I cannot remember too many occasions when a harp has featured on the stage of a rock concert, except perhaps for visual effect or, during the late seventies, to provide the pretentious ending to a tedious Jon Anderson lyrical soliloquy.
But I certainly have never seen one used as a major instrument throughout a ninety-minute set – until yesterday when, for once, a band with the word ‘Machine’ in their name were anything but mechanical. Added to which Florence Welsh is not merely a vocal force of nature, she also comes over as, quite simply, a lovely person; not something you can say too often about female leads in these days of ladette culture. Continue Reading
The sun was shining on this beautiful June day, and Alec closed his eyes to feel the warm rays slowly cooking his bald pate. His children often chastised him for not wearing a hat in this weather, and were always quoting him the latest medical research on skin ailments, which he dismissed with the simple words that if God had wanted him to worry about melanoma’s and the like, He would have had Alec’s school teach him about them when he was young enough to absorb the knowledge. Now, at the age of 82, he had surpassed his allotted three-score-years-and ten, and was merely grateful for every additional day he was allowed by his Master.