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Thursday, 18 February 2016

Strange Brew

Back In Time For The Weekend Episode 3

Giles Coren drinks home brew
Watching Giles Coren savour a pint of Rob’s home brew in Episode Three of Back In Time For The Weekend the other night brought it all back. I think it was down to the slightly cloudy, pale, urine-like appearance (the home brew, that is) which looked so authentic I could actually taste the stuff.

Boots Home Brew bitter had a kind of thin, floral, and well, bitter flavour. We used to make plastic-dustbins full of it in our shared house in Leeds. One housemate, Nick, always urged us to make it as strong as possible in his own inimitable way:

“Get some f---ing sugar in. It doesn’t matter what it tastes like as long as it gets you p----d.”

Front room 1974

Here it is in two views of our front room in 1974, red plastic dustbin fermenting away in the left hand corner, filling the house with a farm-yardy, malty, yeasty smell, fag packets on the mantelpiece, empty bottles underneath the television. That dimple pub-glass on the chair arm is mine, just like Giles Coren’s, and I’ve still got it. It’s indestructible.

Most of the time we bought the Boots brown ale kit. The darker the brew the more drinkable it was. Bitter was fairly nasty. Lager was beyond disgusting. Brown ale was passable. Stout had too much of a roasted dandelion and burdock flavour. Going by the numbers of Newcastle Brown and Strongbow bottles in the photograph, it looks to me like we were fast running out and desperate for the dustbin to get a move on. Just a small number of bottles, the ones with red plastic push-in tops to the left of the hearth, are yet-to-be-consumed home brew.

Brewing in plastic dustbin

We used to sterilise and rinse the bin, dissolve the malt extract and add sugar and yeast to make the ‘wort’, check the specific gravity with a hydrometer and then leave it to brew. You knew it was ready when the specific gravity fell to below 1008. It then went into sterilised bottles (we had a large collection waiting to be sterilised) which were sealed with the red push in plastic tops, taken down to the cellar to finish off, and stood in three groups: mine, Nick’s and Brendan’s.

There were usually around thirteen bottles each. As fermentation came to an end, the pressure in the bottles slowly increased so that sometimes the tops would blow off to discharge the contents all over the cellar wall and floor. If this happened with one of your own bottles you could try to get away with swapping it for an undischarged one from someone else’s pile, but the sticky mess left behind tended to give you away. In any case, Brendan put a stop to this practice by marking his bottles with secret symbols.

You were supposed to leave them in the cellar for at least a couple of weeks to clear and mature, preferable longer, but Nick and Brendan had invariably drunk all theirs well before the couple of weeks had passed, leaving only mine left. They would then, of course, start on mine. Rarely, if ever, did I get my full share. They thought it funny I would try to hold out for two or three weeks in the belief that it would make it taste better.

There was always a layer of sediment at the bottom of the bottles. It was almost impossible to pour undisturbed: hence the cloudiness.

Brendan’s party piece was to shake a bottle while sealing the top with his thumb, and then, continuing to maintain the seal, to put the neck of the bottle and his thumb in his mouth. Only then would he release the pressure. I swear you could see the back of his head balloon out like in a Tom and Jerry cartoon. 

Although the brown ale kit was best, it never came close to the real thing. I can thoroughly recommend a bite of Cadburys flake mixed in the mouth with a swig of Newcastle Brown.


The inclusion of image from BBC television programme Back In Time For The Weekend, Episode 3, is believed to be fair use. It is a low resolution image taken from a small part of one frame from the programme.

Monday, 15 February 2016

Recording Artiste

Tasker Dunham reprises his Akai 4000DS tape recorder, Teisco MJ-2 Tremo Twenty guitar and 1970s multi-track guitar recordings

Well, who didn’t want to be a rock recording artiste in the early 1970s? They were stalked by groupies and earned a fortune. Rock music was still proper music, and posers who were more interested in what they looked like than how they sounded were still a minority.

Sadly, my own career as a rock musician progressed no further than the occasional front-room jam session with friends, and most of the time it was just me on my own in my bedroom. But with the help of my Akai 4000DS I did make some recordings. And you can hear them here. What a treat! Or maybe not.

Akai 4000DS

A year or two after upgrading my record player to hi-fi with a Heathkit AD-27, I began to think about getting a stereo tape deck. There was a lot in the press about the Akai 4000DS, and on seeing one in a York shop window I decided that was it. It took some time to save up. I eventually bought one in February, 1975, from Comet, Leeds, for £94.50. I still have it with its original box, and it still works when I have the urge to get it out just one last time. With it I bought a pair of first-rate AKG K160 stereo headphones. The documents at the end of this piece were at the bottom of the Akai box.

Overnight, I became one of the most active borrowers from the music section of Leeds Central Library which then consisted almost entirely of vinyl LPs. Naturally, most of what I borrowed I taped. The Akai sound quality came near to that of the original records, and easily outperformed the audio cassettes and soon-to-be-obsolete stereo audio cartridges that most people were using then. Perhaps the main disadvantage of reel-to-reel was lack of convenience. The spools of magnetic tape could be awkward to load and manipulate, and could never be played in a car. But what they lost in convenience they gained in quality. Even when audio cassette players were enhanced by Dolby Noise Reduction to reduce tape-hiss, the 4000DS was still superior. Akai did in due course pay lip service to market fashion by bringing out its own Dolby model, the 4000DB, but it seemed unnecessary.

In the record library, I chanced upon lots of lesser-known recordings – serendipitous discovery tends not to happen these days with online sources. Among the most memorable were recordings by Eric Kershaw, the subject of an earlier post, and Laura Nyro. I became fascinated by Laura Nyro’s multi-layer recordings in which she sang all her own harmonies.* I wanted to try it myself – not necessarily the singing but the multi-track recording.

Laura Nyro of course had a state-of-the-art recording studio which was beyond me, but I did have a newly-bought Akai 4000DS. Among its facilities were tape dubbing, sound mixing, sound-on-sound and sound-with-sound recording, which allowed you to mix and merge two tracks at a time.

Teisco Tremo Twenty MJ-2 E-200
Now, let’s be absolutely clear about this. Nothing of my own unoriginal music, insensitive compositions, bad timekeeping or clumsy performances are in any way comparable to Laura Nyro, but I did manage to put together several pieces, and in recent years digitised them to YouTube. So now, the nearest I’ll ever get to being a rock star with a recording contract, I am going to post them here.

The guitar in the recordings, incidentally, is a nineteen-sixties Tremo Twenty, also sold as the Teisco MJ-2 or E-200. Until I got it out of its original stiff canvas/cardboard case to photograph for here and looked it up, I had no idea that, despite being pretty basic, the Tremo Twenty version is fairly rare. One collector states he knows of only three still in existence, one in a museum in Switzerland. Well mine makes four. It might originally have come from Woolworths, but I bought it second hand from a friend of my brother for £10. It no longer has the original knobs because I had to replace the pots, and is a bit worn and battered now and unflatteringly adorned with forty year old stickers and transfers, but it still plays.**

First efforts were simple two-part chord and melody improvisations mainly around Beatles’ songs, followed by three-part pieces which involved laying down a bass line first. In places these improvise some way from the original melodies. I also attempted a Bach Two-Part Invention from some piano music left in the rented house I lived in. There are a couple of my own tunes I later reworked with music software. Except for one short example, I will spare you me singing.

Here is the list of recordings:

  • Here, There and Everywhere  (chords and melody with some planned improvisation)
  • Yesterday  (chords and melody with some planned improvisation)
  • It’s Only Love  (bass, chords and melody with some planned improvisation)
  • You’re Going To Lose That Girl  (bass and chords with planned improvisation)
  • No Reply  (bass and chords with planned improvisation)
  • J S Bach Two-Part Invention #1, in C Major  (two melody lines) This is a long way from perfect but I was fairly satisfied with it at the time, despite one or two slight synchronisation problems in the recording.
  • Improvisation to an unknown piece (chords with truly improvised melody). I wish I could still improvise lead guitar parts on the spur of the moment as in parts of this. Most of the above were pre-planned, but this wasn’t.
  • Red Mini Van (own composition: three-part bass-chords-melody jazz piece)
  • Walk With Ladies (own composition: three-part bass, chords and melody, followed by a section reworked more recently with music software)
  • Blue (own composition: three-part bass, chords and melody, followed by a section reworked more recently with music software)
  • Not Good Enough (also called Impress - own composition: bass and chords with two voice parts - oh dear!)

Leak 3200 tuner-amplifier and Wharfedale Glendale XP3 speakers
Leak 3200 tuner-amplifier and Wharfedale Glendale XP3 speakers

The 4000DS was not my last piece of expensive hi-fi equipment. When at last I got to university in 1977, I expected to have to self-fund the first term due to a previous grant for four months at teacher training college. Surprisingly, I was awarded a full grant, so the money I had saved went on hi-fi equipment and a holiday. My dad had commandeered my earlier Heathkit stereo to play his Bing Crosby records, so I bought a new system for university: a Leak 3200 tuner-amplifier and a pair of Wharfedale Glendale XP3 speakers. I later added a Sansui SR-222 turntable and a Sharp RT-10 cassette deck.

In total, the tape decks, headphones, tuner-amp, turntable and speakers came to roughly £500, which is today’s inflation-adjusted equivalent of about £2,800, and possibly half as much again in terms of earnings growth. Not bad for a university student. Reckless perhaps, but not as reckless as the risk of blowing it by feeding an electric guitar through it.


POSTSCRIPT: I contacted the owner of the website MIJ_60s_Guitars who responded “That is one rare guitar. It’s the first real Teisco I have seen with that logo. And the first surf green MJ-2L guitar as well. So I was double excited to see it. I have one like this that is copper brown, but Teisco brand. It is still the only copper brown one I’ve seen. But any surf green Teisco is really rare.”

** If you want to hear an MJ-2 played well, take a look at this. Bear with it for a couple of minutes - he starts with the chords to the Beatles Day In The Life before he really gets going. 

* Laura Nyro (1947-1997) is not especially well known, but she was a major influence upon a whole catalogue of distinctive and original artistes. Elton John described her as one of the most important, overlooked performer/songwriters. I was knocked for six by the genius and originality of the first of her records I borrowed from the library, Christmas and the Beads of Sweat, and by the energy of the next, Eli and the Thirteenth Confession. She rarely performed live; her forte (perhaps in both senses of the word) was the recording studio where she layed down impressive multiple layers of sound, singing all the harmonies herself. Eli’s Comin’ illustrates this brilliantly. 

There is an identical instrument, same colour, same instrument number, but much cleaner, pictured a couple of scrolls down at http://www.jedistar.com/jedistar_vintage_guitar_dating_t3.htm.   Here are close ups of my own logo and instrument number:
Teisco Tremo Twenty MJ-2 E-200

Instruction booklet covers and receipts:

Instruction booklets: Akai 4000DS, Leak 3200, Wharfedale XP, Sansui SR-222, Sharp RT-10

Invoices: Comet and Mconomy

Wednesday, 10 February 2016

Back In Time For The Weekend Episode 2

Morris Mini 1966
How ever did they manage to give the Ashby-Hawkins family a D registration 1966 Morris Mini in 1961, five years before it was first registered? Were the BBC research department taking short cuts? I doubt the hydrolastic suspension would have coped very well with five people inside.

I know because I had one, blue, D reg., exactly as in the programme. I think this was taken on the Cam Gill Road North of Kettlewell late in 1974, putting on our boots for a walk to the top of Great Whernside.

1966 Morris Mini near Kettlewell

Might watch the seventies episode next week (see Strange Brew), but after that it's all present-day as far as I'm concerned.

The inclusion of image from BBC television programme Back In Time For The Weekend, Episode 2, is believed to be fair use. It is a low resolution image taken from a part of one frame from the programme. 

Tuesday, 2 February 2016

Back In Time For The Weekend

Primrose Valley, Filey in the 1950s

I see BBC2 have a new series starting tonight: Back In Time For The Weekend. Tonight the 1950s.

Some of us were in it long before Giles Coren and the Ashby-Hawkins.

                    Back in Time for the Weekend

Inclusion of the image clip from the BBC media centre is believed to constitute fair use. Only a small part of the whole image is used here and is linked to the original article in which it appears, which is BBC copyright.

Monday, 1 February 2016

Cartophilic Concerns

My mother’s grandfather died when she was ten. She remembered his speech being difficult to understand following a series of operations to remove parts of his tongue. Born in the eighteen-seventies, he had smoked from a fairly young age, beginning with a clay pipe and later transferring to cigarettes.

One of his legacies, so I believed, was a box of around fifty complete sets of cigarette cards stored in ten-cigarette packets of the time. There were athletes and sportsmen, plants and animals, military uniforms, battleships, film stars, garden flowers – together they made what seemed like a complete encyclopaedia. Who was it who observed that children miss out on so much knowledge these days by not smoking?

As I so obviously enjoyed taking out the cards and turning them through, my grandma gave them to me. Very soon, for an eight year-old, I had developed a prodigious expertise in film stars, household hints, flags of the world, ships of the British Navy, and so on, all without realising the peculiarly antiquated nature of my wisdom.

Cigarette Packets 1930s

Inadvisably, I took the cards outside to the yellow shed where I played. They looked pretty impressive lined along a ledge in their packets. There was the bearded Hero sailor inside the Players Navy Cut lifebelt with Nottingham Castle on the back, the red with white oval of Carreras Craven “A” bearing a trade mark in the shape of a black cat, another Carreras brand actually called Black Cat which claimed to be made from choice, unadulterated, matured tobacco, and the earthy brown packet of W. D. & H. O. Wills Capstan Full Strength with its seventeen prize medals on the back. I wondered what the medals were for: Loudest cough? Greatest production of phlegm?

Most of the sets were gum-backed so that, when moistened, they could be stuck into albums. Of course, it was damp in the shed, and within a few weeks the contents of most of the packets had turned into solid cardboard blocks. If it happened now, I would at least try to separate the individual cards with steam or by immersing them in water, but my mother simply threw them out. Because of their associations, I suspect she would rather I had never had them in the first place.

Cigarette Cards: Reign of King George V 1910-1935 cover
King George V Jubilee Album
(see below for the full album)
One set survives in an album: ‘The Reign of King George V 1910-1935’ (Wills, 1935) which was issued to commemorate the Silver Jubilee. Five non-gummed sets survive in their packets: ‘Famous Film Scenes’ (Gallaher, 1935), ‘The Navy’ (Gallaher, 1937), ‘Trains of the World’ (Gallaher, 1937), ‘Garden Hints’ (Wills, 1938) and ‘Aeroplanes’ (Gallaher, 1939). These dates I found on the internet.

The dates give me a problem. All the surviving sets were issued after my great-grandfather had died in 1934, and from what I can remember of them, so were the sets that were thrown out. So there must have been another smoker. Not my grandparents – they were rare non-smokers. So who collected the cards? Did my great-grandfather collect any at all, or is that just a myth?

When sets contain forty-eight or fifty cards, even just one full set demonstrates grim perseverance and dedication. You would have to puff your way through at least five hundred cigarettes per set, assuming one card per packet of ten and enough serious fellow smokers to be able to swap your duplicates. You would have to be at least a regular ten or fifteeen a day man (women being far more sensible) to collect fifty sets.

One person who might fit the profile is my grandmother’s brother. He was secretary and treasurer of the village football and cricket clubs, held similar positions in the local football leagues and involved himself in a great many other clubs and social activities. He would have had plenty of acquaintances eager to swap duplicates. Was he the card-collecting smoker? If so, why did my my mother let me think it was her grandfather rather then her uncle? Was it because he died in a similarly hideous way at the age of only thirty-three? I don’t think she wanted to talk about it at all.

There are questions and questions you wished you’d asked at the time after it’s too late to ask them.

Cigarette Cards: Out Into Space
click to follow link to full set

I do remember collecting sets of cards ourselves when I was little. One was the exciting and mysterious ‘Out Into Space’ set issued from 1956. After that it was wild flowers. But these were tea cards rather than cigarette cards. Even though the larger packets of Brooke Bond PG Tips gave you three or four at a time, you had to drink gallons of the stuff to complete a set.

I still do: four or five pint-mugs per day. Excessive tea drinking can deplete your calcium levels and may not be all that great for prostates, but provided you let it cool a bit, at least it doesn’t give you tongue cancer.

The complete King George V Silver Jubilee album (click to enlarge):
(I especially like number 36)

Cigarette Cards: Reign of King George V 1910-1935 cover Cigarette Cards: Reign of King George V 1910-1935 frontispiece Cigarette Cards: Reign of King George V 1910-1935 1-3

Cigarette Cards: Reign of King George V 1910-1935 4-6 Cigarette Cards: Reign of King George V 1910-1935 7-9 Cigarette Cards: Reign of King George V 1910-1935 10-12

Cigarette Cards: Reign of King George V 1910-1935 13-15 Cigarette Cards: Reign of King George V 1910-1935 16-18 Cigarette Cards: Reign of King George V 1910-1935 19-21

Cigarette Cards: Reign of King George V 1910-1935 22-24 Cigarette Cards: Reign of King George V 1910-1935 25-27 Cigarette Cards: Reign of King George V 1910-1935 28-30

Cigarette Cards: Reign of King George V 1910-1935 31-33 Cigarette Cards: Reign of King George V 1910-1935 34-36 Cigarette Cards: Reign of King George V 1910-1935 37-39

Cigarette Cards: Reign of King George V 1910-1935 40-42 Cigarette Cards: Reign of King George V 1910-1935 43-35 Cigarette Cards: Reign of King George V 1910-1935 46-48

Cigarette Cards: Reign of King George V 1910-1935 49-50 Cigarette Cards: Reign of King George V 1910-1935 back