As confirmed by both the BBC Press Office and her own website, From The North favourite Jemma Redgrave will reprise her role as Kate Lethbridge-Stewart in series fourteen of Doctor Who. Jemma has previously featured in ten episodes of the series since the debut of her popular character in 2012, appearing opposite Matt Smith, David Tennant, Peter Capaldi and, most recently, Jodie Whittaker. Now, seemingly, we'll be able to add Ncuti Gatwa to that list. The press release also confirms what this blog stated in the last From The North update, that Aneurin Barnard will also be joining the series cast.
Also on the BBC Media Centre site is a short article on November's sixtieth anniversary trilogy, including one or two previously unannounced titbits of information and the first image of From The North favourite Ruth Madeley's character in the specials, Shirley Anne Bingham.
The South Wales Argus has a report on two days of filming for the next series of Doctor Who taking place in Newport. That's Newport, Gwent, obviously. As opposed to Newport, Isle of Wight, Newport, County Tipperary, Newport, Rhode Island, Newport Pagnell Services, Newport, Queensland, Newport, Jamaica, The Newport Jazz Festival or any other Newports alive or dead, just in case you were wondering, dear blog reader. Millie Gibson and Jemma Redgrave were spotted filming a scene 'outside the market near Tiny Rebel.' Although the newspaper, seemingly, was unaware of the name of Millie's character, Ruby Sunday, referring to her, twice, as merely 'The Assistant.' That's jobism, isn't it? 'Local shoppers in Newport City Centre say that it's great for the economy of Newport that a hit TV series is filming in the city,' they report and they also grabbed a quick quote from an eighty year old local who claimed that she 'used to love Doctor Who.' This latter piece of useless information constitutes 'news' in the South Wales Argus, apparently.
Russell Davies has given Doctor Who fans his personal reassurance following the news that Disney will be involved in forthcoming series of the BBC's popular long-running family SF drama. Big Rusty, in a recent interview with Doctor Who Magazine alluded to in the last From The North bloggerisationisms update, addressed the extent of Disney's involvement. In October, it was announced that series fourteen would be a co-production with Disney+. The streaming service has also acquired the international rights to the show as a distributor. Any fans concerned that the American streamer's partnershiop will have an impact on the show's content have nothing to worry about, according to Davies. Not that this will satisfy at least a portion of The Special People, of course. Let's face it, a day wouldn't be a day if some parts of Doctor Who fandom didn't have something crass to whinge about. 'People are, naturally, worried about American producers having notes on things. Well, don't be,' said Rusty. '[Disney is] giving excellent notes. And I'm here to tell you, you haven't watched a drama on British television in twenty years that hasn't had American notes on it. Everything is a co-production, it's really, completely normal.' Of course, this blogger made many of these same points shortly after the Disney+ deal was first announced - and, shortly after the great wailing and gnashing of teeth from fandom's Usual Suspects began - but it's probably better coming from Big Rusty. For some reason, people seem to take him a bit more seriously than they do this blogger. No, this blogger has no idea why either. Russell went on to give a cryptic clue to fans of the series, adding: 'If you want any more reassurance, let me just tell you that we're about to transmit the words "Mavic Chen" on television for the first time since 1966. It is absolutely the same show.' Which, as noted last time, at least one rather disgracefully over-excited website suggested was signalling the return of that character (played in the 1960s by Kevin Stoney). Which it probably isn't.
All of which, inevitably, brings us to the on-going From The North feature, Memorably Daft Double-Entendres In Episodes Of Doctor Whom (1963-2022). Number Sixty Four: Paradise Towers. Err ... yes. They really were.
Memorably Daft Double-Entendres In Episodes Of Doctor Whom (1963-2022). Number Sixty Five: The Doctor's Wife.
'That's got to be a Moffat line,' one of this blogger's fine Facebook fiends offered. This blogger wasn't sure whether it was or if it was in Neil Gaiman's script for The Doctor's Wife before The Lord Thy God Steven Moffat (OBE) got his showrunning hands on it. So, this blogger suggested, 'let's ask him.' And, we did. Well, this blogger did. 'I'm afraid it was mine,' The Moff confessed. 'In fact [it] repeated from a similar line in Jekyll. Yeah, I know - but sometimes it's very late at night and you need a gag.'
Actually, Steven's line in episode three of Jekyll had Jimmy Nesbitt remarking that 'killing people is like sex. Only there's a winner!' If one has a good line, it's stupid not to use it as often as possible. Something this blogger demonstrates on a regular basis.
Memorably Daft Double-Entendres In Episodes Of Doctor Whom (1963-2022). Number Sixty Six: Kinda.
Memorably Daft Double-Entendres In Episodes Of Doctor Whom (1963-2022). Number Sixty Seven: The Mark Of The Rani. Tragedy.
Memorably Daft Double-Entendres In Episodes Of Doctor Whom (1963-2022). Number Sixty Eight: The End Of Time. Personally, this blogger thought it was great.
Memorably Daft Double-Entendres In Episodes Of Doctor Whom (1963-2022). Number Sixty Nine: Dalek.
Memorably Daft Double-Entendres In Episodes Of Doctor Whom (1963-2022). Number Seventy: The War Machines.
A story which, incidentally, includes a specific allusion to that filthy albino kiddie-fiddler and sick rapist bastard James Savile. And, one which ends with The Doctor merrily kidnapping an able seaman for some nefarious skulduggery or other. Shouldn't be allowed.
Further proof, if any further proof were necessary dear blog reader, that TV fans often resemble rescue dogs. In so much as, because they feel that they have been badly treated in the past (often, with very little evidence other than the massive chip on their own shoulder), they expect such rank and manifest unfairness to happen to them again and again. Doctor Who fans are past-masters at this sort of self-pitying, whinging crap, of course. But they are, by no means, unique in their delusions of a massive, pan-global conspiracy (involving the CIA, The Rand Corporation, The Reverse Vampires and The Saucer People. Probably) designed to screw up their lives. A case very much in point, concerning From The North favourite The Sandman. Which, after a critically acclaimed run of eleven episodes (winner of the prestigious From The North award for the best TV show on 2022) and following a slightly longer than expected delay and a few spurious and rather sinister cancellation rumours, was renewed for a second series (or, 'a continuation' to used Netflix's own terminology) in November. You may have noticed. This blog certainly did. Despite this however, some fans are still - seemingly - squirting diarrhoea in their own pants that this decision could be reversed and the show cancelled. Neil Gaiman, the creator of The Sandman (and, close personal fiend of this blogger. Well, we shared a convention panel once twenty years ago), has been - rather wearily - answering more than a few fans' panicky questions about the 'safety' of the series following a wave of shows being cancelled on various streaming platforms. Netflix, it should be noted, has been rather notorious for cancelling series' previously, but recently it has even cancelled one after it has been announced as continuing in production (Inside Job; publicly renewed in June, cancelled without any explanation five months later). In fear that The Sandman may also find itself axed on the whim of some Netflix executive after a three-whiskey-lunch, one fan took to Gaiman's Tumblr page and asked the question which many others were, probably, pondering. Is The Sandman 'safe'? Neil's reply, as one might expect, was a little work of genius all on its own and should, if there was any justice in the world, be filmed and shown every Christmas. 'Define "safe"' Neil asked his interrogator. 'Netflix could go out of business before more Sandman launches. A new, nightmarish pestilence could close the world down completely. The actors could all be eaten by weasels and the show would be shuttered. But if there's a Netflix and nothing unforeseen and tragic happens to close the world or the show down, then there will be more Sandman.'
Neil, seemingly, was rather pleased with the imagery he had just invoked. 'I honestly cannot explain why I decided to Google "men eaten by weasels,"' he continued. 'But, as it turned out it's actually A Thing! And The Thing's real name is Weasels Ripped My Flesh from the cover of Man's Life, volume four, issue five (1956). And Weasels Ripped My Flesh is also the seventh studio album by The Mothers Of Invention, the American rock group. So, there you have it - an [sic] useless piece of information about men and weasels and also a visual representation of what we all hope would not happen to the cast of The Sandman. This little research made me feel a strange sense of satisfaction I never knew I needed.' This blogger is not quite sure why, exactly, he's surprised that Neil - seemingly - wasn't previously aware of the latter reference; I dunno, this blogger had always assumed Neil would be a Frank Zappa kind of guy. Nevertheless, short of weasels attacking Tom Sturridge in the manner of either of these two unfortunate chaps, it looks like The Sandman series two is still happening. Unless, of course, Netflix try to, if you will, weasel out of their commitment. For, as Homer Simpson once noted: 'Weaseling out of things is important to learn. It's what separates us from the animals. Except the weasel.'
The saga, of course didn't end there (this is fandom we're talking about, after all). 'If the actors are eaten by weasels they can't be recast?' asked one of Neil's dear Tumblr readers. 'Is that due to the actors having a top quality contract or because you feel recasting does a disservice to the show?' Neil The Weasel Expert replied: 'Obviously, if two or three of the actors were eaten by weasels we could recast. But if all of them were eaten by weasels, I think the magnitude of the weasel-based tragedy would mean that we would probably just stop shooting Sandman and instead join The Weasel Resistance.' 'Don't give into fear,' another of Neil's readers advised: 'If you stop shooting, the Weasels win!'
Neil's Tumblr account also recently pointed his dear Tumblr readers in the direction of BBC iPlayer which is, currently, showing Playing In The Dark: Neil Gaiman & The BBC Symphony, a 2019 event with Neil reading stories and BBC Orchestra playing music with yer actual David Tennant appearing as a surprise guest. Less of a surprise now, of course, since it was three years ago. But, still, it's well worth checking out and, if you haven't already seen it, Keith Telly Topping recommends it to the house.
It was pure dead lovely, so it was, to see From The North favourite Ski Sunday back on BBC2 last weekend. If only so that this blogger was able to crack his annual one-liner when filling in the GFK AI questionnaire the next day and, when asked what he thought of the programme in question, wrote 'it's gone downhill.'
All of which shenanigans bring us, with the tragic inevitability of the tragically inevitable, to that special part of From The North dedicated to this blogger's on-going medical malarkey. Or, strictly speaking, malarkeys as there have been and, in fact, still are, several of them. For those dear blog readers who haven't been following this on-going fiasco which appears to have been on-going longer than Panorama, it goes something like this: Keith Telly Topping spent some weeks around New Year 2022 feeling rotten; experienced five days in hospital; was discharged; received B12 injections; then more injections; somewhat recovered his missing appetite; got an initial diagnosis; had a consultant's meeting; continued to suffer fatigue and insomnia; endured a second endoscopy; had another consultation; got (unrelated) toothache; had an extraction; which took ages to heal; had another consultation; spent a week where nothing remotely health-related occurred; was given further B-12 injections; had an echocardiogram; received more blood extractions; made another hospital visit; saw the insomnia and torpor continue; received yet more blood tests; had a rearranged appointment for his sick note; suffered his worst period yet with the fatigue. Until the following week. And, then the week after that. Oh, the fatigue, dear blog reader. The depressing, ceaseless fatigue. He had a go on the Blood-Letting Machine; got another sickie; had an assessment; was given his fourth COVID jab; got some surprising news related to his assessment; had the results of his annual diabetes check-up; had another really bad week with the fatigue; followed by one with the sciatica; then one with the chronic insomnia; and, one with a plethora of general cold-related grottiness. A plethora of general cold-related grotiness that continued over the Christmas period and into the New Year.
So, you are probably all wondering dear blog readers, what 'it could only happen to him' fate has befallen yer actual Keith Telly Topping this week, then?' A good question, as it happens. One deserving a good answer. So, the ripples of time take us back to Monday evening when this blogger was having a hot bath. Yes, Keith Telly Topping does, occasionally, enjoy a nice long soak in the tub with a shave and a shampoo. Just like From The North favourite Margot Robbie explaining the economic fiasco of 2008 in The Big Short. Including the glass of champagne. What can this blogger say, dear blog readers, he's a man of simple (if occasionally expensive) tastes.
All good so far. However, getting out of the damned thing, of late, has been a bit of a chore for this blogger. The back injury obviously doesn't help but, also, as lack of over much upper arm strength as a consequence of his anaemia means that Keith Telly Topping finds it difficult to push himself up once his washin' and scrubbin' has been completed. He does, sometimes, contemplate just staying there. But, to be honest, that's not really an option since hot water only stays hot for so long.
Anyway, on that particular night, the inevitable happened. Half way out, this blogger slipped, crashed back into the bath and one of his knees (the right one for those taking notes), impacted - really hard - with the side of the bath and, well, basically, broke the bugger. The bath, that is, not this blogger's knee; that had a couple of small cuts on it, was moderately painful and was obviously going to be well-bruised the following morning. But, at that particular moment the issue of the bath was this blogger's main priority.
Inevitably, because The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House is a first floor luxury apartment (with a scenic view of The Estate and the Gas Works and the Glue Factory beyond), this caused a - minor, let's not overstate things - flood to occur. Luckily, The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House bathroom is directly above The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House hall and doorway. So, thankfully, this blogger didn't have his downstairs neighbour banging on the door of The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House asking Keith Telly Topping what the Bloody Hell he was playing at.
This blogger managed, with some difficulty, to get himself out of the bath, dripping wet (as, indeed, was everything else in The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House bathroom) and get the majority of the water mopped up. Then he dried his very self off, took the hairdryer, quickly, over his nakedness (and, some of the bathroom) and then rang up the local Housing Association's emergency repair line.
This blogger spoke to a lovely chap there called Dylan and explained what had happened - making sure Dylan understood, of course, that it had been a complete accident. Keith Telly Topping also added, helpfully he believed, 'I imagine this isn't going to be a quick fix?' Dylan thanked this blogger for 'being so understanding' to which this blogger replied 'mate, I've spent half my life in Customer Service, I'm always as helpful as I can be cos I've been on your end of these sort of calls more times than you've had hot ... baths.' Anyway, already extremely long story a bit shorter, The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House is, obviously, going to need a new bath which will take, one suspects, some weeks. However an appointment has been arranged for someone from the, ahem, Department of Baths (probably) to call around and assess the damage on 25 January (which was far sooner than this blogger had dreaded it would be). So, that was all a bit of a clart, frankly. Has anyone else had any aqua-related domestic disasters they'd like to share?
Of course, as is his want, this blogger immediately went online and told all of his fine Facebook fiends about this catastrophe which brought much subsequent sympathy from family and fiends (and, a bit of guffawing, too ... which was understandable) and queries about whether this blogger should be getting himself an invalid bath (or a shower). Which will, one imagines, be one of the things this blogger will be discussing with The Man from the Department of Baths. There was also an observation that, all things considered, it 'could have been worse.' Indeed, it could have been the lavatory, that would really have been a disaster. And, there were further queries about the state of this blogger's knee (it stiffened up a bit overnight but, otherwise it's was merely cut and bruised, this blogger has had worse damage falling over in the street).
There was also the question raised of what, exactly, The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House bath is made out of that this blogger's knee came off better than it did? 'Plastic, the same as all baths are these days,' this blogger replied. 'Unless you live in a Palace, obviously. If this had been 1965, admittedly I'd've been in traction.' Also raised was the question of whether there really is such a thing as The Department of Baths. There isn't, dear blog reader, just in case you were about to check the phone book.
Having survived that great fall (a big crack in The Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House bath notwithstanding), this blogger needed to watch some telly to himself calm down. So, he switched on the latest episode of From The North favourite Only Connect and the very first question was this week's 'the one that Keith Telly Topping actually got right.'
Although, as it turned out, atypically, this particular episode contained a second question which this blogger spotted the correct answer to (and, in this case, neither of the two teams spotted it. So, yay me).
Congratulations are also considerably due to The Lord Thy God Steven Moffat (OBE) for being one of the answers on the Only Connect wall round in the episode in question.
Later in the week, this blogger enjoyed his first time out for a proper bit of social interaction (trips to the supermarket and the local medical centre notwithstanding) since, ooh, October, probably. It was a meet-up with his excellent fiend Young Malcolm at the Little Asia in Stowell Street for a 'how you doin'?' chinwag and some terrific food. Like, chicken and sweetcorn soup.
Sesame prawn toast with sweet and sour sauce.
And, of course, honey-glazed King prawns in salt and chilli sauce with egg fried rice.
What do we say when Keith Telly Topping's been treating himself to decent food cooked by someone else, dear blog reader?
And then, dear blog reader, there's ...
Hail, Caesar (Joel and Ethan Coen, 2016).
Bewitched (Nora Ephron, 2005).
The Banshees Of Inisherin (Martin McDonagh, 2022).
The Menu (Mark Mylod, 2022).
This blogger is currently, for about the fourth or fifth time, re-reading Mark Lewisohn's extended megamix of his acclaimed Be-Atles biography Tune-In (the one that takes seventeen hundred pages and still only gets up to New Year's Eve 1962!) On Monday evening, as this blogger lay in bed with one of the three Stately Telly Topping Manor Plague House hot water bottles on his wounded knee, Keith Telly Topping reached page six hundred and thirty three oif Mark's tome and, probably his favourite paragraph of all literature, ever. It's in the chapter discussing The Be-Atles' May 1960 Scottish tour backing Johnny Gentle. 'Fraserburgh has restored some sanity,' writes Mark. 'Downside: they'd been kicked out of their hotel and Tommy Moore's face had been rearranged. Upside: they'd played a good gig, had girls chase them, enjoyed warmth from affectionate and generous females ... and Tommy Moore's face had been rearranged.' Genius.
Poor old Tommy. There are only about three photographs of him playing with The Be-Atles (a popular beat combo of the 1960s, you might've heard of them) and, in all of those, he appears to be about as miserable a fek.
There has, at least, been some good news this week, dear blog reader.
Two points worth noting at this juncture: There's nowhere near enough uses of the word 'boffins' in news stories these days, one feels. And, secondly, the NASA 'source' quoted in this suggests that 'keeping their fingers crossed' is, in fact, official NASA policy. Which gives the story of Apollo 13 a whole new dimension.
Tuesday evening saw further good news as this blogger's beloved (and now, thankfully, sold) Magpies managed to do something they have not achieved in nearly fifty years; winning a League Cup Quarter-Final at a rocking St James' Park. Second-half goals from Dancin' Dan Burn and Joelinton were enough to dispatch Leicester City, though had United been more clinical in front of goal then they could have exceeded their own rapid start at the King Power last month and, possibly, had the game sewn up by half-time. It is the first time since 1976 that Th' Toon have reached this stage of the competition (on that occasion, they reached the final but ended as runners-up, losing to Manchester City and Dennis Tueart's infamous overhead kick at Wembley. This year's Semi-Final draw on Wednesday evening paired United with Southampton (surprise victors over Sheikh Yer Man City) whilst the other two-legged Semi will be between Nottingham Forest and The Scum. Eddie Howe's side will travel to Hampshire for the first leg in the week commencing 23 January, before hosting The Saints at St James' the following week.
Of course, technically speaking dear blog reader, the League Cup is no longer called the League Cup and hasn't been since 1981 despite the fact that this is still what almost all socherball fans call it. Since then, it's been The Milk Cup, The Littlewoods Challenge Cup, The Rumbelows Cup, The Coca-Cola Cup, The Worthington Cup, The Carling Cup, The Capital One Cup, The EFL Cup and, currently (and, most ridiculously) The Carabao Cup due to its sponsorship by a Thai energy drink company (one that makes mildly amusing adverts, let it be said).
You may have noticed, dear blog reader, that there has been a bit of media coverage about a new book released this week (and, heavily leaked in advance) in which a pair of brothers appear not to be getting on very well at the present moment of time. It's been in all the newspapers. And on the telly. Everyone and their dog seems to have an opinion upon the rights and wrongs of this state of affairs. Most of them worthless. One of this blogger's beast fiends, for example, had a right good online whinge about how ghastly and awful one of the multi-millionaires (and, his multi-millionaire missus, whom the Daily Scum Express really don't like) involved in this dispute with a whole family of multi-millionaires is. And, how a spell in the army would, probably, do him some good. So that he could kill some more people and then brag about it, no doubt (something which is claimed to have gone down fantastically badly with his former comrades). Although the bit where he pronounced judgement on his uncle's alleged activities was, admittedly, funny. This blogger has precisely no opinion on which of these multi-millionaires deserves more of the public's sympathy (if any) and which deserves less. But, he did pause to briefly observe that the last time this particular family has a minor tiff which spilled over into the public domain, it ended in the First World War. Just, you know, for a bit of context.
Perhaps a nice trip to the seaside and a stroll along the front is just what Willy (and his missus) and Hazza (and his missus) need to cheer themselves up? Just a suggestion.
The Daily Lies, meanwhile, had this to offer on the subject of The Artist Formerly Known As Prince Harry and his autobiographical observations. One seriously has to wonder if this whole 'dealing with [his] mummy issues' would involve some, ahem, 'recreational scolding' by any chance? Because the lady's pose very much suggests it may.
The Sun had a somewhat more lavatorial take on the entire issue. Yeah, this blogger feels Hazza's pain in the bladder, frankly. Half-a-glass of any soft drink and this blogger is usually bustin' for a slash.
Still on the subject of that book, the author's oft-stated loathing of the British media (one presumes this blogger just about fits into that cover-all category) would, no doubt, be increased by a headline in the Portsmouth News ('the news you can trust since 1877'). Prince Harry's Book: Portsmouth Waterstones Silent As One Man Queues Up To Buy Harry's New Book Spare - But Not For Himself. Nicely sneered, guys, but before you get too full of yourselves you might have to have a look in the dictionary to find out exactly what constitutes a queue ('a line or sequence of people or vehicles awaiting their turn to be attended to or to proceed').
To be fair, it seemed to be doing not-particularly-roaring-trade in this blogger's local Waterstones when he was passing it on the way to the bus stop. This, despite the fact that they've got it on a 'special fifty-per-cent-off' type offer. 'Half price Harry' if you will. Or, alternatively, 'going Spare? No, going cheap.' He's a private person, is Harry. He and Meg just want their privacy. Apparently.
Of all the career opportunities that could present themselves to an up-and-coming guitarist in mid-1960s London, the offer of replacing Eric Clapton in The Yardbirds was one you might think twice about accepting. It wasn't just that Clapton was stunningly talented; it was that - uniquely for British rock and/or roll at the time - he was The Yardbirds' star attraction. His presence so obviously overshadowed that of their frontman, Keith Relf, that one of their peers wrote a song about it. Manfred Mann's 'The One In The Middle' affectionately mocked Relf (a decent enough, but hardly First Division voice) as 'just a pretty face'. Curiously, Relf could never be talked into performing it. Trying to replace Clapton, one might assume, was a hiding to nothing: anyone who even tried was being set up to fail. But Jeff Beck, who had been recommended for the job by his friend Jimmy Page (then London's go-to session guitarist), didn't just replace Clapton. He transformed The Yardbirds, from blues purists struggling to square their love of Buddy Guy and Freddie King with the necessity of having pop hits (Clapton had walked out in a strop at the band recording Graham Gouldman's sublime 'For Your Love'; when the band promoted the single on TV, Beck fitted-in seamlessly) to a band at the vanguard of British pop's relentless forward progress. The first single Beck recorded with them, 'Heart Full Of Soul', was another Gouldman confection, enlivened by Beck mimicking the sound of sitar - some months before The Be-Atles (a popular beat combo of the 1960s, you might've heard of them) first deployed the instrument on 'Norwegian Wood' - with Beck's Fender Strat played through a distortion pedal. There was a hint of Pete Townshend-like feedback about his aggressive playing on its follow-up, 'Evil Hearted You': if one flipped the single, you'd be confronted with the droning, complex 'Still I'm Sad', with its Gregorian chant-inspired vocals, a signpost en route to the experimentation of psychedelia. By the time of February 1966's 'Shapes Of Things' - howling feedback, a guitar solo audibly influenced by Indian raga or, as Beck put it, 'some weird mist coming from the East out of [my] amp' - The Yardbirds sounded like a completely different band from the one who had powered their way through covers of 'Smokestack Lightning' and 'Good Morning Little Schoolgirl' on Five Live Yardbirds just two years previously. Beck could play the blues if he wanted to - listen to his slide playing on 'Heart Full Of Soul's B-side, 'Steeled Blues' for example - but he was no one's idea of a respectful purist. Tellingly, the song that had first piqued his interest in the guitar was Les Paul and Mary Ford's groundbreaking 1951 hit 'How High The Moon?', a single that was as much about Paul's electronic manipulation of sound through multi-tracking as it was about his guitar playing. When Beck's mother - a musical purist snob - dismissed it as 'all tricks', it only served to fire Jeff's enthusiasm.
Geoffrey Arnold Beck was born in June 1944 to Arnold and Ethel Beck in Wallington. As a ten-year-old, he sang in a church choir at Sutton Manor School. Beck cited Les Paul as the first electric guitar player who impressed him. Cliff Gallup, the lead guitarist with Gene Vincent & The Blue Caps, was another early influence, followed by BB King and Steve Cropper. Beck considered Lonnie Mack 'a rock guitarist [who] was unjustly overlooked [and] a major influence on me and many others.' As a teenager he learned to play on a borrowed guitar and made several attempts to build his own instrument, first by gluing and bolting together cigar boxes and a fencepost for the neck with model aircraft control lines and frets simply painted on. After leaving school, he - like many of his 1960s Britpop contemporaries - attended art school, in his case Wimbledon College of Art. Then he was briefly employed as a painter and decorator, a groundsman on a golf course and a car paint sprayer. Beck's sister, Annetta, introduced him to Jimmy Page when both were teenagers. Beck played in a succession of groups, including Screaming Lord Sutch & The Savages during 1962 when they recorded 'Dracula's Daughter' for Oriole Records. In 1963, after Ian Stewart of The Rolling Stones introduced him to R&B, he formed The Nightshift with whom he played at the 100 Club and recorded a single, 'Stormy Monday', for the Piccadilly label. Beck joined The Rumbles, a Croydon band, in 1963 for a short period as lead guitarist, playing Gene Vincent and Buddy Holly covers and displaying a clear talent for mimicking the guitar styles of others. Later the same year, he joined the Tridents, a band from Chiswick. 'They were really my scene because they were playing flat-out R&B, like Jimmy Reed stuff and we supercharged it all up and made it really rocky. I got off on that, even though it was only twelve-bar blues.' He was a session guitarist on a 1964 Parlophone single by The Fitz & Startz, 'I'm Not Running Away'. Throughout his tenure with The Yardbirds, Beck seemed as interested in the sonic possibilities of new technology as he did in demonstrating his instrumental prowess, 'making all the weirdest noise I could.' The result was a succession of recordings that propelled The Yardbirds to the forefront of pop's avant garde: 'The Nazz Are Blue', 'Over Under Sideways Down', 'Lost Woman', 'Hot House Of Omagararshid', 'He's Always There'. When Jimmy Page joined, briefly creating a line-up with two lead guitarists, their sound got even more extreme. The single that coupled 'Happenings Ten Years Time Ago' and 'Psycho Daisies' was impossibly potent and sinister, so far-out even by the standards of late 1966 that it succeeded in alienating the majority of their fans - it barely scraped the charts in the UK - and the critics, one of whom derided it as an 'excuse for music.' This Beck/Page line-up was filmed performing an adaptation of their stage favourite 'The Train Kept A-Rollin', 'Stroll On', for the Michelangelo Antonioni film Blowup. The director had wanted The Who and, hence, insisted that Beck smash up his guitar at the end of the performance. Not long after its release, Beck acrimoniously departed The Yardbirds in the middle of US tour. 'They kicked me out ... fuck 'em!' he waspishly noted during the band's 1992 induction into the Rock and/or Roll Hall of Fame. Producer Mickie Most attempted to fashion Jeff into a pop star, a role to which Beck was entirely ill-suited, although the union did produce the hit single and wedding disco perennial 'Hi Ho Silver Lining'. His real future, however, lay on its B-side, an instrumental called 'Beck’s Bolero' that he had recorded with Page, bassist John Paul Jones and The Who's Keith Moon back in May 1966. It was epic, heavy and quite astonishingly prescient, pointing towards the direction rock would follow in the post-psychedelic era.
It still sounded ahead of the curve when it turned up on Beck's solo LP Truth two years later. By then, Beck had recruited singer Rod Stewart and Ronnie Wood on bass: with Stewart's bluesy vocals playing off Beck's incendiary distorted guitar, Truth's eclectic set of material - the stupendous 'Rock My Plimsoul', a reworking of 'Shapes Of Things', plus versions of 'Greensleeves', 'Ol' Man River' and Willie Dixon's 'I Ain't Superstitous' - presaged the sound of Led Zeppelin, the band Page formed from the wreckage of The Yardbirds. Truth beat Zeppelin's eponymous debut into the shops by six months. Perhaps The Jeff Beck Group, which Truth's follow-up, Beck-Ola, was billed under, could have followed Zeppelin's path to stadium superstardom. But there were problems, not least with maintaining a steady line-up. Stewart and Wood departed after Beck-Ola to join The Faces - an attempt to replace them with the then-unknown Elton John only got as far the rehearsal studio. Pianist Nicky Hopkins left, too: drummers came and went. In his autobiography Nick Mason recalls that during 1967 The Pink Floyd had wanted to recruit Beck to be their guitarist after Syd Barrett was forced out but 'none of us had the nerve to ask him.' Two years later, with the departure of Brian Jones imminent, Beck was reportedly approached about joining The Rolling Stones (as was Clapton). The fact that Beck couldn't keep still musically may also have hindered The Jeff Beck Group's commercial progress. Beck-Ola was very much in the 'heavy' style of Truth - 'Spanish Boots' is particularly brilliant - but subsequent releases dabbled in funk, jazz and soul. In 1970, he set about forming a band with drummer Cozy Powell. With Mickie Most they recorded several songs at Motown's famed Hitsville with The Funk Brothers, but the results remained unreleased. Both 1971's Rough & Ready and 1972's Jeff Beck Group have their moments but the NME critic who noted that the band's musical skill frequently 'far exceeds that of the material' had a point. In addition, it was hard not to be struck by the sense that Beck wasn't all that bothered about being famous, hence Beck-Ola's self-deprecating sleeve note: 'It's almost impossible to come up with anything totally original - so we haven't!' By 1973, Beck had formed a new band with bassist Tim Bogert and drummer Carmine Appice. They might have had a hit single with 'Superstition', a song Stevie Wonder had given to Beck in return for performing on Talking Book - you can hear his beautifully delicate and sympathetic playing on its penultimate track, 'Lookin' For Another Pure Love' - had Wonder not changed his mind and released it as a single himself, complete with the iconic opening drum beat that Beck had come up with. That same year Beck joined David Bowie onstage to perform 'The Jean Genie' at Bowie & The Spiders' farewell gig at the Hammersmith Odeon. The show was recorded and filmed, but none of the released versions included Beck's contributions until last year's Moonage Daydream. Beck and Wonder worked together again on Beck's largely instrumental 1975 solo LP Blow By Blow (produced by George Martin), on which the guitarist changed course again, this time to dextrous jazz-rock fusion. Its successor, Wired, featured a version of Charles Mingus's 'Goodbye Pork Pie Hat'. By now, no one could predict where Beck was going to head next. Flash, from 1985, was a pop LP produced by Nile Rodgers, albeit a pop LP decorated with guitar solos that sounded close to contemporary heavy metal. (Beck subsequently professed to hate it.) Jeff Beck's Guitar Shop (1989) was an instrumental blues-rock album. Crazy Legs (1993) was entirely comprised of Gene Vincent covers. Who Else! (1999) bore the influence of ambient electronica and techno: 'THX138' and 'Psycho Sam' sounded, unbelievably, not unlike The Chemical Brothers or The Prodigy. He collaborated with Guns N' Roses, Kate Bush, Roger Waters, Hans Zimmer and Jon Bon Jovi. It was all evidence of a disinclination to be pigeonholed: the only thing you could rely on was that whatever direction his music took, his guitar playing would be incredible. It was the kind of career that baffled the general public - of his latterday CDs, only the relatively straightforward Emotion & Commotion, which saw him working with Joss Stone and Imelda May, was really a hit - and obscure quite how innovative Beck had been in the 1960s. But it won him the undying admiration of his fellow musicians: the phrase 'guitarist's guitarist' might have been invented for him. His influence spanned generations. Brian May, David Gilmour, Slash and The Edge all attested to being inspired by Beck. Metallica's Kirk Hammett claimed he learned guitar by playing along to The Jeff Beck Group's 'Let Me Love You'. The Red Hot Chili Peppers' John Frusciante recalled listening to Truth as a kid and marvelling at Beck 'pulling all these sounds out of the guitar. I didn't know where they were coming from.' Even Eric Clapton, whose departure from The Yardbirds had kick-started Beck's career, marvelled at his replacement, 'the most unique guitarist and the most devoted.' His last project was a CD he released with Johnny Depp, a move that catapulted him into the news: Eighteen appeared in the wake of Depp's defamation case against his former wife, Amber Heard. The controversy overshadowed the CD's contents, which were as unpredictable as ever. Trying to explain its tracklisting - on which a cover of The Velvet Underground's 'Venus In Furs' lurked alongside versions of The Beach Boys' 'Don't Talk (Put Your Head On My Shoulder)', Killing Joke's 'Death & Resurrection Show' and Smokey Robinson's 'Ooo Baby Baby' - Jeff Beck came up with a line that neatly summed up his entire career. 'Interesting things happen,' he said, 'when you're open to trying something different.' He is survived by his wife, Sandra, whom he married in 2005.
There are a couple of contenders for this week's From The North Headline Of The Week award. Starting with Metro (so, not a real newspaper) and Woman Buys House Next To Cricket Pitch & Complains About Cricket Balls Landing In Her Garden.
Also, there's the Swindon Advertiser's Police Called To Reports Of Black Panther In Chiseldon. Officers subsequently tweeted: 'The panther turned out to be Albert, a large domestic cat.'
The Daily Mirra really got to the heart of exactly what makes this nation's blood boil with this expose of gentrification in the Acton area, 'My Town Is Now So Posh I Can't Go To Sainsbury's In My Pyjamas Anymore As People Stare'. To quote the late and much-lamented David Bowie, 'Oh, put your clothes on, Sooty.'
Then, there's this gem from the BBC News website. Usually, when this blogger goes for a trim, the barber tends to use scissors.
Let us also stand up and salute the Grimsby Telegraph's breathless 'exclusive', Grimsby Man Baffled After Finding Orange Triangle In Tin Of Quality Street. And, instead of thinking 'that's a rarity, I wonder how much it'll fetch on eBay, the individual concerend was, reportedly, 'left fuming.'
And finally, dear blog reader, Keith Telly Topping believes that it's the final paragraph of this rather splendid piece of self-promotion that makes it art. 'Good at sensing the presence of ghosts,' perhaps, but not so good at 'speaking clearly' it would appear.
