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Introducing Grammy nominated Acantha Lang

New Orleans soul singer Acantha Lang is performing at the Marine Theatre Lyme Regis Dorset on Friday 6th December, supported by two top Funk and Soul DJ’s. It’s an unbelievable coup for the town and area so here is some info about Acantha

https://www.instagram.com/acanthalang/

“Acantha Lang … I love your voice!”

Jools Holland

“She’s brilliant … destined for world domination.”

The Craig Charles Funk & Soul Show, BBC 6Music

New Orleans-born (London-based) rising Soul artist Acantha Lang has been compared to legends Aretha Franklin and Gladys Knight. Her acclaimed debut album ‘Beautiful Dreams,’ released in 2023, charted at #3 on The Official UK Jazz & Blues Albums Chart, garnering critical praise and rave reviews with 5-star ratings in Echoes Magazine and Soul Bag Magazine (France). Acantha graced the covers of the iconic Blues & Soul and Echoes Magazines and received Album of the Month honours from Soul Tracks, Relix, American Songwriter, KCRW’s ‘Top Tune,’ and more. Tastemaker Craig Charles (BBC 6Music’s Funk & Soul Show) notes: “She’s brilliant…destined for world domination.”

Lang has also been captivating audiences globally, making her US TV debut on CBS Saturday Morning and performing at the prestigious 2024 SXSW Music Festival in Austin, Texas, major venues in Spain and the UK, and renowned clubs like Bizz’Art (Paris, France) and Melkweg (Netherlands). In April 2024, she was a featured artist at The Dew Drop in New Orleans and performed alongside The New Mastersounds at The House of Blues and Blue Nile as part of the BACKBEAT Jazz Fest series during New Orleans Jazz Fest weekend where she met new fans like Anderson.Paak. She was also invited as a special guest for Jon Cleary at his sold-out show at the renowned Jazz Cafe in London.

Lang’s songwriting prowess was recognized before her solo career, crafting tracks for the GRAMMY-nominated Robert Randolph & The Family Band. Her debut EP, ‘Sugar Woman,’ earned her critical acclaim and the 2021 Soul Tracks Readers’ Choice Award for New Artist of the Year. She was also accepted into the Recording Academy’s (Grammy) 2022 member class.

Currently writing album #2 with further US and European touring to come off the back of a string of sold-out recent shows in Spain, this GRAMMY-nominated songwriter has established a dedicated legion of fans with her 13m+ viewed “Standing On The Shoulders Of” soul series.

With over 3 million streams and placements on top Spotify playlists like All Funked Up, Best Retro Songs, and Best Funk Songs of 2023, Lang’s music is resonating with a global audience. Radio support in the UK (BBC 6Music’s Funk & Soul Show) and the US (KCRW’s Top Tune of the Day) further solidifies her rising star status. Her most recently released single was a re-imagined funk cover of Bill Withers’ ‘Grandma’s Hands’, that was named Jazz FM’s Breakfast Show record of the week, added to the A List, plus also got love from esteemed DJ Trevor Nelson on BBC Radio 2. Acantha is currently preparing to return to the studio to write her sophomore album, slated for 2025

6.12.24. Marine Theatre, Lyme Regis

Must you Create a Legacy Instead of Just Existing

Why can’t I just sit at home and exist. What drives me to make some sort of mark on the world, create a lasting legacy, be constantly active, a diary full for months in advance, no time just to sit around and think. It always seems to be the way, agreeing to things without really first engaging the brain. A desire to do stuff, to be helpful, to explore ideas and put on events. Why can’t I just say no or keep my powder dry. Surely it would be easier just to sit on the side-lines, let other people run events but maybe that’s my nature of being an artist. One of the organisers. I’m not even sure it is one of my strengths. Well actually wooing is, so getting people to do stuff, to work with people, help, facilitate, be the natural number two. Peter Taylor to your Brian Clough. There is nowhere to go after over promising. You have put an idea into some else’s head and to stand and deliver. Or else try and back down gracefully without losing face or reputation. Keeping your mouth shut, thinking about things before promising. Review the logistics, the costs, the possible scenarios that could unfold in your head. It’s generally better to under promise, set expectations at a base level so you can gradually work up, surprise people, start to reveal the full extent of what you hope to achieve. Or don’t even say anything, keep your powder dry, have thoughts running around in your head that can stay there, under control, a multitude of concepts swirling within the brains matter. Is it a need to be liked, an area of conversation or just a desire to collaborate, support projects. By saying something it means you really have to deliver, it puts the concept out in the open. Surely this can be a good thing though as it counters inertia. Provides the possibility of creating something great, making a change, a mark on the world that delivers happiness to yourself and others once you have battled through the stress of putting the event on. If you don’t go out there and put your head on the line then you are not a competitor. You are someone happy on the side-lines, which is fine. Some people need to be the creators, innovators, those who push things forward and support a change in the world. Over promising is their reality. Realising dreams. Is there any point in any of this though. I mean we all shift off this mortal coil. Famous people are dying all over the place. Geoff Capes, iconic strongman of early TV. Seemed like a lovely bloke. He will be remembered. DJ’s Janice Long and John Peel, an anarchic Top of the Pops double act, laughing, joking, no longer here. A young guy from pop reality stars One Direction, plummets to his death from an Argentine balcony. Going in one direction, down. Quite youthful world cycling megalith Sir Chris Hoy, terminal cancer. All that healthy exercise and being superfit leading to inevitable doom. Maybe he should have just sat around smoking fags. Same result. You see people heading off for their daily jog or skulking around corners with rollies dangling from their mouth. Which one are you, what path do you choose. Lady Di. Princess of the people, changing the world, battered in a Parisian underpass alongside son of rapist, Dodi Al Fayed. He should have been the one in the car. Justice. If there was equity and fairness in the world then all those out exercising, eating healthily, being kind to the planet, one or no car families, care workers, doctors and nurses, nutritionists, musicians, actors, authors, recyclers, councillors, counsellors, cancellers, administrators, supporters, non-hierarchical activists, and famous shot putters should have the longest lives. We should know how long there is. Surely that’s fair. Otherwise, really what is the point. To be remembered? To leave a mark? To have in some way helped to make the world a better place through selfless behaviour? It is within your own heart and soul that this probably needs to occur, by doing stuff, creating events, putting your neck on the line, trying to improve other people’s lives, being proactive and making a difference is probably worthwhile. You might not get a medal but there should be peace of mind, inner comfort, a warm glow emanating from you, understanding that you have maximised your time on earth, nothing has been left undone or unsaid, like riding through the final 10 minutes of a spin class, pushing until the end, warn out but satisfied that nothing else could have been done.

https://open.spotify.com/concert/1ezpzIxWYHttqXE0pcwH7s?si=e178103aa2e14387

Gig poster for Acantha Lang at Seaton Gateway Theatre, East Devon. Friday 6th December, 2024

Melancholy

The end of summer bank holiday bookends from late May, a time of freshness and hope to one of remembering, thoughts, placing in time. Arranging big groups of people to get together from all corners of the globe, friends of friends. Your tribe expanding. Connecting to your partners world. Expanding the love. The end of summer August bank holiday has a moving melancholic feel, the end of something. Long days, endless sunshine, warmth, freedom, outside. The first slight chill in the air which catches you, brings up thoughts of future days huddled beside a pitch in multiple layers, a woolly hat pulled over your ears. The smell of cheap burgers and chips as the new football season roars into view. I love those months of silence, away from the constant bombardment of people kicking something round, an old bladder. In the old days it was a solid mass, sturdy boots against immovable object now replaced by soft leather slippers and a beachball. Everything is lighter nowadays which is much better when you are trying to head the thing. Picking blackberries, the garden starting to wilt and weeds grow slightly slower, the lawn has one or two cuts left in it. I often go on holiday in September because it’s cheaper and foreign climbs still retain their warmth without the crowds. There is a melancholic glow to things though, a sadness which feels healthy to indulge. Campsites gradually battering down, a wet dew meeting you as feet exit the tent. A freshness. The sky takes on a pastel consistency, peach, soft yellows. Gentle light overtaking the harshness. This bank holiday, iconic Bristol band Massive Attack played what could possibly be their last ever gig, outside on the downs, rain squalling around the band like usual. The force of staccato synth lines, bass rumblings, ethereal vocals reaching up into the atmosphere, pulling clouds together, hugging the ground. A mass of people worshipping and thinking, political slogans and messaging, vital images. This is more than a concert but a moment in time, remembering the need for action, climate, war, famine raging across the world as we party. The sound of Massive will linger in that space for ever, the Bristol air always containing familiar refrains. The sound of the place amplified. Looking around, seeing old and new friends, familiar faces from the city village in all directions come to be part of the last rights, a collective moment no one will forget. History being made while the current world is centre stage. Groups of people clinging close to each other, providing solace for times ahead. The sounds of the band drift on as the world keeps turning.

Colour

Seeing different colours to everyone through my eyes. Being colour deficient grade 1 or formerly known as colour blind. How do we know that the colours we see are different? A green for you, compared to a green for me. Like snowflakes, maybe all colours look subtly different for everyone, all colours individual, personal, unique. For colour deficient people it is the combination of colours which is vital, the reds and greens together that can’t be deciphered. It is difficult to define how the colours look, can descriptions really define how we visualise colour? The power of words mixed with that of sight. As a teenager I always wanted to work for the BBC, be a production manager, camera person, presenter. Anything. My colour blindness put a stop to that. Scoring well in the personality tests, but being a danger on live TV, pressing the wrong button. The same for being a bomb disposal expert. My dreams dashed. I love taking colour photographs, the subtle shades of a sky gently caressing into the sea, the range of blues mesmeric, fading between each other. The pastel pinks, yellows, oranges of the summer sky early evening, when the intense sunshine of the day gradually dissipates, painting ever softer pictures. Artificial, neon, gaudy, bright, defined images have a greater direct impact. Manmade, starkly contrasting, great definition between strips of bright colour, lacking the subtlety which nature provides. Countries have different colour palettes, a general hue which pervades everything. Thailand is green, a vibrant aqua marine. India, dusty, orange, happy, artificial. Portugal yellow, houses painted in a range of colours but the overriding feel is ochre, egg, sun dazzlingly reflecting from windows and bunting, a simple, cheap way of bringing places to life. Bunting means festivity, party, celebration and colour. Simple pieces of vari-coloured cloth strung together across streets, hanging from buildings and lamps. In Porto the pavements are glassy, reflecting sunny, slippery when wet, forming black and white patterns that lead the eye to statues, monuments, buildings. Artwork formed on the floor, arranged by local councils with aesthetics in mind. In the UK you get some bitumen, potholes randomly temporarily filled with what seems like dark grey custard. A temporary ugly fix. No grand plan other than to try and solve some immediate issue. Doorways in Spain and Portugal beautifully painted or coloured, blank canvases ready to expand the beauty of their worlds. In England, some plastic, practical light grey job. Non transformable, impossible to paint. Presentation of sweet delicacies in numerous bakeries, a few slices of old Victoria sponge or rows of varied, perfectly formed pastries engaging visual and taste sensations, equally liable to lead to heart problems. Porto is completely friendly, containing an anarchistic edge but engagement, showing off their city, extreme pride in their produce and lived worlds. Happy to discuss the infinite details of the making of a rabbit stew or the depth and taste variances of 5, 10, 20 year old port wine. Porto is punk which has evolved, a socialist enclave with usual capitalist realities, a city with a village vibe. Obrigado.

Festival time is coming

I am sure that most of the my female friends have a greater number of friends than my male mates. I love friends, the close bond, silly and deep chats, similarities, differences but I don’t seem to spend much time nurturing them. I have a lovely small group alongside my close family, where I nurture relationships but generally I am quite self centred. Weaving my own path through the sticks of life, slaloming around poles which appear out of nowhere or gradually emerge from the distance. Today I woke up thinking about what I was going to do in two years time, when my research contract expires. It’s miles away but felt so close this morning. Being with friends at Glastonbury is an essential experience. I love my own space but this is one location and occasion where shared experiences are vital. OK you can meet people randomly, sometimes those that you know, but having a close group around you, the right number, 1-2, is ideal. Not too many to cramp your style and flow but enough to feel the love, comforted and sharing. In a couple of weeks a festival that I help to run, The Sidmouth Jazz and Blues Festival, will start, kicking off with king go gold Tony Hadley. Spandau Ballet cut a long story short, were cool for a few months but then became one of my less liked groups of the era. Being part of a festival is a great buzz, the year of planning coming to fruition, watching the vagaries of the English weather tease you. Seeing the same faces come back to work and help. A familiarity each year but also something different. There is always a vibe, a tangible feel to certain years. The wet Glastonbury’s trudging through mud, the hot Glastonbury’s yearning for shade. It’s not the specific bands but more the feel. What are the punters up to. Fashion, actions. Being part of organising a festival you feel that deep responsibility for everyone to have a great time, and when or if they do then your heart sings. It’s all worthwhile. The nerves start to kick in with a week to go. It all becomes real. A marker for the summer. A barometer of life. I am always gutted if I don’t go to Glastonbury Festival, which I haven’t for the last 10 years. I was tired of it by 2014. Corporate nonsense taking over the freedom which used to abound in the 1980s and 90s. BBC trucks pulling up and filming everything. A great wall holding everyone in. Search lights, watch towers. It used to be so liberating, now it feels like an image of liberation, a 2D rather than 3D experience. Still good though. I’m in that brief period of excitement and slight trepidation, a couple of days before going, trying to organise a good camping spot and not accepting every single gig coming my way, although I think I’ll be too busy to see Coldplay or Shania Twain. Which is a relief. The heart of Glastonbury is still run by crews who have been there for years, Shangri la, Theatre and Circus, Bandstand, Croissant Neuf. All the fun of the fair. Packing: small tent, nuts, protein bars, coffee, Trangia, duvet, trombone, accordion, water, vitamins, suncream, shorts, sandals, trainers, hats, brightly coloured shirts, festival blanket, sunglasses, camera. Check, 1, 2.

A bunch of cuts

Nottingham is an interesting place. Sat halfway up the country, home to Byron, Boots, Raleigh and lace. It is not somewhere I previously considered but starting to work with the university there and my youngest daughter going to university in the city, has brought it into focus. I met an orchestral leader and educator in the city, someone who transferred their life from LA to the East Midlands. For work, such is the joy of academia, throwing you around the world in search of nirvana. Looking for the excitement and safety in equal measures. Academic working puts your whole sense of place in another context because it provides opportunity and threat. The chance to travel around the world, put small roots down wherever the best role seems to fit. It also keeps you there though because when you start to specialise in an area the options become less apparent. You raise a family and don’t want then have to decamp somewhere else. It provides a level of paranoia, especially within the creative arts that are under attack yet again in Higher Education. Leave those teams alone. Fight alternative beings rather than going for the easy targets situated within the arts. The creative arts bring a whole range of excitement, interest and sets of skills that really traverse boundaries. Reflexivity, stamina, concentration, innovation, dedication, collaboration, humour, physicality, neuroscientific skills which are transferable or just lay in place to entertain. Local Councils like that in Birmingham or Nottingham are in financial peril, so the first they consider is to cut the arts. But these are the elements which make them, drive local industries, provide employment, set the tone of a place. Why not think about doing the reverse. Embrace the arts, place trust in their ability to lead your city to prosperity.

I am exploring the concept of scenius, the collective genius existing within scenes. Exploring the intricate parts which make up successful scenes, lifting them beyond the norm. I see the main elements as centred around hierarchies, process, experimentation, relationships and flow. The Bristol music scene as defined by bands such as Massive Attack and Portishead brought disparate parts of the city together. St Pauls and Clifton, placed in the Dug Out club and revolver records equidistant between both areas. The music resonated with the sound of the city, the Bristol hum, water sloshing underneath the pathways, providing a resonant frequency which connected with the bass music, a slow tempo with depth. An ethos based on attitude. Political protest. Standing up for the common good. Preparing to fail or anger the regular creative arts industry. Banksy. Placing faith in art. No compromise. No sellout. Each place has its own resonance, connects through natural and social factors. It’s time again to fight for the arts, to provide the new upcoming government with so much evidence that they finally support the arts once and for all, enshrines British culture with the security it needs and deserves.

World Book Day

7th March is world book day, the opportunity for all those with young children to spend hours scrabbling around to try and match up to their neighbours attempts, whilst the kids hope they wont be too embarrassed by it all. What fun. Like National Women’s Day or Record Store Day or Black History Month, these are all worthy concepts, supporting better lives for all. Really, though, everyday should be World Book Day. Everyday should be equality of opportunity for all day. One Day should be watched every day.

In supporting the adult focus to WBD then please have a look at my first book, Blank Canvas, soon to be followed by Creative Spheres, deep, playful, anarchic, experimental and entertaining explorations of popular culture, with creativity centrally placed.

Now time to dress up as my favourite cultural icon …..

An early picture of Brian Eno at Watford Art College, London

A fresh looking Brian Eno at Watford Art College (Mid 1970s)

https://www.intellectbooks.com/blank-canvas

Torn Edges

I am part of a fantastic line up of presenters, exploring the intersection between art and punk, on the afternoon and early evening of Wednesday 20th March at University of the Arts London (LCC campus – Elephant and Castle). It will be dynamic and exciting, intellectually stimulating and with some punk academic attitude.

https://www.arts.ac.uk/whats-on/torn-edges-punk,-art,-design,-history

punk art conference poster at University of the Arts London

Let it all flow: 88888

I have been on a journey writing my second book for what has probably been about a year now. Everyday I get up at 6am and write for an hour, letting my unconscious lead me, a time where the troubled mind has yet to arrive, a pure blank canvas. Today the sign of prosperity and hope arrived:

I try to ignore milestones, just write and then later edit, allowing the flow to take control. These are the words as I passed 88888

Dancing is a way of staying fit without the conscious effort. In fact I sometimes go to a dance fit class at my local gym, where I am the only bloke. It’s a tough class that makes me laugh. Some people have been attending for years, creating their own mini scenius, joy unbound. Dancing with friends to great mixes, DJ’s who are really taking the group on a journey that resonates, reinforcing your connection to your friends, the feeling that you are in the best place in the world, the only space that matters at that time. You rely on the DJ and dancing, remembering those special moments when DJ and audience combined in rapturous harmony. DJ Rod Davies at the New Milton Town Hall in 1981 spinning early Depeche Mode or Heaven 17; the Unity St club in Bristol, 1986, water dripping from the ceiling to the deep dark underworld of the Dug Out; the Whirl-y-Gig at Womad festival, connecting world and electronic music in the open air; the Blue Note, Hoxton of course, a tunnel of love; Planet Shroom or Megadog, adding a large dose of psychedelics; to DJ Woodies mix at tiny, personal GrassRoots festival, a cohesive and reaffirming experience, taking you on a journey through pop, country, soul, hip hop, grime and dubstep with a drum and bass base. Dancing outside has a liberating and fresh feel. It feels right and celebratory of the earth rather than being surrounded by man-made objects. Everyones feet resonating with the ground and the earth coming back with its reflective vibrations. Dancing with stars flying over a Cornish sky, meteorites flashing occasional trails through the milky way. A unique feeling of connection with the world which the warmth of the English summer or paddling on a Thai beach can create. The collaborative flow between people who might have just met, each with their own small groups of mates sharing the love, all coming together, right now, over me. The rave, protest march, tube train on the first day back at work, the football crowd celebrating a last minute winner for the home team, watching a film at the cinema where the audience all gasp at the plot twist, a simultaneous flow., like traffic in Ho Chi Minh, Vietnam, interconnecting mopeds, each with individual lives and experiences circling around each other. They never seem to touch, let alone crash, in a whirlwind of impossibility millions of bikes head off in their individual directions for a common goal. Everyone going somewhere, existing, milling around.

group of people dancing at Shambala music festival

Sidmouth International Jazz and blues festival

I am very excited to announce this years festival lineup, which features an amazing array of talented musicians across jazz, latin, funk, soul and blues. There will be 5 headline nights from Thursday 23rd May to Monday 27th May, with the community music stages being across the weekend. Previous festival goers will understand the extremely high quality of all acts that we programme for this event. We have had an increasingly large number of artists applying to play which has made the decision making process increasingly competitive.

The end of May is the perfect time to visit East Devon, UK. The flowers are out and the weather is usually (crossed fingers) perfect. A beautiful way to welcome in an English summer. A perfect long weekend break.

More information is available here: https://www.sidmouthjazz.com/

An early write up about the festival: https://www.sidmouthherald.co.uk/news/24102082.sidmouth-jazz-blues-festival-2024-main-acts-announced/

I am especially excited about presenting Roberto Fonseca, Elles Bailey, Mica Millar, MF Robots, Snowboy and the Latin section in addition to wonderful Bristol acts including Lady Nade, Moscow Drug Club, Pete Josef and Kirris Rivierre.