About
1959—age 7—old Mr Love played me 78s: BB Broonzy, Bessie Smith, Big Mamma Thornton, Robert Johnson. I was a Bluesman from that moment. It’s a story—as-yet-unpublished—called ‘an odd boy’.
By the time I was 16 the British Blues Boom was in full swing and I was the vocalist of Savage Cabbage – a Blues band made up of Ron Larkin (lead-guitar), Steve Bruce (lead-bass), and Jack Hackman (percussion). I... also played harp and rhythm-bass. Savage Cabbage lasted two years (1968—1970) and died with the demise of the British Blues Boom and the deaths of Ron and Steve. Ron Larkin was a genius and I consider myself lucky to have met him and even luckier to have shared a stage with him. I will not compare him—because no one can hear him now—and anything grandiose I might say would not be intended to reflect on me. Steve Bruce was a brilliant bass player whose virtuosity of 6 String Hagstrom was breathtaking – especially when he played slide. Jack Hackman was a wild man on drums and a good fellow all round. He died some years later in a hang gliding accident – so I am all the remains of the Blues band that boomed at the end of the British Blues Boom.
Frank Schubert was my name—as a lyricist and solo performer—between ’68 and ’72. I chose that name because my maternal grandmother was the niece of Franz Schubert. I enjoyed the musical association – even though my lyrics drew precious little from that fine composer. I was always fond of whimsy. It was whimsical to play a gig on a Sunday night – as people were not likely to attend. The hire of the hall however, was negligible – and the lads were eager to play. Fortunately—when the time came to insert jack-plugs and turn on the amplifiers—the hall was packed to capacity. We had a welcoming audience. People had begun to follow us as we played different venues. These were people who were still keen to hear Blues. The genius lead player, two bass line-up, and insane baritone vocalist had begun to get people’s attention. These people knew just how exceptional Ron and Steve were – and, who forgave Jack for not being Ginger Baker. We launched in with ‘Crossroads’ – and played it pretty much as Robert Johnson would have played it – if he’d lived to buy a Fender Telecaster. It was as different from Eric Clapton’s Cream rendition as we could make it: searingly slow, half an octave lower, and shot through with Ron’s gigantically poignant arpeggios. We finished with ‘Spoonful’ as a long encore; after which I closed as I always did:
“Lightning Ron Larkin, the—main—man, on lead guitar! Hey megalithic meteoric glissando. Thunderstorm Steve Bruce on lead-bass! Hey subterranean slide – seismic megaphone troll hammer! Little Jack Hackman on percussion! Hey – superman of the cymbals and hero of the high-hat! Hey mutant hailstorm cataract! And me on larynx, pharynx, œsophagus, harp—and—rhythm-bass. Big thank you everyone . . . ”
And now I play with a changing line-up of friends called Savage Cabbage when they play along with me. We’re working on putting some CDs together of my old songs. There are about 30 of them and most were never put to melody. It may take a few years – but we’re committed to the task. In the meantime we’ll be playing here and there in ad hoc combinations – as it suits us.
Description
<p>A Serial Killer Plagues an Island Paradise<br /><br />Vigilante detective Emily Stone continues her covert pursuits to find serial killers and child abductors, all under the radar while shadowing police investigations.<br /><br />Emily searches for an abducted nine-year-old girl taken by ruthless and enterprising slave brokers. Following the clues from California to the garden island of Kauai, she begins to piece together the evidence and ventures deep into the jungle.<br /><br />It doesn’t take long before Emily is thrown into the middle of murder, mayhem, and conspiracy. Locals aren’t talking as a serial killer now stalks the island, taking women in a brutal frenzy of ancient superstitions and folklore. Local cops are unprepared for what lies ahead. In a race against the clock, Emily and her team must identify the killer before time runs out.</p>
Story Behind The Book
What inspired you to write this book?
The Arts. My experience of the 1960s—and Art School in the early 1970s—is still a powerful catalyst. There is nostalgia—certainly—but I hope it is tempered with humour and realism. The ethos was one of enthusiastic openness across different fields of human endeavour. I describe it as ‘the lost time’ – but it can be rediscovered by anyone who is open to the Arts. I wish to inspire people to think of themselves as artists – even though they may never paint, write, or engage in any obvious way. Being an artist simply requires a compassionate state of mind that is open to a joyous appreciation of the sense fields.
Reviews
<p>
‘An Odd Boy’ unfolds like its butterflies, one spectacular sentence after another.
I love the meeting of two worlds old and new – in a child who becomes a man.
I love the references to song quotes relevant to the each part of the story.
A delight to read!
</p>
<p>
— Deborah Magone
</p>
