Free signed copies of Kalix, la Loup-Garou Solitaire

A box arrives from my French publisher, Editions Intervalles, containing copies of Kalix, la loup-garou solitaire, the French edition of Lonely Werewolf Girl. This book is huge! It's an enormous volume. After reading about Kalix, you could easily use it for fighting off burglars, or clearing space on a crowded train. Or if you were at some sporting event you could stand on it, and get a much better view.

Rather than leaving this box of books cluttering up the place, I'll give away two signed copies, in a small competition. To enter my small book competition, just leave a comment below telling me you'd like the book. Anyone can enter. After a few days I'll select two winners somehow or other. At random, probably. Unless someone leaves a comment which is so entertaining that it has to be a winner.

Big Eyed Beans From Venus

I was saddened by the recent death of Captain Beefheart, or Don Van Vliet, to give him his proper name. I've listened to his records very often over the years. People mostly mention his experimental music such as Trout Mask Replica, but to be honest, I liked Captain Beefheart best when he was less experimental. My favourite record of his was Clear Spot, and there were other really fine albums, like Safe as Milk and Strictly Personal. All containing a unique sort of blend of growling desert blues and jagged rock. Maybe with some dadaism thrown in, if I actually knew what dadaism meant. Not being that great at writing about music, I can't really describe what these records are like. But anyway, Captain Beefheart was a great singer, he wrote a lot of fine songs, and he played with a lot of good musicians.

I saw Captain Beefheart play in Glasgow in the 70s, twice. Looking back, I'm slightly surprised that this happened. It seems somehow unlikely that the Captain ever arrived in Scotland. However, at the time, Glasgow was a big destination for rock bands, and everybody came there as part of their UK tour.

I started going to see gigs at the Greens' Playhouse - which later became the Apollo - in the early 70s, while I was 14 I think. Making a list, just off the top of my head, by the time I was 17 I'd seen these bands play live -

Led Zeppelin (best thing ever)
Captain Beefheart
Mott the Hoople
Deep Purple
Black Sabbath (Iron Man!)
Hawkwind (space ritual!)
Black Oak Arkansas
Emerson Lake and Palmer
The Groundhogs
Family
The Who (floodlights, smashed guitars)
Roxy Music (Eno in silver feathered jacket)
King Crimson
Fairport Convention
Wishbone Ash
Yes
Sensational Alex Harvey Band (Big Glasgow favourite)
Uriah Heep
Lou Reed (in his brief 'blond-haired' period)
Dr Feelgood (? maybe that was later)

And I'm sure there were others that have escaped my memory at the moment. I had a ticket to see David Bowie, just before he became Ziggy Stardust, but the gig was cancelled on the night, leaving us cold and frustrated at the door. Anyway, that's not a bad list of rock music at the time, in these distant pre-punk days.

It was good to see all these bands, at a young age. I wasn't the only person to do this, by any means. Plenty of people I was at school with would have seen all these gigs too.

My big regret is not going to see T Rex. I was put off by the thought of all the screaming girls. When I was 15 I didn't think it would be very good to be surrounded by screaming girls. Because at that age I was stupid. Arrrghhhhh. What a mistake. Marc Bolan was one of the great talents and icons of 20 century music. I can't believe I didn't go and see him when I had the chance. If a time portal was to open up now in London, offering the chance to go and see Marc Bolan and T Rex in 1973, I'd be leading the stampede to get there.

The main venue in Glasgow, the Greens' Playhouse, was an old cinema, capacity about 2,500 I think, so it was quite a small place to see some of these bands. Led Zeppelin were playing in stadiums around the world, but I saw them in that small cinema. It was great.

* and you can read more about this in my fine novel 'Suzy, Led Zeppelin and Me' *

I saw Captain Beefheart play twice. For some reason, my memory of these gigs isn't as sharp as some others, but I do remember being quite disappointed at the first concert, which was at the Kelvin Hall. And then the second gig, a year or so after at the Greens' Playhouse, was brilliant. The captain and his Magic Band were on good form and it was a great night.

New British edition of The Good Fairies of New York

Piatkus will be publishing their edition of The Good Fairies of New York on the 10th January. Although this book has been available here as an import from America, it's quite a while since it actually had a publisher in Britain. Waterstone's are promoting the book in January and February, so I hope to see bundles of the book lying around on tables in their shops. It's good if you can get your books lying around in bundles on these tables near the front of the stores, but it can be a difficult thing to achieve.

--

My heart raced as I read that Scarlett Johansson's marriage has come to an end. The poor woman will definitely be in need of some comforting. It's time to relaunch my plan of hanging round in hotels looking forlorn, in the hope that I can meet the beautiful Scarlett and establish some sort of Lost in Translation-type relationship. I have the camouflage t-shirt ready and everything, and can do the Bill Murray ageing desperation part no problem at all. I have Just Like Honey ready to play in a big final scene. As long as Scarlett has the pink wig with her, everything will be just perfect.

Ice and Snow

I've been shivering in the cold as London disappeared beneath the snow. My flat can take a while to heat up, leading to some muttering and cursing while I'm waiting to get warm. Once fully heated, I find it difficult to move from the couch, just in case it's not so cosy anywhere else.

However I have been carrying on with the long walk to the shops which I do everyday, because otherwise I'd never go anywhere. This long walk has proved hazardous. The roads were gritted but not the pavements, which became quite dangerous, with compacted snow and ice.

We had a milder day yesterday and a lot of the snow disappeared, but the temperature has dropped again so I think we might get more. I can't help feeling a bad accident is just around the corner. I may soon be discovered unconscious under a snowdrift, still clutching a box of tea bags and a packet of hobnobs.

The only thing getting me through the freezing misery is football, and I watched a lot over the weekend, much of it involving shouting and shaking my fist at the TV. It ended well for Arsenal, due mainly to the overwhelming brilliance of Samir Nasri.

Am now attempting to plug up some of the draughts in this flat, and stop the cold air seeping in. Unfortunately I'm useless at this, as I'm completely hopeless at anything practical. I should have learned how to do practical household tasks some time, but unfortunately I never seem to have managed.

D.I.S.C.O.

As I was in the kitchen, shuffling around getting cups and the teapot and milk and maybe some hobnobs to go with them, Lady Gaga came on the radio. It struck me that I quite liked the record. And I thought 'that's strange,' because modern music generally it makes me feel grumpy, bad tempered, and, worst of all, old. So  I wondered why I liked this music by Lady Gaga. Then it struck me. It was just disco music. These Lady Gaga records are just disco records. They wouldn't have sounded out of place at any disco in 1979.

So that's probably why I liked it. I always rather liked disco music. Not that I have ever been a great habitué of discos, you will not be surprised to hear.  But at the very end of the seventies and the start of the eighties I did used to go to Heaven, which was (and still is, I think) a large gay disco near Charing Cross.

As far as I remember, London didn't have any late night clubs at that time. Now there are late night clubs everywhere but back then the only places that opened late were small private clubs. So when this very large disco opened in the centre of town, it was quite something. Earlier than this I remember going to a gay bar in Brixton because it was the only place open late. Then when Heaven opened I'd sometimes go there because it was the only place open after midnight.

I trust I'm not being offensive here. Is there anything offensive about the image of the young Millar invading gay discos merely because he needed somewhere to get a pint of lager at two in the morning? Hmm. Possibly. But it's not like I indulged in any oppressive heterosexual behaviour while I was there. Like for instance trying to pick up any of the pretty young women who, for some reason, always also made up a small proportion of the clientele. Well actually I did go home with a really attractive woman I met at Heaven one night. But I didn't make a big thing about it. Maybe I bragged about it a little.

Anyway, I heard a lot of disco music at Heaven, and I always liked it. I can remember listening with interest to drum machines, and various electronic beats, which appeared in disco music before crossing over into more mainstream music. I certainly heard interesting electronics in discos before they appeared in these crappy eighties electro pop records.

I particularly remember Donna Summer's I Feel Love, though actually you didn't have to go to a disco to hear that as it was a massive hit and you used to hear it everywhere. In those days there were a lot of small record shops and outside in the street you could hear the music they were playing. I have an idea that close to where I lived there was one small record shop which constantly played the Sex Pistols' Pretty Vacant, and another playing Donna Summers' I feel Love. Though it's possible I've just invented that memory. Hmm. No, on reflection, I think that did really happen.

Anyway, Lady Gaga's music would not have sounded out of place at Heaven in 1980, it would just have sounded like another disco record, which I suppose is why I like her now.  

High Winds, Werewolf Playlist

There have been high winds here recently, and after several dangerous trips to the shops I count myself fortunate to have escaped serious injury. Not only is there the ever-present danger of a tile being blown off a roof and landing on my head, there's the terrifying prospect of scaffolding collapsing. In this part of South London there always seems to be scaffolding around some old building and I'm nervous of it. And when I say nervous I mean I'm scared of it and cross the road to avoid it. I have a morbid fear of being buried under a pile of scaffolding. It's just so dangerous, all these heavy metal poles up there above you. There should be some safe modern version, like maybe scaffolding made of bouncy castle material.

I do have some reason to be nervous of winds, dating from my childhood. In 1968 there was a bad hurricane in Glasgow. I can still remember waking up in the middle of the night wondering what on earth was happening, as the winds roared around the house, and slates flew off roofs. It was so loud. I got up, and found the rest of the family also awake. We all sat downstairs rather nervously through the night, waiting for it to pass.

It happened as a complete surprise, without any warning. Hurricanes are not at all common in Scotland. By world standards, it probably wasn't that severe a hurricane, but there were people killed in the storm. So perhaps my great dislike of strong winds come from that.

In-between coping with this dangerous weather, I completed an interview for Largehearted Boy, comprising a playlist for Curse of The Wolf Girl, which you can find here. I like this playlist.

Outside View

Outside View

In March 1977 the punk band Eater released their first single, Outside View, which I bought, and still have. Last week I bought a t-shirt featuring a picture of the cover. I felt obliged to do this.

Why was I obliged to buy this t-shirt, you may ask? Well, oddly, there was an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer where Oz was wearing a t-shirt with this picture on it. I was very surprised at the time. I wouldn't have thought anyone in Hollywood would even have known what the picture was. Eater were quite a well known punk band in Britain for a short while around 1977 but I don't think their first single ever achieved global recognition.

But there it was, in Buffy. Ever since then I've had the vague feeling that if there had been a t-shirt in Buffy featuring a punk single I owned, then I really ought to have that t-shirt too. So I have a pleasant sense of completion having now bought this, from a 'Camdens Burning t-shirts' on Ebay.

I still listen to this single, though on itunes now rather than vinyl. It strikes me that after thirty years or so, I still can't make out all the lyrics. Some of them have defeated my best efforts at interpretation. Though generally I'm quite bad at understanding lyrics, and liable to comic misunderstandings. Here is the song on youtube, and here is my version of the lyrics. If anyone can fill in the gaps, I'd be pleased.



A Saturday night in the street
looking through the plate glass windows
outside view

There's a television standing on the floor (?)
??????????? ????????? ???????? ?????
?????????? no more (?)

I wanna come in cos I've got the blues
All that I am stuck with is this outside view

Oh! I'm running about (?)
Got my feet on the ground
??????? ????????? ?????????

Nothing to give (?) and nothing to gain

A cop comes along and says what's your name
(?) Said I am a girl and my name is Germaine (??!!!!)

He says you'd better come along I want (?) a word (?) with you
I will stay out here with my outside view

Oh! I'm running about (?)
Oh! Got my feet on the ground

Oh! ??????? ????????? ?????????
Nothing to give (?) and nothing to gain

Italian Curse of the Wolf Girl

The Italian edition of Curse of the Wolf Girl - Vex e Kalix - will be published by Fazi Editore on the 26th November. Here's the cover -



It's a really nice cover. Publishers have produced some good artwork for these werewolf books.

I urge people to buy them, thereby enabling me to keep on playing Final Fantasy, watching SpongeBob SquarePants and never having to work again. I'm not one of those people who is driven to keep on writing. I could quite happily lie on the couch in a semi-coma for the next three years.