
I bought this Concert DVD on its release in 2004 but have only recently acquired a surround sound set up to fully appreciate it.
Most people have heard of seventies glam rock act Mott the Hoople, if only for the single “All the Young Dudes” and long term fans from the 1960s and 1970s have followed lead singer Ian Hunter’s solo career with a mixture of frustration and admiration. This very English (and criminally under-rated) singer songwriter has released more than a dozen studio albums in a somewhat spotty solo career but the highlights are high indeed. Until now there has been scarcely any worthwhile footage of Ian Hunter performing live so the long-awaited DVD, "Strings Attached" was always going to be required viewing.
Universal released the set with only basic monochrome artwork and no liner notes, clearly aiming it at existing fans. Video and sound though are top quality, as of course they should be these days. Seventeen songs that lend themselves to arrangement with strings have made the set list but this is not just a typical Ian Hunter set with accompanying strings. No, all the songs have been rearranged (some fairly heavily) for a seventeen-piece string ensemble called the Trondheim Soloists. This is IH’s show and he rightly takes centre stage, playing acoustic guitar or singing with hand-held mic. Long time guitarist Andy York plays acoustic and occasionally electric, while there are Scandinavian guitar, keys and drums lurking well into the shadows backstage. Songs like Boy, Waterlow, Irene Wilde and Michael Picasso sound stunning and Ships will surely bring a lump even to the hardest throat.
I am uneasy about 23A Swan Hill and Once Bitten Twice Shy though, which have lost their power and bite and Memphis is barely recognisable. However by the time we reach the rousing finale of Saturday Gigs, it has become quite apparent that IH is taking this opportunity to present the songs to us afresh. His voice is simply superb and I really believe I have never heard him singing better. The violinists and cellists look full of respect for him and are clearly enjoying themselves.
The star of the Bonus Features is a fascinating thirty minute interview. A Norwegian interviewer asks the obvious questions but allows IH the opportunity to say as much or as little as he fancies. It doesn't come across as over-rehearsed and offers a rare first-hand insight into the man's thoughts. There is also a six minute film of behind-the-scenes clips where we hear from Joe Elliott, Campbell Devine, son Jesse Hunter and daughter Tracie Hunter (so very like her old man!) Additionally there are complete Mott the Hoople and IH discographies and a short biography from Campbell Devine.
I enjoyed the DVD for several reasons but on a purely personal level I prefer the hard-rocking electric sets he plays live. Who knows perhaps one day we may be treated to a DVD of one of the Astoria gigs I attended.
28 July 2011
Ian Hunter - Strings Attached
from the mind of
Perfect Virgo
2
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19 July 2011
dog days
from the mind of
Perfect Virgo
8
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08 June 2011
this is the modern world
In fewer than thirty years we have moved from the floppy disc to the Blu Ray disc and there has been little if any overlap. Nonetheless I thought about comparing the two media in the realm of films. I realise that graphics cards from twenty-five years ago could not support what we now consider to be “high definition” nor did even regular 1990’s processors have the power to deliver anything more than grainy, jerky video. Undaunted by anachronisms...
The storage capacity of a 3.5” floppy disc from the late 1980’s was a heady 1.4MB. It occurred to me that backing up a Hi-Definition feature film that way would require a barely credible 35,714 floppy discs (50GB). So an avid film buff would need approximately nineteen standard sized suitcases to store the discs for one film. He’d also need some manual dexterity because he’d have to feed the discs into a disc drive at the rate of five per second for the duration of a two hour film.
Or he could just use one dual-layer Blu Ray disc.
***
I hear a detachment of twenty-eight British Policemen are to be offered counselling before returning to regular duty after a gruelling seventy day special assignment next year. Gosh, these guys must be about to see some sickening, brutal things, witness some terrible, gruesome events... no, they are to accompany and guard the 2012 Olympic torch on its eight thousand mile celebratory parade around the British Isles.
***
Acknowledging Maisie on her trike, a walker in Victoria Park remarked in all seriousness, “That child needs a helmet!” Bear in mind Maisie was propelling the afore-mentioned vehicle at crawling speed on a wooden boardwalk. Frankly that grizzled old crone of about fifty might have benefited more from a helmet herself, bearing in mind her pace of perambulation must have been approaching 2.5mph.
I’m all for safety where appropriate but I believe the nanny state has gone too far in the molly-coddling stakes. And they have people believing their propaganda, people like the opinionated pedestrian above, a woman of the baby-boomer generation who lived through:
. babies sleeping on their tummies
. cars with no seatbelts or infant seats
. pregnant mothers smoking and drinking
. lead in paint
. no childproof caps on medicines
. and the list goes on and on and on ...
Perhaps we’ll get our toddlers helmets when they are actually threatening their heads.
from the mind of
Perfect Virgo
2
remarks
10 May 2011
sound and vision


from the mind of
Perfect Virgo
4
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25 April 2011
dreamer

It's low, way too low. A wide-body jet is circling the town, banking hard and describing loud circles. Its starboard wing points verticaly to earth. Easing out of the turn, it levels then banks to port. It's losing altitude with every second and the engines are screaming now. Somehow the pilot has aligned the doomed airplane with the main street through town and he's aiming to crash land. The plane's wingspan is nearly twice the width of the road. Almost immediately the wings are clipped off by buildings and the fuselage collapses onto its belly. There is a screech of tearing metal as the tube of steel careers along the street, flattening all in its path. There is a brief silence then a spectacular blast.
There's really no need to get dressed. It'll take too long. Anyway, if I hurry no one will see me. I'm not sure where I'm going but it's urgent. I scamper along the pavement, my bare feet slapping on the warm concrete. I slow and walk behind a parked car as a group of people pass by on the far side of the road. They don't even see me. There is no cover for the next hundred yards but I sprint on, confident that if I ignore people they won't register me. Naked running could be the next craze. A car approaches and instinctively I drop my hands to protect my modesty. Heads inside the car turn to look at me and I run on. I think they saw me. Up ahead a couple are walking towards me. I can't avoid them and in fact I recognise them. They stop to greet me and don't mention my nakedness. I feel exposed but carry on a conversation as if this is the most natural thing in the world.
The sun is blazing in a bright blue sky. I'm walking along a road in an average town. I begin to flex my legs then jump slightly, leaving the ground for just a split second. It's a nice feeling. I do it again and find I am not as heavy as usual. I jump perhaps six feet in the air then settle gently back on the ground. On my next jump I flap my arms. It seems a ridiculous thing to try but it actually works. I feel myself propelled higher. I flap again and the upward surge is stronger still. Two more quick wing beats and I'm as high as the rooftops. I can see beyond them to the fields and hills in the distance. I skim the roofs and catch a thermal, suddenly climbing fast. I must be five hundred feet above the ground yet I'm not scared. I glide over the town seeing people scurry about like ants. I dive and pick up speed, swooping between buildings then soaring upwards again. A line of pylons marches across the fields ahead, carrying power lines. I have to decide whether to fly under or over the lines. One sharp flap and I'm up and soaring over them. I feel the warm sun on my back and a gentle breeze in my face. I must do this more often.
from the mind of
Perfect Virgo
2
remarks
02 April 2011
vista internet security, fake a/v removal
On my Internet travels I picked up a pernicious virus. Vista Internet Security 2011 is a rogue virus posing as anti-virus software. Immediately following infection a fake Vista Security window appears and a "scan" appears to be taking place. In no time a list of Trojans, Worms and other wicked infections appears.
Instinctively you try to close the window when you twig that it's fake but it won't close. The infection results in no Internet connectivity. Whatever programmes you try to open fail to run and instead the fake scan starts up again.
I tried to open System Restore but got the message the 'execute' file for System Restore could not be found. Heck this is serious. I held down the power switch and turned the laptop off.
Fortunately I found a back door. Michelle has a profile set up on my laptop so I rebooted and logged on as her. I found the infection had only hit my own profile so I was able to use System Restore and roll the laptop back to the previous day. I logged on as me again and found my profile clear and unaffected.
This virus has apparently been doing the rounds for a couple of years and has a number of names, all referencing Internet security and all directing you ultimately to a site where you can buy software guaranteed to remove the infection. There is no removal software and there is no genuine infection in the first place. The whole thing is a dirty scam. Many 'tech' websites are listing umpteen adjustments you can make to your Registry to eliminate the infection but none mentions System Restore, presumably because the virus itself disables it.
It's worth bearing in mind my backdoor method. A second profile on the same hard drive will be unaffected allowing access to System Restore, certainly a safer method than fiddling with Registry Keys.
from the mind of
Perfect Virgo
3
remarks
25 March 2011
printer frustration
I seem to be collecting printers. All the same model. I now have three Epson Artisan 725 printer/scanner/copiers... temporarily.
I wanted a new printer capable of producing top quality photographs. Initially I bought an Epson NX510 at Future Shop but that went back when its images were generously supplied with dark horizontal lines. No amount of head cleaning or realignment would stop this. I've had three very good Epsons over the past decade so decided to persevere and climbed the range to the afore-mentioned Artisan after some research.
I got a good price from B&H Photo in New York and a large box was promptly delivered three days later. Exciting stuff! Except that this model too produced unsightly horizontal lines until I used the highest quality settings. The results are great but it is officially now the slowest printer I have owned, despite advertising to the contrary.
After three weeks the printer stopped picking up paper. It clicked, rattled and shook and generally tried its hardest but the paper wouldn't feed. During a thorough inspection I discovered that the CD tray wouldn't descend either. There's a little tray which is supposed to glide out at the touch of a button allowing a CD to be drawn into the innards for direct printing.
By now I'm cross.
The Epson help line is conveniently located three time zones away on the west coast of America. After consulting world maps and time charts I calculated the correct calling time and spoke to a representative. After the usual efforts to identify an easy solution she gave up and announced a "new" one would be with me in the post. Excellent, and what's more there would be a pre-paid shipping label to send the faulty one back.
The "new" one arrived the very next day but my excitement soon evaporated. The box was marked 'refurbished' and had ominous damage to one corner - as if it had been dropped from a fair height. Sure enough, when I opened up the package I found a panel had sprung off the underside of the unit, not a repairable thing. To make matters worse the refurbished unit had clearly seen some action. It was scuffed and scratched and was leaking ink through the new hole in the bottom.
I wasted no time in calculating Pacific Time before grabbing the phone and stabbing the Epson numbers in. Another very helpful and apologetic rep listened to the sad story. I told him even if this refurbished unit had been in working order I would have been heavily down on the deal as the one I am sending back is, outwardly at least, in pristine condition. I want a brand new replacement.
This required the approval of his superiors. It took three minutes to arrange that but he came back on the line all chuckles and reassurance.
Yesterday our FedEx deliveryman came with yet another large box and a face loaded with deja vu. So... now I have three. I spent a while setting the latest one up because I cocked up the wireless settings at first. Uninstall failed but System Restore did the trick and I started again. Hooray, we're up and running.
All that remains now is for me to drive two thirty-five pound boxes to the FedEx office to get them out of my sight!
from the mind of
Perfect Virgo
3
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