Goodbye Jonathan Ross. Hello...?

Just followed a lone balloon on a stick being blown a mile up Kentish Town High Road. Couldn't help but imagine some screaming child way back in Camden. Get used to disappointment kid. From the top of the bus it looked like a giant sperm desperately searching for an egg. Half expected someone to burst it, but even in these difficult times someone wouldn't be that cruel, surely....?

Whllst we're on the subject, what is the point of those blow-ey things that move leaves around the driveways of large houses by the gardening help? Even today, in high winds, I saw one being used for five minutes to absolutely no effect.

So Jonathan Ross is about to record his final BBC show tomorrow. They are going to need a new chat show, with an original and refreshing format. Something that's not been done before, with a wide appeal. But how would that work? And who on earth could possibly host such a programme?

Dry Am Kloot

I can feel trouble brewing with my local scary-eyed dry cleaner. One of my luxuries is taking five shirts to the laundry every couple of weeks. I've been using another dry cleaning shop slightly further away on my high street for the last couple of years because they are always friendly and do a good job with the clothes. But unfortunately this means passing the scary dry cleaner's shop to get there, which is fine when taking the garments in - but rather more awkward when returning with a flowing bundle of freshly laundered shirts.

I have tried crossing the street to put some distance between us, but usually tend to opt for the 'shoulder swap' when walking on the pavement as I pass, whereby I disguise the freshly laundered shirts by placing them on the blind side behind my body...

This morning, just after swapping the clothes hangers into my other hand, the scary dry cleaner emerged from his shop right in front of me, saw what I was doing and.... smiled the most 4-letter smile I think I have ever seen. Terrifying. Then he walked along behind me on the pavement until I made it back home, when he continued on his way. So now he knows where I live...

Loving the new I Am Kloot album. Seven albums in [kind of] and still a proper band. Having trouble with the new Divine Comedy though - I love his early records but feel he's now become a parody of what he did so well. As with Richard Hawley - love the early stuff, not so keen on the later crooning. Same with Rufus Wainwright... Is there a pattern emerging here? I tend to still like bands when I feel that I've discovered them and before everyone else does. Probably just jealousy on my behalf.

25 years since LiveAid... Lady Gaga wasn't even born then. How can that be right?

Vicars and Arts

Apologies for lack of blogs these last few days. No excuse. Been watching sport and dressing up as a vicar. Don't ask.

So apparently Steven Gerrard's wife doesn't have a sister. So why let the facts get in the way of a good story? Surely there's a few more gory details to emerge about the lack of any cohesive footballing teamwork? They think it's all over. It is now. 

Why is Holland also known as The Netherlands and the people who come from there are Dutch?

Been listening through the drum tracks for the new album. Next stage is to get my old mate Art to record his bass parts, which hopefully will be happening over the next month or so. In the meantime I'm running about like a headless chicken having said yes to 7 things I should have only said yes to 3 to. Does that sentence make sense?

Just suffered an awkward moment in front of strangers. Note to self; only ever make dodgy jokes to people who know you well enough to understand you are joking...

GET IN!!!

Who is the person that works out that it will cost the economy one billion pounds in missed work hours because of today's England game? Did they sit down with a calculator wearing a nightgown in the dim light of a candle and really come up with that figure? Is it the same person who calculates that it costs 200 grand to bring up a child? That person deeply worries me.

I'm reading "Riddley Walker" by Russell Hoban. - just incredible. Never heard of the writer or the book until it was recommended to me a few days ago. It's very hard to stumble on something fantastic anymore without it being recommended by someone first... It's a shame that we rarely trust our instincts and pick things up for the hell of it. I suppose because so often the result is disappointing. Maybe that's why I never sold too many records.

I'm working on a pitch for a show I'm working on - and have just written this...  - putting budget together for a 23 min pilot, breaking down into 5 x 4 min chapters and celebrity artist interview for new Virgin cross-media multi-platform event, with possible follow-on tv pick-up... - Which makes me sound like a complete tosser. How did that happen? Play Cole, Gerard to the side serving Rooney, James in the sticks. 3 nil half time.

GET IN!!!

Win, Lose and Draw

Have I just read something in the news about Israel proclaiming to have stopped beating its wife...?

Meanwhile the footballing elite are complaining that their new ball is a bit too round. Apparently it doesn't go where they kick it - unlike their previous ball which always went exactly as intended, hence a perfect record of goalscoring and goalkeeping from every shot?! The new football was developed using the finest technology in Loughborough. Taking the complaint to its natural conclusion, shouldn't we now ban any further use of technology as it's only going to cock everything up?

In a few hours time I'm sure that England will have found a way to score a few goals with their new ball, and save a few more at the other end. And then all will be fine and dandy with the world - for a day or two at least.

Meanwhile Palestine is hoping for a draw...

TRAFIK

Bad experience on tube. Riding the long escalator upto Tottenham Court Road last night, I noticed the man stood in front of me had terrible dandruff. As the wind blew down into the subway I actually had to take a breath and close my eyes to avoid the torrent of flaky skin coming my way. It rained down. 30 seconds of psoriasorial fallout. I can feel an episode of Seinfeld coming on...

Fantastic free track available here from Lenny's very good friend's the brilliant [and global] TRAFIK... Love their new album. Ah, If only I was 10 years younger....  http://www.mixmag.net/content/free-track-download-global-undergrounds-trafik

Hayfever's kicked in with a vengeance today. On the plus side I'm very pleased to have found a particular pen I've been looking for over the last few months but it's leaked badly and now there's ink everywhere... I'm about to go into a work meeting to pitch a couple of ideas, but with blue fingers and a runny nose I suddenly look like I'm twelve.

4oDisaster

Oh no... I watched an ep of big brother on 4oD and now I want to see more... Why did I do it!? Isn't it supposed to be the first drop that kills you...

Good meeting last night with west end producer about writing a new musical. Had my fingers burnt with that before but even so, im somewhere between excited and extrememly wary.

Off onto town again tonight with free tickets for a show for research, wearing a particularly good Lenny shirt. And cufflinks. I was never this stylish when I was 20... Actually, I was, it's just that noone realised it at the time.

My arias from my elbow...

Im really enjoying the diving competitions in South Africa. Did Ronaldo learn his football skills from Jacques Cousteau? So far I have managed to avoid any Big Brother since the first episode.

Meeting a West End producer tonight about writing the music for their musical. Does it matter that I don't know my arias from my elbow?

Been listening to a fantastic six hour documentary about Bowie on 6 Music. But it concluded 10 years ago with Bowie having just fallen out with his amazing, inspirational producer Tony Visconti... Everyone loves a happy ending.

World Cup vs Big Brother

Back from 2 weeks away. Didn't take my phone - loved the isolation.

Anything happened while I was gone? Footballing crises, serial killers on the loose, kind of thing...?

England footballers have been offered a bonus of £360,000 if they win the world cup. Can't it just be for the glory? Is that not enough - just the will to win it? Couldn't that money be promised instead to help create new pitches for kids to play football?

To watch or not to watch? Do I give into the last ever Big Brother, or simply resist? So far I've submitted - but there's no way I'm going to keep that up along with the football.

In true Nick Hornby style, I just came up with my top 5 singles of all time. XTC - Making Plans For Nigel, Bowie - Ashes To Ashes, Talking Heads - Once In A Lifetime, Crowded House - Weather With You, Badly Drawn Boy - Once Around The Block.

So what happened to the last 10 years? Having said that, the Mumford & Sons album is heart-wrenchingly glorious...

RIP Paul Gray

There's a tragedy in every death. The recent demise of the bassist from Slipknot is no exception. But I really have just read a eulogy for the man that mourns "It's a devastating loss. Paul was a wonderful human being... Their extreme stage antics extended to violence against each other and throwing bodily waste."

I spent all day yesterday contributing to a comedy show for BBC Radio 4. This involved playing the guitar along with two songs - that old socialist favourite 'The Red Flag' and 'Ten Fat Sausages Sizzling In A Pan' . Maybe there's an idea there for a concept album of political songs for children.

A journalist friend has just told me that the Americans are having a hard time in Afghanistan differentiating between the local Afghan soldiers and the Taliban they are all fighting, so they've given them luminous green cycle bands to wear over their shoulders so the Americans know not to shoot them. Unfortunately this has also made them very visible to the Taliban snipers... Maybe it would be better if they all just threw bodily waste at each other.

'Willie, Willie, Willie - Out Out Out!'

Had a fantastic day recording nine drum tracks in eight hours. By rights, working that quickly usually means the work isn't any good but Mark is no ordinary drummer. Very very excited by what we've done. Celebrated by hitting town with Mike - we went to our lovely little Italian, but I'm not saying where it is because then it might get ruined by being too popular. Taking that principle further, I realise that I mostly choose to define success by its lack of success. Maybe there's a lesson to be learned here.

Not sure the BA strikers have done themselves any favours by chanting 'We are the champions', after having the ban lifted against their strike action. Are there ever champions in situations like this? Neither was the cause helped by their other misfortunate chant of 'Willie, Willie, Willie - Out Out Out!'.

Peter - our man in the city - has sent me a link to an application form for a new TV talent show looking for the best undiscovered UK music act. I'd be tempted to email for an application, were it not for the nagging idea that I was actually discovered long ago, it's just no-one ever really chose to plant the flag.

30 shaves for a pound

Bought a bag of 30 razors for 99p from one of those bargain stores...

They're totally ruthless. It's like trying to shave with the remains of an old pencil sharpener. I found a single yellow BIC in an old washbag so I used that instead. It was as smooth as an advert. BICs used to be cheap and nasty. When did they become a luxury item?

Just formulating the recording order for tomorrow's studio session at Mike's with Mark the drummer. There's nine songs for him to do between 10am and 6pm. That's one an hour, plus one more snuck in there somewhere. Not including lunch of course. I'm really excited about the day and I've done a lot of work on all the guide tracks so he's got something decent to play to, but it still feels like the first day at school. In a lovely way.

Apparently it's now totally safe to fly through the ash cloud... Profit before safety? Surely not. I'd always prefer to go by train in any case, but I'm still struggling to get the kids' dinosaur dvd theme out of my head from yesterday's journey. "Here he is, Mr Rex, looking for his dinner...." There is a musician like me somewhere who wrote that... Hope they got well paid. But did they ever manage to get it out of their heads? I think I'd still prefer it to hear about Mr Rex than listen to 'Imagine' ever again.

Return of the Ash

Had a good weekend in Isle of Man, but yesterday I became a victim of the ash cloud, whilst trying to come home. Still no planes today, so I took a packed early ferry to Liverpool this morning - I had a window seat with no window and spent 3 hours on the water staring at the inside of what looked like a waiting room. I'm now on a packed virgin train, at a window seat with no window... Clearly I'm not meant to look outside today.

Surrounded by one screaming child whose dad is trying to drown out by playing a dinosaur DVD at a higher volume than the screams, and a couple whose only communication is to snort and sniffle at each other every 30 seconds. The seats are so tightly packed that I can't feel my legs and im not sure that I still believe in the old adage anymore that it's better to travel than to arrive. Today's special is egg and asparagus salad apparently. That might explain the state of the toilet.

I'm sure it wasn't like this under Labour.

27 years...

Just taken the DLR to city airport. It's like being on a toy train at Alton Towers. Amazing to travel through London old and new.

At airport.

A group of 12 very pissed men tanking it in the bar before setting off somewhere for the weekend. Hopefully not the same flight as me... And an armed copper choosing a book from the history section in WH Smith - I'm just relieved it wasn't an Andy McNab. And no piped muzak. Was that the 70s? I kind of miss it...

Reading an incredibly harrowing book about Stephen Downing who was wrongfully jailed - in 1973 - for 27 years for a murder in Derbyshire that he didn't commit... Such a terrible fear - injustice on that level. it's bad enough when you have to sit near 12 drunks at an airport.

Junior Apprentice

Apologies for lack of blogs these last few days. Had my head down recording music. Has anything interesting happened with the government since the weekend?

On Oxford Street I just got trapped behind the Hare Krishnas. I remember the man who used to stand on the corner of Regent St with the placard bearing the benefits of eating more nuts and protein... But what are the Hare Krishnas after, other than the right to walk down Oxford Street wearing orange blouses whilst ringing their little bells?

I'm both loving and appalled by Junior Apprentice. And totally gripped already.

VIP Votes

Just spent half an hour queuing to get into the polling station. I took that to mean either an unprecedented turnout or they hadn't managed to get very well organised....

After eventually making it inside the door I was greeted by a very dour woman who looked at my polling card and said 'No, sorry!' in a particularly annoying manner, then moved onto the person behind me. I bristled and challenged the meaning of her words. She told me I couldn't go straight through but had to continue queueing for another 15 minutes because the name of my road came before J in the alphabet. I had been previously unaware of a privileged VIP voting system for people who lived on roads beginning with letters from L to Z, but meekly accepted my position in the alphabetic underclass and told her that it was a small price to pay for democracy... 

On the voting paper, however, there was no mention of a Keep BBC Radio 6 Music Alive party.

I had to sing an audition song yesterday for a proper west end musical, for a director who had seen my Lenny Smallman Show. I've never done anything like that before and it was an amazing experience. I chose a difficult song with four key changes, but actually went three better than that - and sung it with seven, mainly because I couldn't hear the piano very well. That's why I like singing my own songs best; no-one can tell when you start making up the tune.

Revolutions: Industrial vs. Internet

Something delightfully old fashioned about a Bank Holiday.

It brings up images of black and white charabancs taking mill workers off to the seaside for a day of picnics and debauchery before returning to their harsh industrial lives. Nowadays everything stops apart from, well just about everything. The banks obviously. And schools. And... well... council offices, but that's about it really. And today everything is back to normal.

Meanwhile, we are a couple of days away from deciding on which politicians we want to trust to make all our big decisions for the next few years. I'm still not sure what to do. The parties have all gone very quiet over the whole BBC Radio 6 issue.

In the next century, people will look back on this period of history as the Internet Revolution, in the same way we studied pictures of the Industrial Revolution and tried to imagine a world before machines. They will try to imagine a world before Amazon, Ocado and the ability to download instant pornography.

But will they still get Bank Holidays? I'm not so sure.

Overpriced-man-perfume

In a tube carriage surrounded by eight people: two are sleeping, two are reading papers, three are playing phone games and the man sitting opposite is wearing far too much eye make up.

I am wearing a new expensive scent that I really like. It was an impulsive purchase in the chemist while buying a bulk box of surgical gloves.

Don't ask...

My old eau de toilette had run out a few days ago. The new scent was on offer for 25 quid, down from 39. No one else on the carriage smells this good, as far as I can tell.

You don't hear much about pheromones these days. I'm sure scientists used to go round in the 70s, spraying them on train seats to see if it could help men become more attractive to women. They seemed to belong to an age where Denim was for the man who didn't have to try too hard and High Karate resulted in nubile alpha females fighting over you in the jungle.

As I write this on my phone, the woman sitting next to me has just shifted along to the free seat on the other side of her. Maybe I should have bought some of those pheromones instead of the very overpriced perfume.

Shut off the flow...

Americans have a long tradition of speaking bad film dialogue whenever they get interviewed on the news. The head of the oil fire fighting company currently dealing with the spill off the Gulf of Mexico coast has said "The object of this game is to shut off the flow." That's the sort of bad line you expect Bruce Willis to say.

Are there still British people stranded in airports all over the world? Or are they all back home, trying to deal with bank statements and piles of leaflets offering pizza discounts. I think Gordon's microphone has replaced the volcano as the greatest non-eruption of the past few weeks.

Like almost everybody else, I certainly wouldn't want anyone to record what I say in private, especially after some difficult social experience. That's what being human is all about. We're allowed to be lovely on the outside and totally vile within.

First rule of interviews

First rule of interviews - always remember to take your microphone off. 

Five days without a run and three successive cafe working lunches is not great for the soul. Very hard to resist egg and chips in those places but managed it today by ordering a bowl of minestrone soup. So of course I'm very hungry now.

Apparently the Monster Raving William Hill Loony Party has a policy to introduce 99p coins to save on small change. That's actually quite a good idea. And the New Millennium Bean party wants drunk drivers to be forced to have bright orange cars for 5 years after being convicted.

Marathon Back-up

Shock horror! Junior civil servant in Home Office has sense of humour! Besides, how appalling it is that someone should suggest it would be a good idea for the Pope to go about "sacking dodgy bishops". 

Went to watch the London Marathon yesterday. The other side of the road had few spectators, so I crossed over in time to see the elite men speed through like alien bullets. Then overheard someone next to me say to their friend they should cross back before the mass runners arrived otherwise they'd "never make it back to the tube". Good job I took their advice. Another five minutes, and I'd still be trying to get home from Rotherhithe...

Starting to get nervous about the amount of music I've recorded for the album, all now sitting on one drive. Just bought another to back it up, but keep putting off the transfer as those things often tend to go horribly wrong and usually end up with me accidentally wiping everything. I might need help.

Ashes to ashes

Bizarre twist to yesterday's funeral. The car carrying Gid's coffin was involved in a crash on the way to the service. The driver was hospitalised with whiplash and a replacement hearse had to be found, delaying the service by an hour or so. Perhaps it's not just life that happens when you're panning other things, but death gets a look-in too. I have a long history of providing music for special occasions but I don't think

I've had one of my songs played at a funeral before. Two young members of Gid's family played and sang a beautiful version of Ain't Gonna Hold Your Hand No More, which threw a completely new light on the words. And now I just received a beautiful handwritten card from a dear friend - the picture on the front says 'Enjoy Life', which is probably not too wide of the mark. A handwritten card will always be more precious than an email because of the effort and delayed time involved. Isn't there a Ghandi quote about there being more to life than increasing its speed?

Okay, that's quite enough of other people's quotes for one day.

Westminster's Got Talent

Still suffering listening to Prefab Sprout from the 1980s. I can still remembering borrowing Swoon from Bakewell library and hearing it for the first time. Didn't get it at all. Didn't get it so much that had to play it all again straight away. Then again straight after. After the third listen I started to understand that this was a record that I would be listening to for a long, long time. Probably for the rest of my life. It still sounds like I'm hearing that first day. A sonic explosion from the past, where all your teenage ghosts come back to haunt...

A builder working next door [who already seems to spend a lot of time chatting on his phone outside the front door] has just asked if he can borrow a drill... I asked if his has broken. He said he doesn't have one. Isn't that like a taxi driver not having a car? 

Watched three men on television last night, all of them begging for public votes. Not sure the title was very catchy though. Westminster's Got Talent has a much better ring to it.

Happily heading into town to have lunch with a work colleague. Things to discuss. Then back for friends' arrival to prepare for their third close funeral in two years. That has to be pushing it on the unlucky front.

David Lynch and Limoges...

It's about this time of year that I always wish I was doing the London Marathon. Trouble is, I'd only be able to do 5 miles and then have to stop, which means I'd barely get out of Woolwich.

Apparently someone has just tried to attack John Prescott wearing a John Prescott mask. That sounds like a David Lynch scene and has to do well on Youtube. Malcolm McLaren's family asked fans to celebrate his funeral cortege today with 'a minute of mayhem...' Maybe John Prescott used to be a Pistols fan?

The new album is coming on nicely. I now have all 14 songs recorded as guide tracks with rough vocals, ready for Mark's live drums on at least 6 of the songs. We're set to record those on May 19th at Mike's studio and then I can do the proper vocals and the rest of the arrangements.

Listening to Prefab's Sprout first single - Lions In My Own Garden [Exit Someone] - from 1982, and still blown away by it. Paddy McAloon wrote it about a girl who left him to go to Limoges, hence the title. I've never been to Limoges but thought it always sounded incredibly exotic, like most places in the world that you never get to see. Sometimes life feels way too short. And there are all kinds of marathons that don't involve running...

The morning after the morning after the night before...

Still recovering from a night out two days ago!

Something fantastic and awful about getting into bed when the birds are singing, knowing you have to be up in an hour or so for a dentist check- up you should never have made and can't afford to cancel. 

Sat bleary-eyed in the dentist's chair trying not to breathe alcohol fumes over the lovely Croatian hygienist. Nothing going wrong on the dental front, I'm pleased to say. And I don't think there's a lot she can do about red wine lips. I suddenly became very thirsty and almost drank the pink juice.

The planes seem to have started flying again. As have the eggs. Footballers are not happy about having to sit on a coach. Wonder what the traveling fans make of that?

Monday rhythm and blues

Off into town in a good suit for a night out. Just seen a man on the tube carrying an ironing board...

I don't like being a 'customer' on the tube. Feel mildly insulted not to be regarded as a passenger.

Walking along the south bank. Still in love with London. And still feeling great affection for the song I recorded yesterday... It must be love.

Premiership Race

Anyone would think the race for the premiership was still open. That late goal by Nick Clegg, and Brown dropping points away... I tell you, it's going to go right down to the very last day.

Spent a late night recording a short opening track for the new album which I came up with yesterday. It's like falling in love all over again. I keep listening to it, like a new friend I can't get enough of. And that's okay because soon I will listen to it and hear all its faults, how clearly derivative it is of something else and how I can't write songs to save my life. But as of this moment I think it's one of the best things I've done. And in 24 hours the love affair will be over.

Still no planes in the sky.

Shouldn't we be congratulating our scientists and saying thank you to them for being so diligent in spotting the danger from the ash clouds and saving thousands of passengers' lives?

Some of your planes won't go up

Jilly - even though she is now working for someone else - proves she still has her eye on the ball by pointing out that she couldn't find any reference to the 79 rules of engagement I mentioned yesterday on google. I was of course referring to the 76 rules of engagement that the political parties all agreed to prior to the first TV debate. Who needs 79 rules in any case? That would just be ridiculous. The last 3, which they obviously dropped, were only to do with who makes the tea, if it comes in cups or mugs and whether biscuits would be provided before or afterwards.

I know I should go out for a run now but I don't want to. I'd much rather just sit here doing this. Is that a good enough reason not to go? I know I'd feel better for some exercise. And I'm gradually coming to the conclusion that you only get to feel good in life after it's hurt somewhere along the way.

Peter St Clare - our man in Cannes, who is out there to try and get some interest in the Lenny Smallman Music Show, is possibly stuck because of the volcano. Some of your planes won't go up.

79 Rules of Soundproofing

Another day with no aeroplanes due to the cloud of volcanic ash. Thousands of people are stuck at airports trying to get somewhere, meanwhile a handful of songwriters who can't afford soundproofing at home are rejoicing in the ability to record without the noise of planes flying over. Now if only there is a way to stop the cars and buses for a day or so...

I watched the election debate last night after reading the 79 Rules of Engagement. I think every relationship should start out with rules of engagement, which might make everything much simpler. If you mess me up I reserve the right to sing about it for many years to come... 

Simon has emailed two gorgeous piano tracks from Australia for a couple of songs for the new album. His playing on 50 Summers is so beautiful. 

At work we were talking about the usual nonsense about girls, music and football when Josh suddenly went all Aristotle and came out with: 'The evolution of man will result in its own destruction...' Maybe I should be slightly more worried about the cloud of volcanic ash.

Volcanic Freak-Out

I've yet to see the cloud of volcanic ash from iceland that has apparently closed most of our airports...

Spent a nervous hour worrying about a tingling pain in my arm, only to discover a live fly stuck inside my sleeve. Had to stop myself from publicly ripping off my shirt in a totally freaked out kind of way.

Just had an email from Simon in Australia. He's sending over the piano parts for two new songs for the album. Can't wait to hear them later.

Tonka-tastic

The road is being resurfaced outside my house at night. Sounds of constantly reversing lorries from 11pm to 5 am. And I feel like a kid looking out of my window on a magical Tonka toy world. 

Have worked on the guide tracks to the 14 songs I'm recording for new album. Doing a lot of recording at night to the backdrop of reversing lorries. 

Meanwhile the politicians have all gone into 'vote for me because I'm better than them' mode. Something very depressing about a build up to an election. 

Keep Music Live

Just came back from a good long run. Along the way I passed one mitten, a kid's jacket, a kagool, a small pair of leggings, a ladies shoe with a broken heel, a wellington boot and a pair of old knickers. That's almost a whole outfit. Which reminded me of a fancy dress party I once went to as a cowboy, only to find out when I got there that the fancy-dress aspect of the party had been cancelled and no-one had told me. I managed to lose the hat but there was no disguising the tassle waistcoat and the homemade spurs glued to the back of the boots for the rest of the evening.

Just set up a recording date next month to record the drums for a new album of songs I've been working on. Really looking forward to it already. I've recorded the guide backing tracks for Mark [the drummer] to play along to and will record the rest of the parts when the drums are done after the 19th May. Be much cheaper to use sampled drums, but desperately trying to adhere to the old 'Keep Music Live' sticker on the back of one of my guitar amps. I had to tear off the 'Home Taping Is Killing Music' because it's the only way I can afford to record songs these days. 

Just rediscovering my old lost Teenage Fanclub records [bought the CDs cheap in Fopp last week]. About to rediscover The Sundays too...

RIP Malcolm McLaren

Something quite shocking about the death of Malcolm McLaren... I preferred the new wave that came directly after punk, but can remember the amazing, terrifying effect that the sex pistols had at the time. And I loved pogo-ing to friggin' in the riggin' which was about as anarchic as it got at the local teenage village disco... He couldn't play an instrument but knew how to form a band..... Rest in Noise.

Just spent a fortune in Fopp records. Too many bargain CDs at £3 that I always really really wanted... Or did I?

Now cutting a fine dash wearing shorts and sandals indoors for the first time this year.

Song: Easter

Good old Friday

Just like old times. Spent a lovely day working on the next album. Recorded some guitar tracks and guide vocals on Sleep With You Tonight, Roundabout & Forgotten When You're Gone. Emailed a couple of guide tracks over to Simon in Australia because I think he'll play the piano parts much better than me. I used to spend most of my days just doing this. Lovely to get back to playing music again.

Also gone 4 days now without having any alcohol. Obviously that was more to do with going into spasms every time I opened my mouth than self discipline, but it still feels like an achievement.

When I get a track finished I'm going to upload it here for a couple of days in unmixed form as a kind of tease to the three of you out there who will buy it....

Hand-delivered culinary normality

Just emerging from the spectre of yesterday's bug and starting to fancy some food again that doesn't need to be eaten with a straw.

I expect we've all got our own journey back to culinary normality. My first 24 hours starts with water, slowly moves onto black tea, then heinz tomato soup and finally a hard-boiled egg on toast. Give it another couple of hours and it'll be dressed crab with riesling followed by a platter of red meat and a bottle of port.

Putting off a trip to the post office. I could hand-deliver most of the parcels in the time it takes to queue. 

Look away now...

Worst night I've ever had.

 

I'm not going to go into details - let's just say I've become very familiar with all the low angles in the bathroom having visited 21 times in the last 14 hours.

Tax-deductible Houmous

Talking to a mate about the Babybird album - they were very disparaging about the idea of it as their only previous point of reference was You're Gorgeous which they thought was bland. They hadn't realised what it was about - the seduction of a boy by an older man. You see, people don't listen to lyrics... That song has been sung at so many traditional weddings, which I find very funny...

I just got very wet in the rain and changed my trousers for an old pair of jeans. Not only are they a bit tight but I've just now realised they have a hole in the crotch. Must remember to sit cross legged for the rest of the day.

Jilly has been offered the TV job she really wanted. Delighted for her - she deserves it. This will now be a huge test of character for her. Does she accept the offer or continue slaving away for free with us? I know what I would do... There is a third way of course. Which is going to require plenty of houmous and red wine, all of which of course is tax deductable.

Virtual Regrets

That extra hour makes it harder getting up. Plus the fact that the council have recently replaced all the street lamps in my road and I've now got a nuclear flare outside my window that you could see from the moon. I can't sleep unless it's dark and I fear I'm now going to need alpine shutters or at least some of those blinds they used in the blitz.

 

There's still a huge black stain on my rug from yesterday. Tried geting it out with newspaper and a hot iron, stain remover etc, but nothing worked. So I've turned the rug around and now the stain is in the opposite corner of the rug, which somehow feels like an improvement.

 

A friend at work has suggested a new app for the iPhone: a sensor detects if there's too much alcohol in the bloodstream and then stops all texts, emails and purchases made under the influence. That would prevent the dreadful feeling that comes with waking up and instantly experiencing the previous evening's online activity. Virtual Regrets. We've had a few...  

Desert Island Discs - Rock & Roll...

For some reason people are picking up on 'Some of Your Planes'. Apparently it was played on BBC Radio 4 this morning. Isn't that the radio station for older people? Anyone would think I wasn't hip and happening...

Apologies for the lack of blog yesterday - things got a little heavy rehearsing for the evening's show and I was unable to string a sentence together. Mungo's brother Adrian broke into Mungo's shed and brought the 8 foot paddle into town in time for the performance. 

The show went fine, in case you're wondering. Although I nearly didn't find the paddle in time because it had been moved from the place where I set it. I also forgot the words to one of my songs but managed to make up some nonsense that fitted the tune, and even rhymed. No-one ever listens to the lyrics in any case. A good tune is all you need. I'm starting to realise that the rest can be 'sha-la-la' for all it's worth. Mungo lost his own body weight in sweat having to operate the sound and lights.

Jilly's TV job interview went well this week, I'm unhappy to say. But I managed to bribe her to maybe stick around with us after the show last night with some red wine and a pork pie, forgetting momentarily she is a vegetarian. It was lovely to see Peter - our man in the city - who clearly has his finger in many pies at the moment, but sadly he couldn't make it back after the show to share in the pork.

Just tidying away all the kit from the show last night and have just knelt down on the black make up stick that gets used in the big finale. There is now a massive oily black stain on the rug in my room which wont come out. I've also managed to get it all over my clothes.

Rock & roll...

Song: Some of Your Planes

11:00

11.00 am. We're setting up at LSMT for tonight's show. Just carried a flight case up 2 flights of stairs. And we seem to already be up shit creek as Mungo forgot the paddle...

Mungo's mixing...

Looked out of my window this morning. The first thing I saw was a frisbee on the roof of a house. Something about it reminded me of childhood.

 

Just restrung my red guitar for the show tomorrow night. Feeling a little apprehensive. Mungo has 'borrowed' a 16 channel mixing desk from our mate who is a genius at sound. We only need three channels. And Mungo doesn't even know how to work those....

 

Jilly - who does our website and keeps us connected with the hip generation just a few years beneath us - has a meeting for a new job this afternoon. Be fantastic if she gets it, but then she might find it harder working with us for free... Have to be very, very very nice to her...

Bins

Another early start. The nice guy who works at the tube was talking to another passenger and I didn't get my cheery greeting. Felt mildly betrayed.

I'm always confused about my feelings towards people who paint their house number on their bins. The bin was free, so why get so possessive about it? Also, why would someone nick it? And if they did, you just get given another... On the other hand it makes it much easier to sort after the bin men have scattered them liberally across the pavements on collection days.

Is Bin Men sexist? I don't think Ive ever seen a Bin Woman. The bins would probably be left a lot tidier on the street if there were.

The early Babybird catches the worm...

Out at seven this morning for early rehearsal for Saturdays show. The nice guy who works at the tube station commented it was a bit of an early start for me. I think he's more used to seeing me around lunchtime... Bit depressed because the only people dragging a guitar case through tube stations at seven in the morning have clearly not quite achieved all their goals. And can't afford a roadie.

Loving the new Babybird album.

Obviously my early start today prevented me from furthering my relationship with the Speechless Girl. I have her pen here. Yes I know I already have a good relationship with someone. Does this make me a bad person?

Parental plums

Up most of the night with Stanley, throwing up because he ate 11 plums before going to bed. Miraculously he felt great this morning and wanted to go to school. I think there's a girl involved....

On the way to school, passed by the Speechless Girl who I've not spotted for a week or so. Wondered if she's missed me. She was wearing a grey coat, black leggings and bright lipstick and was bending down to find something in her bag. We didn't say a word to each other, true to the rules of our relationship.

On the way back from school I found a pen just where the speechless girl had been crouching. A green pental. Is it hers? Is this my way in? If I go up to her in the next week or two and say 'I think I found your pen', will it make me look attractive - or slightly pervy and sad?  I think I just answered my own question.

Off to rehearsals with Mungo for the show this weekend. Should be learning words instead of writing this. I can feel a green pen burning a hole in my pocket...

Amazon Gaga

Managed to go a day or two without blogs, twitter etc. Felt strangely bereft. No excuses. Couldn't be arsed, that's all.


Rehearsing today for the LS show were doing at the weekend. First time we're doing it since putting it on at the Arts Theatre in London a year or two ago. Hoping Mungo shows up today. Not seen him for a while...

Finding it really annoying that Amazon insist on sending out junk email "based on items you have viewed" every morning.

Can't work out if Lady Gaga is sex on legs or just an extremely ordinary girl in stupid clothes. It all depends on mood doesn't it...

Jam

Spent the morning trying room. Deliriously happy about finding several sets of strings for guitar, banjo and mandolin.

Ate a jam doughnut for the first time in years.

Off out for dinner with friends. Just need to find a good shirt in the wardrobe that isn't covered in jam.

Homelife: Waking up to the cheery sound of builders whistling...

Both houses on either side, and the house opposite, have all had scaffolding put up for repairs and painting to the brickwork and windows. We're going to be the scuzzy neighbours in the street. Also - I wont need to set an alarm for the next few weeks as I'll be waking up to the cheery sound of builders whistling...

Enjoyed hosting the charity gig last night. The Deputy Mayor was there but I introduced him onstage incorrectly as his name was misprinted on my sheet. He wasn't too happy about it. I said I was nervous now that suddenly my council tax bill was about to rocket up.

I keep getting phone calls from fax machines and recorded requests to buy insurance. Who actually thought that was a good idea? Does anyone buy insurance from an answerphone? I suppose they do, otherwise it wouldn't happen. And the public gets what the public wants....

Wendy Toye

Wendy Toye is being buried today. She died last week aged 92. Wendy lived a long, amazing life and it was a pleasure to know her. She was a massively popular dancer ('the Pocket Wonder') as a young woman before working as a choreographer for film directors Jean Cocteau & Carol Reed and going onto become an Oscar nominated film director herself. When she moved out of her flat a couple of years ago Wendy gave us a small statue of a lion for our tiny garden, which stands there proudly today...

We are known among the stars by our poems, not our corpses.

Enjoyed a chaotic rehearsal last night for the show I am hosting this evening to celebrate music and drama by young people in the borough of Barnet. 'Young People' is one of those phrases that makes you feel sick when it's said by a politician. Must remember not to say it myself tonight.

Just watched a fleet of council bin lorries heading out somewhere, which somehow poetically captures the spirit of today.

Never repeat a gag

Off out tonight to rehearse for a celebration of young people's music and drama in the borough of Barnet, which I will be hosting tomorrow evening. Might pick up a few tips of how to be down with the kids.

Spent the day struggling to think of something interesting to give Stanley for his tea, but then you can't be Jamie Oliver every day.

Just been spotted buying frozen pizza in Iceland by the woman from the local dry cleaners. "Don't you cook for your kid? she asked, disappointedly. I replied "You can't be Jamie Oliver every day!" but she didn't find it remotely funny. Never repeat a gag.

Practise, perfect and master

Beautiful sunny spring day and the nightmare has begun. Women are already out in the streets wearing little but their underwear and we haven't even had a chance to practice our not-looking techniques. It always takes time to perfect them. In fact it's usually autumn before we begin to master it, but then of course it's too late.

A filling just fell out of one of my back teeth! What?! That shouldn't be happening. My teeth and hair both need repair... I blame the hot soup.

Just realised that today's blog pretty much condenses Keats' entire collection of poetry in three lines. Must stop knocking back the opium during the longer evenings.

An eternal optimist?

Woke up this morning, tongue burn injury miraculously disappeared. Not even thought about it until now.

Stanley just asked me if I can take him to see David Cameron's Avatar. So that's why they're all blue.

Always loved Sunday nights, loved the possibilities that a new week can bring. Does that make me an eternal optimist? Or someone who is just always pissed off that last week was never very good...

Tomato-related injuries

Burnt my tongue eating tomato soup. It's annoying because it's going to feel like this for at least the next two days.

I'm supposed to be recording backing vocals on my new ukulele track this afternoon, but my tongue injury is making me sound most unfortunate on playback.

Been working on the new version of The Fall & Rise of LS, which I'm going to be performing in two weeks time at the London School of Musical Theatre. Two weeks isn't very long and there's quite a lot still to do, like rehearse it.... But hopefully the tongue injury will have subsided by then.

Ukulele and wine...

Just finished writing my blog for today and accidentally pressed something like fn+ctrl+A which wiped the whole lot. It simply disappeared. I don't really get shortcuts when you have to press more than 2 buttons at once. It may well be a shortcut but it takes months to study the list which seems pretty pointless to me. I would be more annoyed but I actually think what I wrote was pretty dull, to be fair. My notebook is developing its own set of value judgements and today I didn't come up to scratch.... Open the pod door Hal.

Matt - the bass player in the Lenny Smallman band - was on Masterchef last night. I didn't know he could cook. Have to get myself invited round for dinner. Not sure about his chilli chocolate jam coullis though.... And the girl that narrates it sounds like a man that's taken oestrogen pills.

Lisa is taking Stanley out. No night out for me tonight. No sirreebob. I'm staying in to play my new ukulele and not drinking any wine whatsoever.

Pure Floyd

Pink Floyd have won their battle to not allow EMI to release their songs as individual tracks, preferring to keep their records pure and very very long. Although they have stated that they will allow the listener to pause the album during playback if they get the midnight munchies.

I have already offered EMI my back catalogue to compensate for their loss.

My nostril shaving wound has healed nicely. Peter, our man in the city, sent me his sympathies having just endured a similar injury to his scrotum... This has opened up another huge can of worms as I have always refused to wax, and I am currently working out my position on the remaining options.

Large Hadron Curry

Cut myself shaving last night. On my nose. That's a serious wrong turning  isn't it! And today look like I've been in a fight.

I see the Large Hadron Collider in Cern has been shut down again, much to the delight of the press. We love our mad scientists don't we, especially when it all goes wrong.

Off out for a curry with Sean who is going to direct the tv music show we are looking to get off the ground. Any good recommendations of curry houses in Paddington?

If it wasn't for those pesky...

So, who knows what's on the mystery england football tape? Answers on a postcard please... I reckon they've all been putting bets on who's going to be first to have a crack at Cheryl.

Is it just me, or did the whole Oscars coverage start to get a bit ridiculous this year. Maybe it was to take our mind off the footballers and Facebook reprobates... [And nothing to do with the fact I fell asleep in front of it, obviously.]

You can't move at the tills of my local Budgens for Easter eggs. Thousands of them. What obesity crisis?!!

Oscar Dribble

Okay - so much for staying up all night for the Oscars. Woke on the sofa around 6 o'clock with a cricked neck and a string of dribble down my shirt. Good job Lisa [my partner] is away for a few days.

Strange word 'partner', something wild west about it. Never quite know what to use. Definitely not 'wife'. I still like 'girlfriend' which feels quaintly romantic. 'Spouse' - no no.... 'Mother of my child' - whilst being true, just sounds cold.

Saw the beautiful speechless girl again today after taking Stanley to school. Unfortunately I was still wearing the dribble shirt. Probably a good job we didn't start communicating wildly this morning, what with one thing and another.

Dangerous ground.

Me, myself and the brave

There are some people interested in sponsoring my 'Lenny Smallman Music Show' for internet broadcast, and I'm supposed to write 'a page' about myself & the show for tomorrow. I don't know where to start. How do you begin to write about yourself? What is of interest and - more importantly - what is not? A whole page?! I'm struggling now just doing this and I'm only on line three....

I'm going to see how much I can take of the Oscars tonight. Just in case the Morris film gets a mention or the stage is suddenly stormed by beardy men with hankies demanding that it be given an American release. There's still time for action. we just need to mobilize the forces. If you're reading this, rise up and shake those bells.

Loving my advance copy of Trafik's new album 'None But The Brave'. Electronic club music with a twist.

Mojito Night Bus

A little slow today after a proper night out with friends last night - I didn't get in 'til 4.

After the first two mojitos the night just slipped away. Couldn't find a taxi home, and a night bus appeared beside me as if by magic, although I didn't join in with the singing. Should have gone for a run this morning but that was never going to happen.

Saw the beautiful speechless girl heading into Budgens. So she doesn't work Saturdays... At what point does regularly noticing someone you've never spoken become stalking? It's a fine line... It's probably a good job my partner doesn't read these blogs. Or maybe she does and doesn't let on. And with that thought I can feel a whole can of worms about to open.

Apparently Easter Eggs are smaller this year and contain less packaging. Amazing the facts you pick up from nowhere. I've tried to develop expensive tastes but you still can't beat cheap chocolate.

Eye-Pods

No sign of the pretty but speechless young woman this morning. Actually quite disappointed. Might have to start writing her a song.

Yesterday's meeting with the producer went rather well. Her office has a fantastic view of London's South Bank. But I couldn't help notice that one of the pods in the London Eye has fallen out. When did that happen? Did it roll down towards County Hall or just splash into the Thames? Maybe if John Terry had been inside it it would have made it into the press. But only if he'd been with Cheryl Cole at the time. Now there's a story!

Think I might stay up for the Oscars on Sunday. I wrote the music for a feature film about morris music last year, but I'm pretty sure it hasn't been nominated. Although there's still time....

Five long days...

Watched part one of Five Days on iplayer last night. Felt more like Five Years... It was like watching simultaneous episodes of the Bill and Holby City. That's quite enough for me.

Off to meet a producer to talk about making the Lenny Smallman music show for the internet or maybe even some dodgy digital TV channel. I'm so not fussy anymore.

Have a large spot starting to emerge on the side of my nose. What's that about? It's like being a teenager again. Those days were supposed to be over. I mean, I'm 28 for god's sake.... Okay so that's not true.

Maybe it's because I've been waiting to say hello to the young woman I've been walking past in the mornings for the last two years and my body thinks it's heading into flirtation mode - which it isn't. Or am I protesting about this just a little too much?

Unicycle

After walking Stanley to school, I have passed the same young woman in the street almost every day for over two years now as she heads to the tube station.

Sometimes I see her walking back up from the tube in the evening. We have never once acknowledged each other's existence. Not even a nod. She's very pretty and looks supremely self-contained [if she wasn't pretty I would have probably said hello to her years ago]. I've decided I'm going to say hello to her one morning, just to see what happens. Or is that asking for trouble?

This morning I also passed someone going to work on a unicycle... What do other people do all day? Which makes me think of the Richard Scarry books I loved as a kid. Growing up, I wanted the world to be like a Richard Scarry picture - endlessly fascinating, deeply complex, with everything explainable in easy colourful diagrams.

Just met up with Mungo. He wants to put that musical play we did a while ago on again for one performance. Personally I can't see how that's going to make back any of the money we lost. Unless we manage to sell ten tickets at five & a half grand each.

The Travis Bickle school of consolation

Very pleased to see that Steven Gerrard is now the England captain for the game against Egypt. Shagger JT, having assumed the Travis Bickle school of consolation, has been passed over in favour of the Gangsta lovin', drunk drivin', dope-test flunkin' Rio 'de Janeiro' Ferdinand, who is sadly injured once again. Let's hope Steve doesn't get too flustered if the stadium DJ neglects to play any Phil Collins....

Nice day for a Welsh wedding

Sorry it's been a while since my last report. The people that host the website wanted paying.

Just returned from Wales after playing the music at a friend's wedding. This is the 7th time I've played at a friend's wedding, although it's the first time i've been asked to play someone else's song. Maybe I'm losing my touch? Although to be fair the omens for the relationships are pretty good; out of all those seven marriages five are still intact, although one of them is still trying to survive the revelation that the wife was recently discovered to be a fan of dogging in the Basingstoke area.