Music can transport you, take you to a different plane, away from the daily thoughts, worries, the mundane to another planet. Speaking to your heart and galvanising emotions which speak to your very humanity. The reason for living. Life as it should be. Pure and clean. People on stage transmitting their energy, joy, talent so that all that matters is what stands before you, presenting their magic. Masked or with faces free, connecting from their souls to yours. The power of stabs, sharp short brassy bassy arrows into you, flying from the platform through the bodies of the thronging mass, weaving and dancing to the flowing beats. Beauty emanating from each individual instrument to create a cohesive whole, subtle rhythmic interplays, changes in dynamics which have infinite steps, dialing through equalisation. The tightness of power, the strength of being exactly together at the same point with nuanced differences, pushing instruments, their resonance connecting back to their players, feeling, transmitting, transporting. Music can set us free, unleash the power of the collective, transcend the wrongs of the world and provide hope, that there is something good out there.
Sitting on the toilet praying for the Lionesses to score. Seconds to go. Divine intervention is needed. Surely it can’t work but suddenly there is a roar from next door, and they have done it. The teenager Agyemang has scored, England are through to the semi finals if they win a penalty shootout against Sweden. This is a comedy of errors, no praying needed, just watching in disbelief as the pressure becomes too much for each spot kicker and the goalkeepers are getting better and better. Up in Liverpool, rushing back for the semi final second half. Again behind, this time to the underdogs Italy. We don’t look like scoring, Italy are being cynical, delaying, fouling. I get in the hotel lift, go downstairs, go outside. Still no goal. It isn’t going to happen this time. I ascend back to my sweeping apartment, turn on the Telly. Still playing but it all looks forlorn. I give up watching. I give up on the lionesses, but then I think, one last moment, to the toilet and really pray, for the people who this means so much too, all the fans, my partner especially. I’m on the BBC sports app, then suddenly a 1 appears by England’s score. You must be kidding.I do believe in god. Incredible. I turn the TV on again and watch extra time where Italy give us a silly penalty, Chloe Kelly steps up, the penalty is saved but she gobbles up the rebound. No worries. Spain will surely beat us in the final, so technical, passing patterns. We start well for a change, matching them but gradually they take the ascendancy and score. Lauren James looks lost and injured. Kelly comes on again, and immediately there is more drive and impact. 1-0 at half time is a good score. We will come back, we do, Alessia Russo planting an almost identical header to the Spanish opener. We drive on but can’t add a second. Extra time, Spain start to take control again. We defend for our lives. Penalties again, all of our senior players off exhausted, injured, wounded. But Hannah Hampton, notes written up her sleeve, she knows the score. No praying needed. Chloe Kelly to win it. Of course it is. Struggles with her club, a loan transfer back home to Arsenal, redemption, a European cup, back with the Lionesses. No nerves. Loving the moment. Repeating her act of three years before. The game changer, the finisher. Incredible. The story was always going to end this way wasn’t it.
More than months of planning, getting in contact with old friends, spreadsheets, money falling out of your pocket in increasingly large numbers as everyone adds a nought for a wedding, excitement, stress, joy, connection, then it is all over bar the shouting. Mopping up the tail. Generosity overflowing. Heartbeats gradually slowing down over a beautiful honeymoon, amazingly bought by friends. Released from any thought of money. What an occasion to bring two clans together, friends you know very well and old acquaintances rejoined. A special event. Cards littering the house, each with incredible heartfelt messages. Was it all worth it, months of worrying how to pay back now, financially skint. Yes. Yes. Yes. Memories are worth more than cash. They define you and your life. Money is just an accoutrement. Something forever to look back on. A union for life surrounded by friends for life. Amazingly no dogs. Nor any horses. Coming together with your life partner, forging a life together that now has a neatly tied know, joined, bonded. A close relationship brought officially together, two people who don’t believe in official titles, non religious, but believe in each other and their friends. We all want to do it again. Plan it again. Look forward to it again. Our marriage ceremony and party are in the past but our journey forging on into the future. Something we will always remember even as old age catches up with us. An event where you are spread too thin, trying to talk with everyone who has come, but time is too short, your voice becoming increasingly hoarse. Life together starts anew amongst the strewn paper and card, everyone overly generous and beautiful. What a world. What a life.
Does it change anything, being married (or Civil Partnered as we are not allowed to say that we are married, but civilly joined together)? There is a feeling of solidity. Of a life message, a commitment to each other. It provides roots, rooting for each other and a friendship group. The day meant so much, a whirlwind of people you know. Who do you talk to for more than 20 seconds? Trying to ensure that people who have come the furthest, made the biggest sacrifice, get most attention. The event really needs to go on for a few days rather than just the hours of one day.
Honeymoon period, a time to flop. A few days away where everything is bliss. Perfect. Days of planning gradually ebbing away, flowing from your body, massaging, gently kneading the stress away. Your friends and family had come together to buy you this holiday, with spending money too, so nothing to worry about. Wander around the vineyard, sit in the gardens gorging on the everlasting and beautiful breakfast. Walk off and find a sneaky perch for a little daily sojourn, goods attained as part of the wedding present from a seedy back room, two young guys unaware that they they can take their vanilla or Tangerine Dream away rather than blow in each other’s faces amongst the featureless walls. Sucking and blowing for its own sake.
Does it feel different to be civil partnered? The clans are joined, we have come officially into our families, we have literally tied the knot. We are together, forever. How cool. People ask, ‘how does it feel to be married? Do you feel any different?’ It is difficult to answer at this moment as my mind is still racing around trying to take it all in, but the anwer will be yes. A closened bond. A public display of love and commitment. We don’t like using the phrase ‘man and wife’ or ‘husband and wife’. We are not religious. We are staunchly feminist, humanist, into equality and nonhierarchical worlds. Leading individual paths together. Walking hand in hand down the street, ready to take on the world with a bit of extra power in our union.
Obsessive about exercising, many people can’t resist the lure of the gym. Increasingly dipping into the well, great sadness overtaking when away and the local gym is not available. Endorphins. Fitness. Health. The need to sweat and really take your body to another level. Some people obsess with yoga, a downward dog view of the world, upside down looking at the ceiling. When you see humans walking from upside down it looks like they are dancing, moving more quickly, like an old film but with modern beauty. An unreality that is surprising. There is a religious energy to exercising, especially keeping it long and slow, bending over to put your hands under your feet, connecting the body to the ground and beyond. Resonating with the wooden floor of the local church hall, top to bottom, history seeping into the body as impossible angles are gradually achieved, the body contorted into relaxation rather than exhausted into the same state. Both can make you feel great, taking the mind through body to another world, a fantasy land where money, food, friends, family, politics and location don’t exist. A purity of feeling as your legs go increasingly faster or push against greater resistance. Breathing deeply, closing eyes and dreaming off whilst building up strength and stability. Body Balance, Pilates, Yoga all aim to relax you. Take your head away from itself, transporting to another world that is grounded but also in a dream state. A connection to the earth allowing the mind to wonder free or to be empty, the voices of the mind dumped for an hour or so, cleansed, pure. Sweat dripping from your eyes whilst cycling wildly is the ultimate experience in the gym, pushing from a position of strength, feeling powerful and alive, electronic dance beats propelling you forward. Pushing on as 80s nostalgia floods from the speakers, knowing smiles and the occasional accompanying voice from your fellow participants. Choosing to be here, not under contract, you do you babe. Music in exercise is an essential way of transporting your mind to another galaxy, another time, freeing your mind whilst getting fitter. Good for the body and mind. Spiritual. India. The gentle lilting tabla and tanbura or harmonium, providing a wavering drone and clipping beat, tones and rhythms pulling you into mystical worlds, the misty ghats of Varanassi or the cool breeze of the south, slower, easier, less spicy. Varkala. Upbeat driving beats in spin transform the gym to a glitzy flashing club, a pop neon plastic world where everything is full on, to the (Pepsi) max. Sugar and sweet rather than the green tea or chai of yogic energy. Both can make you feel amazing, especially transferring from one to the other. Ying and Yang. Movement and stillness. Speed and strength. Dripping with sweat from cycling, the heart racing increasingly faster, then stopping, transforming, getting the mat, slowing down, flexing, breathing in through your nose and out of your mouth. Slowing down. Stretching. Eyes closing.
I love waking up and seeing the view from my kitchen. The endless variety that the same picture conveys, changed by seasons and the vagaries of the English weather. Coastal winds transforming the seascape unfolding in front of me. The variances as the sun rises from a slightly different position each day, spraying deep orange and peach light that gradually lightens as the sun rises, turning our home into a constantly varying symphony of colour, replicating musician and artist Brian Eno’s light boxes, never the same, always different. Nature drenching its mood and perspective. Whilst studying for my doctorate I used to cycle most days between the south western English cities of Bristol and Bath, stopping at the same point and snapping a shot on either my phone or camera. A beautiful spot where the city was left behind and bucolic countryside emerged, fields, horses, a church spire rising out of the English village, creating balance in the view. I was entranced by the differences in similarity, the chance to look more deeply when you start to know every element in your picture. Sometimes the horse was there but other days not, or in a different location creating an alternative balance. Standing still and contemplating. Repetition providing the opportunity to stay in the moment, the place, the view. Not a set of holiday snaps which blindly take you around the pool, beach, lunch, church, beach, afternoon drinks, sunset, dinner, party. A beautiful view is to be savoured, unfurled through the ages, the chance to measure your life alongside the beauty of humans and nature. An opportunity to be static and contemplate change, to work out what it is all about. To stop rushing around, stand on one leg and breathe, the tree of yogic life. Zen gardens. Life is everything around us. Let’s be more observant, take time out, put the phones away and actually live, fighting the demands and distractions of the modern world. Recognise what is going on around us, the different dynamic of certain moments or days.
Why does the start of the week feel different to the end? Parts of the year have certain scents, views, feelings, which time stamp our development. Facebook reminding us about what was happening on the same day one, two, seven years or even eleven years ago. It all seems so recent. Present, in the now. Time has sped past, our lives juggernauting along at breakneck speed, unable to slow it down as caught in a merry-go-round, gliding up and down on a horse, repeated views blurring past from the bottom of the hill. Our lives have reportedly changed over the 58 years I have been present, but it all seems the same to me. The UK. The long hot summer of 1976, Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, exciting pop music with punk screaming into view, strikes, extreme weather, long periods of drought followed by flooding, a warming globe, familiar places and faces. Not a static life spent in one location, from birth, school, work to marriage, children and death but a multifaceted one travelling the planet, moving from place to place, adventures that make life exciting and dynamic. London, Paris, Glasgow, Bristol with a swathe of smaller locales in between. Days which were dynamic, a cure for the humdrum, a world of creativity and chaos. Moving from cities to the countryside has provided boredom, the ability to stop and stare, think deeply, be at peace and start to wonder and wander, contemplate, remember, look forward. Internal conversations becoming clearer as the fog starts to drift away, lifting from the valley floor and revealing a beautiful landscape stretching into the distance, providing the first glimpses of clarity on life.
Unveiling of the new East Devon Soul logo. Website to come in the next few months as we start to reveal all about our exciting new festival in the beautiful seaside town of Seaton, East Devon 3-5th July 2026
Months pass without time to stop and think, an endless treadmill of work, gym, family, TV. As the buds of spring start to blossom, days stretch out further than Lance Armstrong’s stamina, mornings and evenings gradually blending into one. Bank holidays at Easter result in terminally long weekends. Bank holidays at the end of May result in extending this joyous month, a riot of colour and for one year only, no rain on the plain like Spain, parching the grass, concreting the soil. Another break arrives. Time to forget about the 9-5, replaced by excessively trying to catch up with all those other things which life throws uncaringly in front of you. Cleaning, tidying, sorting, moving, gardening, driving, deadening. Easter provides a break but one that defines the next stage, part two of the year. Winter is now truly behind us and beautiful bucolic times stretch ahead. The chance to watch your team lose twice rather than once over a long, long weekend. Top top players needed. So, by repeating words that means they are doubly important. We need a top top top top upgrade on all our players, manager and coaching staff. The food is good though, for the players. Fans suffer with blasted dodgy sausage rolls and overheated Balti pies. Extended weekends sometimes provide an opportunity to think about being creative, write some words, catch up on research, make music, take photographs. It always feels like the busiest time, when extra hours available are eaten by Pac Man munching creatures. Also, a time to read, books, paper, articles, to take a breath in and move forward. The pope died today after a long illness. Thoughtfully waiting until after his Sunday sermon before letting go, joining his friends in heaven and beyond, a good person by all accounts.
Bank holidays do have an end, but they are points in time where lots of people have the same time off. Not emergency or health workers, service trades or tourist spots. They are busier than normal coping with the mass of over drinking, overeating, dangerous swimming, human abandon. Time off from the daily grind. Moments which can feel uplifting and liberating if you are in a happy space, a couple, with family and friends but can be isolating, alone, watching men pot balls on a green baise, endlessly from cue tip to round object, bouncing around, trying to escape and leave nothing behind. The empty carnage from the stacked-up start of a frame. It is relaxing apparently, the heat of battle but with gentle contemplation, unfolding over time. Day after day after day. Bank holidays can change the flow of time, stop us in our tracks, Halt. Who goes there or where. Routines upended by not needing to do anything. So, we could mow the lawn, fix fittings, dump the unused wardrobe, reconfigure our spaces. Or just go for a long walk, aimlessly meandering off into the distance, not knowing when to turn round as there is no time limit. It just goes on. All is quiet in the countryside, whereas cities hum with eager anticipation, music, drink, desperate to party to ignore the upcoming slip back into tedium of normality. A release. Melancholic moments as your team finishes the season either relegated to a lower division or deep in mid table mediocrity, months of time off to contemplate the start of another cycle. New manager. New players. New kit. New hope. We start again.
End of May sparks festival season in my brain. Time to dive into the gently rotting shed and brush mildew off my festering tent. Will it appear again this year? Not yet, but in due time. preparing to stand outside in various weather forms, jigging and dancing and chatting, music wafting through the the ozone ecosystem pollen infected air. Time can finally standstill.
As the festival season comes into prominence, thoughts of milling about in fields listening to new sounds, seeing new sites and generally being humans together in one place comes into being. Looking ahead through the steamy (hopefully) months to September, a beautiful time of the year which also can feel slightly melancholic. Kids back to school, teachers back to school, nights starting to draw in. Whistful for Spring’s hopeful flavours. So what better way than to elongate the summer than partake in two gigs at the lush Marine Theatre in Lyme Regis. Fulu and Hannah Williams are two of my favourite live acts, artists breaking boundaries and exuding music innovation and brilliance. Two of the best gigs you will see this year. Each will be masked and unmasked. Mysterious and real. Guaranteed by East Devon Soul.
East Devon Soul Festival is a community music event with sustainability and revitalisation at its heart, bringing opportunities for local and national artists to perform in the seaside location of Seaton, East Devon, utilising available resources and infrastructures. The festival will feature multi genre eclectic music from local and national artists, crossing genre divides but all joined by the concept of soul, music that moves, has humanity and expression. All in collaboration with local venue owners and community groups.
Ethos
Seaton in East Devon is a town with multiple underused venues, a lack of activity but with the infrastructure to support a creative ecosystem. Sitting between the more vibrant towns of Lyme Regis and Sidmouth, Seaton has been left behind.
The aim of the East Devon Soul Festival is to bring music to the town to support socioeconomic enhancement, providing culture and economic life, encouraging people to come in and support local businesses. East Devon Soul Festival will generate an uplift in culture for the town, providing hope and opportunity for future events to occur and release the creative potential of the region, benefitting a wide demographic, including young people, families, older residents, and those who may otherwise have limited access to arts and live music due to financial, geographic, or social barriers.
East Devon Soul Festival will offer opportunities for local musicians and performers to showcase their talents, promote wellbeing through shared cultural experiences, and strengthen social connections in the community. Through collaborations with schools, local businesses, and community groups, East Devon Soul will also provide volunteering, training, and educational opportunities to encourage participation in event production and the wider creative industries.
Sustainability is a key driver for the East Devon Soul Festival. We want people to have a great time in a wonderful location whilst leaving as little carbon trace as possible. Underutilised venues will be opened up. For example, the iconic Seaton Tramway can be transformed into a beautiful 500 capacity venue. The Old Picturehouse Cinema becomes a hub for global funk music. The Hideaway Cafe at the far end of the promenade a venue for late revellers, with DJ’s spinning electronic House or Drum and Bass. The beach front Tide Cafe will have acts performing on its balcony.
Incentives will be provided to travel to the festival by green transport. The small gauge electric tram can ferry people in from campsites or Bed and Breakfasts of the nearby villages of Colyford or Colyton. Gas buses will be used to connect the nearest train station at Axminster with Seaton, a 20-minute journey. Electric tuk tuk’s will bring spice to East Devon life, a novel way of entering the festival from local villages. Arrival by bike and foot will be encouraged through elements of VIP access, food and accommodation discounts.
Line Up
The music ethos for the East Devon Soul Festival is quality eclectic and inclusive. Music for everyone but with a cohesive narrative, where bands featuring female and non-binary musicians are encouraged. Upcoming acts who will engage and educate audiences from across the spectrum, classical to electronic dance music, jazz, funk, soul and folk. East Devon Soul will have appeal for all ages and tastes. From string quartets to New Orleans Soul, Jungle and Grime to Jazz. Music is naturally eclectic, and the festival will showcase this glory, providing opportunities for local artists and showcases for acts brimming on the edge of stardom. The common denominator is that all acts will be approved by the East Devon Soul team, unleashing years of experience across the music industry to bring a festival for the local masses.
Some of the artists already lined up to play include artists we have programmed previously including Acantha Lang, Dr Meaker, Buena Bristol Social Club, Kirris Riviere and the Delta du Bruit, Hannah Williams and the Affirmations, Moscow Drug Club, the Jazz Defenders, Revelation Roots, The Egg and Fulu.
Spinning tunes in pop up venues across Seaton will be top artists including legendary DJ Krust, Queen Bee, Beatles Dub Club and the Allergies.
Seaton
The seaside town of Seaton sits on the South coast of the UK, just inside East Devon from the Dorset border, flanked by its better-known siblings Lyme Regis and Sidmouth.
Seaton has a natural aspect, sitting at the end of a wide valley, flanked by beautiful countryside, beaches and cliffs. The town itself has many underused facilities including lots of available venues, outside spaces, some with seating and power, plenty of parking and reasonable transport links. Unlike its bordering brethren, Seaton is never overrun by tourists in the summer months due to a lack of historic buildings or perceived beauty. There is a flow to the way that you can circle the town, making it an ideal location for a festival.
I am very excited to be part of the latest Generation Blitz album with the track Inochi: Terrain, a great CD, vinyl, streaming offering featuring all your favourite global electronic post punk artists. Out on pre-release now
