tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-39137888149907440812024-03-13T20:59:31.087-07:00LIDOFrances Castlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17334520847352174222noreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913788814990744081.post-66679085082843741952012-10-13T08:49:00.001-07:002012-10-13T08:49:23.903-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd1A0b9PHWr7nssIv_JoIVgH5VZkxDcGcf0AUVzwE-8ePW1lPLk70f-q4H9NvDOhrOXv6NHchWjDGq9u1POJaUxM5qQQYCw3gIQY91v9uTkDcSVLtxXoc994qlHDgpcC5yskH5m08XZ0-l/s1600/Field+Recordings+Cover+Small.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd1A0b9PHWr7nssIv_JoIVgH5VZkxDcGcf0AUVzwE-8ePW1lPLk70f-q4H9NvDOhrOXv6NHchWjDGq9u1POJaUxM5qQQYCw3gIQY91v9uTkDcSVLtxXoc994qlHDgpcC5yskH5m08XZ0-l/s400/Field+Recordings+Cover+Small.png" width="400" /></a></div>
I recently made an album of instrumentals about open air swimming pools.
I thought it would be interesting to embed into the recordings actual recordings of the Lidos themselves and in some cases recordings of the locations where the Lidos used to be (Brentwood and Purley Way).<br />
<br />
I thought it would be fun to release these recordings on their own.<br />
<br />
It's hard to imagine of what use they would be to anyone. However last year I bought a record of catering announcements on trains and I really enjoyed listening to it.<br />
<br />
Sound has the ability to transport. Maybe these recordings will take you to a Lido.<br />
<br />
In your head at least. Enjoy.<br />
<br />
Darren Hayman 13, October 2012
released 13 October 2012<br />
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<br />
Field recordings by Darren Hayman, Johnny Lamb, JG Smeaton, Dan Mayfield and Patrick Morrison.<br />
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<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="355" src="http://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/v=2/album=2499802303/size=grande2/bgcol=FFFFFF/linkcol=4285BB/" style="display: block; height: 355px; position: relative; width: 300px;" width="300"><a href="http://darrenhayman.bandcamp.com/album/field-recordings-for-lido">Field Recordings for Lido by Darren Hayman</a></iframe>
Darren Haymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350105881772605856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913788814990744081.post-20175965560220893252012-09-20T08:13:00.004-07:002012-09-20T08:13:51.636-07:00Lido - The Second Edition<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The first edition of Lido has sold out.</div>
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Nearly every artist at times would wish their record company was ultimately more interested in the details, the aesthetics. Most ideas are rejected because they cost too much or take too long.</div>
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Frances and Claypipe are different. When the first run of a CD sells out Frances sees it as an opportunity to design a new second edition. Every repress for Claypipe has new cover artwork.</div>
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I absolutely adore this devotion to the product. Here is the first edition on the left and the second edition on the right. Every single sleeve is hand glocko printed by Frances.</div>
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You can buy Lido from the links on the right hand side.</div>
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And look! How many labels do you know that have a badge like this?</div>
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Darren Haymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350105881772605856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913788814990744081.post-31949221960292099972012-09-18T07:41:00.002-07:002012-09-18T07:41:23.812-07:00Original Lido Paintings for SaleThe 8 remaining Lido paintings are up for sale <a href="http://www.hefnet.com/buy-original-darren-hayman-paintings-from-the-lido-project/">here</a> We're doing it by email. I hope you like them. Here's a selection here.<div>
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Frances prints from the exhibition will also be up soon.<br /><div>
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Darren Haymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350105881772605856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913788814990744081.post-91007160710557664672012-09-11T07:15:00.001-07:002012-09-11T07:40:49.579-07:00Lidophobia in Vienna by Robert Rotifer<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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It's the
end of the summer, and I came back from a trip to my old hometown Vienna over
two weeks ago. The memory of the unbearable landlocked heat still lingers,
mixed with much older memories stirred up by the city I grew up in. I always
find myself going back in time when I'm there. It's the classic homecoming
expats' disease.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">So right
now I'm grateful for the East Kent breeze, and the knowledge that the sea is
only a brief car ride away. But as I listen to Darren's Lido record I wonder
how different it would sound if he had had the same idea in Vienna. All that
serenity, that idea of the lido as an oasis of calm amongst the urban chaos
just wouldn't apply. If anything, in the Viennese summer outdoor swimming is at
the very centre of social life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">This may
sound idyllic, but as a boy I experienced it as a cheerful tyranny.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzMtpsT73KvBGeWP1umAx_Ag35qhMSgHfFm0DpR4cohLoBwLKrspwbAtfJr-TKwBI6u6caIM9FhuOoflPzA_2QMFR7NtsIZ7Se7TJahjmXNgLw_OI_lwOxv4KZkoV6qWCu5bf1X29XKQso/s1600/lido+bundesbad+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzMtpsT73KvBGeWP1umAx_Ag35qhMSgHfFm0DpR4cohLoBwLKrspwbAtfJr-TKwBI6u6caIM9FhuOoflPzA_2QMFR7NtsIZ7Se7TJahjmXNgLw_OI_lwOxv4KZkoV6qWCu5bf1X29XKQso/s400/lido+bundesbad+5.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Picture
yourself on a hot central European summer day in the 1970s, a child in a noisy
tram rumbling up the hill towards one of the highest points of the tenth district,
the ungentrifiable southern stronghold of working class Vienna. A mix of sweat
and suncream hanging heavy in the air, my mum, my sister and I are clutching
heavy bags full of all the stuff we are going to need for our day at the
Laaerbergbad (a word unpronounceable to anyone not living in Vienna).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Eventually,
the tram will reach the top of the hill, the passengers spilling out onto the
almost-liquid pavements reflecting the heat of the merciless summer sun,
everyone joining the stream of tightly denim-clad grown-ups' bottoms to queue
at the gates beneath the tall 1950s clock-tower, collect our keys and find the
cabins, where we get changed – to me the biggest horror of the whole excursion,
either being on my own in the men's changing room or a little boy among grown
women. After all this is Vienna in the supposedly liberated, onwards and
skywards to a fairer new world Social-Democratic seventies, so feeling shy
about the inadequacies your own body is seen as some kind of laughably
backwards square prudishness.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-phkmxBSjzSyywXruwb_OnB5Yr4Bop-KGfPM9mwwJDOh2oJNC5MS_GPK5NNq3QZ2IVoo6hosmfbt-LIqKqSi2YkSJJ29Stj6ZgB6SysJ2ez9pXNuzRn8XZtjn792zQZCeu9-P1ZB5ELEt/s1600/lido+bundesbad+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-phkmxBSjzSyywXruwb_OnB5Yr4Bop-KGfPM9mwwJDOh2oJNC5MS_GPK5NNq3QZ2IVoo6hosmfbt-LIqKqSi2YkSJJ29Stj6ZgB6SysJ2ez9pXNuzRn8XZtjn792zQZCeu9-P1ZB5ELEt/s400/lido+bundesbad+6.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Back out in the sunshine, the noise of hundreds of voices trying to drown each other out is
deafening, kids are running to minimise the contact between their naked soles
and the burning hot paving, while the grown-ups smugly promenade around in
their flip flops, bronzed bellies exposed, afro hairdos and golden necklaces.
There is music from various competing transistor radios and announcements over
the tannoy. And lots of shrieks, laughs and splashing underneath the diving
boards.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcpxyQh6TzLi5Rysm-fpKZYMC318RE_q9hpkQRHjzZnG8Mat2lMhXQZVZ3bfiKR8A1hz5t42fXCbi_8OGjEmp78wAR9RVXbHHbzAd56psuumTlr-LEB_G7oW9fTFagn2olM6RLLKCC0tqa/s1600/lido+bundesbad+12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcpxyQh6TzLi5Rysm-fpKZYMC318RE_q9hpkQRHjzZnG8Mat2lMhXQZVZ3bfiKR8A1hz5t42fXCbi_8OGjEmp78wAR9RVXbHHbzAd56psuumTlr-LEB_G7oW9fTFagn2olM6RLLKCC0tqa/s400/lido+bundesbad+12.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">What I
loved, though, was the smell of the hot fries that we would buy at the café in
the afternoon once we'd gotten through the homemade food we had taken along in
our tupperware containers. But first you had to go and look for a space on the
endless lawns between the pools and the playing fields, where we would spread
out our towels amongst all the other families, an endless sea of slouching
bodies belonging to perfectly confident people whose eyes I tried not to catch.
We always brought books. The light was so bright that when you closed your eyes
you could still see the letters burnt into the back of your eyelids, while the
sunlit white of the page glowed in all the colours of the rainbow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5a4N94Nlc_Kf1-oXUj1boX1vmO7womYdw4-RpbTYFwqPZgZvCUB2HQdDHgTtRuqUmG2BU9rs93uT1_DLOwCl2FNJVsQesCYLxYFZpIQGJCW9pbce_Qu7RbfJzNxq_DAFS3U0sSSJqU0Bc/s1600/lido+bundesbad+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5a4N94Nlc_Kf1-oXUj1boX1vmO7womYdw4-RpbTYFwqPZgZvCUB2HQdDHgTtRuqUmG2BU9rs93uT1_DLOwCl2FNJVsQesCYLxYFZpIQGJCW9pbce_Qu7RbfJzNxq_DAFS3U0sSSJqU0Bc/s400/lido+bundesbad+3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">I seem to
remember two large pools and two small ones for children. One of the large ones
had a wave machine that they would turn on at regular intervals. I am told the
clock tower, which held and heated 100,000 litres of water to be used in the
pools was pulled down in 1998, a year after my wife and I had moved to London.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-GB">
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<span lang="EN-GB"><span lang="EN-GB">At a capacity
of about 6,300 visitors, in a Viennese context Laaerbergbad is one of the
larger, but by no means the largest of lidos, that position being undisputedly
held by Gänsehäufel which attracts record crowds of up to 30,000 on a busy
weekend.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN-GB">
</span><br />
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<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<span lang="EN-GB">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Essentially,
Gänsehäufel (which roughly translates as “mound of earth where geese
congregate”) is an island in the Alte Donau (“Old Danube”, the remaining bits
of backwater from before regulation of the river Danube in the late 19<sup>th</sup>
century, now renewed by springs and groundwater) featuring swimming pools as
well as access to the surrounding beaches.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6NBQWoNKVh13cZdAKlPYCTFbJ73MSCN6kVqr2ompFVNbXvff-NTa0eEy1VzSE_dsXqTe_7I87UOHG6b2v7m9SCqvLpK896bOJU-kTpfkFoBNa-50IDdy-WdkF6Lt-GMHLXTgm2ljjh1Yn/s1600/lido+bundesbad+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6NBQWoNKVh13cZdAKlPYCTFbJ73MSCN6kVqr2ompFVNbXvff-NTa0eEy1VzSE_dsXqTe_7I87UOHG6b2v7m9SCqvLpK896bOJU-kTpfkFoBNa-50IDdy-WdkF6Lt-GMHLXTgm2ljjh1Yn/s400/lido+bundesbad+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Across the
water there are more lidos, among them the less dauntingly sized Bundesbad. In
my teenage years, when a new underground line had brought the north side of the
river within easy reach, this was the place where I would overcome my early
dislike of urban outdoor swimming.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">We went
back there this summer with friends. It is impossible not to love the shady
poplar trees, the finely pebbled beach, the water turned mild by weeks of
sunshine, swimming out to the yellow buoys, sitting on the wire that holds them
together, and having cheap but proper food at the terrace restaurant.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">I told my
friends of my former lido-phobia and how the Bundesbad always seemed calmer,
more likeable to me than some of the livelier the ones. They nodded knowingly
and told me it has a boho reputation these days. So I've been proved a snob
again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGNssvLQVUqNeGxHBibAvT9JTwbRHgnI5QXUBXTX6KhDQ8lpf-Qc3Y-sZ2fDsy5Jtl-MtWAD_psVaEX6AD65sEBDnKW1QL-kdeyYDlxFuYt9aMIWKQTNkpin8WDYUxE-HrF3e71EA_WpZV/s1600/lido+bundesbad+10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGNssvLQVUqNeGxHBibAvT9JTwbRHgnI5QXUBXTX6KhDQ8lpf-Qc3Y-sZ2fDsy5Jtl-MtWAD_psVaEX6AD65sEBDnKW1QL-kdeyYDlxFuYt9aMIWKQTNkpin8WDYUxE-HrF3e71EA_WpZV/s400/lido+bundesbad+10.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">I guess the
story of the Viennese lidos is a bit like that of the London ones: Promoting
healthy exercise for the working classes, swimming pools for the poor. I read
that the Bundesbad was in fact established in 1919 to teach soldiers how to
swim. The Austro-Hungarian empire had just lost the First World War, so I
suppose there was no more access to the Adriatic for the Austrian army, and the
shallow waters of the Old Danube were the next best thing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Like many
of Vienna's lidos the Bundesbad was rebuilt in the fifties, which made for some
fantastic, vaguely futuristic architecture. I took a few pictures of the
changing cabins amongst the trees at my visit in early August and cropped them
just now to the sound of Darren's record.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--EndFragment-->Darren Haymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350105881772605856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913788814990744081.post-30901193851045910242012-09-06T08:32:00.000-07:002012-09-06T08:54:53.702-07:00The Swimmer a review by Virginie SelavyThis article contains spoilers.<br />
<br />
A Hollywood oddity from 1968, The Swimmer stars Burt Lancaster as an upper-class suburbanite who, standing by the side of his friends’ pool on a summer afternoon, decides to swim home through all of the neighbouring pools. Based on a 1964 short story by John Cheever, it was adapted by Eleanor Perry and directed by her husband Frank Perry, with one scene helmed by an uncredited Sydney Pollack, brought in by the befuddled producers. The latter had trouble grasping the symbolic nature of the tale: through the central conceit, The Swimmer is really about a man in the midst of a mental breakdown slowly forced to face the reality of what his life has become.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/yIegoQAayFs" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
At first, Lancaster’s Ned appears happy and at ease among his wealthy friends. But as he progresses from pool to pool, more details about his life gradually emerge until the terrible truth about his situation is finally revealed in a heart-breaking finale. The progression from pool to pool is an allegory for Ned’s life, from youth to old age, and from success to ruin. The possibilities of youth are evoked in the first scene through the recollection of blissful, carefree swimming in the mountains with his childhood friend. From there, he moves to a pool belonging to his teen love, which prompts wistful musing over what could have been. At the next house, he convinces a young girl who used to babysit for him to come along with him. At first, it is an exciting adventure, full of laughter and youthful physical exertion, until Ned falls, spraining his ankle, and upsets the girl by becoming inappropriately, intensely, protective. Symbolically limping through the rest of the film, a now weary and vulnerable-looking Ned meets people who reveal the extent of his decline and fall.<br />
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<br />
As Ned’s change of social status becomes clearer, the world around him becomes increasingly hostile. Welcomed at the first houses he visits, he is called a gate-crasher when he arrives at the pool party of vulgar nouveaux riches neighbours he probably used to – maybe snobbishly – look down on, and he is eventually thrown out. As he tries to cross a busy road, cars beep and swerve aggressively around him. When he wants to swim in the communal swimming pool, he is initially turned away by the employee because he doesn’t have the 50 cents required, then humiliatingly made to wash his feet twice by the attendant, before attempting to cross an insanely busy pool in which he is assaulted by chaotic bodies, floating objects and loud noises. When he reaches the other side, he is confronted by antagonistic shop-keepers whose bills he hasn’t paid, and who reveal more unsettling truths about his family. It is that scene that makes you realise how bare he is. Lancaster spends the whole film wearing only a bathing trunk. Initially, it is a positive thing: Ned looks handsome, powerful, athletic. But gradually, it becomes a poignant image for the fact that he has lost everything: he has literally been stripped bare, physically, emotionally, financially, socially. Ned starts like the picture of success – an idle upper-class suburbanite whiling away a bright summer afternoon by the pool – and ends a failure shunned by all.<br />
<br />
We are never told if Ned lost everything as a result of misfortune, or as a consequence of his own actions, although the scene with his beautiful ex-lover suggests he may have been at least partly responsible, his infidelity possibly one of the causes of his predicament. With scathing bitterness, Shirley recalls how he broke up with her because of ‘his duties as a father and a husband’. But when he puts sun cream on her back, she visibly responds to his touch. And when he shivers with cold she puts a towel around his shoulders. The spark is still there and Ned tries to reignite it, but Shirley angrily resists the pull of past love, the hurt obvious underneath the lies she tells him to push him away. As with the nouveaux riches or the shop-keepers, Ned is lost and confused, unable to comprehend why she rejects him so violently.
Darren Haymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350105881772605856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913788814990744081.post-89917206554852138072012-09-04T01:40:00.000-07:002012-09-04T01:40:57.520-07:00Lido ExhibitionThanks to everyone who came out to Rough Trade East last night to see the Lido exhibition and to hear Darren play. The exhibition runs until the 16th Sept.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG0VnR4CZiFyYXly1tPZSl-_gKgvbGL9zOzplcnUuws_Px_49tfMt5nDvi4gBB6PvhkHitgkVXyhX2pWQKssqMiOLg1ydwh0ukIhPXZu1ZKpf3AtAWJFfYfnnc4LVyzdiS516we801ghLJ/s1600/lido+exhibition+-+Darren+John+@+Frances.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG0VnR4CZiFyYXly1tPZSl-_gKgvbGL9zOzplcnUuws_Px_49tfMt5nDvi4gBB6PvhkHitgkVXyhX2pWQKssqMiOLg1ydwh0ukIhPXZu1ZKpf3AtAWJFfYfnnc4LVyzdiS516we801ghLJ/s320/lido+exhibition+-+Darren+John+@+Frances.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3du7Gnvg7SK0wDmKg6tQUChSUmGQp3oZpR80p4E_7uBACE2JEvJGC02mXRzTa8ICwV8im04s5mKeZBlc4n0Omh_VrfRIoYfkIJd89Ttpy9pHie0UgWk78nWPGatb53QQbTTu2O4O1LTX3/s1600/lido+exhibition+darren.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3du7Gnvg7SK0wDmKg6tQUChSUmGQp3oZpR80p4E_7uBACE2JEvJGC02mXRzTa8ICwV8im04s5mKeZBlc4n0Omh_VrfRIoYfkIJd89Ttpy9pHie0UgWk78nWPGatb53QQbTTu2O4O1LTX3/s320/lido+exhibition+darren.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />Frances Castlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17334520847352174222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913788814990744081.post-69068138848820160412012-08-31T04:26:00.000-07:002012-08-31T04:28:30.174-07:00Stonehaven Video<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/AmezvXCKo7Q" width="560"></iframe>
<br />
<br />
Here is a wonderful video for Stonehaven by Thom Hoffman.<br />
Website <a href="http://thomhoffman.co.uk/">http://thomhoffman.co.uk </a><br />
Blog <a href="http://culturebadger.wordpress.com/">http://culturebadger.wordpress.com</a>Frances Castlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17334520847352174222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913788814990744081.post-42558371762965765862012-08-29T04:48:00.003-07:002012-08-29T06:09:23.644-07:00Lido Love<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
When I was asked to
write a piece on Lidos for Lido Music I wasn’t entirely sure
what I could say about Lidos that I haven’t already been
wittering on about on my blog. You see, in an effort to put off the
pressing things I should be dealing with in life I recently set
myself a to-do list. In amongst learning to ride a bike at the ripe
old age of 33 and posing for a still life class is to swim every Lido
in London.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Then it came to me,
exactly what I want to tell you about the wonder of swimming in a
Lido, in a city. It is this and it has become a precious thing to me.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I feel like I am going
on holiday.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<a href="http://draft.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=3913788814990744081" name="_GoBack"></a>I
grew up on the Devon coast where being in the water almost became
your home away from dry land. From an age that my mum would probably
argue was too young my dad chucked every single one of us into the
pool at <a href="http://www.butlinsmemories.com/pontins/camps/dolphinp1.htm" target="_blank">Brixham’s Dolphin holiday camp</a><a href="http://www.butlinsmemories.com/pontins/camps/dolphinp1.htm%20" target="_blank">.</a> <a href="http://www.butlinsmemories.com/pontins/camps/dolphinp1.htm%20" target="_blank"> </a>That old fashioned teaching
technique of literally sink or swim. Out of four children two of us
became water babies, the others still doggy paddle if you manage to
get them in the water.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The pool itself,
despite being set in a Pontin’s that we would sneak into, was a
Lido. That concrete expanse of shallow through to the murkier deep,
unheated water and surrounded by concrete steps that stacked up like
an auditorium. It was not only where I learnt to swim but where I was
taught how to whistle and stay statue still if a bee landed on you.
Where we were allowed a coke in a glass bottle from the bar, where we
saw Big Daddy wrestle. After a day spent attempting lengths
underwater or choreographing lonely synchronised swimming routines
we’d climb into the back of the cherry red cavalier still in our
swimming costumes and burn the back of our legs on the leather seats,
the remaining drops of water turning to steam as we’d rock from bum
cheek to bum cheek to avoid the heat.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
So despite living down
the road from The Dolphin, every time we rolled out the towels it
felt like going on holiday. The constant sound of splashes, choc ices
for treats and the pool. Always that beautiful pool. Looking back on
that now I wonder if, as a child, I ever really grasped how lucky we
were to grow up there.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The Dolphin sadly burnt
down in 1991 and it was never reopened. I took one last look around
at the charred chalets and tennis courts when it did. The pool was
sealed off, but through a crack I could see black water and dead
leaves. My childhood resembling an oil slick. Even now I sigh at the
memory.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Through this
self-imposed challenge of swimming London Lido’s I have clawed back
some of that feeling I had when I was a carefree child. Of being
under the water and amazed that I can still hold my breath enough to
reach the other end, the smell of pool water drying on my skin as I
lie poolside like a shattered mermaid, of being ravenous starving
hungry (that true hunger you only really get after a swim). Of
standing at the deep end, knees locked and ready to dive even though
I know I am terrible at it and most likely I will fail but not caring
anyway.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
And of course with
London I find myself travelling to places I’ve never been to
before, a feeling of the new in a city so old. Sunday morning I found
myself on a train to Richmond. Swimming costume on under my dress,
towel rolled up under my arm, clean underwear for my return on my bed
where I frequently abandon them out of forgetfulness. I love train
journeys to unvisited destinations, my nose is pressed up against the
window to peek in back gardens, deserted building sites and dirty
rivers. I’d never been to Richmond before, just like I’d never
been to Tooting Bec until I visited their Lido the other week. I know
there’s a pool waiting at the other end of it for me, just like I
did when I was a child.</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I like taking all these
watery holidays.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Hannah x<br />
<br />
Hannah writes the <a href="http://fromdisctilldawn.wordpress.com/%20" target="_blank">From Desk Till Dawn</a> blog </div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-NQVHgzkJ1ApZnF2aaS1buT4NOELopFSWaGXS99J83XkMVvt1eIYBF14hc35pCqTgerYTlq7g7aIBT6c0J3Z2oc0wILAxv5wwdnm-QHWinOkaOhzt03YHgzezOKZzwUdOpRAdb36KCUBp/s1600/Parliament+Hill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-NQVHgzkJ1ApZnF2aaS1buT4NOELopFSWaGXS99J83XkMVvt1eIYBF14hc35pCqTgerYTlq7g7aIBT6c0J3Z2oc0wILAxv5wwdnm-QHWinOkaOhzt03YHgzezOKZzwUdOpRAdb36KCUBp/s320/Parliament+Hill.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Parliament Hill</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3NRcNCfei4u3siTVQd6LhKEtUYaS67RacIXuHg00R73onJK03vrKPg9AYgGAgu78tC70FD5p0O-6cywBQImFo5T9Fp9rYxxtWFT-9aVAbuyXpSh11GsrXGpPXEsquHg6_YCGo4l5QW5i8/s1600/Tooting+Bec.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3NRcNCfei4u3siTVQd6LhKEtUYaS67RacIXuHg00R73onJK03vrKPg9AYgGAgu78tC70FD5p0O-6cywBQImFo5T9Fp9rYxxtWFT-9aVAbuyXpSh11GsrXGpPXEsquHg6_YCGo4l5QW5i8/s320/Tooting+Bec.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tooting Beck</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkYUFJ1wwSMdahxVwG5HXPqdw_FTO78abCGgEPpNDHbFtYn-JJs0mzLYfokG_NTJOTfg0DYTAZkQ7m_7iSBSoE-cNGKMalOCsFmz1tY621CcWWesk8Q7QFX5-iugO5IgPwGzzny_IX41kO/s1600/Brixton+Beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkYUFJ1wwSMdahxVwG5HXPqdw_FTO78abCGgEPpNDHbFtYn-JJs0mzLYfokG_NTJOTfg0DYTAZkQ7m_7iSBSoE-cNGKMalOCsFmz1tY621CcWWesk8Q7QFX5-iugO5IgPwGzzny_IX41kO/s320/Brixton+Beach.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bixton Beach</td></tr>
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Frances Castlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17334520847352174222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913788814990744081.post-81433188509659235872012-08-23T07:49:00.000-07:002012-08-23T08:45:49.011-07:00Taking the WatersBelow is an extract about Parliament Hill Lido by <a href="https://twitter.com/caitlindavies2" target="_blank">Caitlin Davies</a> from her book 'Taking The Waters, A Swim Around Hampstead Heath'. Published by <a href="http://www.franceslincoln.com/en/Book/3295/Taking_the_Waters.html" target="_blank">Frances Lincoln</a>. Photographs by <a href="http://www.ruthcorney.com/" target="_blank">Ruth Corney</a>. Photos are copyright and may not be reproduced without the permission of Ruth
Corney .<a href="http://www.ruthcorney.com/">www.ruthcorney.com</a> You can buy the book <a href="http://www.dauntbooks.co.uk/results.asp?st1=taking+the+waters&sf1=keyword&sort=sort_title&CID=&TAG=&Search=Y&x=0&y=0" target="_blank">HERE</a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3UWJNLtW8ccuN1Wyd3m3UGGmW4jzfvG-TNCduqUfxBF3Gqu_XaXFPln1Foy80sOP3o0DdpLDCTf58XcAdSF5Q2rI-Bshisy4-zgfMmktpXoa9907LZ2c7ssAVRYx-Ot6nRXOM8pit0EF8/s1600/Taking+the+Waters+jpeg+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3UWJNLtW8ccuN1Wyd3m3UGGmW4jzfvG-TNCduqUfxBF3Gqu_XaXFPln1Foy80sOP3o0DdpLDCTf58XcAdSF5Q2rI-Bshisy4-zgfMmktpXoa9907LZ2c7ssAVRYx-Ot6nRXOM8pit0EF8/s400/Taking+the+Waters+jpeg+copy.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Ruth Corney</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="color: #141413;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The
Parliament Hill Lido – also known as the Gospel Oak Lido – was
built during the golden age of lido construction, as part of a
government drive to improve the nation’s health, and especially
that of the working class. The aim was to produce a fitter nation
with a far better ‘National Physique’ – and what better than to
build outdoor pools? </span></span>
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #141413;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Between
1930–39, at least 180 lidos were built in Britain, adding to the
fifty built the decade before. And it was the London County Council
that led the way. ‘I promised the people of London that the new LCC
would make London a “City of Lidos”. Here we are,’ announced
Herbert Morrison in the summer of 1937. </span></span>
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #141413;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The
LCC then submitted proposals for a chain of five open-air swimming
pools, with the Parliament Hill Lido situated on 2.5 acres of land
once known as the Salisbury Plain. It was designed by two LCC
architects, Harry Rowbotham and T.L. Smithson, who designed all
thirteen of the LCC’s lidos built between 1906 and 1939. </span></span>
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #141413;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The
press kept people fully informed about construction plans. Readers
were repeatedly told the size of the pool – 200ft by 90ft – and
its capacity, 650,000 gallons of water. There would be separate
swimming hours for men and women and, most daringly, set hours for
mixed swimming as well. </span></span>
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<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #141413;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The
pool would be open every day during the summer, when for five days a
week men and boys could swim for free in the early mornings. On the
remaining two days it was the turn of girls and women. The lido would
also open for mixed bathing from 10 a.m. to closing time on four days
a week and bank holidays, at a charge of sixpence. </span></span>
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<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #141413;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The
raised terrace around the pool was built as if for people to watch a
performance, and on opening day on Saturday 20 August 1938 there was
quite a show. Five hundred people packed the poolside as the
Secretary of the Football Association, Stanley Rous, gave the opening
address. He seemed a little confused as to why he’d been invited,
saying he could see no connection between football and swimming, but
‘a great deal of money has been spent here and I for one feel that
if 34,000 people learn to swim here in the next few years, it will
have been money well spent.’</span></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #141413;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">This
was followed by a roll of drums by the Metropolitan Police Central
Band and then a graceful double dive by Flying Officer C.D. Tomalin
of the Highgate Diving Club and Miss J. Dixon of the Mermaid Swimming
Club. The diving display also included ‘an hilarious mock life
saving episode,’ according to the </span></span><span style="color: #141413;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><i>Ham
& High</i></span></span><span style="color: #141413;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">.
</span></span>
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #141413;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The
Mayor of St Pancras thanked the aquatic generosity of the LCC, while
an LCC representative said it was about time the very poor had access
to the sort of facilities normally only available to the very rich. </span></span>
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<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #141413;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">The
ceremony over, the crowds waiting outside were finally allowed to
enter; the doors opened and in they trooped cheering. No mention is
made of any lifeguards in the press reports, and the lido was
probably run by a park keeper; a white-coated individual who dealt
with the machinery and who was unlikely to have known how to swim.
But two ‘Keep-Fit’ instructors were present on certain days, with
free ‘advice and hints’ on swimming, diving and life saving.</span></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #141413;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Yet
while the lido opened with great fanfare, World War II was already on
the horizon. The press had announced air raid precautions, the first
million civilian volunteers had enrolled, shelters were being erected
and plans made for the possible evacuation of children. Even before
the lido opened, people were filling sand bags from the construction
debris. ‘They had dug up where the pool would be,’ remembers Paul
Thorogood, ‘and extracted soil to dig a hole, and there was a great
heap of it near the railway line. People filled bags with sand or
whatever it was. I was about seven years old and someone chucked a
brick at me and I still have the scar today.’</span></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #141413;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">During
the long hot summer of 1939, London lidos still swarmed with life.
But when war was declared in September, one by one the nation’s
lidos began to close. The Parliament Hill Lido took a direct hit
during the Blitz when, on 13 September 1940, incendiary bombs caused
seventeen local fires. The last fell on the lido at 10.13 p.m., but
the fire brigade managed to extinguish each blaze within twenty
minutes, and the lido remained open. </span></span>
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #141413;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">This
was much to the relief of local children. ‘In the summer of 1943 I
visited the lido most days,’ recalls Roy Naisbitt, ‘I was
thirteen and I remember how lively it was, full of children and
families. I don’t remember people ever swimming up and down or
across the pool, just a mass of people going in all directions,
splashing around and enjoying themselves.’</span></span></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 0; widows: 0;">
<span style="color: #141413;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">When
war ended in 1945, life remained hard for most people, the country
was poor and food and clothes were still rationed. Few households had
televisions or cars, and lidos became urban resorts for post-war
babies. Leeroy Murray remembers his first visit to the Parliament
Hill Lido in 1948 when he was three years old. ‘I sat down at the
shallow end and I looked at the vast body of water that seemed to go
on forever, it was a whole world. And then gingerly I got in.’ </span></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbutJ7HNuvqVqUDjPZfa9KcWaPK0rcvbiIwhxzXq5tNbUJU09fBZ-PIVJWRsha1X5tXU4Uomqap_QrFiTfFPpnHXuK8shzNRs1UEv6cMcEsLuZEkUDdMVhMqabMDUvXrRhxVIKFT4YLBvi/s1600/IMG_0960-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbutJ7HNuvqVqUDjPZfa9KcWaPK0rcvbiIwhxzXq5tNbUJU09fBZ-PIVJWRsha1X5tXU4Uomqap_QrFiTfFPpnHXuK8shzNRs1UEv6cMcEsLuZEkUDdMVhMqabMDUvXrRhxVIKFT4YLBvi/s400/IMG_0960-1.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Ruth Corney</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2VDcoT0Z7OaN1APyuZmAQ-AbrnQIayKSKGmVrLQ9DGDmJlids5t32-4pHb1hfozYTUSyiVVVWiHa4UPiiFR26EL0X1qx619KspxDPOORBcRhyphenhyphenLf8vfWTQhRrinjndmMf_em0f-rZTYfJd/s1600/IMG_8948.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="307" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2VDcoT0Z7OaN1APyuZmAQ-AbrnQIayKSKGmVrLQ9DGDmJlids5t32-4pHb1hfozYTUSyiVVVWiHa4UPiiFR26EL0X1qx619KspxDPOORBcRhyphenhyphenLf8vfWTQhRrinjndmMf_em0f-rZTYfJd/s400/IMG_8948.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Ruth Corney</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgO0u4dR0xmw1Mz8kGEmQ1reRatRlkAJsUieIlSVus6mKbVR-qjrkbnDK9-hisxMNmDHz_F2Gcjyw_x9u1pfTWrxUeYrSfH8ej-CGfm5F7iNMtvN1Iehcgq-2X66podrvepuOqCNOpq1Qu/s1600/77750036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgO0u4dR0xmw1Mz8kGEmQ1reRatRlkAJsUieIlSVus6mKbVR-qjrkbnDK9-hisxMNmDHz_F2Gcjyw_x9u1pfTWrxUeYrSfH8ej-CGfm5F7iNMtvN1Iehcgq-2X66podrvepuOqCNOpq1Qu/s640/77750036.JPG" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Ruth Corney</td></tr>
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Frances Castlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17334520847352174222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913788814990744081.post-5057069839208613712012-08-22T04:44:00.001-07:002012-08-22T11:45:35.589-07:00Darren Hayman talks to Time Out about Lidos<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>Click on images to view larger. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieOb3GY2Aaws3dltLT3iHrfFi-iwNXU_IgbTQry4QR-63VbbPQetSPjIASGuKHCeEC3zAWiMz67hFScNDC3zAEqJpYtnhvO4YQTQUORZvlKaEgIFa6_UlPtWQqWfo_maV_tECZg1xZsZZu/s1600/timeout_o1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieOb3GY2Aaws3dltLT3iHrfFi-iwNXU_IgbTQry4QR-63VbbPQetSPjIASGuKHCeEC3zAWiMz67hFScNDC3zAEqJpYtnhvO4YQTQUORZvlKaEgIFa6_UlPtWQqWfo_maV_tECZg1xZsZZu/s640/timeout_o1.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<br />Frances Castlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17334520847352174222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913788814990744081.post-64621407180535181692012-08-17T11:46:00.000-07:002012-08-19T16:44:33.885-07:00New Remix Single. ISAN and The Hardy TreeWe think these two remixes (bottom of post) made for the Lido project are very special and we would like to present them to you as a single.<br />
<br />
As well as being the label that is to release the CD of Lido, Frances Castle is The Hardy Tree. The Hardy Tree produces small music that never wants to be big. I only mean that as a compliment in times like these. Like me, Frances is interested in place and location in song and also like me she tells stories using lyrical and instrumental music.<br />
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Only a few songs on The Hardy Trees first album use words, but when they appear they are precise, teasing and beautiful. <br />
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The Hardy Tree take you on little journeys. Not big ones, beautiful little ones. The first Hardy Tree album was my favourite release of last year.<br />
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Back in the late nineties when I was in Hefner we became infatuated with electronic music. Me and John Morrison would buy confusing, pretty music on labels like Wurlitzer Jukebox, Earworm and Static Caravan. My friend Glen ran Tugboat and put out the first ISAN record. We played it in the tour van.<br />
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It was music that I didn't understand completely and that made me love it more. I'm always looking for music I don't understand. I don't want to know why I like things.<br />
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I aspire to make music as good as ISANs and when the opportunity came for Robin and Antony to remix one of my tunes I became very excited. I would have assumed that I was too linear for ISAN. I gave them the keys to my house to see what they would do.<br />
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<iframe src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/47820600" width="500" height="281" frameborder="0" webkitAllowFullScreen mozallowfullscreen allowFullScreen></iframe> <p><a href="http://vimeo.com/47820600">King's Meadow</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user4274497">Darren Hayman</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com">Vimeo</a>.</p>
When some people remix they destroy your home. They pour red wine in your bed and sleep with your girlfriend. Others do just a little bit of light dusting.<br />
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When ISAN remixed King's Meadow they carefully moved all the furniture from one room and placed it in the other. They didn't break a thing. They just moved everything.<br />
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- Darren Hayman<br />
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ISAN and Hardy Trees' reworkings of my Lido music can be downloaded free from the link below.<br />
<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="100" src="http://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/v=2/album=3189014913/size=venti/bgcol=FFFFFF/linkcol=4285BB/" style="display: block; height: 100px; position: relative; width: 400px;" width="400"><a href="http://wiaiwya.bandcamp.com/album/lido-remixes">Lido remixes by Darren Hayman</a></iframe><br />
Frances, Claypipe and the Hardy Tree can be found at <a href="http://www.claypipemusic.co.uk/">http://www.claypipemusic.co.uk</a><br />
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ISAN can be found at <a href="http://www.isan.co.uk/">http://www.isan.co.uk/</a>Darren Haymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350105881772605856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913788814990744081.post-9320173714843347052012-08-13T01:15:00.001-07:002012-08-13T01:17:16.641-07:00Free Lido Remix - We Show Up On RadarI first met Andrew Wright aka We Show Up on Radar at a dodgy gig we did together in Nottingham where the promoter refused to pay VAT.<br />
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I met him again at a another dodgy gig in Nottingham where afterwards I got car-jacked and put in hospital for a few days.<br />
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It's a laugh innit?<br />
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Andrew has also been mastering some records for me recently and helped pull the January Songs project last year into something digestible.<br />
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This is his take on Black Rock Baths. You wouldn't guess it from this but the original is quite plaintive and restful.<br />
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More of Andrew's music can be found here <a href="http://www.wsuor.com/">http://www.wsuor.com/</a><br />
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Andrew plays in london on the 7th September<br />
<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="100" src="http://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/v=2/track=3397739825/size=venti/bgcol=FFFFFF/linkcol=4285BB/" style="display: block; height: 100px; position: relative; width: 400px;" width="400"><a href="http://wiaiwya.bandcamp.com/track/black-rock-baths-we-show-up-on-radar-remix">Black Rock Baths (We Show Up On Radar remix) by Darren Hayman</a></iframe>Darren Haymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350105881772605856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913788814990744081.post-61853117846379645102012-08-09T05:53:00.002-07:002012-08-09T05:53:16.551-07:00Drowned in Sound Review<br />
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Lovely review of Lido from Drowned in Sound <a href="http://drownedinsound.com/releases/17172/reviews/4145343?ticker" target="_blank">HERE</a></div>
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To anyone bemused by the Olympic opening ceremony, wondering what nurses, blacksmiths and Mr Bean had to do with Great British athletics, here’s a slice of sporting heritage from ex-Hefner frontman <b>Darren Hayman</b>. Taking a break from his horny underdog persona, the Essex singer has written a tribute to Britain’s open-air swimming pools - lidos - and recorded it without a single vocal. 'If I am known or liked for anything at all in my career then it is for my lyrics… I see words as incisive, accurate tools,' he claimed when he announced the project. It’s a triumph then that <i>Lido</i> is so precise and delicious, its instrumentals perfectly evoking warm memories of paddling under blue skies in chlorine water.</div>
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With the same homemade production as <i>The Ship’s Piano</i>, <i>Lido</i> is an hour of acoustic-electronic pop, each track swathed in nostalgia like Boards of Canada gone busking. Each track has also been influenced by an actual lido, with ‘Parliament Hill’s violins, beats and bells emerging from the roar of boys’ showers - one of several recorded for the album that must’ve netted Hayman some sort of restraining order. ‘Tinside’ is exquisite, just banjo and mellow accordions, and features the sound of the caretaker lashing the kids with a cold hose; the lido equivalent of a wave machine. Though obviously drawn from Hayman’s Thatcherite childhood, the era he’s targeting is a vague one - ‘London Fields’s plucked guitar and old keyboards could be a Seventies sitcom title.</div>
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<i>Lido</i> doesn’t just stay in the capital, and features enough musical variation to fulfill Hayman’s assurance that you won’t miss the lyrics. There are occasions, however, where he commands so much emotion that his reedy vocals would be a bonus: ‘Saltdean’ and its bittersweet keyboards could easily carry one of his venereal anecdotes, as could the sad shuffling banjo of ‘Black Rock Baths’ and its obvious verse-verse-chorus pattern. But it’s a tiny niggle, and <i>Lido</i>works best in its own quaint spirit, remembering the public pools as the hubs of the community they used to be.</div>
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And in some places, still are: ‘Stonehaven’, named after the Olympic-size heated seawater pool in Scotland, uses stylophone-led electronics from Hayman’s short-lived duo The French; one of the most promising projects of his career. It’s a bopping five minutes of experimental pop, juggling glitch with folk guitars and cementing the atmosphere <i>Lido</i>’s been striving for - people playing in city centres, innocent times that aren’t quite yet over. Hayman’s channeled this mood into music and the result is a delight, his compositions as sharp as the lyrics he’s dispensed with. Later this year he’ll release <i>The Violence</i>, an album about seventeenth-century witch trials that’ll no doubt feature lines about stakes, gibbets and ducking stools. Until then<i>Lido</i> proves a strange double truth: that a group of people isn’t necessarily a mob, and that you can be idiosyncratic without speaking.</div>
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<b>8/10</b></div>Frances Castlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17334520847352174222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913788814990744081.post-59261959880022783522012-08-02T10:55:00.001-07:002012-08-02T11:08:49.863-07:00Jubilee Pool Video<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="281" mozallowfullscreen="mozallowfullscreen" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/45436659" webkitallowfullscreen="webkitallowfullscreen" width="500"></iframe> <br />
<a href="http://vimeo.com/45436659">Jubilee Pool - Darren Hayman</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user4274497">Darren Hayman</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">A video for Jubilee Pool. A song from Darren Hayman's album Lido.</span><br />
<br />
Available on Claypipe and WIAIWYA records.<br />
<br />
Jubilee Pool available for free here
<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="100" src="http://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/v=2/track=2477349020/size=venti/bgcol=FFFFFF/linkcol=4285BB/" style="display: block; height: 100px; position: relative; width: 400px;" width="400">&amp;lt;p&amp;gt;&amp;amp;lt;a href="http://wiaiwya.bandcamp.com/track/the-jubilee-pool"&amp;amp;gt;the Jubilee Pool by Darren Hayman&amp;amp;lt;/a&amp;amp;gt;&amp;lt;/p&amp;gt;</iframe>
<br />
<br />
Directed by Mark Jenkin.<br />
<br />
www.hefnet.com<br />
<br />
lidomusic.blogspot.co.uk<br />
<br />
Selected footage taken from 'Jubilee Pool' (2003) by Nick Harpley<br />
<br />
https://vimeo.com/markjenkin/channels<br />
<br />
http://markjenkin.co.uk/<br />
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<br />Darren Haymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350105881772605856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913788814990744081.post-29861142376996124482012-08-02T01:40:00.002-07:002012-08-02T01:40:33.642-07:00Lido has just had a 4 star review in Mojo! (However they failed to mention that the vinyl swimming pool blue version is available from <a href="http://wiaiwya.bandcamp.com/album/lido" target="_blank">WIAIWYA</a>)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF7UIQaQMMxyl394HLex_GbhHmpSa150yvlqeRORzwa1Zu1z3wGEWfMZn-m_3aH70NQqcO2_yKX9Xhc6deckY93ngLxJZUSPrKCwQZwQZV1691-eNix2YgCBvx4hpdqVtq0NtW5Sv0V39H/s1600/mojo+review.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF7UIQaQMMxyl394HLex_GbhHmpSa150yvlqeRORzwa1Zu1z3wGEWfMZn-m_3aH70NQqcO2_yKX9Xhc6deckY93ngLxJZUSPrKCwQZwQZV1691-eNix2YgCBvx4hpdqVtq0NtW5Sv0V39H/s640/mojo+review.jpg" width="210" /></a></div>
<br />Frances Castlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17334520847352174222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913788814990744081.post-13049546059942568492012-07-21T10:12:00.000-07:002012-07-21T10:12:04.917-07:00Super Swimming Stadium<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="375" mozallowfullscreen="" src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/33458505" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe> <br />
<a href="http://vimeo.com/33458505">Super Swimming Stadium by Darren Hayman</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user4274497">Darren Hayman</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.<br />
<br />
<br />
<h3 style="font-weight: normal; text-align: center;">
<b>"Essays on memory and lost, bold, civic dreams"</b></h3>
<div style="text-align: center;">
There is an interview with Darren about all things Lido over at <a href="http://thequietus.com/articles/09411-darren-hayman-lido-album">The Quietus</a>.</div>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>We are now taking pre- orders for Lido:</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The vinyl LP can be ordered from WIAIWYA <a href="http://www.wiaiwya.com/" target="_blank">HERE</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The CD can be ordered from Darren <a href="http://www.hefnet.com/" target="_blank">HERE</a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Or from Clay Pipe Music <a href="http://claypipe.bigcartel.com/product/darren-hayman-lido" target="_blank">HERE</a></div>Frances Castlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17334520847352174222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913788814990744081.post-84525475991572652042012-07-13T01:18:00.000-07:002012-07-13T09:25:17.132-07:00Purley Way Remix by The All GoldenThere's knowing people and there's knowing people isn't there?<br />
<br />
Or what I mean to say is, 'knowing' someone doesn't mean what it used to.<br />
<br />
This a remix of my song Purley Way by <a href="http://soundcloud.com/the-all-golden">The All Golden</a> aka Pete Gofton.<br />
<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="http://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F52661848&show_artwork=true" width="100%"></iframe>
<br />
I 'know' Pete but I've never met him. I met him on Twitter. He seems more than alright.<br />
<br />
He made me laugh a couple of times by the way he hated Van Morrison and loved Mike Nesmith in almost the same nuanced way that I did. Made me think I could drink with him or that he would make a good job remixing one of my songs.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYtJO5KIGIHPBf69TgAqpl8z8S6FQdIOjeIh9cnXAUyoqzBk79056UGHYsM_dNQ8FLzIiKEYXo7uYwpC4c00eekkRSM9-CNZySp_3YmczEmt1SB85dpKSVykPSsPOZ2nz30poF-cD_Kbn3/s1600/Lido13PurelyWay.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYtJO5KIGIHPBf69TgAqpl8z8S6FQdIOjeIh9cnXAUyoqzBk79056UGHYsM_dNQ8FLzIiKEYXo7uYwpC4c00eekkRSM9-CNZySp_3YmczEmt1SB85dpKSVykPSsPOZ2nz30poF-cD_Kbn3/s640/Lido13PurelyWay.png" width="466" /></a></div>
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<br />
Purley way is a strange one, when it comes to Lido history. It was closed in 1980 but the unqiue Deco diving board still survives inside a gardening centre. Dan Mayfield did some field recording there for my album Lido.<br />
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As well as the album and CD I'm very proud to announce that Lido will also be an exhibition.<br />
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>An exhibition of artwork from Lido</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Lido is an instrumental album by Darren Hayman about open air Swimming Pools. </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>3rd to 16th September 2012</b></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Rough Trade East</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>'Dray Walk'</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Old Truman Brewery</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>91 Brick Lane</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>London</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>E1 6QL</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>T: 0207 392 7788</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>8.00am - 9.00pm - Monday to Thursday</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>8.00am - 8.00pm - Friday</b></span></div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>10.00am - 8.00pm - Saturday</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>11.00am - 7.00pm - Sunday</b></span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #351c75; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>A special instore performance from Darren Hayman on the 3rd September from 7pm.</b></span></div>
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<br />Darren Haymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350105881772605856noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913788814990744081.post-74874697730957705182012-06-18T23:59:00.000-07:002012-06-21T08:11:59.701-07:00Frank Sherwin<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE3ou-J8uXprgDJaTPIbHCnmNTvQOfWJaY9KdesOoHkDdI1sWr8B5vuFv5ZBeia7QCXW1ZYqs2aid_M3gs0l0zXZQKFd_mnQIjrjQI90xREsvgoEP4iYWKCVYAxSVD2CL6Ikse99BBnWX6/s1600/IMG_0975.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="321" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE3ou-J8uXprgDJaTPIbHCnmNTvQOfWJaY9KdesOoHkDdI1sWr8B5vuFv5ZBeia7QCXW1ZYqs2aid_M3gs0l0zXZQKFd_mnQIjrjQI90xREsvgoEP4iYWKCVYAxSVD2CL6Ikse99BBnWX6/s400/IMG_0975.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Morecambe and Heysham - poster by Frank Sherwin.</i></div>
<br />
My name is Frances
Castle and I run <a href="http://www.claypipemusic,co.uk/" target="_blank">Clay Pipe Music</a> the small label that is releasing
Lido on CD. I started Clay Pipe initially to put out some of my own
music - and this quickly led on to releasing music by other people.
Darren's CD will be the sixth on Clay Pipe. The idea is to stay well clear of plastic jewel cases and put out
limited edition CDs in hand made covers that I design and
illustrate myself. I guess the time and effort put into every
release is a direct response to mp3/download culture where it seems
like music and its packaging has been devalued at bit. It is also looking likely that some future releases will be on vinyl.
</div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The music I have put
out so far has largely been British atmospheric and instrumental,
but the musicians have come from varied backgrounds and genres.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div id="PictoBrowser120517125446">
Get the flash player here: http://www.adobe.com/flashplayer<br />
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<br /></div>
<script src="http://www.db798.com/pictobrowser/swfobject.js" type="text/javascript">
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<br />
<br />
I wasn't sure what to write for this blog until <span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">Chris
Ingham posted his poem about Ikley Lido. By chance the poster he
used to illustrate it was by my grandfather Frank Sherwin who as a
commercial artist in the 1930s-50s did a huge amount of work for the railways
both before and after they were nationalised. He and his
contemporaries were largely responsible for promoting the image of
the golden era of the British seaside holiday as we think of it
today.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;">
My Grandfather was born far from the sea in Derby in 1896, the son
of Samuel Sherwin who was a Chemist by trade but also a keen amateur
artist. During the first world war he served with the Honourable
Artillery Company and fought in Italy. On demobilisation he studied
at Heatherleys Art School in London.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;">
I don't know how the images were commissioned though I would
imagine that he went to the places in the posters and sketched from
life. This is the way he usually worked, I doubt he used
photographic reference.
</div>
<div class="western" style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="western" style="font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;">
He was a watercolour artist at heart, and I think probably saw the
poster work as purely commercial, he also did more traditional
watercolours that were used as <a href="http://www.travellingartgallery.com/landscape/print/list/artist/A051.html" target="_blank">carriage prints</a> – hung up in frames
above the seats, as well as prints for Medici, and many greetings cards and book covers. In fact the work he
did isn't that far off the kind of work that <a href="http://www.smallmoonvalley.com/" target="_blank">I do as an illustrator</a>
today. As a child I wasn't aware of all the commercial work he had
done, and thought of him purely as a traditional artist. I remember
him sitting at his desk skilfully moving watercolour paint across,
stretched wet paper. He died in 1986 aged 90.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglXwnGU6-lb3JaPi1DVs5UQZr97RO-onigdPvcesSrOs0owVD55IFP7kf_2iHTJHu5L_1CfhGOn4nvXp4XQ4m4fXziuKQZ7oM1z5WufRLNT1Ar9eIe62jGtAkr7V-4eUfy5otmG4ZCIHxo/s1600/Frank+Sherwin+catalogue.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglXwnGU6-lb3JaPi1DVs5UQZr97RO-onigdPvcesSrOs0owVD55IFP7kf_2iHTJHu5L_1CfhGOn4nvXp4XQ4m4fXziuKQZ7oM1z5WufRLNT1Ar9eIe62jGtAkr7V-4eUfy5otmG4ZCIHxo/s400/Frank+Sherwin+catalogue.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
</div>Frances Castlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17334520847352174222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913788814990744081.post-12549891661041619732012-06-02T03:57:00.000-07:002012-06-02T03:57:09.127-07:00Beautiful Records<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Although not officially released until August, the Lido Vinyl and CD have arrived.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Fo7xMCvn7a9brjTrBxbBI0uzXpYkfzTfveprQ8YCLO1vI8hXOg2h8alAjYrr_5mwZ1tjLOiFyUo0w_G4QaJoAivF24JbdnqOThrYQY8RKgX3ZylxUhE-9A_VviJYTbK0Zt8HwCX50i8I/s1600/LidoPack2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Fo7xMCvn7a9brjTrBxbBI0uzXpYkfzTfveprQ8YCLO1vI8hXOg2h8alAjYrr_5mwZ1tjLOiFyUo0w_G4QaJoAivF24JbdnqOThrYQY8RKgX3ZylxUhE-9A_VviJYTbK0Zt8HwCX50i8I/s400/LidoPack2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
It's the first time I've collaborated on album artwork with another artist. The cover itself is designed by Frances Castle who runs Claypipe Music who will be releasing the CD edition.<br />
<br />
Each recycled card cover of the CD edition is hand Glocko printed by Frances herself. The CD all comes with a 16 page booklet with line and water colour drawings of all the Lidos.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXeDPIwzt8D6SWxMiyFCWreiifFBSjt1o7zW3XV-PeVkt611Kvht33ONWsRgcakbby1WqKyj_jPAR2kf1nVEForAQpqXcaNyygZiO7B1OVB-qxUuXD4jLtALh3QBBUC3lNGwGn_q667NR7/s1600/DroitwichWeb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXeDPIwzt8D6SWxMiyFCWreiifFBSjt1o7zW3XV-PeVkt611Kvht33ONWsRgcakbby1WqKyj_jPAR2kf1nVEForAQpqXcaNyygZiO7B1OVB-qxUuXD4jLtALh3QBBUC3lNGwGn_q667NR7/s400/DroitwichWeb.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
The 12inch has been pressed onto a beautiful marine blue coloured vinyl and also comes with the booklet. It will be released by WIAIWYA records.<br />
<br />
Like many artists I've been trying to make the physical editions of records these days as pretty and as covertable as possible.<br />
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I hope you like it and buy it. <br />
<br />
- Darren<br />
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<br />Darren Haymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350105881772605856noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913788814990744081.post-7630012844768498262012-05-28T02:47:00.001-07:002012-05-28T02:47:50.042-07:00Ilkley Lido – Yorkshire by Chris Ingham<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhnx0o6fpipKCLEJqLwrckt762sPB-vIqfN_hx6G4g3X1N-agF8XWJjc-PthddTI4msVWC2HDwaspvQzrQaORZQoZzJYxvlxPwNr5HHKM434hyphenhyphenYZfhtM2_9Y65K4HngabfBZaDtklobPYD/s1600/10175600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhnx0o6fpipKCLEJqLwrckt762sPB-vIqfN_hx6G4g3X1N-agF8XWJjc-PthddTI4msVWC2HDwaspvQzrQaORZQoZzJYxvlxPwNr5HHKM434hyphenhyphenYZfhtM2_9Y65K4HngabfBZaDtklobPYD/s320/10175600.jpg" width="198" /></a></div>
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<u><b>Th</b><b>e Diving Board by Chris Ingham </b></u></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-GB">Closest I ever got to heaven,</span></i></div>
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<i><span lang="EN-GB">Above the moors at 14’ 7’’.</span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Slippery steps,
tiny board,</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Pool below,
friends all roared.</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB">Don’t look down,
can’t look up,</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB">Can’t move
forward, feet are stuck.</span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Closest I ever got to heaven,</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Above the moors at 14’ 7’’.</span></i></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB">Queue behind,
getting lairy,</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB">To stay or go –
be quite contrary.</span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="height: 286px; margin-left: 242px; margin-top: 9px; position: absolute; width: 181px; z-index: 251657216;"></span><span lang="EN-GB">Deep breath
in, what’s the worst?</span></div>
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</div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Split in two,
like a Damien Hirst.</span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Closest I ever got to heaven,</span></i></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Above the moors at 14’ 7’’.</span></i></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Leap of faith,
tumble down,</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Hit the Water –
felt like ground.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB">Red skin, feel
quite ill,</span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB">Never again will
I climb that hill.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Closest I ever got to heaven,</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Above the moors at 14’ 7’’.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB">The diving
board, now long gone,</span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB">They say health
and safety spoiled everyone’s fun.</span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB">Me? I’m glad
it’s gone. Don’t care who’s to blame,</span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB">A monument to my
pride and shame.</span></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Closest I ever got to heaven,</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;">
<i><span lang="EN-GB">Above the moors at 14’ 7’’.</span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><span lang="EN-GB">Fact File:</span></b></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-left: 18pt; text-align: left; text-indent: -18pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span lang="EN-GB">Opened in 1935 as part of King
George’s Silver Jubilee;</span></div>
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</div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 18pt; text-align: left; text-indent: -18pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span lang="EN-GB">Designed by Frank Skinner, the
Borough Surveyor;</span></div>
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</div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 18pt; text-align: left; text-indent: -18pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span lang="EN-GB">Entertains 4000 visitors on a
hot summers day and 150,000 people a year;</span></div>
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</div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 18pt; text-align: left; text-indent: -18pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span lang="EN-GB">Water temperature ranges
between 14 and 22 degrees C;</span></div>
<br />
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</div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 18pt; text-align: left; text-indent: -18pt;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span lang="EN-GB">Shaped like a half mushroom,
with an unscreened fountain and an art-deco coffee shop;</span></div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
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</div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span lang="EN-GB">Hosts live music and events.</span></div>
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</div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><span lang="EN-GB">Friends of Ilkley Lido: <a href="http://www.ilkleylido.co.uk/index.php">http://www.ilkleylido.co.uk/index.php</a></span></div>
<i><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></i>Darren Haymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350105881772605856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913788814990744081.post-28217069037493402742012-04-20T05:47:00.000-07:002012-04-20T05:48:59.440-07:00Jubilee Pool, Penzance by Johnny Lamb<style type="text/css">
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When thinking about
lidos, my thoughts turn immediately to my friend the musicologist.
She has one of those minds capable of the kind of focus that all
academics must have, but also, she has the gift of the childlike
ability to turn that focus to the irrational and whimsical. The
musicologist loves the lido at Penzance, until the summer though, it
was a place of indifference for me. That has changed. Now that place
with its iron fencing perched on the front and isolated from the sea
that it longs to join and merge with in playful reunion is a potent
sign for me, and a portrait of someone now absent. Despite the
apparent tragedy of the pool’s separation from the ocean, it is a
beautiful thing.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYqO_deY-x3aLTPCQyV8vSBkM-NsSmtQEVmmGxCqtBSDQ_VUeARuaBXLWGC5OR7rR-ljVSlcd4-lLEyNe1ObErxkZrPvHPClPXKaaG0Imqcfasg4lwoLckN1g77f_8CtS6mIOCPXuEO07l/s1600/IMG_0161.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYqO_deY-x3aLTPCQyV8vSBkM-NsSmtQEVmmGxCqtBSDQ_VUeARuaBXLWGC5OR7rR-ljVSlcd4-lLEyNe1ObErxkZrPvHPClPXKaaG0Imqcfasg4lwoLckN1g77f_8CtS6mIOCPXuEO07l/s320/IMG_0161.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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The musicologist had
devised a game. We were to swim in all of Cornwall’s tidal pools,
allowing ourselves time for hot drinks or brandy afterwards. To her I
think it was a romantic vision of crisp university lawns, esoteric
conversation and cream cakes. If you could punt in a tidal pool, I’d
like to think she would have. To me it was more an image of
misbehaving in beach-front bars, a bearded, chain-smoking wastrel,
hell bent on the masculine practice of seeming impervious to cold
water, while relentlessly pulling on an endless supply of boxes of
ten Mayfair. The EA composer completed our team, comedically
wetsuited and cheerful, with a healthy look to his face. I think we
went to three of them. The list hung largely unticked above the
musicologist’s desk for too long. I regret this.
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<br /></div>
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The musicologist has a
friend in Penzance, and she would regularly disappear for the day,
returning to tell stories of her swims. Once, the sun had rouged her
white skin, making it vicious across her shoulders, tight and hot,
livid and threatening to peel. I never went with her, except one day
when the lido was closed, to try and make a recording for this
project. It was the first time I really looked at it. It’s
wonderful. And now, with the musicologist far away, I go out of my
way to go past it.</div>
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I walk from the
fisherman’s monument at Newlyn, along the coastline towards St
Michael’s Mount. On the best days, when it’s raining, the waves
will reach out over the road, soaking car and cyclist
indiscriminately as you approach the pool. It is a relic I suppose.
Some strange idea of the Victorians, to tame an unambitious section
of the sea, so they could bask like seals in the drizzling Cornish
summers, whipped by pious winds. How very fucking English. I imagine
those giant striped swimming costumes completed by a stupid straw hat
coupled with a judgemental gaze and a closeted and bitter sexuality.
But this is one of those rare things, a relic that remains of use. It
refuses to die, or change. (It seems like an echo of Newlyn’s tired
and diminished fishing fleet, which I also love). The barbed iron
gate seems to lock out the development around it, like a cultural
nature reserve. As the old seaside charm gives way to nightclubs,
pretentious delicatessens, chain bakeries, sports bars and pound
shops, the whitewashed walls of the empty pool lie dormant for
another summer of shrieking children, reclining women and strutting
men, escaped for a short time from the details of their lives.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTPEERmzfOCN3XBWuwb8H3MasdU2v9u7LhplHvGYaXVS3GHd3UU19hKxyi2zduj-El6jIwJV2mcic7SSLmKP7hK5-uuK799pVHC-bkE19se5gogrhPy72kExLGwQbsnZD8WuzteaMMR6pP/s1600/IMG_0163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTPEERmzfOCN3XBWuwb8H3MasdU2v9u7LhplHvGYaXVS3GHd3UU19hKxyi2zduj-El6jIwJV2mcic7SSLmKP7hK5-uuK799pVHC-bkE19se5gogrhPy72kExLGwQbsnZD8WuzteaMMR6pP/s320/IMG_0163.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Lidos seem like
photographs, a site for atavism. Even the very old are childlike when
they swim. It is often the noise of people swimming that occurs to
me. It’s one of those strange formless sounds where human beings
seem like a swarm. But excited human voices are full of timbre and
melody, unlike bees or locusts that drone in uniform tones.
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Delight in something so
simple, so primal. There is no need for technology in the water. No
need even for company. Just the body within the element. The lido is
in Penzance, but it is also separate, somewhere else. To enter its
space is to leave the town behind. We swim in our nostalgia
willingly, removed from the outside, and immersed in more than the
water, and to each person I suppose a different time. I cannot help
but relate the pool to the nineteen eighties, but to others it would
be other numbers that date their image of a lido. I relate it too to
the musicologist and the half forgotten, never made trips to the
tidal pools. When she visits, I will take her to Penzance.<br />
<br />
Johnny Lamb is a recording artist and works under the name <a href="http://thirtypoundsofbone.bandcamp.com/">30 Pounds of Bone </a></div>Darren Haymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350105881772605856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913788814990744081.post-22418422333990522962012-03-16T05:08:00.000-07:002012-04-20T05:49:19.998-07:00Greenbank Lido by Joe Lepper<style type="text/css">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_434959346" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGe56l1aGbVTZYSqB9wj6FQr_47SgXZ76dia62RKFg2Tsl40IPcNR1XW0iFaYZbqeIOb7L85eWmzQkyPKcSb7jFqumioYy_jTHR_IgakY9GZj1CPWHkUEqGWGMTaaiX7T9YtfW9y5NZNPo/s400/Greenbank+Pool,+Street+%231.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/rpw934">Copyright Philip Watson (All Rights Reserved) www.flickr.com/rpw934</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
The water at Greenbank lido in Street,
Somerset, is always a toasty 30 degree Celsius. Temperature is
something of a preoccupation during my visits, as I’m in and out of
the pool a lot with my two children, who every five minutes alternate
playing between the pool and the fountains and slides at the far end
of the lido. One minute I’m luxuriating in the cosy water, the next
cold and wrapped in a towel while watching my kids dive in and out of
giant water spouts.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=3913788814990744081" name="_GoBack"></a>When I moved to
Street from Brighton six years ago I discovered my new home was
blessed with not one but two swimming pools. While the indoor pool
run by a council contractor serves its purpose it is Greenbank, the
lido built by the shoemaking Clarks dynasty who are still based in
Street, which is the real draw for swimmers and families.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
There’s barely an inch of the village
that The Clarks family have not either owned, currently own or have
some kind of say in its running. They built my son’s primary
school, own the fields that are dotted between the houses, which they
in turn either still own or at least used to. The discount retail
park in the village centre still bears their name and the
distribution centre and headquarters of their shoe empire dominates
the local labour market. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh884qaIUU0siBEiiINwP1yBxOPFnhWOOFNi5Fs8OoxZAsUzEDANxDsIo9yqkip0U4QA7o2FqEnLw3nAhAGPRbIf_EgoYD4I2Rdo7ntgCQslCPSXh-r0kRC7_7TXhhJoIFzGsBdSYlgstyq/s1600/IMG_0563.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh884qaIUU0siBEiiINwP1yBxOPFnhWOOFNi5Fs8OoxZAsUzEDANxDsIo9yqkip0U4QA7o2FqEnLw3nAhAGPRbIf_EgoYD4I2Rdo7ntgCQslCPSXh-r0kRC7_7TXhhJoIFzGsBdSYlgstyq/s400/IMG_0563.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Joe Lepper</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I’m a little uncomfortable with one
company controlling so much of my life, but I can’t deny this
millionaire family of Quakers have splashed their cash well at times,
in particular Alice Clark who created Greenbank in 1937. Part of
Alice’s motivation for developing the pool for local people was her
background as a suffragette and campaigner for women’s rights. At
the time the men and boys of street, many of whom used to work for
her family, used to swim naked in the River Brue, which separates
Street from its more bohemian neighbours in Glastonbury. With women
effectively excluded from this nude, post work dip, she decided to
plough some of the family gold into a place where they could swim.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
It was gifted to the village after
completion and Greenbank remains a charitable trust to this day,
receives a grant from the local parish council which ensures the
spirit of Alice Clark lives on by giving local people a nice discount
on season tickets.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
It is the key place for young people to
meet and the focus for family life in Street from May to September.
“When’s the outdoor pool opening,” says my eldest son regularly
during the winter months. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_434959352" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyGAnHvBUL2EQkalCnkKhLaNXZJzxraSeoWn5nRjFF_KLBFaLmQ61iRkhW7W5Kdepi2kIPuh1bclmLRG2ShV7ueYnuQzuf_qV4JYJXddtJQRSWSDjKTROpt4POchlh4z1rdM8Ldu-dmwOl/s400/Greenbank+Pool,+Street+%232.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.flickr.com/rpw934">Copyright Philip Watson (All Rights Reserved) www.flickr.com/rpw934</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Of those lidos that remain many are in
the urban south-east and London, but this is a prime example of a
well used rural lido that as soon as the temperature gets anywhere
above 18 degrees becomes packed. Even when it’s colder there are
still regular swimmers among its snug ripples. We use it even more as
recession bites and family life gets more expensive. We only live
around the corner from it so its no trouble on a warm Saturday
afternoon in June to march down there loaded down with our season
ticket, towels and snacks.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
As well as being near to us, its
location within Street offers a constant reminder of it heritage and
rural setting. To one side cows and sheep graze in an adjacent field
and to the other side is the High Street and headquarters of Clarks,
complete with the giant, red brick chimney of this shoe family’s
old factory, high above the family fun below.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Joe Lepper is a freelance journalist.
For more information visit his website here
<a href="http://www.newsandfeatures.co.uk/">http://www.newsandfeatures.co.uk/</a>
He also co-edits the music website Neonfiller
<a href="http://www.neonfiller.com/">http://www.neonfiller.com</a></div>Darren Haymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350105881772605856noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913788814990744081.post-18993090146723229712012-02-29T07:29:00.000-08:002012-02-29T07:29:40.858-08:00TOOTING LIDO by Jenny Landreth<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica,sans-serif;">I
was sitting in the sauna at Tooting Lido in the middle of January
thinking about death. Swimming in water that’s hovering around the
3 degree mark can do that, and that’s why I was in the sauna, to
bring some semblance of feeling back to my post-swim scalding-cold
lobster skin. ‘Swim’ is a generous description at this
temperature; if there was one word for ‘wade, screech, mad paddle’
I’d use that. I’d just done six widths, about 200m, which is a
tiny swim as they go; if you’re a Tooting Lido regular you’ll
shrug like ‘so what?’ Regulars try to do that, to be neither
impressed nor unimpressed, to remove the competitive element that
might otherwise tempt people to push themselves, because guess what,
ice water is not really the place for experimenting with your
personal boundaries. If you’re not a cold water swimmer, I can
tell you that doing 200m in 3 degrees makes me either a goddess or so
hard as to be unnatural and either way, I’m not to be messed with. </span>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica,sans-serif;">It
wasn’t just the freezing water that bought me to things mortal.
This sauna has all the styling of a communal coffin circa 1977; it’s
a dark, pine box, hot enough to be on its way to hell, with stepped
benches that get hotter the higher you sit. The door handle sometimes
falls off and I’ve often joked with fellow swimmers about being
locked in there, heating to death (I’m also available for parties). </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpBlCQ8dX-mu5LU4Jmo5yHFnptcquUn0w1TnOkW74LAi236e9TJbsymYMM-6bsvsMNnaoVFS0-KodhV9bIldkfdBr1pyMYAkbBgJyZUCgedxhWRMQXhVW8koczMVVFAttUVzasI5SV5TbG/s1600/Lido14TootingBec.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpBlCQ8dX-mu5LU4Jmo5yHFnptcquUn0w1TnOkW74LAi236e9TJbsymYMM-6bsvsMNnaoVFS0-KodhV9bIldkfdBr1pyMYAkbBgJyZUCgedxhWRMQXhVW8koczMVVFAttUVzasI5SV5TbG/s400/Lido14TootingBec.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Drawing by Darren Hayman</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica,sans-serif;">But
today I’m sitting here alone, on the top bench, not yet lightly
sweating, thinking about Dr Andy. His death had been announced on the
lido’s various social media feeds and a more conventional printed
note pinned on the board by the winter entrance to the pool, where
I’d signed in. Dr Andy was a great big man who’d celebrated his
90</span><sup><span style="font-family: Helvetica,sans-serif;">th</span></sup><span style="font-family: Helvetica,sans-serif;">
birthday here in autumn last year, the old king of the lido, much
loved and respected in the way that clever, dry, humorous kings are.
When there were two walking sticks by the steps, you knew that Dr
Andy was in the water somewhere. He had his own rules of cold
swimming (we all do), like he never did lengths until the water was
10 degrees; I love the way he described the temperature of the water
in winter: ‘it’s either cold, or fucking cold’ an observation
given more bite by the fact he wasn’t a sweary type. I’d never
passed more than a few daily sentences with him, but still felt his
loss keenly, so I can only imagine how sad his close friends and
family must feel to lose such a man. I was thinking, too, blimey,
he must have swum a lot of lengths in his ninety years. I was
thinking of how many I’d swum in comparison: a drop in the ocean,
even for a swimming obsessive who, like a reverse-witch, can’t pass
over a body of water without contemplating whether I could swim it. </span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica,sans-serif;">Tooting
Lido is my home pool, the one I would swim in above all others. Its
history is well documented; it’s an iconic pool, over 100 years
old; it’s huge, and it’s cold even in the middle of summer. But
big and unheated has advantages, not least that even on the sunniest
days, when every square inch of ground is covered in bodies, there is
often enough room in the 90 metre un-laned pool to get a decent swim
in, if you can ignore the milky quality of water + suncream that
reduces visibility and tastes like swimming in Impulse. I swim here
year round, even on snowy days when I get out acting like I’ve done
something majestic. </span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica,sans-serif;">When
you walk in, there laid out before you, is a massive blue slab of
water, bigger than any you’ve ever seen, unless you’ve seen a
bigger one. So big it reflects the sky, so big it has its own weather
system. Tip #1: don’t put your hands in to feel the water
temperature. Trust me, it’s cold. There are two choices to change:
either privately in one of the little outdoor cubicles, when you can
hang your hoodie over knot holes in the wood. (You’ll want to take
pics, they look cute, you’re only allowed to do that ‘out of
season’.) Or communally, in a concrete bunker where the floor is
perennially cold and wet. (You won’t want to take pics in here,
it’s a bit grim.) </span>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSRobbm8_vYLGHkP_K-uXATxaHzx3f1WHyLQyDfpseXv76IKopbLjZfOJ4yy75HiGxXBBEaurEKXdSKvu6yjMNv-_pRL3EXZ4kwRI_o7WY8kje0gwrrordwzh45kpyQzq6PwRjRsgGe66L/s1600/204336867_dd93a3e4b1_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSRobbm8_vYLGHkP_K-uXATxaHzx3f1WHyLQyDfpseXv76IKopbLjZfOJ4yy75HiGxXBBEaurEKXdSKvu6yjMNv-_pRL3EXZ4kwRI_o7WY8kje0gwrrordwzh45kpyQzq6PwRjRsgGe66L/s320/204336867_dd93a3e4b1_b.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container"><tbody>
<tr></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by hilry_Jennings http://www.flickr.com/photos/44225057@N00/ under creative commons license.<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica,sans-serif;">I
guarantee that when you get in the water, you’ll do shrieking, pull
your stomach in and stretch your arms up, as if making yourself
thinner and taller warms the water. It’s un-laned, so requires a
little bit of swimming etiquette and vigilance –there have been
times when the only two people in the water still manage to crash
into each other (sorry bout that). The width of the pool – 30m –
is as long as some pools get, and the deep end can look forebodingly
distant. The water is fully chlorinated, but doesn’t feel or smell
like it, it’s something to do with UV, apparently.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica,sans-serif;">Along
each side of the pool are afore-mentioned cubicles, and a shaky
wooden structure that offers a bit of cover if it’s raining.
There’s a few sun-trap benches that get quickly colonised by wise
people who know which way the sun moves. (Yeah, sure, everyone knows
which way the sun moves, but not everyone is quick enough to grab a
bench.) There’s a big fountain at the shallow end (not
architecturally uplifting, but reminiscent of the seaside in the
1950s even if that’s way before your time) and a café that isn’t
great (how difficult would it be to serve porridge? I don’t even
like porridge, but cold water swimming makes you disproportionately
hungry.) There’s a big grassy bit at the back that gets clogged
with double buggies and territory-marking blankets on a sunny day,
and a paddling pool full of women standing ankle-deep in children
pee, staring into space wishing they could be in the big pool. Apple
trees have been espaliered along the back fence, a nice touch which
echoes the community-minded ethos of the pool. </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlKxyMweYttRYr9vN60Jnk4SLb0B2PZeYkxhZE-sUi6Ns-Ls38llxJPHcWRBqTz9cFXSvLu3R67YDBscCKd5v92d9MvY_2__Z-IbW0hiP8HZ8W_gR3S_H5aZ6Jv1SEVxkfYkkz3KPfyvX-/s1600/204332118_b4b7dd247f_b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlKxyMweYttRYr9vN60Jnk4SLb0B2PZeYkxhZE-sUi6Ns-Ls38llxJPHcWRBqTz9cFXSvLu3R67YDBscCKd5v92d9MvY_2__Z-IbW0hiP8HZ8W_gR3S_H5aZ6Jv1SEVxkfYkkz3KPfyvX-/s400/204332118_b4b7dd247f_b.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by hilry_Jennings http://www.flickr.com/photos/44225057@N00/ under creative commons license.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica,sans-serif;">You
can get leaves down your costume, but you don’t pay extra for that.
You can get tan lines swimming, and you don’t pay extra for that,
either. The train rattles past sometimes, the clouds scuttle, the
wind ruffles the water. I recommend it, it’s lovely, and I
apologise in advance if I bump into you. </span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica,sans-serif;">I
leave the sauna, that January day, and wince-walk back over the
gritted paving slabs to my changing cubicle, my feet sensitive to
every tiny pebble, my skin now an attractive mottled red. Sometimes
when I come out of the sauna I jump back into the pool for a plunge,
like you might blanche a pan of green beans under the tap to stop
them cooking. As I said, everyone has their own rules. Today I can’t
be bothered, I want to keep a hold of every bit of this heat, wrap it
up in my layers, quick. Of course, Dr Andy never came into the sauna,
he was proper hard, a phrase he’d have never used to describe
himself; lots of the originals still prefer a cold shower after their
swim, and I’m now a soft Southern pansy. It’s trying to snow.
I’ll be back tomorrow, I think, I love swimming in snow. That’s
how my thought process goes: I’m not doing that. I’m doing that.
I must never do that again. I’ll do that again tomorrow. Dr Andy
kept doing it up until a few days before he died, 90 and a bit. And
that, I think, would suit me just fine. </span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica,sans-serif;">Jenny Landreth has her own blog <a href="http://swimmingroundlondon.blogspot.com/">Swimming Round London </a>where she trys out a different London pool each week and writes about it.</span></i></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica,sans-serif;">Darren Hayman is releasing an instrumental album about Britain's open air swimming pools this summer and on it will be a tune entitled 'Tooting Bec'. </span></i>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>Darren Haymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350105881772605856noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3913788814990744081.post-25320150253734745792012-02-17T08:12:00.000-08:002012-02-17T09:22:24.041-08:00Music about Forgetting by Darren Hayman<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYSeOJgXNcwhAmMiDoJVm6ltPlF6wMuMmMgzdmyjcAopBcb6ZLDUblJ5Zq_BkjD4ucjxUmWSpRUUebl5O-vLDySneJJXzFGaP3v9lkdmxGJkYd5xGVinyRUSttof3A1QIPDZLzVdHBVFN-/s1600/LidoPolaroid.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYSeOJgXNcwhAmMiDoJVm6ltPlF6wMuMmMgzdmyjcAopBcb6ZLDUblJ5Zq_BkjD4ucjxUmWSpRUUebl5O-vLDySneJJXzFGaP3v9lkdmxGJkYd5xGVinyRUSttof3A1QIPDZLzVdHBVFN-/s400/LidoPolaroid.png" width="331" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Polaroid of Parliament Hill Lido by Darren</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
I was thinking about instrumental music
and whether it could truly be about something. I was thinking about
how classical, jazz and the avant-garde often group music together
under conceptual titles and themes. Isn’t a lot of this music about
music itself? Isn’t instrumental music literally about the
unspeakable, the indescribable?
</div>
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<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
My friend Dave says that he see no
reason why wordless music should be any less about ‘something’
then lyrics or prose. I think he’s right, but I also know that some
music that is titled and thematically labelled is nothing more than
the beautiful sound of a musician trying to reach out; to evoke; to
remember.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
My name is Darren Hayman and I have
made an instrumental album about Britain’s open air swimming pools;
it’s called ‘Lido’. If I am known or liked for anything at all
in my career then it is for my lyrics. I see words as incisive,
accurate tools, when used correctly. I don’t want my words to paint
vague canvasses; I want them to make detailed, forensic technical
drawings. I am interested in specifics; my songs thus far have very
much been about <i>stuff</i>.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0C0pdMjO4q6aYQ1RLVf3LF21CwBFMAOXARiZKdb8yC2O3ORoBHxuNLHybcPf8yT1wN__Hjl7u0yDL-h7F7TI0qWAm8diKNTfewsJB4CnAWU_Y3FkzaniG1drfigHu0f1oxExqOtVrw2CM/s1600/Blue+Vinyl.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0C0pdMjO4q6aYQ1RLVf3LF21CwBFMAOXARiZKdb8yC2O3ORoBHxuNLHybcPf8yT1wN__Hjl7u0yDL-h7F7TI0qWAm8diKNTfewsJB4CnAWU_Y3FkzaniG1drfigHu0f1oxExqOtVrw2CM/s320/Blue+Vinyl.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lido will be released on delicious blue vinyl as well as CD</td></tr>
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In my own listening, however, I have
moved more and more towards instrumental music. I enjoy the heavenly
fog of the ECM label. I love following the unpredictability of John
Coltrane’s reckless career. I adore roots dub reggae – it makes
me feel safe and calm.</div>
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Instrumental music has given me
something that has been missing from my listening for a few years. It
confuses, frustrates and excites me, and in no way do I feel it a
less erudite companion to lyrical music. The opposite is true, in
fact: this music can often say more, I just love not being able to
define what it is.</div>
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Cautiously, over the last few years, I
started to amass recordings of my instrumental compositions. When I
had five that I thought were good, I needed a title that might pull
these sunny, open tunes together; I thought of ‘Lido’. From that
point onwards I tried to think about what it would be to write music
with a specific setting in mind. I tried to write the tunes in my
head, while visiting the individual pools. I collected field
recordings and buried them inside the songs. Some were audible but I
wanted to link the music to the place in some way.</div>
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When it came to writing tunes about
closed or destroyed lidos, I thought about absence and nothingness. I
thought about disconnected music; tunes without formal structure or
time signatures. I have not re-invented the wheel but this was a
truly experimental record for me in that I devised routines and
procedures that produced music alien to me.</div>
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I thought hard about Brentwood Lido, in
my hometown. It closed in 1976, when I was just five. It is one of
those places that have slipped past the internet. I can find only two
grey, fuzzy pictures online. Do you have any pictures of it? I’d
love to see them. My own memory of the place is also fuzzy: one of
those early childhood memories that seems to be projected onto
sunlight. If you think hard or try to grasp it in any way then it
just melts. I can see a towel; there is a low wall or steps maybe? My
mother is there… some other people... It’s sunny but then there’s
nothing… there’s no focus or clarity to the memory.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbYMpkgvD4QK3EMI2zHi559izpi1kWp_nle-l53VRTpwtqsrJS-DnJELXyWZ0uzCco4iKi9E3xEsGxv0-5gr8VtZb_vcy1SD34AZEGxL3kSi3sc6J9_fK3qc7VT-zTSwCTLAXhB2WJtuXQ/s1600/Lido08Brentwood.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbYMpkgvD4QK3EMI2zHi559izpi1kWp_nle-l53VRTpwtqsrJS-DnJELXyWZ0uzCco4iKi9E3xEsGxv0-5gr8VtZb_vcy1SD34AZEGxL3kSi3sc6J9_fK3qc7VT-zTSwCTLAXhB2WJtuXQ/s400/Lido08Brentwood.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A picture of Brentwood Lido by Darren</td></tr>
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If instrumental music can be about
anything then surely it can be about this feeling; the sensation of
fumbling, desperately, in the back of your mind. Looking for
something beautiful that you know was there once. I wanted to make
music that sounded half remembered but purposeful. I went to the road
where the pool used to be. I recorded nothing but the faint rumble of
traffic and put in my tune.</div>
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<iframe frameborder="no" height="166" scrolling="no" src="http://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F36940385&show_artwork=true" width="100%"></iframe>
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My album 'Lido' is about open air
swimming pools and something else as well. It's just impossible to
say what it is exactly. - Darren Hayman February 2012</div>
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(My album 'Lido' will be released in the Summer on CD on Claypipe Music and Vinyl on WIAIWYA records. This blog will have writing, music, pictures and videos about Lidos. Do you have something to contribute? Please get in touch.) </div>Darren Haymanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08350105881772605856noreply@blogger.com2