him though, or his kindness to me and that wonderfully chilled-out evening at Eddie Condon's in New York. 2: This is a photograph of me on the top of the Empire State Building in New York, in the 1970s. It was taken through an observation gallery window so suffers from some reflections which I've attempted to remove without much success. But I like the mood of the shot and that it was taken as the sun was going down. I look a little bit like Rufus Wainwright in this, don't you think? 3: This is a photograph of Be Bop Deluxe's keyboard player Andy Clarke, taken whilst touring America with the band. He's wondering if his weird little herbal roll up might turn him into a munchkin. ;-) 4: Here's a snap of myself looking thoughtful in Abbey Road studios during a Be Bop Deluxe mixing session. I'm thinking, "Hmmm...maybe that vocal is too loud..." 5: Here's John Leckie in the control room at Abbey Road, probably during the above mentioned mixing session. He's probably thinking: "Hmmm...that vocal needs to be louder..." 6: This is a photograph of some of Be Bop Deluxe's equipment in Abbey Road studios. (Studio 3, I think.) A lot of it is still in flight cases and not set up yet but you can see, in the centre of the room, the gong that Simon Fox used on a couple of Be Bop tracks and, if you look carefully towards the rear of the room, sitting against the far wall, between the red door and the control room window, you can glimpse my twin Carlsbro amp set up. A noisy beast and that's for sure. Well, that's all for today. Since beginning to write this entry, my sore throat seems to have become more noticeable. I'd better go and take some more 'First Defence.' Top of page Saturday 12th March 2011 -- 3:00 pm Another restless night due to Emiko's flu which troubled her with a constant cough throughout. She's feeling exhausted and washed out with it all. Her condition hasn't been helped by the news from her home country, which she is finding very upsetting. Once again, all the tv news programmes today are filled with terribly distressing footage from Japan. First the earthquake, then the Tsunami and now a nuclear emergency at an atomic power station. There has also been new footage shown of the Tsunami destruction which swept away property and lives yesterday. It's hard to take it all in, almost incomprehensible. Many other countries have offered help, including England and America. How long it will take to clean everything up and put it all back together is impossible to estimate. A huge task. Emi has made contact with her brothers who seem to be ok. Her youngest brother, (who is a singer), was about to start a session in a Tokyo recording studio when the quake struck. He said it was the worst he'd ever experienced and very scary. He eventually managed to get back home to his apartment where, miraculously, everything was intact. Not so for Emi's older brother. He was at home when the quake hit and his apartment shook so violently that all his shelves and cupboards were emptied of their contents and crockery, glassware, family mementoes and decorative objects were smashed on the floor. Luckily he escaped unscathed but his apartment is a mess. A friend of Emi's had just parked her car in the Ginza shopping district of Tokyo when the first, slightly less powerful 'quake struck. Even then, she had to cling to a tree to stop being thrown off her feet. Then the tree started to sway loose...She ran back to her car and the shaking subsided. Then, as she desperately tried to drive back to her apartment block, the main earthquake began. This was the 8.9 one which was long and violent. Emi's friend watched from her car as a huge crane mounted on the top of a tall building toppled over and fell to the ground. She said it was as if she was in a disaster movie. Another friend of Emi's spent the night in her office as there were no trains running to get her home. Many commuters simply walked along the empty train tracks to get back to their apartments. From what we can gather from Emi's brothers, people in Tokyo are now worried about radiation leakage from the crippled nuclear power plant. Whilst the source of the problem is some distance from Tokyo, there are concerns that weather conditions might bring the radiation or dust clouds in the direction of the city. Publishing more photographs from my personal archives seems churlish in view of the above...but I promised more snapshots and the time I've spent preparing them has helped to keep my mind of other things, including my worries about catching Emiko's 'flu virus. So here they are. Today's selection goes way back, much further than the 35 years of the Be Bop Deluxe ones I've previously posted. Todays selection dates back to the 1950's. Photograph number 1: This is a photograph of myself, when I was very young indeed. It was taken outside the caravan where my parents took a holiday at Chapel St. Leonards, near Skegness. (1949 or 1950?) I seem to be sporting a 'pudding-basin' haircut. This is the only photograph from that particular holiday that didn't make it into volume one of my 'Painted From Memory' autobiography. Those fans who have the book will find today's selection of snaps adds further detail to the story and an extension of the photographs contained in the book itself. 2: This is my mother and myself standing on the cliff tops at Reighton Gap on the East Coast with the sea behind us. We used to stay at at a wooden bungalow owned by friends of my parents and this particular spot was just a few yards from there. A couple of years or so ago, I took my mother back to that same spot and Emiko took a photograph of us which I published in my online diary at that time. But here's the inspiration for it. In the book, there is a photo' of my father and I in the same spot, taken on the same day. As I child, I loved visiting Reighton Gap and staying at the bungalow. Where the old bungalow once stood is now a 'static' caravan site but the surrounding landscape has hardly changed. It's a lovely spot and always brings back fond memories whenever I find time to go back and spend a few minutes reminiscing. 3: This is a photograph of my mother, my brother Ian and myself, sitting in the garden of the Reighton Gap bungalow. You can just glimpse the sea and its horizon beyond the bushes to the right of the shot. 4: In this photo, I'm kneeling with my brother Ian in front of the family's Hillman Minx, which is parked at the rear of the Reighton Gap bungalow. This was the second car we'd ever owned. The first was an old 1930's Jowett, (either a Jowett Kestrel or Jowett 10 model). The Hillman seemed quite modern by comparison. It's number plate registration was 'MUM 333.' 5: This photograph shows my mother, Ian and myself on the ferry that took us to France for a day trip outing when we were holidaying at Dymchurch on the South Coast. It was the first, (and only), time that the family had ventured out of the UK. We were back in England by late evening, our day trip taking in a World War 2 cemetery where many British soldiers were buried. I'm still in short trousers and have a little Kodak camera in a canvas camera case, hanging around my neck. 6: I'm not sure where this photograph was taken...a beach in Yorkshire I would think. Bridlington? Withernsea? Scarborough? Or was it in Blackpool on the other coast? Anyway, it shows myself, (on the left of the photo), and my brother Ian making a sandcastle. (I'm looking rather smart in my little blazer and Brylcreemed hair.) Behind us is my mother and next to her, on the extreme right of the photo' my grandmother Ethel Griffiths. Ian's hair was wonderfully curly back then. My mother recently told me that he hated his curly hair when he was little. Apparently he used to say, "I want it straight like my big brother's..." But everyone used to say, "Hasn't he got lovely curly hair?" Well, that's all for today. I'll see how things are tomorrow before scanning more. Maybe some very early, first line-up Be Bop Deluxe ones next. Top of page Wednesday 23rd March 2011 -- 10:00 pm Back home from the final day of band rehearsals for the 'Legends' tv show. It's been an eventful five days. The first day, (last Saturday), was cursed with car breakdowns: Before I left home to drive to the rehearsal studio in Leeds on Saturday morning, I got a call from Adrian at Opium Arts to say that our drummer for the tv show, Gavin Griffiths, had suffered a broken car exhaust on his journey from South Wales to Yorkshire and would be late. As it was the first day of rehearsals and the technical equipment required setting up and checking through, it seemed that this might not be a particularly serious set-back. The extra time for equipment wrangling could prove useful. Emiko was busy that morning putting on a traditional Japanese Kimono with all the trimmings in preparation for a fund raising event to help children suffering from the effects of the tragic Japanese earthquake and Tsunami. The event had been quickly put together by our local Japanese Family Association and Emi had volunteered to make traditional Japanese Tea for visitors. The event featured a Koto concert, Japanese martial arts and a 1,000 Crane Origami challenge amongst several other attractions. Earlier on Saturday morning, intrepid guitar Tech Andy Newlove arrived at Nelson Acres with a Transit van to pick up my guitars, processors, pedal boards, cable boxes, etc, etc, before setting off for the rehearsal studio. After Andy had left, I then loaded a few extra bits and bobs into my car, jumped into the driver's seat and turned the key in the ignition...only to be greeted by a stony, electrically cold silence. Nothing, zero, zilch. Not a 'vroom-vroom' to be heard. I rushed back into the house and told Emiko that I would have to borrow her car to get to rehearsals. Of course, she was just about to leave for the aforementioned charity event, so I drove her across town to the venue before doubling back on myself and heading out of the city in the direction of Leeds. At the rehearsal room, the band, minus Gavin, (and Theo, who would only be available to rehearse with us on the coming Tuesday,) were still setting up their gear. Andy was busy with my guitars and associated equipment, sorting through a maze of cables and pedals. Meanwhile, poor Gavin was suffering further setbacks in Monmouth where his car had been taken in an attempt to facilitate exhaust repairs. At the garage, an over-enthusiastic mechanic drove Gavin's car at a recklessly hasty lick onto the hydraulic ramp that would lift the car up so that its exhaust might be repaired. As a result, the car hit the ramp at such a speed that it ripped off what was left of the exhaust and severed the air-line that powered the up and down motion of the ramp. It seems the car was lifted up high on the ramp without too much of a problem, (other than further damage to the exhaust), but then, due to the severed air-line hose, the ramp wouldn't descend. To cut a long story short, Gavin eventually, (once they'd managed to get his car back on the ground), had to drive the long distance from Monmouth to Leeds with his exhaust tied up with string. He finally made it to the Leeds rehearsal room around 4pm. We were all acutely aware of how stressed out Gavin must have felt, particularly as this was his first day with the band, none of whom he had ever met or played with before. But he rose to the challenge with great style and, once his kit was set up and we got under way, it was as if he'd been playing with us for some considerable time. My own car problem continued: I decided that I'd have to attempt to get my own car started for the next day so I bought an expensive power pack from 'Halfords,' a piece of kit apparently capable of starting any car whose battery was failing. Unfortunately, when I got this 'jump-start' gizmo home, it turned out that it wasn't going to be an immediate solution to my problem...the power pack required a 36 hour charging-up period before it could be used. Once again, I had to borrow Emiko's car to get to Leeds. On my way home from rehearsals that day, Emi's car also developed a worrying problem: a high pitched, metallic screeching, grinding noise. It continued all the way home, a relentless, nerve shredding racket, extremely disconcerting. I did manage to get the car back safely but I couldn't risk using it again to get to and from rehearsals. Since then, every morning, I've used the jump-start machine to get my engine going, both here at home and at the rehearsal room in Leeds. A nuisance but it's got me there and back. Tomorrow, I need to source a new battery, or find out if the alternator is at fault. BUT, alongside these mechanical problems, health has become an issue. Emiko has been suffering from a nasty flu' virus and I've been desperately trying not to catch it. Miraculously, with the aid of various herbal potions, anti-bacterial sprays, vitamins and so on, I've managed to steer clear of it, despite it keeping Emi bed-ridden for a few days and leaving her with a terrible cough for a week and a half. You can imagine the paranoia I felt with the tv show rehearsals looming, (not to mention the show itself). Anyway, I thought I was going to be ok. Then, a couple of days into rehearsal it became apparent that Steve Cook, (keyboards), was not as chipper as usual. He looked poorly and it turned out that he'd caught some nasty bug or other and wasn't feeling at all well. Lo and behold, damn and blast, if I didn't wake up a day or two later with a sore throat, runny nose, feeling clammy and weak, and little physical energy. So, I'm now trying to fight this thing, doing not too bad during the day when my mind is occupied with rehearsal details, but going downhill later, (in the evening), and waking up feeling like I might not be able to utter anything beyond a hoarse whisper. I've had to adapt some vocal melody lines to accommodate my virus stricken voice, singing lower or part-speaking some lines, but I've managed better than expected. How things will develop is hard to say...I might get worse, I might get better. Impossible to know for sure. All I can report here is that I'm not feeling great at the moment and that my energy levels are down, and a cough now seems to be developing. Nevertheless, being part of the post-war generation, raised on the golden age of Hollywood musicals, I'm trying to follow the tradition of 'The Show Must Go On.' Even though, at 9-15 pm on Wednesday 23rd of March, I'm feeling utterly crap. But rehearsals are concluded. The guys in the band have been brilliant, I couldn't wish for a more dedicated group of musicians. As always, there are still a few rough edges, (mostly mine), that could easily be smoothed out by a series of regular live performances, (a luxury we don't have, I'm afraid). So, what will be will have to be. I just hope that we will have a sympathetic audience and suitable technical resources to make the best of our modest performance this coming Saturday. And, despite all else, I pray I'll find a source energy (and less of a cold and cough), to deliver something approaching the dream of excellence that I always seem to wake up from with a sense of disappointment these days. But maybe I demand too much of these situations... It's now all down to Saturday...and the two days prior to that. Scary stuff... Top of page

Secret Ceremony Scala (featuring Bill Nelson & Daryl Runswick) single - May 1987 Singles Menu Future Past TRACKS: A) Secret Ceremony (Theme From Brond) B) Wiping A Tear From The All Seeing Eye ORIGINALLY: Both songs were non-album tracks. NOTES: Secret Ceremony is a 12" single issued by Cocteau Records featuring (at the time) exclusive material released under the name "Scala". Scala was a one off collaboration between Nelson and Daryl Runswick, a classically trained composer and arranger. The single was also available on 5" CD single (the first Bill Nelson related CD single to be issued). In the US the coupling appeared as a 3" CD single. A UK 7" promo with the B on both sides exists, but is one of the most difficult Bill Nelson records to find. The songs came from another Channel 4 commission, this time for the theme tune to a series called Brond which helped launch the career of John Hannah. PAST RELEASES: Both songs were included on the Duplex compilation album (Cocteau, 1989), and the B-side was added as a bonus track to the US CD edition of Cocteau Signature Tunes (Enigma, 1989). CURRENT AVAILABILITY: Neither track is currently in print. BILL'S THOUGHTS: "The 'libretto' for those Brond soundtrack pieces was taken from the latin text of Dante's 'Inferno' and arranged for voices by Darryl Runswick who collaborated with me on the material." Singles Menu Future Past

Acquitted By Mirrors - Issue Twelve - Published July 1985 Back to Top

Still Looking For Heaven On Earth album - 1987 Crazy House Production/Contribution Menu Future Past BILL: Guitar on three songs: "Burning Rain", "Feel the Fire" and "Shake (Sell Your Soul)". Production/Contribution Menu Future Past

Losing You single - 1980 Stranger Than Fiction Production/Contribution Menu Future Past BILL: Producer Production/Contribution Menu Future Past

New Northern Dream Bill Nelson album - 29 October 2016 Albums Menu Future Past Purchase this download TRACKS: 01) Photograph: A New Beginning 02) Indigo Trees Hold Back The Stars 03) Consolation Street 04) Time Stops Here 05) The Trip 06) November Fires (My Northern Dream) 07) Between The Seasons 08) The Lamp Of Invisible Light 09) New Northern Dreamer 10) Daydreaming 11) The Pond Yacht 12) In A World Of Strange Design 13) Miracles To Happen 14) The Legendary Spaceman Blues 15) A Month Without A Moon (Jupiter In Saggitarius) 16) A Northern Man 17) Hymn Of The Old Albion Co-Operative Society ALBUM NOTES: New Northern Dream is an album of vocal and instrumental pieces issued on the Sonoluxe label in a limited edition of 600 copies. The album was the fourth to appear in Nelson's Super Listener Series and was presented in a jewel cased sleeve. New Northern Dream was first announced on the Dreamsville forum on 9 February 2016, nearly 9 months ahead of release. At that stage Nelson had completed just one track, but had formed the idea to make an album that represented "a portrait of vanished Yorkshire". The album was not a remake of Nelson's 1971 debut Northern Dream , but did contain a few musical references to that 1971 debut, including new versions of "Photograph" and "Northern Dreamer". The final track listing for the album was confirmed on 5 May 2016 - the same day that Nelson announced tentative plans for a launch party (provisionally to be held on 3 September 2016). Those plans were firmed up on 10 July 2016, with a revised event date of 29 October 2016, at the by now familiar surroundings of the Clothworkers Hall at Leeds University. Over 200 attendees were rewarded with an autographed copy of the New Northern Dream CD, a live performance (Nelson's first such outing for just over 3 years), and the customary play back of the album (with track by track commentary provided by Nelson himself). The event sold out within days of going on sale. Of the initial pressing of 500 copies, the remaining 288 copies of the album went on general sale Tuesday, November 1st, selling out in less than four hours. In fact, demand so rapidly outstripped supply, that a second pressing of 100 copies was rushed to honour outstanding orders. Once these were fulfilled, the remaining 63 copies went on sale on November 15th (which also sold out within a matter of hours). Inbetween pressings, it was reported that a copy on eBay sold for a staggering £455! CURRENT AVAILABILITY: Available for purchase as a digital download here in the Dreamsville Store . BILL'S THOUGHTS: " New Northern Dream is a sequel to Northern Dream , the album I recorded in 1970 and released independently in 1971. It brings a new perspective to the album's concept with totally new songs but also some direct references to material on the original album. It's a fusion of my early '70s style with my more current sounds. The album has an 8-page booklet with some photographs by Martin Bostock reproducing some of the original album's settings." _____ "I've been turning this idea over in my mind for quite some time now, wondering whether I might record an album with the title New Northern Dream . The idea would come full circle, as it were, to create a mainly acoustic vocal album that had certain connections with my first ever solo album Northern Dream , but without slavishly emulating that particular album. It would be a 'New' Northern Dream ...perhaps with a similar scenario to the original, but seen through the lens of a time-camera, bringing the sounds and songwriting sensibilities into the present, and with brand new songs written in a more contemporary style. The main connection would be concerned with acoustic foundations, (though with more avant-garde overtones), bringing electronica and some discreet orchestral textures to bear on certain songs. Subject matter might still resonate with 'Old Yorkshire' though, evoking memories of when the county had a less obvious modernist appeal...a portrait of a vanished Yorkshire perhaps." _____ "Sonically, it owes nothing to the earlier recording at all, it's much more lush and richly textured than the original album...the sound is light years away from that...technology has moved on so much since then. In terms of sound, it's very much like my other current albums rather than anything from the past. "The connection with Northern Dream is difficult to explain, it's more of a spirit or feeling than anything directly tangible. But there's a little quote from 'Everyone's Hero' for 8 bars in the middle of 'Consolation Street', a humorous aside, a little nod and a wink to those who own the original album." _____ "There was obviously a certain amount of thought about how to make a connection with the original album without trying to reproduce its sound and style (and innocence). That would be totally impossible without rendering it as a pastiche and would ultimately not be respectful to the original album. "We have to accept that the album was a product of its time and of the place I inhabited back then, both physically and internally in my own head. And, naturally, I don't live there any more, how could I? Are we exactly the same as we were 46 years ago? Have we not grown and changed and matured? If we're trapped in the past, we're not living life to the fullest. We can't go back, only forward. The past is, as they say, a foreign country. "Music isn't easy to manipulate in a strictly scientific way, at least not the way I do it. It can only be expressed as a result of the immediate moment, the actual moment it's created, with all the various forces that influence it at that particular point in time. It's a diary entry, an ongoing journal, a record of where we are now, which in turn becomes a record of where we were then. "That's the beauty of it. It's not something we can force or demand, it emerges according to our circumstances which, naturally enough, are in a constant state of flux. In the case of this album, I had to reconcile the way I think now about music, combined with the recording equipment I possess, and my current production values, with this vague notion I had about wanting to reflect my very first solo album, made 46 years ago. "Finding an inroad to this hasn't been easy. I've no real idea whether I've succeeded or not. On the surface it sounds very much like one of my more current recordings. How else could it be? But I think there are some conceptual tags that make it connect to the first Northern Dream . I don't quite know how to articulate these in this explanation...it's all kind of nebulous and vague, but it's there, nonetheless. Whilst it's very much a 'modern' Bill Nelson album, it somehow links to the very first Bill Nelson album of all those long years ago. Don't come to it with any heavy expectations, though...just let it be itself." _____ "It has an intentional '70s vibe but with a few twists. (I never play anything completely 'straight', do I?!)" _____ Bill's Listening Notes for the album: 'New Northern Dream' Listening Notes FAN THOUGHTS: Chimera Man: "It is a cracker. One of the most "immediate" albums I'd say since Joy Through Amplification . Full of great melodies, pop hooks, ebow, and a mix of styles too." "I'm enjoying the whole NND album in its entirety, but "The Lamp of Invisible Light" should be a massive hit single. Confident, fulsome, melodic. Right 'on the money'." BobK: "Quite brilliant. Catchy, lyrically moving, great tunes. Love the acoustic guitar and flute sounds. Looks back but looks forward too. As always, listen on headphones!" Merikan1: "This one should appeal to both those that like BBD as well as those that like Bill's pop/rock albums. I played it twice today. Love it." Angie: "This is an absolute gem. A nod to the past but a different album. I don't know how you keep doing it, but you've done it again. Your music has kept me company for over 40 years, through the highs and the lows of my life, enhancing every moment. Thank you x" P. Cozi: "I just can't get you out of my head. Humming, whistling "singing" both at work and home, it can't just be me can it. "Photograph" a new beginning revitalised and just as refreshing some 40 years later. The whole album is just sublime. Another masterpiece..." John Fisher: "Abandon any preconceived ideas, all who enter here... You might imagine that an album which finds Bill in a sentimental mood might be more reflective and quiet. Maybe more pastoral...Yet nothing could be further from the truth. It's funny, despite the fact that Bill has released over 100 albums stretching across four and a half decades, I don't think of him as a singer-songwriter per-se. When I think 'singer-songwriter', I think monochromatic and repetitive - boring. Whereas to me, Bill's music defies categorization. Fans are used to Bill releasing albums back to back that each explore different styles, sometimes with very little in common. But with New Northern Dream I hear a master singer-songwriter at the height of his powers. The electric and acoustic guitars intertwine in bittersweet harmony, as we are treated to one powerful, melodic ballad after another." Reg: "I really feel that this time Bill has hit the nail on the head and achieved the aims that he related when presenting the preview of the album. A great balance between looking back and looking forwards. The musical references to the original Northern Dream fit seamlessly into what I personally feel is his strongest collection of work for quite some time without overpowering it with a sense of nostalgia or whimsy. "The album has a more 'rock' feel than I was anticipating and despite Bill's often proclaimed aim to avoid the tropes of mainstream rock elements in his music I actually think they work to his advantage here." andygeorge: "I've been listening to NND since the launch last week and it's just simply wonderful! "Where other artists falter and stumble as they get older, Bill just continues to go from strength to strength...this is a work of art that, for me, captures the essence and innocence of Northern life from a bygone age....and I'm a Londoner! "If you were expecting a Northern Dream part 2, then think again...this is an album that absolutely stands tall in its own right. Bill's guitar work is exquisite as usual and the prominance given to the acoustic guitars just add something special, a nod to ND I suppose. "Buy it now! (maybe not, sold out!), beg, borrow or steal or download it when available, you will be blown away!... Thanks Bill!" Novemberman: "It's a lot harder than I expected. I assumed it would have been a more electro-folk album to align with the original, something like Songs of the Blossom Tree Optimists . Most of the songs are more rock orientated than anything else with a couple of ambient instrumentals thrown in for good measure. A couple of nods to the original, but as Bill has stated, this is quite a different beast. "Highlights for me are "Indigo Trees", a beautiful ambient style guitar piece, "New Northern Dreamer", but my favourite is "A Month Without A Moon" - superb song capturing the anthemic feel of "Another Day Another Ray Of Hope", "Boat To Forever", "God Man Slain" and the like." james warner: "While this album revisits the themes of looking back to Bill's youth, it has a more pop oriented feel than previous retrospective albums. Indeed, some of the tracks wouldn't sound out of place on mainstream radio, but still have that distinctive Bill Nelson sound." Debtworker: "Hi Bill, For me listening to your music is like preaching to the converted - but NND is really the most cohesive cd that, in my humble opinion, you have produced in many years. All the songs are stunning and original, but NND is so textured, so considered, original and beautiful that it has had me listening to it about 4 times in a row today - it is that enjoyable!!! I think this is the best series of songs that you have done for ages, no offense meant, and really show that you are at the top of your game. It is a great pleasure to own this cd and to have the joy of hearing it again and again...gush, gush...but it's all meant. Well done Bill! New Northern Dream is stunning and beautiful." neill_burgess: "It's definitely "accessible" (horrible word, but you know what I mean) and while it is coherent I'd stick my neck out and say it's one of Bill's more stylistically varied albums. Yes, Bill's hallmark multi-layered electric guitar pieces and extended codas feature frequently, but other tracks make welcome use of acoustic guitar as rhythm or lead instrument. Two tracks in particular, "Indigo Trees Hold Back the Stars" and "The Pond Yacht" bring back memories of the wonderful Rosewood albums, though now the acoustic guitar work is complemented by clean electric playing. While there are no out-and-out rockers, there are several poppy numbers such as "Consolation Street", "In a World of Strange Design" and "Miracles to Happen"; wistful ballads such as "Between the Seasons" and "Daydreaming", and a great slow blues number "The Legendary Spaceman Blues", all featuring strong electric guitar work (and sparingly effective use of e-bow). "Lyrically, there's a strong element of nostalgia, though not for the flares and Afghans of the 70's that some might have hoped for (or feared!) – the references are to earlier times: steam trains and gas lights, the shops and toys and bonfire parties of Bill's childhood. The present and future are not forgotten though, with "The Trip" and "Miracles to Happen" waking us from our reverie to remind us that even now, "life is such a blast" and we can and should still be "dreaming of tomorrow"." BigManRestless: "On my first listen now and my first impression is simply wow! It just amazes me after so many albums Bill that you can still maintain such quality. I'm having to revise my all time favourite Bill top 50 again! But which ones to go on..."Consolation Street"? "The Trip"? "Time Stops Here"? "November Fires (My New Northern Dream)"? I might just have to make it a top 75..." Albums Menu Future Past

Touch and Glow (reissue) Bill Nelson single - August 1983 Singles Menu Future Past TRACKS: A) Touch And Glow B1) Dancing In The Wind B2) Love Without Fear ORIGINALLY: All three songs were non-album tracks. NOTES: Touch and Glow is a 3 track single comprised of vocal pieces. Initially issued in November of 1982 as the only previously unreleased material in the Permanent Flame box set of 7" singles, the single was later reissued separately (August 1983), after the Mercury deal had lapsed. PAST RELEASES: A) and B2) were included on The Two Fold Aspect of Everything comp (out of print) B1) was included on The Strangest Things comp (out of print) CURRENT AVAILABILITY: Track B1 is available on the retrospective compilation album Transcorder (The Acquitted By Mirrors Recordings) . Singles Menu Future Past

Neptune's Galaxy Bill Nelson album - 11 July 2006 Albums Menu Future Past Purchase this download TRACKS: 01) My Ship Reclines On Clouds Of Sail 02) She Signals From Across The Bay 03) All Alone In A Boat Of His Own 04) Coastal Starlight 05) Ship In A Bottle Blues (The Modern Mariner) ALBUM NOTES: Neptune's Galaxy is an instrumental album issued on the Sonoluxe label in a single print run of 500 copies. The album was created as a companion album to The Alchemical Adventures of Sailor Bill . All five tracks are lengthy pieces that feature electric piano and guitar set to a background of suitably sourced sound effects. The album sold out in October 2006 - less than 4 months after being released. CURRENT AVAILABILITY: Available for purchase as a digital download here in the Dreamsville Store . BILL'S THOUGHTS: "Neptune is a great album to listen to whilst picnicking on the cliff tops on a warm summer day, the lighthouse to your left, the harbour below, white sails of little yachts bobbing out at sea, seagulls soaring in a blue sky overhead, and your best girlie by your side. I'm hoping to release Neptune towards the end of June, whilst the summer still sings." _____ "I am VERY satisfied with Neptune's Galaxy , but in a different way to the Sailor Bill album. Neptune's Galaxy is much more low key and ambient. It's not trying to be a bold new statement, but is an exploration of an area of music I've visited before, (Ie: Dreamland , Crimsworth , Rosewood ), but it stretches and extends those moods via an oceanic soundscape. Parts of it reference the kind of work I've done with my pal Harold Budd too, in fact some of it is directly inspired by the concert I took part in with Harold about a year ago in Brighton. "You might say that Neptune's Galaxy is more abstract, contemplative, an 'art' piece, an impressionist painting, if you like, whilst Sailor Bill is cinematic, linear, figurative, biographical. They compliment each other by being connected to the coastal theme whilst being rather different in execution. "I guess the most similar piece in terms of atmosphere on Sailor Bill would be the final track, "My Ship is Lost to Semaphore". This track serves as a bridge or portal to the alternative world of Neptune's Galaxy . For now, enjoy Neptune's Galaxy whilst the sun shines and the waves lap the shore." _____ "As the tracks on the actual album are very long, it's impossible to give more than a wee taste of the album's mood via a short sample. The tracks develop at a very relaxed pace, they don't rush through their changes, but they do unfold and develop quite dramatically as you listen to them. It is an easy album to absorb in many ways as it's all melodic, pastel coloured and quite gentle. But it IS an album to listen to properly if you're to enjoy the subtle way each track blossoms out from its initial premise. It takes its time and asks you to do the same. The more time you spend with it, the more it will reveal." _____ "For me, I can't just keep turning out exactly the same style of music over and over...I'd get so bored with it, so I keep moving the atoms around, keep things in motion as much as possible. I like to challenge myself, as much as the listener. But it's all from the same true source, my imagination, heart and soul. And it all means something and that 'something' will never be too difficult to grasp." _____ "Didn't I tell you that I was about to release my hyper-thrash-metal album, 'Satan Wants Your Daughter's Flip-Flops And Will Leave Marks On Your Floor If They Don't Fit'? Every copy comes with a free one-million-watt home public address system so that your neighbours can join in the fun. But if you really want to make them scratch their heads, Neptune's Galaxy will provide a more controversial and subversive listening experience. Especially if you start bringing mermaids home to frolic in the bath with you whilst you play the album full blast on your wind-up gramophone." _____ "Glad you like the merladies on the cover. Took me ages to catch them and days afterwards to mend my nets." FAN THOUGHTS: Johnny Jazz: "Words fail me...it's beautiful." "I love the fact that I've listened to NG half a dozen times since Saturday, each time it felt as though I were listening to a different album. There is so much going on, new motifs to discover, so many different ways to listen to it as well." neill_burgess: "First impressions are very, very positive indeed. In fact, I'd go so far as to say it is absolutely gorgeous. At times, ambient yes, but often so much more, with wonderful guitarwork (most reminiscent of Dreamland to Starboard ) and skittering percussive beats and bleeps of a level I've not yet heard on any of Bill's albums. On top of that, it strikes me that this could be the best produced/mixed of any of Bill's albums, the whole sonic landscape clearly defined in a way that is itself a sheer pleasure." Parsongs: "Bill tells us about his previous life as a sailor, and then paints a musical picture about what he sees. It's a beautiful view from any coast." Sue: "After the opening ceremony and official listen-in, this relaxing and enchanting CD is certainly more delicious than strawberries and ice-cream, sweeter than honey, more magical than a childhood Christmas, has more aaahhhh!! than a Cadbury's eclair, and is smoother than the smoothest of silks. A real delight." Twilightcapers: "Don't know about anyone else, but I absolutely love this album. It's probably one of my most played CDs since it came out. There are moments of pure magic on there when I forget it's Bill Nelson manipulating the instruments and I just get lost in the ambience. Along with Sailor Bill , my two favourite BN releases, and they are not guitar based works either! Hard to pin down exactly why I like them so much - they're just so different from everything else." Pathdude: "I think it is fantabulous. I wish it was twice as long. That style of Bill's is transcendent (in my mind)." BenTucker: "One of the things I find with Bill's albums from, say, after 2000 or so, is their inexhaustibility of appeal - you can go back to them again & again. Neptune's Galaxy seems to have a vast amount of "musical information", whilst at the same time being the ultimate 'chill-out' album (not a term I particularly like, but you know what I mean)." "Particularly struck with the first track - you feel as if you're floating listening to it (while simultaneously being dazzled). This is how "ambient music" should be: colourful and blissful. Absolutely essential listening - you really should buy it if you haven't already." machman767: "On the subject of the first track, Bill has made much of the cd being perfect summer listening material. The first time I played it, however, it brought back emotions of walking on a cliff top in late autumn, with a faint sea mist hanging around. Even in the middle of a belting heatwave it still conjures up the image. I've got to say there ain't much music around these days that manages to create ANY emotions!" mvande2: "One of the most beautiful pieces of music I've heard ever is the first 2 1/2 minutes of "She Signals From Across the Bay". My eyes involuntarily close and I melt." thunk: "I tend to see this kind of music as 'expressionistic', while other ambient albums may rely more on the hypnotic effect of 'tones' & 'repetition' to seduce in an alternate way ('impressionistic?) - that's just 'one' take on this interesting & challenging form of music, and it can be SO much more rewarding than a collection of more structured songwriting from which an 'instant' appeal must somehow reach further..." "Bill's music is 'most-rewarding' it seems in the long-term, and as with Neptune's Galaxy , its depth & beauty will emerge as we all give it more 'plays' and allow it a natural place in our Nelsonic heart..." Angeltide: "I hope this doesn't sound too pretentious (ie wanky) but if you have had a go at making a bit of music yourself, you begin to get some idea of the level of inspiration, hard work and determination that goes into creating a serious 'noodle' like this. I've only listened a couple of times, as I like to savour these things properly, but my impression is that the album never stands still and is constantly introducing new sounds, ideas, mood shifts, references elsewhere and stylistic nods of the head to influences big and small. And all with apparently minimal effort and fuss." "It's just absolutely beautiful. If you haven't ordered it do so. I said before that Sailor Bill had a curiously relaxing feel from the moment it starts and this one is even more so. Can't praise it highly enough." Albums Menu Future Past

2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2013 William's Study (Diary Of A Hyperdreamer) December 2006 Jan Apr May Jun Jul Aug Sep Oct Nov Friday 8th December 2006 -- 10:00 pm In ten days time, it will be my fifty-eighth birthday. I've planned nothing by way of celebration so far. If I'm to have an evening out with friends, I should get it organised quickly. I tend to overlook the fact that, at this time of year, restaurants are booked solid with office Christmas parties and the like. I invariably leave my traditional birthday dinner decision too late, then end up having to accept fourth or fifth choice of dining establishment possibilities. Predictably though at this stage of the game, birthdays don't have quite the same frisson of excitement that they had when I was a youngster, so perhaps that accounts for a certain amount of laxness on my part. That and the fear of actually becoming another year closer to the unholy number SIXTY. Emiko has been ill for most of this week. She was laid low by what the doctor diagnosed as a stomach virus. A 'lot of it going about', apparently. She was in too much pain to go to work on Tuesday though she had little option on Wednesday because of two freelance contracts that she's duty bound to deal with. I did what I could to help, driving and carrying things. Thursday she was feeling a little better but still suffering from stomach pain intermittently and feeling weak. It was a busy day for both of us though, for several reasons. Thursday the 7th of December marked the 30th anniversary of my father's death. I drove over to Wakefield to pick my mother up from her home and together we drove out to the crematorium at Kettlethorpe to take some flowers. There's a tiny chapel of sorts in the crematorium gardens, a little red brick building houses a large, semi-ornate 'Book Of Rememberance.' It is opened at the appropriate date of each day of each month, where the names of people who passed away on that date are recorded by hand in red and black gothic script with the year of their death next to their name. The wind was blowing hard, cold and wet as my mother and I entered the little building and looked down into the glass display case that contained the book. Two thirds of the way down the left hand page, my father's name, in the aforementioned immaculate gothic script:, appeared: 'Walter Nelson, 7th December 1976.' We stood side by side, looking at the page in silence for a few seconds, almost as if the thirty year old ink might magically conjure my father's presence into the room. Then we talked fondly and wryly about him, noted the name of the only other person in the book who had died on the 7th of December 1976 and eventually, reluctantly, made our way outside to the rear of the building where a small, lean-to greenhouse-like annexe stood. It held rows of wall mounted zinc vases where flowers could be left as a memorial to loved ones. We took the wrapping paper from two bunches of white and yellow flowers we'd bought from Morrison's supermarket, just down the road from my mother's house, and placed them into two empty vases, halfway up the inside wall, opposite the outer, glassed wall. The second bunch was in rememberance of my grandmother, Ethel Griffiths, who had passed away a few years before my father. My mother opened her handbag and produced two messages that she had written on two nondescript pieces of lined notepaper. The messages were from herself and me, written in her neat and tidy old-school handwriting, a handwriting that puts mine to shame. One message was for my father and one for my grandmother. She sighed and noted that this was the very first time that the messages had not included the name of my brother Ian next to my mother's signature and mine. We attached the pieces of paper to the zinc vases with a few elastic bands that my mother had also thoughtfully brought with her and adjusted the blooms so that they looked as attractive as we could possibly manage without Emi being there to add her professional flair. Then we wrapped up the stem ends that we'd trimmed from the greenery and stood back to see the finished effect, simultaneously scanning the surrounding vases, all with their own notes attached, messages from loving wives, husbands, sons and daughters. Each vase contained a life story of one kind or another, a life lost but not forgotten, expressed in faded flowers and a few inky words on damp paper. On a bottom row, next to one particular vase, was a small, soft-toy teddy bear which had fallen on its side. My mother bent down to straighten it up and glanced at the card that was attached to it. From where I was standing, I could just make out the words, 'to my Daddy.' The rain beat down hard on the glass roof of the little greenhouse, driven by the cold wind that whistled in the eaves and under the door. We went outside and walked across to the main entrance path and to the spot where the local council authorities had cast my father's ashes, thirty years previous. My mother told me that she had once made enquiries, of the crematorium staff, about where this act had taken place and one official had looked it up in the book of records and then paced out the location for my mother. She led me over to it, an area just by the side of the stone-flagged path at the crematorium end. We stood now, in the rain, looking at this ambiguous patch of grass, vainly trying to materialise my father from the long dissolved powder of his remains. I wanted to talk to him, to tell him about my life, to tell him about Emiko, to ask him hundreds of questions that I was too young and self-engrossed to ask when he was alive. Then, my mother and I sought the shelter of my car before driving away from the crematorium, passing the Kettlethorpe council estate and, just a few yards down from the crematorium, on the right-hand side of the road, the Kettlethorpe Youth Club building, the latter hardly changed since the 'sixties. As we drove, my mother recalled a time, in my early teens, when I was out playing somewhere in Wakefield, with an amateur band I was involved in. Apparently, whilst I was out , a 'phone call came in to my parent's house, asking if the band could do another gig, later that same night, over at Kettlethorpe Youth Club. My father, who sometimes acted as manager for these early bands of mine, hopped in his car and drove to the gig in Wakefield to tell us about the request. The Wakefield gig must have been an early evening thing as my mother tells me that, afterwards, we packed up our gear and then went on to the Kettlethorpe Youth Club to play the second gig. I only vaguely recall this twin-booking windfall but I DO remember one thing from the Kettlethorpe Youth Club gig and it is this: there was an open plan style staircase in the central entrance of the youth club, a very 'sixties styled thing, quite modern then but maybe archaically so now. On these stairs I encountered and chatted with a very pretty girl. I can half see her face as I type these words. Can't recall her name though...but she had a softness about her, a calmness. She possesed none of the common, vulgar presence that so many girls seemed to exude back then but had something deeper, gentler, quite lovely, refined even. I was very much taken by her and it seemed, from her warm smile and the inviting twinkle in her eye, that she felt the same about me. But I was relatively shy, lacked confidence and didn't make enough of an attempt to fan this tiny spark of mutual recognition into something bigger. We chatted, flirted and vanished into our respective futures. But I've never forgotten that encounter, one of those instances that actually happen far more frequently than we surmise. A situation where paths cross, where someone, out of the blue, connects with us in a profound way. Maybe you could call it a soul encounter, a precious, fleeting moment lost in time but forever remembered and cherished. Damn! What WAS her name? Back to Thursday: From Kettlethorpe, my mother and I then drove to Wakefield Cemetary where we cleaned out one of the glass vases on my brother Ian's grave and filled it with our third bunch of flowers. The wind was almost as cold as the terrible day when we watched his casket being lowered into the ground in April of this year. I miss him profoundly, much, much more than he would ever have expected. My mother, unsurprisingly, is still devastated, permanently wounded despite her outer attempts at stoicism. Ian's memorial headstone is not quite ready yet, so his grave is marked only by the metal framework that outlines the word 'DAD,' a remnant of a floral tribute from his three children that Emi prepared for Ian's funeral. No flowers on it now, of course, just the weather beaten frame but, until the headstone is errected, it is the only object, other than three glass vases and some rain washed cards, that identifies his resting place. Mum and I agreed that it is time the headstone was in place. And it will be soon, I hope. We stood there in the cold rain, gazing down at the earth where Ian rests, thinking about how much we loved and miss him and how we wished we could have saved him from such a premature fate. It suddenly struck me that, as a very young boy, I used to accompany my mother to Wakefield Cemetary in the 1950's to put flowers on the graves of my great grandmother and great grandfather. I would play amongst the gravestones with a toy balsa wood glider, (bought by my mother from a model shop then located at the bottom of Kirkgate), whilst my mother attended to the cleaning of vases and the changing of flowers. All those long years ago. And now, here are the two of us, mother in her late seventies, me rapidly approaching sixty, placing flowers on my own brother's grave in that very same cemetary. Neither of us expected, back in those early, carefree 1950's, that this would be our future sorrow.. No wonder it was raining. I drove my mother to her home where her husband George was waiting, then set off for York. Emi had gone to work at the flower shop that morning, her stomach bug better than it had been but still not vanquished. She'd already booked the afternoon off as we'd had an invitation to attend a special event at Castle Howard, just north of York. (For those of my diary readers unfamiliar with the place, it was used as one of the chief locations in the tv series 'Brideshead Revisited.') Earlier in the year, we'd signed up for an annual pass to Castle Howard. We visit there at regular intervals anyway and both of us adore the house and its glorious surroundings. One of the benefits of being a pass-card holder is that we get invited to special events, many of them not available to the general public. Today we were to be allowed into the house itself to view the Howard family's Christmas decorations followed by a brass band recital, mince pies, mulled wine and a torchlit parade. Normally, the house is closed to the public in winter as the public wing of it is reclaimed by the Howard family for their Christmas entertaining. It was a new experience for Emi and I to walk through the grounds of the house in winter. Normally, we're there during the spring or summer months when the atmosphere is quite different. But, to my delight, it is equally beguiling with a grey windy sky and naked trees. The interior of the house, when we entered and made our way through its marble statued corridors to the great hall, looked absolutely otherworldly. It was, by now, completely dark outside and the house was lit by hundreds of thick candles set on silver reflective trays, their glow flickering across the ancient carved marble bodies and heads of Greek and Roman gods and godesses, some of them amusingly (and sometimes daringly), hung with festive tinsel and glass baubles. In the great hall, a log fire was blazing and opposite it stood a truly enormous Christmas tree, festooned by the Howards with their personal family decorations. And there were impressive Christmas trees throughout the entire house, each one beautifully trimmed and gleaming. Not Disney-like, not twee...but transcendent. It was as if the entire building had been alchemically transformed into a fairytale palace, achingly gorgeous, filled with rare treasures. Choral music filled the air as if angels were hidden in the high corners of each magnificent room. I have to say that, despite being generally cynical about these things, I was transported, utterly enchanted. We slowly made our way through the huge house, eventually ending up in the Howard family's private chapel, a tiny jewel of Pre-Raphaelite splendour. For many years, I've dreamed of creating a site-specific piece of music for this chapel. Now, on a candle-lit evening in early winter, I was seized by a stronger conviction than ever that this is something I must try to achieve before it becomes too late. I resolved to write to Simon Howard in person, to see what the possibilities for such a thing might be. It would involve a live instrumental performance from myself but with the possibility of some kind of vocal dimension being incorporated. (My good friend Harold Budd has suggested to me that a vocal work of a non-pop/rock nature might be worth my consideration. And he's right, of course.) I would also like to incorporate a small string section as part of the composition, though this may require more funding than may be available to me. It's nothing but pure idea now though...so much to be resolved before it would have a chance of being realised as an actual performance. But something to work towards, next year. Let me see if I can outline my tdeas in a letter to Mr. Howard. He may find the proposal of no interest. Then again... After leaving the chapel, we gathered around yet another gaily lit Christmas tree, this time outside on the north face of the house, where a brass band played carols and the invited guests were treated to mince pies and mulled wine.The Howards walked around, checking that everyone was enjoying the evening. Far away behind and slightly below us, one of Castle Howard's lakes gleamed in the December darkness while two white swans, faintly visible in the gloom, glided silently on its glassy surface. Then the torchlight parade from the house, through the grounds, to the stable courtyard where a Father Christmas Grotto had been set up for the children. All in all, a lovely, relaxing, memorable evening. Then Emi and I drove to Leeds. This was to pick up some items that Emi needed from the flower market which was opening unusually late that evening. Once the car was loaded with these items, we then set off to the village of Ledsham for a cosy dinner for two in the ancient 'Chequers' inn, one of our favourite haunts. Two glasses of wine and a plate of mussels later, I sat back in the passenger seat as Emi was drove us home to spend the rest of the evening snuggled up together on the sofa in front of the television. A hectic day but one that made us realise how blessed we were. By direct contrast, I came across some really sad bickering amongst a tiny handful of fans on my website forum, fuelled by some deliberately vindictive postings elsewhere. I'm regularly amazed by how steamed up over absolutely nothing some people get. Certain troubled souls seem use either me or my work as a pitiful excuse to vent their own inner demons on the world at large. Terribly flattering, in a way, but completely self-defeating in the long run. It's doomed to failure and serves no positive purpose. If nothing else it confirms my thoughts about the whole silly business of being fantasied over as a 'rock star' or whatever role I fulfill in some people's lives these days. That a few isolated fans feel the need to so intensely focus their energy on the minutae of my existence is not so much a mystery as a tradgedy. But ever since I've had a career in music, I've been forced to deal with some rather odd people, a tiny minority of them seriously troubled. But then again, I'm not alone in this. Virtually every other musician of my acquaintance has suffered the same experience at some point or other... and my management have often warned me about allowing certain people get too close. Maybe this kind of problem goes with the job, although I wish it didn't. I'm far too gullible, and I suppose I find it hard to say "no" to people. The number of times my instincts have warned me to stay clear of someone or other, yet I've gone ahead and trusted them, only to be betrayed later. You'd think I'd have learned my lesson by now. My own fault, no doubt. On the other hand, I'm definitely blessed with a great number of loyal, genuine, sensible, calm and respectful fans of whom I'm proud. They reflect the care and thought that goes into the music and are wonderful ambassadors for my work. They are a joy to meet and are respectful of my privacy when I need it. It's just that there have always been a few, let's just say, 'over-enthusiastic' ones, teetering, some people have suggested, on the edge of being psychopathically unbalanced. It seems that they just don't know where the boundary lies and end up regarding their heroes as personal property, always a recipe for disaster, in my experience. The crazy thing is, the more I try to disillusion them, to lift the scales from their eyes, the more they obsess and cling to their manias. I become a kind of life-raft for them, vehemently attacked because they've mistakenly come to depend upon me and my work for the propping up of their own sense of self. Ego, resentment, jealousy, there's evidence that all these things enter into the equation. As someone with a longtime interest in what makes people tick, I find this sort of phenomena immensely interesting. A social psychiatrist, I suspect, would have an absolute field day. It's sad but, a certain amount of personal provocation does get aimed in my direction, and in the direction of sincere, well-balanced fans too. Maybe it stems from a latent masochistic streak or something, perhaps these people are desperate to get me to hurl insults at them. Whatever the psychology, it seems I fulfill a very powerful role in their lives. Which, as you might expect, freaks me out no end. It's not something I set out to achieve, quite the opposite. But, ultimately, who cares? It's only pop music. And it's only in pop music that this sort of rubbish happens. In that respect, it's quite common and utterly banal. Anyway... Christmas shopping in Harrogate on Saturday. The annual Charles Rennie Macintosh Society festive gathering on Sunday. (Films, tea and sandwiches.) My music parked until next week when I need to knuckle down to some serious work before Christmas takes over my attentions completely. I must complete the adaptation of 'Dreamland Illuminated', (the Memory Codex soundtrack), that I intend to make the centrepiece of a new album. I'm adding some extra instrumentation to parts of the almost 40 minute piece to make it work as a 'stand-alone' composition. This album will gather together various odds and ends that haven't found a home on recent albums. In some ways it will work in the manner of the Nelsonica convention specials. The album will have the title 'Gleaming Without Lights.' I also have a new project to work on: I've been invited to remake/remodel a track of my choosing from Mitchell Froom's first solo album, an invitation which I consider to be both an honour and a challenge. Then there's the Be Bop Decca Sessions album to mix and assemble. It's called ' Tomorrow The World.' I intend to add radio interviews and some 'official' bootleg live recordings to the package too. Then there's the EMI box set to consider with Mark Powell who is putting it all together. Plus update work on Paul sutton-Reeves 'Music In Dreamland' book. Somewhere amongst all that, I have to fit in Christmas and family duties. Not quite the usual holiday time then...or is it? Nothing at all to complain about, though. I love every ticking minute! Top of page Friday 29th December 2006 -- 10:00 pm 2006 almost gone...and Christmas gone in the blink of an eye. I spent the week before Christmas in a stressed-out panic, trying to make sure that everything and everyone was taken care of, presents bought, cards sent, plenty of food in the larder, enough wine to host a Bacchanalian revel, the usual Yuletide madness that, no matter how carefully I try to plan ahead, always ends up being a last minute scamble. And for what? Christmas melts away faster than the fabled snow that never arrives. Eat, drink, fall asleep on the sofa and it's gone. I did manage to get my son and daughter their main requested gifts: A Korg AX 3000 G guitar effects processor for Elliot and a Line 6 DL4 Delay modeller for Elle. A few fun stocking fillers were purchased to round things out for them. I also bought gifts for my eldest daughter Julia and my grandson Luke but their plan to travel from their home in London to spend Christmas or New Year in Yorkshire has been changed at the last minute. I'll hold on to everything until they manage to get up here. For Emi, I bought mostly clothes and lingerie. Many men would not naturally relish the choosing of, (and shopping for), clothes for their wives but for me it's an absolutely delightful and creative task. I'm pretty much dependable when it comes to finding items for Emi...nothing to do with fashion, (which, the more confident one becomes, the more one should ignore). It's more about elegance and style rather than high street trends. (Or, at least that's the plan.) I'm quite prepared to spend as much time as necessary to track down something that little bit special and I know instinctively when I've found the right thing. Emi, flatteringly, trusts my taste, even though her own is sophisticated and finely honed. Luckily, from past experience, it's very rare that I get it wrong. This Christmas, she loved everything I bought and all of it fits her perfectly. Of course, I do get the added benefit of a private fashion show as she tries each garment on! Emi bought me a new watch for my collection, a hand knitted fisherman's hat from Whitby, a hand-knitted scarf in lemon, grey and black from the same town, a book dealing with the history of British comics, a facsimilie edition of a 1939 Dandy annual, a bottle of 'Aqua Di Parma' cologne, (one of my favourite fragrances), and several other bits and pieces. We've been together for 13 years now, (and known each other longer), yet I still can't believe my good fortune. How an unsophisticated kid from a council estate in Yorkshire ended up living with such a lovely treasure is not only a mystery to me but a continuing miracle. Wakefield and Tokyo...for much of our lives we were half a world apart but, somehow, fate brought us together. I could never have predicted such an exotic future when I was a young man. On Christmas Eve, we both went to the arthouse cinema in the centre of town and watched a special screening of Frank Capra's 'It's A Wonderful Life.' This involved a pre-film buffet with mulled wine which we were allowed take into the cinema with us. It was a full house and Emi and I had to sit apart from each other as only single seating arrangements were left. The mulled wine I'd happily consumed caused a few drowsy moments during the film but I responded to the story's sentimental ending with the customary tear-damp eyes. A pleasant way to spend Christmas Eve, nevertheless. On Christmas Day, we were both invited to join our friends, Steve and Julia, for the traditional feast at their house just down the lane from ours. They've been kind enough to let us share their festive family gathering for several years now and the Christmas meal is always a delight. Julia has a genuine talent for cooking and entertaining and all our taste buds were given a tremendous treat. A terrific meal and excellent company. During the woozy, boozy afternoon, Julia's mother, Julia's husband Steve and myself initiated a joyful, spontaneous jam session in the music room. Steve on drums, Julia's mum on piano and myself on guitar. Great fun. I'd never actually played 'Begin The Beguine' before but I managed to figure it out as we went along, my D'Angelico New Yorker plugged into one of Steve and Julia's children's amplifiers. It almost sounded as if we'd rehearsed it. Julia's mother is a fine pianist and Steve used to play drums in a band before his business began to occupy so much of his time. I think he'd like to play more often if circumstances allowed. After much wine was consumed and gifts exchanged, Emi and I rolled home to spend the rest of the evening crashed out on the sofa, watching a DVD of Ken Russel's evocative tv dramatisation of British composer Edward Elgar's life. Christmas lights twinkled merrily in the corners of the room, rows of greetings cards lined the low wooden ceiling beams, candles flickered in etched crystal jars as the Elgar dramatisation unfolded, enhancing my mood of fireside melancholy. Strains of 'Nimrod' conjuring a lost England of dreams. A kind of wrapped-in-cotton-wool-cloudy blissfulness enveloped the two of us. Wonderful... Christmas suits this place. Our home looks even more warm and colourful than usual with all the seasonal decorations. Took me quite a while to get everything organised but the end result was worth it. Reminds me of the childhood Christmases I shared with my brother Ian when we once-upon-a-time believed in Santa Claus, back in the 1950's when we lived at 28 Conistone Crescent, Eastmoor Estate, on the edge of Wakefield. Our parents always went to great trouble to ensure that it was a magical time for us. Even though we were a working class family living in a council flat, Christmas Day morning always brought wonders. The front room was miraculously transformed into an indoor toy shop window, overflowing with endless delights: Meccano sets, Dinky Toys, Hornby train sets, Scalextric sets, Eagle, Beano, Beezer and Topper annuals, gaily decorated paintboxes, coloured 'Lakeland' pencils in wooden boxes, magician's outfits, cowboy hats and cap-guns in holsters, Airfix, Revell and Monogram model kits...all displayed with great visual skill on the living room carpet beneath the half-bay art-deco framed window. My brother Ian and I, awake early and eager, would kneel in front of this shining bounty, still in our red 'Ladybird' brand dressing gowns. We would carefully look at each gift in turn as our parents observed our mounting excitement. And all around us, the garlands, balloons, lights and other Christmas decorations, whilst not nearly as high-tech or elaborate as today's fare, shone with the most evocative colour schemes and shapes, so very much of their time. Those long distant years are vividly etched in memory. Sometimes it feels as if I only need to move a few inches to my left and I'll be back there again, as if I'd stepped through a thin veil of time, a doorway to way back when. There's a lyric in an old Simon and Garfunkel song, (called, I think, 'Photograph'). The lyric says: "preserve your memories, they're all that's left you..." Sentimental nonsense? Well, yes and no... Here in the present, the future rushes towards us at such an unforgiving pace that it's no surprise that we sometimes regard the past as offering us a nebulous, peaceful haven, a moment's respite from the harsh pressures of the now. Yet this tendency to wallow in nostalgia is as much a curse as a blessing. I'm certainly not immune to its seductive charms...and not nearly as brave and present in the here and now as I ought to be. For all my criticism of those who perpetually yearn for the return of their golden years, I still, when cold winds blow, furtively seek sanctuary in the warm candle-lit corridors of memory. If I stand back and attempt some kind of objectivity, I see that this might indicate a somewhat contradictory creature, and, if truth were told, a confused, headlight dazzled one too. On the surface, it doesn't quite add up. How can someone who savours the likes of Coltrane, Partch, Faure, Milhaud, Feldman (and so on), find simple pleasure in the light, inconsequential music that was once broadcast by 'Uncle Mac' on the 'Children's Favourites' BBC radio programmes of the '50's? I mean, come on...'The Big Rock Candy Mountain?' 'The Runaway Train?' 'Inchworm?' 'Teddy Bear's Picnic?' 'Sparky And His Magic Piano?' For goodness sake! Why should that be? Where lurks the critical faculty when I allow myself such indulgences? How can a bookworm who delights in the literary pleasures of Kerouac, Ginsberg and Burroughs, who has pondered the mystical writings of Jacob Bohme, the occult speculations of A.O. Spare, the Zen musings of Suzuki, the sexo-political theories of Reich, etc, etc...how can THIS man still have an appetite for the adventures of Dan Dare, Jack Flash, Jimmy And His Magic Patch, General Jumbo, Marvelman, and all the other fanciful denizens of the British children's comics of the post-war years? How too, can I become absorbed in and inspired by the films of Jean Cocteau, Orson Wells, Maya Deren, Fritz Lang, Kenneth Anger, Harry Smith, Jack Smith and dozens of others of their luminous ilk and yet...STILL shed a pathetic tear at the conclusion of 'It's A Wonderful Life?' Or watch a complilation video of the Morcambe and Wise Christmas shows? Makes no sense...Then again, maybe to a perceptive psychologist, it does. Perhaps it's not so complicated, maybe I simply want it ALL, to reach out and grasp as much as possible, to embrace everything, to pull it all together and put it all into some sort of context. What context would that be? Why, that of my own mysterious, unfathomable existence of course! I'm simply looking for myself amongst all the glittering rubble, the gilded ruins of my life. I'm made up of all this conflicting material, these myriad, random assemblies of STUFF...and yet, like everyone else, I'm ultimately, essentially, separate from these things. I simply curate them, contain them like a museum. A museum that I sometimes haunt like a ghost. I often worry unduly about this paradoxical mess of seminal potage, at other times I simply ignore it and go with the flow. Cultural barriers can too easily be imposed from without...far too many people taking their cues from the media, cherry picking their art passions for effect, a desperate attempt to impress those whom they perceive as their peers. (If not that, then at least to convince themselves of their own 'good' taste.) Such barriers are also imposed from within, errected out of a kind of fear of the unknown, a fear of appearing 'different', a fear of being an outsider trapped within a uniform society. But surely this should be seen as an outmoded attitude nowadays? Haven't we gone beyond such limitations? Or are we returning to a more rigid, dogmatic, conservative ethos? The attitude of many who seek some kind of artistic perspective, is that there is no such thing as 'low' culture or 'high' culture. It's all one continuous ribbon: just CULTURE. Class structures, privelege and wealth are redundant, irrelevant. Anything and everything can be considered as cultural grist-to-the-mill. Everything is up for grabs, inspirational, intrinsically valuable. The modern creative soul knows no bounds and little shame. Such a wide-open attitude goes way beyond post-modernism, beyond irony, beyond 'art' even. It's an ongoing, evolutional revelation, the timeless ticking of the human dream machine. Even the most mundane of moments is seen to contain a wealth of meaning and personal resonance. Perhaps the entire universe is available for transformation. Everything we are capable of comprehending is potentially transcendent. But how many people realise this and grasp that potential? For many of us, it's impossible to ignore the constant cynicism that permeates our society. The cynicism that screams at us from the pages of newspapers, from the media in general, from the streets. It's so ingrained nowadays that we often take it as the norm, a given condition of contemporary life. Nor is it breaking news that a deep undercurrent of despair runs beneath all the rabid consumerism, the jostling for status and position, the cults of celebrity, the empty aspirations of middle class society, the transparent manipulations of our political puppet masters. Pointless to point the finger, we're all implicated and involved, both as individuals and as a collective society, whether we realise it or not. At the risk of adding even more cynicism to the equation, I'll say this: Christmas definitely shines a harsh light on our vain attempts to chase after an illusory, fragmentary happiness. It's right there in front of our eyes. Just take a moment to look around... There was little of what might once have been called Christmas cheer in the streets those last few days before the shops finally closed their doors. Instead there were stern, even angry faces, people pushing their way through the crowds in wild-eyed desperation, gangs of youths in ugly shell suits, screaming abuse at each other, drunken gaggles of tinsel-wreathed girls spillinng beer into their ample Wonderbra cleavages....scenes of cheap, tacky debauchery that reminded me of the apocalyptic visions of Hogarth and Bosch. The annual siege mentality. A feverish desperation expressed in overflowing shopping bags and whispered curses. And this in a city that prides itself as one of England's finest. Lovely... Actually, I have to admit that it fascinates me in an appalling way. I stand back and look at it as if I'm visiting from another world and yet I'm as inextricably woven into its chaotic fabric as anyone else. The act of observation and the reporting of it here only adds to the vulgar, nauseous effect. Nevertheless...you can't deny folks their jollies, especially at this time of year. Maybe I'm just a decadent old snob but I do prefer my odd moments of debauchery to include some sort of redeeming aesthetic, a sensual dandyism, if you will: a finely turned ankle in an elegant, subtly fetishistic shoe, a sweet bosom nestled in intricate black French lace, a moment of delicate, aching beauty prolonged to the point of religious ecstasy. Is there some kind of musky, velvety, suburban elitism at play here? Well, yes, quite possibly. Or at least there would be, given half the chance. But then, I also see myself as an old romantic who enjoys a tender kiss, a hint of perfume and the gleam of starlight to accompany his behind-the-gasworks fumblings. (No surprise this as I was a young romantic too, once upon a time. Check out those early Be Bop Deluxe songs for the damning evidence.) However, whether it's a sign of a failing libido or just plain old repulsion, lardy women exhibiting their spotty backsides whilst stooping to recover their clip-on reindeer's antlers outside Yates' Wine Lodge don't do a damned thing for me, I'm sorry to admit. Merry Christmas, girls...and make the most of it. No matter how hard we try to surround ourselves with seasonal symbols, how much we spend in the high street, how much we eat or drink, there's something terminally unfulfilling and empty at the end of it all. Our neighbour, Archbishop John Sentamu, (yes, he's a local lad for the moment, at least until Cantebury calls), would probably say the same thing, but he would also, inevitably, add the Christian message of salvation as the solution. Archbishop Sentamu is, from all I've read about him, a good man and a fine example to us all, (he even wonders through the village without ecclesiastical entourage, dressed in rather sharp fashionable clothes), but, God forgive me, Christianity, or at least the Church that claims its custody, seems somehow insufficient to the complexity of the modern malaise. Faith alone is never enough. 'Be ye as little children...' but beware strangers bearing toys. It's a wicked world and peace, love and understanding is under constant threat. Perhaps the new thing, the best hope for our society, is an internal reprogramming, an adjustment of values, a total re-alignment of our expectations. Maybe it's time for our contemporary mean-spirited cynicism to be abandoned in favour of an open-hearted optimism, a warm and generous positivity. A sunnier disposition if you like. I could add: "yeah, and pigs will fly..." but then, that would be my own lazy cynicism rearing its ugly head. Maybe its not asking too much at all, perhaps such a fundamental, simple attitude shift would separate the winners from the losers...or transform the losers into winners. The new optimists, the yea-sayers, the 'inclusionists', the positivists, the all-embracers, perhaps this is what we must become if the future is to be saved from the ravages of the present. Knowledge, of self, first and foremost, then the glorious by-product: universal understanding and compassion. Lost keys to a bright tomorrow? But I'm drifting way off course here. As I usually do. I'll return to my reporting of the seasonal day to day... On Boxing Day my mother, her husband George, his daughter Jennifer, (who is visiting from Australia where she lives), Elle and Elliot, all came to our house for a tasty buffet Emi had prepared. George has given me, as a Christmas gift, an old accordian of his. It's a beautiful object in its own right, before I even begin to play it. Which I can't at the moment, but I'll keep trying. (My old friend Roger Eno would coax a grand shanty out of it, as would the lovely Kate St. John...Accordioneers both.) Elliot gave me a boxed set of DVDs archiving the old American television Superman series from the '50's. (The live action ones, not the Fleischer cartoons.) For my birthday, a week earlier, he'd bought me another DVD set containing the entire series of 'Supercar', an early Gerry Anderson produced creation. Elliot is aquainted with my inner child and knows how to indulge it. Elle bought me some cosmetic things, (as girls do), plus a beautifully scented candle and a set of Jean Cocteau fridge magnets which she bought in Paris. It seems that Cocteau has become a modern day product, just like his pal Picasso. 'Art, Empire, Industry' as I once sang, thirty years ago now. On Wednesday, we went to visit my sister-in-law Diane in Wakefield. It is her first Christmas without my brother Ian and I can only imagine how she must feel. Ian's passing has overshadowed all our enjoyments this Christmas. It's been impossible to deal with the seasonal demands without feeling a deep sadness at his absence. We all miss him so much. Ian's headstone was finally erected, just before the Christmas weekend, eight or nine months after his passing. Emi and I drove to Wakefield cemetary on the day before Christmas Eve to view the memorial stone in situ. It was dark, cold and wet when we got there but we were able to drive Emi's car into the cemetary and park it with its headlights illuminating the grave. I have to admit that, whilst the headstone has been much anticipated, the sight of it provoked a dark anguish. It somehow underlined the awful finality of the situation. Emi and I placed fresh flowers in the vases that have been built into the headstone. Ian's name stood out in silver letters, carved as much into the cold night as the grey marble. Every time I visit the cemetary, I struggle to grasp the enormity of the loss. It's still hard to believe that I won't be able to share a joke with him again, or recall together a memory of our happy childhood. Then, for an awful moment, the truth hits and hits brutally hard. It is always going to be tough, painful and sad, no matter how many years pass. There's absolutely no way around that. This thing will never completely settle. I just hope that our love for him counts for something, if only for love itself. Today, Emi had to go to work at the flower shop, (as she did yesterday). And my car won't start. A completely flat battery. I've caught a cold and haven't had the energy to sort the problem out. Feeling lethargic and unenthusiastic. A slump, a low, a kind of despair. Perhaps it's nothing more than post-Christmas depression. I'm not sure even if I care. The two protype Nelsonic Transitone guitars were returned to the Cambell American company a few weeks back. A recent conversation with Dean Campbell informed me that I should be receiving my proper, finished production model soon. The official limited edition production orders should start rolling in a two or three weeks time, all being well. Now the slow ramp to the new year, the gradual shifting of gears, the dread of things to come. Optimism needed now, more than ever. Such is life. Roll on spring, yellow flowers and pink blossoms. At this very moment though, wind and hail cracks on the skylight night of my lamplit studio. ***** The images attached to this diary entry are as follows:- 1: A belated Dreamsville Xmas card. 2: A photo of Bill and Emi's Xmas tree. 3: A photo of the 2 Nelsonic prototype guitars on Bill's sofa. Top of page

Nelsonian Navigator - Issue Two - Published December 1995 Back to Top

The Lockdown Song (It's All Downhill From Here) Free download single Click image for cover Artwork FREE download single covering some of the issues associated with the Coronavirus pandemic - Released November 2020. THE LOCKDOWN SONG (It's All Downhill From Here) Currently unavailable on any album Performed, recorded and produced by Bill Nelson. All rights Bill Nelson 2020.

Do You Dream in Colour? Bill Nelson single - 9 May 1980 Singles Menu Future Past TRACKS: A) Do You Dream In Colour? B1) Ideal Homes B2) Instantly Yours B3) Atom Man Loves Radium Girl ORIGINALLY: A) appeared to be a non-album track upon release, but eventually (nearly 12 months later) ended up on the Quit Dreaming and Get on the Beam album. B-sides) were all non-album tracks. NOTES: Do You Dream in Colour? was the first release to be promoted solely under Nelson's name since the Northern Dream album in 1971. This 7" single was the debut release on Nelson's own Cocteau Records, and sold well enough on release to achieve a respectable No. 52 on the UK singles chart. It helped to raise Bill's profile after Red Noise were dropped by EMI, and led to a new solo deal with Mercury. The single was promoted by a video that Nelson directed, made on a shoe string budget. Shot in a combination of colour and black and white, the video made imaginative use of mask, props (such as a rocking horse and various items of technology) with Nelson in bed seemingly connected to monitors being used to decipher his dreams. The exact same 7" single was later included in the Permanent Flame box set of five 7" singles in 1982. In 1989 a 7" pressing in a die cut Cocteau sleeve was released featuring exclusive edited versions of both "Do You Dream in Colour?" and "Life in Your Hands". It is believed that the edit in "Do You Dream in Colour?" (removing the line "Video Junkie Looking for a Fix") was done to encourage BBC Radio 1 to play the song. PAST RELEASES: A) was included on Quit Dreaming and Get on the Beam and on the What Now, What Next? compilation. All 3 b-sides were available on The Two Fold Aspect of Everything comp (available from Bandcamp). B2) was also available on The Strangest Things compilation (out of print). CURRENT AVAILABILITY: "Do You Dream in Colour?" is available on the remastered Quit Dreaming and Get on the Beam CD (Mercury, 2005). It is also available on The Practice of Everyday Life , which is out of print physically, but available as a digital download. All tracks are available on the remastered Quit Dreaming and Get on the Beam box set (Esoteric Recordings 2025). B1, B2 & B3 are available on the retrospective compilation album Transcorder (The Acquitted By Mirrors Recordings) . BILL'S THOUGHTS: "I started Cocteau Records in retaliation to the dropping of my recordings by EMI. "Do You Dream In Colour?" (which I secured from the EMI contract), was the first ever Cocteau Records release. It was prior to Phonogram's involvement." _____ "You have to remember that Red Noise was intended to be a 'flexible' project, rather than a fixed band with a fixed style or line-up. The whole purpose of moving on from Be Bop Deluxe was to escape being stereotyped and to avoid the limitations imposed by product and audience expectations. "In that respect, you might say that every album I've made since Be Bop has been a Red Noise album! So, yes, whilst many of the songs that were recorded immediately after the Sound-On-Sound album were somewhat different, they were, at that time, intended to be released under the 'Red Noise' umbrella. But, when the deal with EMI ended, I just thought, what the heck, just put it out under my own name." _____ "There was also a problem with the lyric 'video junkie looking for a fix' which the BBC interpreted, (quite wrongly), as being indicative of heroin addiction. It was merely about people who can't pull themselves away from their tv set, people whose lives exist only via an obsessive involvement with tv soap operas and suchlike. Anyway, the BBC refused to play the record with those lyrics and I seem to recall eventually having to make a mix with the offending line replaced by something else, purely for radio." _____ "Made the "Do You Dream in Colour?" video myself, way, way back in time. Filmed it on my super-8 home cine-camera in Haddlesey house which was then my home. My brother Ian is in the Monroe mask, me in the Superman and old man mask. My ex-wife Jan is the Pierrot on the rocking horse at the end. Lighting was done by borrowing a couple of old coal miner's pit lamps from a friend who worked as a mining engineer. I had no means of auto-synching the film to the soundtrack so the final edits were synched by hand, which took AGES. Nevertheless, it's a quirky, humorous and surreal piece of filmic art, is it not?" Singles Menu Future Past

Discography Albums Singles Retrospective Collections Compilation Appearances Christmas Video Cards DVDs & Video Productions Productions & Contributions Free Downloads Alphabetical Song List

The Familiar album - 1992 Roger Eno with Kate St. John Production/Contribution Menu Future Past BILL: Co-Producer, Guitar, Percussion and Synthesizer Production/Contribution Menu Future Past

2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2013 William's Study (Diary Of A Hyperdreamer) May 2007 Jan Feb Apr Jul Sep Oct Nov Dec Thursday 3rd May 2007 -- 9:00 pm And there I was thinking that I might actually squeeze another diary entry into April but, too late. Already May is waltzing merrily through the blossom strewn gardens of North Yorkshire. Clear blue skies this last week and sunny, warm temperatures. Still more like Summer than Spring. The Leeds University School Of Music concert went well on Saturday 28th of April. I spent a full day at the venue with my backup team, preparing the various technical aspects of the performance. Thankfully, this and the previous three months of music and video preparation paid off. There seems to have been a tremendously positive and encouraging response from those who attended the concert. A lot of hard work but a positive result. The School Of Music generously provided me with a beautiful Grand Piano and a superb Marimba, (the latter equipped with a lower octave than my own). These two instruments were used to best advantage on the almost 13 minute long piece, 'Only A Dream But Nevertheless'. Its duration was made interesting, (hopefully), by the additional tone colours that the Marimba and the Piano provided. If nothing else, this particular piece allowed me the opportunity to move beyond my more familiar electric guitar textures and explore a different kind of soundscape. Whilst on the subject of sound, I'm told by several people that the front-of-house mix, despite some initial concerns from John Spence and myself concerning the reverberant qualities of the hall, was very good indeed. The video projection facilities were also excellent and the visual elements of the concert came across well, despite the fact that the autobiographical videos were rough sketches for what is hoped to be a much more elaborate presentation, a year or two hence. I was lucky to have tremendous help from John Spence and Paul Gilby in the sound and vision departments, plus some sterling backup from the loyal Nelsonica team in other areas of the event. Nice to see Ian Gilby there too, someone who I never seem to have enough opportunity to sit down and relax with. I consider myself fortunate to have found such genuine and enthusiastic friends.Treasures, each and every one of them. The Clothworker's Hall is a remarkable building and atmospherically suited to the style of presentation I'd settled on for the event. The music and overall concept was much more suited to a sitting down and attentive audience, rather than a 'milling around and spilling beer' one. It's horses for courses. (Of course.) Perhaps this type of venue provides a more comfortable and appropriate setting for my current musical tastes. It seems to place the music within a sympathetic framework, an environment where sophistication and subtlety is not only possible but positively encouraged, both from myself and my audience. I accept that it harks back to more 'traditional' notions of the concert hall, but, these days, that's not entirely inappropriate. Perhaps that's where my heart ultimately resides. It's certainly a more comfortable place to be, (in my 'almost-upon-me-and-vaguely-dreaded' sixties), than some corporate rock n' roll arena. A receptive audience in an aesthetically pleasing setting plus the generous help and support of like-minded people. More than I deserve, I'm sure, but, all in all, a pretty fabulous way to be present in the world. But now I'm trying to shift gears, look at the map, plot the next route through the maze of possibilities. Lots of things on my 'to-do' list, as always. Time I got on with mixing the early '70's Be Bop Deluxe Decca sessions that I've been postponing and moaning about for so long. Still a psychological barrier there for me in some ways...Wish I could really get enthusiastic about it. I won't go into the problems I face with this, technical or otherwise, but will just, once more, say it's not something I've been particularly inspired by. but I WILL make a start on it soon and try to give it my best shot. Naturally, I'd much rather get on with something new. Nothing surprising about that. I've never had any great compulsion to maximise the potential of my own history, no matter what the pressures from elsewhere. Should I foolishly try to qualify this again here, in these pages? Is it really worth the effort? O.k...one more time: What I'm doing now feels so much more alive and vital for me than anything from 30 years ago. (How could it be otherwise?) It's about being 60 next year, about knowing much more than I did back in the early 1970's, knowing even more than I did last week. It's simply about 'now' as opposed to 'then.' But this hypothetical 'then' still provides the foundation of what I'm doing now, whether in musical or social/cultural terms. We can't escape our history entirely, or pull up our roots. But roots are exactly that and nothing more: just ROOTS. They're not blossoms or blooms or towering trees but just a starting point, a place to begin. Without enough space and encouragement to grow, without light and energy, roots become stagnant, dead things. No one should forget their roots, but neither should they be strangled by them. I suppose I still feel a little shackled by what has unfortunately become my mythical rock band past. I really shouldn't be concerned. After all, I've been sailing through other musical realms for a long time, for what feels like an eternity now. Surely it's no surprise to whatever audience I still retain that I'm duty bound to wander away from their expected course from time to time? it's become the expected thing, hasn't it? Someone sold me a peculiar treasure map a long time ago and I'm still trying to get my money's worth out of it. It may yet prove to be a red herring, but I'm a dreamer and a romantic, even though there's a secret price to pay for such things. Well...that's life. Or maybe it's the internet that's to blame. No longer 'life' or society, but the damned internet. It's a fair cop...the web made me do it! Certainly, the web made me aware that there's an audience out there, a 'marketplace,' a target I'm supposed to aim at. Previously, I never gave it more than a moment's thought. (Didn't really matter, didn't really care.) Arrogant enough to ignore it. Was that better than now or worse? At the proverbial end of the proverbial day, it's only music. And, If I'm REALLY brutal, it's only pop music. 'Pop!' Like a soap bubble, shiny, colourful and GONE! But now? Well, I enter into conversations with my audience every day. Know them on first name terms. Worry if they'll understand the latest album, (or at least worry about the fact that I don't seem to care whether they understand it or not.) The scary thing is that these fans, customers, afficionados, whatever term is most appropriate, these LISTENERS, against all odds, become, day by day,more like friends...and no one likes losing friends. I do understand why many artists keep their audience at arms length. But, at this point in time, the arms length thing isn't something that comes easily to me. Is it a need for love? For recognition? For confirmation? For acceptance? Too scary to go there. So I won't. Maybe, someday, one day, when I'm in my mid-to-late-sixties, (God willing), I'll become a hoary old, (whore-y old), cult legend and I'll step into a celebrity-sized virtual limousine and be whisked off to the sort of glitzy restaurants that only rich rock stars can truly afford. Will I feel a sense of fulfillment, of triumph? Probably not, knowing my track record regarding such things. It will just be like the '80's, all over again, Thatcher on the throne and Tony Blackburn making a bizarre comeback. And I'll forget about angst and ethics and authenticity and buy myself a villa in Spain in the middle of an English ex-pat community. And we'll ship baked beans from the U.K. direct to our Spanish kitchens. Spanish Kitsch(en) Magic. And lovely, sweet Emiko will transform herself from a quiet, thoughtful Japanese lady into a foul-mouthed, artificial blonde haridan who would NEVER miss an episide of East Enders. A fearsome she-monster, guzzling Asti Spumante without ever once taking the drooping Marlbro out of her mouth. What an outcome. But, never mind, I'll have more extra-marital pussy than I can shake my middle-aged appendage at and I'll be as happy as the proverbial Larry. Or not. Christ, enough cynicism. What the hell... I shouldn't even think about it, nor let it affect the outcome. Then...I open a magazine, ('Uncut,' I think), and in it is an interview with Jeff Tweedy from the band Wilco. I have a couple of Wilco albums on my shelf and, from what little I've read about Jeff, he seems to be a good bloke, my sort of chap. I'd certainly buy him a beer in a bar in Barcelona or a wine in Winona. In this recent magazine interview Jeff states that, whenever we artists release a new album, we 'piss somebody off, every time.' Later in the interview, he says the following in response to the mythology of rock music being about rebellion, aggression, about being fucked up: 'It's ludicrous. It's absurd. It's unfortunate. It's a sad thing for a lot of people to cling to, in my opinion. it's a very limiting and ultimately unrewarding mythology. It certainly prevents a lot of deep thought. It prevents a lot of emotional growth. It's like being a teenager forever. God, what could be fuckin' worse than that? But that's what people want to hang on to.They don't like hanging on to the wonder and the openess, and the feeling that you can be transformed.' Well..Jeff, Amen to that. Spot on, Here here, etc. As I said, my kind of chap. And a familiar topic of conversation for regular readers of my 'Dreamsville Inn' website forum. So, God bless the artists and all who sail in them. We suffer, not for YOUR sins, dear reader, but for our singular inability to deal with our own. We're trapped in a fractured realm of mirrors, along with the fate of the wider world. But, like everyone else, we hang on by the slenderest of threads. As the man with the Frank Sinatra hat and harmonica soundtrack once so iconically and ironically demonstrated: You're never alone with a strand. I'll save the good stuff for the next diary entry. ***** The images accompanying this diary are:- 1: Bill Nelson playing his D'Angelico guitar at Leeds School Of Music concert, April 28th 2007. 2: Bill Nelson Playing the piano at Leeds school Of Music concert, 28th April 2007. (These concert photographs by Martin Bostock.) 3: The man in the 'You're Never Alone With A Strand' advert, (Terrance Brook), 1960. Top of page Sunday 27th May 2007 -- 7:00 pm Strange weather. After several warm and pleasant weeks, today has felt like late autumn. The temperature dropping dramatically, grey skies and rain all day. Tomorrow is to be colder and wetter, or so the television weatherman says. Central heating on in the house now and dark clouds circling. And we're almost into June. Talk of climate change and global warming has brought a sense of concern in response to unseasonal weather patterns. The humble household barometer has become a meter of impending doom. Maybe soon we'll be thinking of building rocketship arks in our back gardens in preparation for the forthcoming ecological apocalypse and our migration to the stars. Then again, I may simply be indulging my perchant for sci-fi nostalgia. I did, after all, grow up with '50's DC comics and the story of Superman's father, Jor-El, preparing a rocketship for his son, Kal-el, to escape the immanent destruction of the planet Krypton. If that happened here though, there'd be no escaping in some cute little rocket with a glass canopy and chromium fins. Even if there was, we'd probably be either too lazy or too complacent to care. An hour ago, I returned returned home after visiting my Mother and George in Wakefield. Nice to see them but not so nice to see Wakefield's ongoing sad demise. I've written often in these diary pages about how the city of my birth has suffered at the hands of its insensitive council planning department, (and I'm being extremely charitable by using the word 'insensitive). Today, I found even more to lament . Yet another building that should have been listed and preserved, or at least renovated in some way, has suddenly and unceremoniously been reduced to rubble. My heart sank when I saw the empty space left by its demolition. The City Baths in Sun Lane, a charming 1930's building that displayed elements of Art Deco and early Modernism and boasted a sculpted panel by the artist Eric Gill on its facade, is no more. Since my childhood until just a few months ago, when I filmed the very same building for inclusion in one of the videos I made for my Leeds School Of Music concert, the architecture of Sun Lane Swimming Baths has pleased my eye. It's hard to accept that it was destroyed with such casual abandon and, as far as I know, with very little protest from those who should have known better. Another little Wakefield gem lost forever. And what will replace it? Apparently, a block of flats. (Or 'apartment houses' as developers are so keen to call them these days.) Such currently profitable building projects, I predict, are destined to become the ugly slums of the mid-21st Century. Just give them fifty years or so. The standard of architectural design and construction exhibited by these tiresomely 'contemporary' (but dreadfully conservative), apartment blocks would make a child's lego-house look like the epitome of structural sophistication. There was a time when people aspired to move out of such rabbit hutch dwellings into something more humanising. It now seems that the current generation dream of becoming factory farmed chickens, crammed into identical stacked cages where space and individuality are sacrificed in preference for a banal conformity. It's a trend. It's no longer WHO you are and what you can bring to the world that's important, it's who you WISH you were, or PRETEND to be. And then only according to some lingering, post-Thatcherite, right-wing, consumerist fantasy. Nothing deeper than labels, badges and uniforms, a Sunday-supplement pre-packaged, footballer's wives lifestyle. Identikit 'cool.' No knowledge or sophistication is neccesary, just a few credit cards and a sense of desperation. No aesthetic value, no hearfelt sense of poetry, just a shopping list of 'designer' names. The only ideas people seem to have are those that they stumble across in Sunday supplements or on some TV make-over programme. Few of us seem capable of thinking for ourselves anymore. And despite all the wealth on display, a new vulgarity reigns. Expensive tat and a conspicuous boorishness rules the roost. Signs of a civilisation in decline or just the rantings of a terminally disillusioned old art-fart? Your call. I've struggled against this kind of conformity for years. The slightest thought of capitulating or following the trail of the new yuppie herd horrifies me. It's not the money I mind, but the ostentatious show, the designer labels worn on the outside of clothing, etc. All that brassytrumpeting of 'status' brings out the anarchist in me. I wouldn't mind if there was something recognisable as 'taste.' or authentic style. But, generally, its glittering garbage, all the way. Getting back to the crumbling ruins of Wakefield: I do appreciate that local council cultural vandalism goes on everywhere these days but Wakefield seems to have been unfairly and unforgivably blighted by confused and ill-advised town planning and re-development policies. Naturally, this holds a personal significance for me as I was born there in 1948. I grew up, was educated and lived in Wakefield until my musical career moved me on in the mid '70's. My mother, sister-in-law and neice and nephews still live there and I have a genuine affection for the city. Nevertheless, Wakefield seems to be suffering a slow, dull and painful death at the hands of its own council planning department. A victim of indifference. I've watched the once familiar streets deteriorate over many years and it truly saddens me. Not only does it feel as if the heart has been ripped out of the place but also out of the hearts of those of us who grew up there in the '30's, '40's, 50's and '60's. And, all sentiment aside, we knew Wakefield at a point in time when it still had something genuinely worth calling 'character.' It had colour, energy and optimism. These feelings aren't the product of nostalgia, they're consistent with a recognition of our modern architectural heritage, a heritage that deserves to be respected and preserved for the enjoyment of future generations. It's about aesthetics, social and cultural history and community. Too often in 'The North,' people still make the mistake of thinking that these things only apply to 'big' cities like London. ( Cliched flat-cap provincialism refuses to die.) But it's equally important to understand the value of our 20th Century heritage on a local level. I'm not alone in these thoughts...this same lament is played by a reasonably large orchestra of Wakefields citizens, not by a small group. But the council's 'planning buskers,' the one-chord wonders of County Hall, are in the conductor's chair and the result is an ill-tuned, vulgar trumpeting. The ignorant fiddling of civil mediocrity. If architecture is 'frozen music,' (as has oft been stated), then we're surrounded by the equivalent of local cover bands hacking out some god-awful copy of an equally awful original, but with far less personal investment and enthusiasm.. It's the architectural/planning equivalent of a quick knee-trembler with a groupie behind the gasworks. Those who SHOULD be leading and guiding architectural development and preservation in Wakefield are, sadly, not in any position of power. And it seems to me that those who ARE in command are far too busy laying out their caps to catch the passing coin rather than taking time to consider the implications of their acts. Politics, lies and corruption.The universal solvent. The rot starts here. A little further down Sun Lane, where it meets Kirkgate, sits another building which I fear will very soon vanish into the mists of memory. This is the old ABC Regal Cinema, built in the 1930's. A Deco-modernist building which has now stood empty and unused for several years. It's boarded-up condition has grown ever more depressed and dirty. Even the row of shops incorporated into the Sun Lane side of the cinema have now been left to decay. Empty, unapppreciated, unloved. A sorry sight, especially for baby-boomers such as myself whose lives were changed by the place. It was here, at The Regal, that I went to Saturday morning matinees as a schoolboy. I'd enrolled as a member of the 'ABC Minors Club' and enjoyed the specially selected films that were shown exclusively for children, especially the flickering black and white 'Flash Gordon' and 'King Of The Rocketmen' cliff-hanger serials that were screened before the main feature. Membership of the ABC Minors Club allowed me to wear a luminous badge which glowed green in the velvety maroon and cream art-deco darkness. Parents would drop their children off there at 9 am, go shopping and collect them later at noon. Some of us were even allowed to walk to the cinema on our own, or at least with a group of school friends. I looked forward to those Saturday morning ABC Minors' matinees, it felt like entering another world. The art-deco ambience of the cinema's auditorium was as exciting as the films themselves. I can picture it now. On special occasions live entertainment was presented between the films as part of the programme and I recall Johnny Kidd And The Pirates being booked to play a couple of numbers. The guitar crazy kids in the crowd were thrilled. Johnny's 'Shaking All Over' single had been a popular hit and the record was often played over the Regal Cinema sound system, along with twangy hits by 'The Shadows' and 'The Ventures.' This was the musical backdrop that we youngsters enjoyed as we took our seats in the stalls as the Saturday morning matinees began. I was thrilled by the opening, shiny, trembling, echoing electric guitar theme that created the iconic signature of 'Shaking All Over,' I heard it first there, at The Regal Cinema, rather than on the radio. It felt truly electric and added to the youthful passion I was already nurturing for the guitar. During my final year at school, I too performed at the Wakefield Regal Cinema's ABC Minors' Matinee: I'd pursuaded the cinema's manager to allow 'The Cosmonauts,' (the little instrumental trio I'd formed with two school pals, Ian Parkin and Jimmy Crossland), to play between films. So, one stage-frightened Saturday morning, we entertained the cinema's young audience for 10 minutes whilst the ice cream lady presented her wares. It was a kind of modest 'dream come true' at the time. We played some Shadows and Duane Eddy tunes and felt extremely nervous standing there in front of the big screen, squinting out into what was a very large auditorium. I can conjure that moment up from my memory right now. I was thrilled to realise that the cinema manager had ordered the lighting man to focus directly on me as I played the lead guitar parts. My eyes were dazzled and, for the first time in my life, I felt the blue-white heat of the spotlight.. I imagined myself to be Hank Marvin playing to a packed theatre of adoring girls, rather than to the bunch of rowdy school kids sprawled in the stalls before us. I'm sure they wanted us to hurry up and get off stage so that the 'Looney Tunes' cartoons could be screened. Not that I noticed, of course... I was deep in the music, living the dream. The sound of my guitar was like mercury shining under silver moonlight, all electricity, echoes and stars. There was no going back. The earliest photograph I have of me holding a guitar was actually taken in one of the stairwells of the Regal Cinema. I may have reproduced it in this diary previously but I'll attach it once again as it's poignantly relevant to this entry's subject matter. I'm standing on the left of the photograph, holding my first electric guitar, a dark sunburst Antoria that my father had bought me for Christmas. In the centre of the photograph is drummer Jimmy Crossland and next to him, on the right of the photo', is Ian Parkin with his red Watkins Rapier guitar. Ian, of course, eventually joined me in the very first line up of Be Bop Deluxe. He sadly passed away around 12 years or so ago. I established a warm and ongoing relationship with the Regal Cinema's manager. Unfortunately, I can no longer recall his name. He seemed to genuinely appreciate whatever meagre talent I had and was always helpful and encouraging. In those days, older people were seen, sometimes justifiably, sometimes unfairly, as the 'enemy.' They were perceived as disciplinarians, authoritarians, the jailers of our young imagination, 'though, of course, we had yet to find words focussed enough to poetically articulate and express this rebellious notion. The counter-culture psychedelic scene that gave voice to late '60's teenage 'revolution' had not quite arrived. Still, in the manager of the Regal cinema, I'd found a mentor of sorts, even if he did look geekily uncool. On one occassion, two of the junior principal singer-actors from a stage production of Lionel Bart's 'Oliver,' (which was being staged at a Leeds theatre that week), were invited to perform a song from the musical at the Regal Cinema's ABC Minor's matinee. For some reason, the band that had been booked to back up the singers didn't show up for rehearsals, and the cinema manager asked me if I could come and play in their stead. So, at the last minute, I rounded up the group that I had at that time and we dashed down to The Regal Cinema to quickly knock up a very rudimentary arrangement of the song 'Food, Glorious Food.' I have a photograph of me performing it, live on The Regal's stage that day, with the two principal boys from the musical wailing away in front. I'm playing an Epiphone Casino guitar that I'd borrowed from a friend for the performance. That particular guitar would now be worth serious money to a collector. The roof of the Regal Cinema later served as a location for a photo-shoot for another of my early '60's groups, 'The Midnite Kreepers,' (again thanks to the kindness of the cinema's manager). The group bought matching dark blue and white polka dot tab-collar shirts from a nearby tailors in Kirgate especially for the photo session. I remember that a certain amount of bargaining went on with the shop's owner. We felt that we should get a discount because we were buying for the entire group. The fact that there was only three of us didn't deflate our enthusiasm for haggling. In the end, we were given a small discount on the total price and honour was served. The shop owner said that, if we ever made the big time we should return to his shop for some 'proper' hand-tailored stage suits. The Midnite Keepers, (with a different drummer,) also played in the foyer of The Regal Cinema for the opening of the first Doctor Who movie. It was made by Hammer Films and starred Roy Castle and Peter Cushing. I pursuaded rhythm guitarist Ron Oldroyd to rip his shirt and let me make him up to resemble a zombie for our performance. Ron obligingly played the part to the hilt whist myself and drummer Barry Houghingly wisely kept our cool. Again, I'm fortunate in that I have a photograph from that day, taken as we performed on a ledge adjoining the balcony above the cinema's foyer. Poor Ron...the photograph doesn't really reveal the details but he looked as if he'd just had a car accident! The cinema manager actually gave me one of the very large publicity posters from the Dr. Who film. I wanted it, not as a souvenir of the event, but because I could use the reverse, blank side of the poster to draw on. It provided me with a very large space to create something visual. I eventually used it to make a hand drawn poster for another of my early groups, ('The Untouchables'). Unfortunately, the coloured inks I used bled through to the other side of the paper and ruined the Doctor Who poster. If it was in it's original condition, it would be worth a LOT of money to a film memorabilia collector today. But, perhaps I'm underestimating the value it might have to a fan of my music. It's certainly a unique and hand made period piece from my musical past.. It must be more than forty years old. ( I actually exhibited this 'Untouchables' poster at a Nelsonica fan convention a few years ago.) I performed at The Regal Cinema several more times during the early 1960's. I have photographs of myself with the Gibson Trio and the Gibson Four there. With the latter group, we performed alongside two, (then) well known TV celebrities, Ted Rogers and Ronnie Hilton. Ted Rogers later went on to become the host of the tv quiz show '3-2-1.' Ronnie Hilton, on the other hand, had made a hit record or two, 'Tulips From Amsterdam' was one, I think. (Or was that Max Bygraves?) Anyway, Ronnie had definitely recorded a very kitsch, surreal song about seeing a mouse wearing clogs, on a stair in a windmill in Holland! Seems there was a Dutch theme in the air in those days for some reason. My Mother made The Gibson Four a set of matching blue and silver striped waistcoats for this occassion. I guess playing alongside tv and recording stars felt like a big deal for us back then. The Gibson Four had mutated into a sort of cabouret band, maybe because of the vocalist/bass player that we'd introduced into the group. His name was Mick Shaw and he was very much of the 'old school,' aspiring to be a bit of an all-round entertainer. As a result, the instrumental side of things began to feature a little less in our performances which, unsurprisingly, wasn't to my taste. In those days I saw vocalists as a neccesary evil, someone to stand up front and create a framework for my guitar playing perhaps! I could never imagine myself being a vocalist and my record collection, in the main, consisted of purely instrumental music. The Gibson Four played at a nightclub in Leeds called 'The Ace Of Clubs,' on a show that included a stripper as opening act and a performance from skiffle king Lonnie Donegan. My Dad was managing the group then and I was a little shocked to see him chatting merrily away to the rather attractive stripper backstage. He'd pursuaded us to play a Glenn Miller number for this gig, as an instrumental showpiece. It was called 'American Patrol' and I remember it taking me a while to learn as it was quite a complex arrangement. Hard to say no to your dad though. He kept at me until I got it right. It paid off as we went down well at 'The Ace Of Clubs.' Bearing that in mind, I suppose appearing alongside Ted Rogers and Ronnie Hilton at The Regal was par for the course. We were in the heart of working men's clubland and it was all about entertainment. Eventually though, I had a big disagreement with Mick Shaw after a gig at a pub on the edge of Wakefield. The group sometimes closed the evening with a few old rock n' roll numbers, Chuck Berry, Bo Diddley, Eddie Cochran, things like that. Nothing particularly 'out there.' Even so, I don't think Mick was so keen on this part of our show as he preferred singing the sweeter, popular ballads. Anyway, on this particular occasion, during the 'rock n' roll' section, I accidentally turned up the output volume of my Watkins Copycat Echo Unit. This had the effect of overdriving the front end of my guitar amplifier, resulting in my first experience of feedback and sustain. It was like a gift from the gods, a revelation and I ripped into the guitar solo with a new found enthusiasm. I remember thinking, 'so THAT's how they do it..! Unfortunately, Mick Shaw didn't like it one bit. Afterwards, in the dressing room, he said to me, "Do that one more time and you're out of the band!" Well, considering that I'd been a founder member of the band and that he'd been the last to join, I thought he'd got a damned cheek! On top of that, I'd just discovered feedback and wasn't about to let some cheesy vocalist spoil my fun. So I just said, "Don't worry about it, I'll just quit here and now." And that was the end of my cabouret-style adventures. Before long, I'd be wearing crushed velvet loon pants, growing my hair and organising and performing at free psychedelic concerts in Wakefield Park. The magic light bulb had been switched on. Nevertheless, those more conservative days had their moments. I still have a photograph of The Gibson Four in The Regal's foyer, posing cornily with the cinema's staff , Ted Rogers and Ronnie Hilton in the background. We're wearing the blue and silver waistcoats my mother made for us. And the jolly person in the foreground of the photograph, reclining on the floor, is the aforesaid cinema manager. One of the good guys. So, that's why I fear for the ruined hulk of The ABC Regal Cinema. It wasn't enough that, in the late '50's, I'd walk past it and marvel at the poster for 'Forbidden Planet' or whatever...I had to eventually perform there and leave the ghost of my guitar playing youth inside it. It became part of my personal history. If, and when, the powers that be eventually demolish the old Regal Cinema, they will take a part of me with it. These thoughts went through my head today, and more besides. So many places I'd spent time in during my Wakefield youth have been destroyed. Out of all the schools I've attended, only one remains and that was the first school I ever went to, 'though it wasn't built as a school. It's the old orangery in Back Lane, a building that was leased to the Collegiate School, (an offshoot of The Wakefield Academy). I went there at five years old. It was a private school, rather than a state one. I've probably written about it in a previous diary entry so I won't go on about it again. My autobiography will contain more details. (When I find time to continue writing it that is.) The other schools I attended, (The Wakefield Tutorial School, St. John's Junior School, Ings Road Secondary Modern school, Wakefield School Of Art), have all been demolished. Emi and I decided to park up and go into 'The Ridings Centre,' a typical '80's era shopping mall that was built on the site of the old Mecca Locarno ballroom where I used to go dancing in my teenage years. I wanted to check out the WH Smiths' shop in there as I knew they carried books on Wakefield's history. I suddenly felt in the mood for researching the city's past. Emiko and I entered the shopping complex. I led her to an area that, if the old Locarno building had still been standing, would have been directly where the Locarno's balcony once overlooked the mirror ball-bespangled dance floor. It would also have been the exact spot where Richard Harris stood in a legendary scene in Lindsay Anderson's 'This Sporting Life' film, looking for trouble. (The Locarno Ballroom was used as a location in that film.) And the very same spot where I had oggled the girls when I was barely into my teens, watching them whirl to the music of Del Shannon, Eddie Cochran, Brenda Lee, Bobby Vee, Little Eva and Chubby Checker. A couple of years later, it would be the music of the Tamala, Stax and Atlantic artists, and I'd be down there dancing with the girls, rather than just gazing at them from the balcony.. But all that remains of those days are memories and a few feet of celluloid. The Locarno Ballroom has long since slipped into another dimension, it's physical space now occupied by cheap coffee shops and a branch of T.K. Maxx. Another bland shopping centre. It pays no tribute to the brylcreemed, quiffed, cola-drinking, hot-dog and onion scented, jiving rock n' roll palace that once stood there with it's red neon 'Locarno' sign blinking in the long-lost Wakefield rainy night. Emiko and I walked into WH.Smiths and I located the local history section. I already have several books dealing with Wakefield's history but I found four others that I didn't have. Two of these were written by Kate Taylor. Kate is now in her seventies and is a well respected local historian. She was born in Wakefield in 1933. I already have two or three books by her but decided to purchase these newer ones. One of them is called 'Not So Merry Wakefield.' (Wakefield was once known as the 'Merrie City.') In this book, Kate Taylor tells the story of the city from a very personal perspective, that of her own life story. She documents and laments the damage done to Wakefield by planners and developers over the years. I've yet to read the book properly but, briefly scanning through, it seems to contain experiences common to us both, even though Kate is 15 years older than me. She mirrors my own anger and melancholy for architecture long lost. Another book I bought deals with the history of Wakefield's trams. These had been phased out in favour of buses by the time I was old enough to be aware of public transport although trams were still a big feature in Leeds throughout my boyhood. We returned to the car park and left the Ridings Centre. The drive to my mother's home passed other dramatically altered sites from my youth. Just past the railway bridge on Ings Road is the spot where Ings Road School's woodwork block once stood, where I'd once attempted to build a solid body electric guitar. There's nothing there at all now, just a new road that cuts between the bridge and the industrial shopping sheds of Toys R' Us, etc. These typical retail outlets stand in the space that Ings Road Secondary Modern school once occupied. Behind this, where the school's old prefab gardening and music classrooms once stood, is a multiplex style cinema. When we were pupils there in the 'fifties, we could never have imagined that this is what the future would hold for our school. Not that we would have particularly cared back then. We were always glad to get out of the place and go home. Still, it was in Ings Road School's Hall that I gave my first ever public performance as a guitarist. It was part of the school's Christmas concert and I plugged my guitar into the hall's pa system...one speaker and about 3 watts of power. The guitar caused it to break down so the science master ran into the wings of the stage to give the little amplifier a mighty kick. It started up again immediately, much to my relief. After visiting my Mother and George, Emi and I drove back home, the rain and spray from trucks on the motorway making conditions hazardous. It's a bank holiday weekend and Emi isn't back at the flower shop until Thursday. I'm trying to take a break too but I think it will be difficult as there's a list of things to do. As usual. I'm already working on this year's Nelsonica convention album, even though the event isn't being staged until October. Jon Wallinger and myself have now selected and booked a new venue, the Park Inn in York. There will be far better seating arrangements than last year and a slighty larger room. The date of the convention has been fixed as Saturday October 27th. The dedicated Nelsonica team and myself will soon be meeting to discuss this year's approach. I've given this year's event the title: 'SECRET CLUB FOR MEMBERS ONLY.' It's tongue-in-cheek, taken from a new instrumental that I unveiled at the recent School Of Music concert. A studio version of the piece will be on the convention cd as the title track. Other pieces set created for the cd so far are: 'Ghost Show.' (A previously unreleased vocal piece from 2005.) 'I Remember Marvelman.' (A new 'pop' vocal piece.) 'Dark Ivy.' (A new instrumental in a similar style to 'Secret Club.') Only four tracks so far but I will continue to work on more this week. I have to get the convention cd music completed very soon as an exciting new project is on the horizon: This is a soundtrack commission for an American Documentary film being made for screening on the Public Broadcasting System over there. It's a film about the history of American Postage Stamps, told from the point of view of the artwork that they carry. The film, (I've seen the pilot version), has interviews with several artists who have designed stamps for the U.S. Post Office and there's lots of footage of these designs, with themes ranging from literature, art and music to sport and science. It's been beautifully shot and edited by an American company called 'twenty2product.' Actually, this project has been on the drawing board for a couple of years or so but has only recently secured the backing of PBS and the US Post Office. As a result, it can now go into final production. I have to create a thirty minute soundtrack for the film, plus a couple of 30 second promo stings. Before I begin to compose and record, I need to clear the decks a little and prepare my studio for the concentrated period of work. required. Once things kick in, it's going to be relentless and I'll have little time for anything else for a couple of months. (This diary included.) My Mackie mixing desk has developed a new problem which I need to rectify. For some months now, the 'play' button on the tape transport controls, ('though there's no tape as such, it's just controlling hard disc playback), has been loose and wobbly. The other day, it vanished inside the desk, leaving a thumb-sized hole in the desk's surface. I can still get things to play back by shoving my finger into the hole and locating the stub on the pcb that the 'play' button once used to connect with. It's far from convenient though. It's also not a good idea to stick one's finger inside a mixing desk that is switched on and connected to the mains. I wonder if Mackie can supply me with a new control button to clip onto the playback stub? Once the bank holiday is over, I'll need to investigate this. The buttons on the Mackie D8B desk are definitely one of its weak spots. There are other buttons on the desk that sticking or giving me cause for concern. I suppose I do work the thing hard though. It's hardly had a day without use since it was installed, seven years ago. As with the old analogue system I used before going digital, I work around technical problems and restrictions in all kinds of peculiar ways. It gets a bit Heath Robinson at times but eventually I arrive at some sort of result.. Another current project involves the painting of a guitar. Respected American Custom Car and Motor Cycle paint artist, Nicholas Del Drago, is to paint a standard Campbell Transitone guitar for me. Nicholas' work is stunning and I'm thrilled that he has offered to create something for me. The theme will be 'fifties British sci-fi so I'm in the process of scanning images from Dan Dare and so on to send him as reference points. The guitar may be ready in time to exhibit at this year's Nelsonica. I also need to work with David Graham on the design details for this year's convention, particularly the 'Secret Club For Members Only' cd packaging art. And, of course, the Be Bop Deluxe Decca Sessions mixing project is still languishing on the back burner. AND all the other stuff noted in previous diary entries. It gets to be more than overwhelming at times. But...that's the way it goes. Emiko is always pointing out that people don't realise how many hours I put into my work. God, is that the time? I've been writing this thing for AGES and I still haven't scanned the images I want to include with it. Another epic diary entry. More of an autobiogaphy chapter in places. I'll search out the photos and do the scanning tomorrow and post the diary later in the week. Right now it's time for bed. ***** The images attached to this diary entry are as follows : 1: A 2004 photo' of The Regal Cinema in decay. 2: The Cosmonauts at The Regal. (B.N. on left of shot.) 3: Bill Nelson and two of the cast of 'Oliver' on stage at The Regal. 4: The Midnite Kreepers on the roof of The Regal. (Left of photo to right:: Jez Shaw, Bill Nelson, Ron Oldroyd.) 5: The Midnite Kreepers at The Regal's opening of the film 'Dr. Who And The Daleks.' (B.N. in shades.) 6: The Gibson 4 at the Regal. The group, (in striped waistcoats), left to right: Mick Shaw, Jez Shaw, Ron Oldroyd, Bill Nelson. Ted Rogers and Ronnie Hilton behind with cinema staff. The Regal's manager laying down in foreground. Top of page