Resonancefm Radio Orchestra at Resound, Stroud

"Attempted Brunch" by Ed Baxter is an tongue-in-critique of formulaic radio plays. The performance at Resound at the SVA gallery was underscored by the Resonancefm Radio Orchestra: Chris Weaver, Jim Barrington (Xentos), Fari Bradley, read by Sam Collings and bass clarinet played by Chris Cundy. Photos by Mary.

"The names, the names of the writers of these dramatic works on offer, they don't bear any comment at all. Those that sound like pseudonyms are all real, the real ones sound like they're fakes. You need a little more information, clearly. A strap line, so's you know whether irony, quotation, what have you, whatever, is intended or not.

A thumbnail description would arise naturally, a plot would unfold in your mind straight off if only you had a tiny bit more of a clue - would flow forth as if the narrative were a living thing, like a greyhound, its course clear in your mind, moving instinctively and inevitably."

We were also treated to a film about Cornelius Cardew and the Scratch Orchestra, as well as the Badger Patch, a musician in a badger suit, which we had to miss in lieu of the first meal of the day - I hope he forgives us!

Stroud is a refreshing spot, a change after the cooped-up rushing of London and a journey peppered with football fans and riot police.

More Attempted Brunch sound check pictures here.

Rose

I am wearing the rose perfume you love
though you are elsewhere, gone...
And the spots you sat in around this one
now ache; an imploding pain,
like those flowers who arrive in summer's wake
to see they are alone.

The ticking clock is louder now, it is grave,
counting harder shouting "Attention!"
To both fill and count down the timed void,
to spread the presence of silence
in all the empty spaces,
spaces yearning for the bustle they once framed,
and the sound it made.

Around the sky: a lank, grey and foggy mind.
It has forgotten all and sees nothing.
No birds, no light, no breath
only cement on cement, chimneys dead and portici unkempt.
The only thing that moves is a pulse,
a pulse of oil on rising from my neck,
consistently filling the damp air
reviving the colours of tomorrow
filling the senses with that which,
though forgotten,
was always there.

Cat protest in plastic bags + The Wire 25th Birthday hosts Resonancefm

Who knows to what end our freakish feline picks her way into the empty bags as we put away food. Protest for the environment? Abandonment? For the endless fountain of cattle ends steamed in ash that we feed her?

"Cat willingly takes up difficult performance piece in plastic bag sculpture". (It has to be done gingerly, without the bag losing its shape and once completed she is silent, demure, head peeping discreetly with the expression of someone caught having a bath at home on CCTV). Otherwise she is quite regal.

THE WIRE MAGAZINE
This month there's been much rigging for gigs (e.g The Wire and youth radio.) The Resonance Radio Orchestra performance was in the Art Theatre in Covent Garden, where we performed improv and electronics, with bassoon, tinnitus machine and harmonium amongst other things and used found material to put together a short monologue.



MARRIAGE PARTY PUBLIC BUS RIDE
A friend took her wedding party to the registry and back on a public bus, all the other passengers and the driver were bemused. She had requested an 80s set as her present from me, (always wanted to put Captain Sensible, Toyah Wilcox and Adam Ant on the loud speakers).