Sun Valley blues and ELO

February 29, 2016 by KJK Leave a Comment

It’s Sunday morning here in Ketchum, the village at the base of the chairlifts at Sun Valley, Idaho. Arrived here late Thursday afternoon after seven hour drive from Big Sky. Friday, my knee was too sore and swollen to ski so I stayed put. That’s two days off. Yesterday, Saturday, I couldn’t stand it, sitting inside at one of the world’s great ski resorts. Went up at lunchtime and only lasted half an hour. The pain in my right knee was intense and I couldn’t put weight on it, when the broken leg was the downhill ski in the turn. I like to try and bend that downhill ski in the turn, less chance of it skidding away. Couldn’t do it and nearly fell a couple of times on a blue run. I couldn’t believe it.

What I saw of Sun Valley looked good, although they really need some snow. There are some big wide blacks, which were closed but I couldn’t ski them anyway so I didn’t feel too bad. Spent the afternoon dosed up on anti-inflammatories with a bag of snow around my swollen knee. The joys of rehab.

So today is my fourth day in a row not skiing. That’s a lot in a three week holiday, especially as I may not be able to go up again tomorrow.

So what do you do when you are stuck inside at a ski resort? Listen to the Electric Light Orchestra of course. In 1977 I had just arrived in London after a year spent travelling across Asia. It was the era of Grease, Saturday Night Fever and disco balls. I had gone right off music. The guys I was flatting with were all mad kiwi rugby palyers, except one, Martin who was a musician. One night after we came home from rugby practice and were having a late-night feed, Martin put a record on an old Gramophone and an amazing sound floated around the room. It boomed back and forth inside my head.

“Shit, Martin. What’s that?” I asked, of the piece of black vinyl going around on the turntable. elo

“It’s called Out of the Blue. Electric Light Orchestra. Just came out,” he replied.

Indeed it had. It was released virtually the day I arrived in London around November 1977, and it elevated ELO from relatively unknown, fringe musicians to one of the most enduring bands of all time. Some of those songs have stayed with me ever since, songs such as Telephone Line, Turn to Stone and the ultimate feel-good song, Mr Blue Sky. But if any song has resonated in the fog of my brain on this trip, it is the ballad, Wild West Hero. I don’t remember this song from London but it’s been going around and around in my head all through the skiing sessions I’ve had on this trip. The music comes with me when I leave the hotel room and it plays on an endless loop in my head. Maybe it’s because Montana and Idaho are quintessential Wild West locations.

What prompted this return to my past musical loves was a wander into a bookstore at LAX during the stopover between Sydney and Bozeman, Montana. I noticed a copy of a book, Jeff Lynne, The Electric Light Orchestra: Before and after. Jeff Lynne was one of the founding members of ELO and is considered its great, creative genius.

J Lynne “That might be interesting,” I thought and bought it on a whim along with another couple of books. What transpired was a wicked collusion between the book and iTunes and someone with a lot of time on their hands. As each song was mentioned in the book, during the band’s development, I would race over and listen to it on iTunes. You can waste a lot of time doing this but it’s a great way of discovering songs that I hadn’t previously heard: Ma-Ma-Ma Belle, Diary of Horace Wimp and Do Ya jumped out at me and have been getting lottsa air time.

It’s a beautiful blue day outside. Wish I could go up on the mountain.

The other thing you can do when stuck inside at a ski resort is read. And I’ve done plenty of that. 13 Hours in Benghazi : the inside account of what really happened was another book I bought at LAX. I thought this would be interesting as I didn’t know much about it. The raids and deaths of American servicemen gained only scant mention in the Australian press. I knew it had been dogging Hillary Clinton’s election campaign during the Primaries. Terrific book. An unbiased account of two simultaneous raids on the US diplomatic and nearby CIA compounds in Benghazi, Libya. The author doesn’t try to sheet home blame,

…… but……….

any fair observer of the events in this book would be Benghazi lead to the inescapable conclusion that if you leave school and can’t write your name and you get caught, aged sixteen, having sexual congress with a horse, while simultaneously managing to burn down your father’s barn, you have an excellent chance of ending up in the CIA. Enough said. An excellent addition to US military history about an incident that is going to blight Clinton’s campaign if, as looks likely, two days before Super Tuesday, that she will be the Democrat candidate for the 2016 Presidential election.

Staying only 100 metres from the main chairlift at Pennay’s at River Run. It’s owned by an Australian, Alan Pennay, who has lived here for 40 years. Have met him several times. Classic bloke. Almost as famous here as Ernest Hemingway. I wonder what it would be like to live in a small community like this for most of you life. Very secure in some ways and very limiting in others, I expect. He seems happy enough.

Strange Magic, by ELO playing on my travelling BOSE speaker. Beautiful song. Lovely, sunny day outside. Life is a magpie, some black some white. Could be worse, iTunes may never have been invented. Thank you Steve Jobs.

Not waving, drowning

November 7, 2015 by KJK Leave a Comment

After a tumultuous week I didn’t feel like going down to Balmoral for the Saturday swim, and got up late. I haven’t been down there for a month. They will clean out my locker if I’m not careful. It was a warm, sunny morning outside. The rain seems to be gone. The ocean looked too good to ignore. I grabbed my flippers and snorkel and wandered down to Manly, to my old haunt, the small Manly Surf club tucked under the hotel, next to Manly Wine bar. My gear was hanging on its peg, untouched, where I left it, a month ago. As I walked over to the beach after changing, I noticed Rob Boylan, rinsing off under one of the external showers. We exchanged pleasantries and he offered to join me on the swim. He had already had two swims that morning but said he would walk to Shelly and swim back with me. I readily agreed

The ocean is deceiving, especially when you haven’t been in it for four weeks and you aren’t feeling 100% anyway. I put my flippers on at the water’s edge, pulled the snorkel down, waited for a break and took off. I was going fabulously for the first 50m then looked up and saw three “frothy tops” i.e. breaking waves heading my way. In a mad panic, I got over the first one but didn’t make it over the second. I discovered what it’s like to have a wave break down the narrow confines of a snorkel. It’s like having a salt water enema, only through your mouth. First stop is the stomach. It’s immediately full of water, with the overflow in your lungs. I came up spluttering, with one wave still top go. Kicking madly and going as fast as my sore neck would allow, I made it over the third wave and paused to catch my breath and empty my lungs of unwanted saltwater. This wasn’t a great start for my return to the ocean.

Nevertheless, the rest of the swim was uneventful, although with a snorkel and your head down, it’s hard to swim in a straight line. Rob was waiting at Shelly when I arrived and we swam back along the coastline, which I call the “Tour des Weeds.” We had trouble pulling into Manly around the point as there was a strong nor’easter blowing and the rip was on fire.

bee We made it through the breakers, although it’s hard to look behind you with a snorkel. Never mind. I had a long leisurely shower just letting the hot water run down on my sore neck. It’s very soothing. On the walk home, I jammed the headphones on as usual but did something I haven’t done for many years – I listened to the Bee Gees. I love their early music. When I was in high school, with a primitive crystal set hooked an external metal downpipe, I was mesmerised by the original, Australian mega-band. Songs such as Spicks and Specks, Massachusetts, To love somebody, Words and I gotta get a message to you, were songs that kept me company all through those last years in boarding school. The Bee Gees were an Australian version of the Beach Boys for me. Time moved on. Ten years later I was working in a restaurant in the small principality of Andorra between France and Spain. One afternoon I came in after skiing and heard a noise that sounded like a bush turkey being castrated with a pair of fencing pliers. It was the Bee Gees singing Night Fever in falsetto. I thought it was diabolical then and I still do. It hardly even qualifies as music. Stayin’ Alive was an equal bag of crap that plagued me all through that season in the snow. The restaurant patrons in Andorra wanted it played all the time. It scarred me psychologically and I don’t think I’ve ever recovered. Anyway, it was nice to revisit the early songs on a walk back from Manly on a sunny, Saturday morning after a swim with a friend, with not too much pain in my arm.

After a leisurely breakfast it was the now familiar Saturday afternoon ritual of the Virgin gym at French’s Forest. It was another lazy one. Once more I got to 100 rpm, five times on level 10 on the stationary bike. This time, however I also reached 100 rpm five times on level 11. My heart rate got up 133 bpm. I was pretty pleased with that.

The rest was pretty lacklustre

Adductor……………………20 x 40kgs x 2

Leg Extension……………….15 reps x 30kg x 2 both legs

Leg Curl …………………..15 reps x 30kg both legs

Leg Press………………….10 reps x 60kg x 2 both legs warm up

Leg Press………………….10 reps x 70kg x 2 both legs

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is a very lazy afternoon in the gym. I’m a bit disappointed that I’m not game to try and leg press 80 kg yet. I’m frightened of injury is the simple answer. I’ll ask Belinda what I should do.

Just play it loud! OK.

October 25, 2015 by KJK Leave a Comment

Saturday and I couldn’t swim so after getting the papers out of the way I decided to hit the Virgin gym at French’s Forest for a couple of hours. I know gyms are peculiar places but for some reason today as I walked out of the lift into the foyer, I realised how strange they really are. The racket was deafening. I walked up to the receptionist to give her my card:

Kelly (shouting): “It’s so noisy in here. Why do you have to have the music up so loud?”

Receptionist (shouting): “Sorry I didn’t hear you. What did you say?”

Kelly (muttering): “Never mind, doesn’t matter.”

Receptionist (shouting) “Have a nice session.”

I don’t know why gyms have such loud music and it’s awful music anyway. Mindless disco music or endless Rap riffs. It drives me nuts. I asked one of my daughters why they do this and she said it’s supposed to be inspirational. What is inspirational about the Bee Gees doing Stayin’ Alive for the millionth time or some worn out Donna Summer disco music that was idiotic 30 years ago and even more idiotic now. I’m sure that most employees of gyms must end up stone deaf as well as have a musical enema. Richard Branson will, one day, cop a raft of lawsuits from his Virgin gym chain for deafening a whole generation of personal trainers and clients at the gym, as well as ruining for ever the possibility of them appreciating good music. Industrial deafness during rehabilitation is one of the many challenges you may face after a broken leg.

I changed and walked out to get on the bike and get the session underway. The noise from people running on treadmills, clanking barbells, and banging the weights on the various machines was deafening when mixed with the discordant cacophony of the dreadful music. I couldn’t help thinking of that wonderful scene in Good Morning Vietnam where Robin Williams, playing the music D.J Adrian Cronauer, takes a call from an artillery Sergeant out in the jungle.

Cronauer: We’re talking out in the field today. Hi, what’s your name?

Caller (shouting): My name’s Bob Fliber!

Cronauer: Bob, what do you do?

Caller (Shouting) : I’m in artillery!

Cronauer: Thank you, Bob. Can we play anything for you?

Caller (Shouting really loudly) : Anything! Just play it loud! Okay?

Really funny. Watch it here

Today’s session

Recumbent Bike………..Warm up 30 mins. Level 8/9/10. Speed 70rpm/max 100rpm. 303kcl. Distance 11.3km

On the bike today got up to 100rpm on level 10. Heart rate to 127bpm. Pretty pleased with that. Deaf but sweating like a pig.

Leg Extension………….15 reps x 30kg x 4 both legs

Adductor…………………….15 x 35kgs

Adductor…………………….20 x 35kgs

Leg Curl ……………..10 reps x 30kg x 2 both legs

Leg Press……………..10 reps x 50kg both legs warm up

Leg Press……………..10 reps x 60kg x 2 both legs

Leg Press……………..10 reps x 70kg both legs

Leg Press……………..20 reps x 70kg both legs

Bosu ball …………………..50 side steps

Freeform plate ………………20 squats each leg

I am weary (let me rest)

October 14, 2015 by KJK Leave a Comment

While tidying up some of my CDs this evening, I made a remarkable discovery concerning Gillian Welch. I came across the CD soundtrack to the Coen brothers film, O Brother, Where Art Thou which was released in 2000. Looking at the sleeve notes, I saw that Gillian Welch sang on two of the songs with Alison Krauss: “I’ll fly away” (Welsh and Krauss) and “Didn’t leave nobody but the baby,” (Emmylou Harris, Alison Krauss, Gillian Welch). I first heard this soundtrack 15 years ago and played it until it nearly wore out. I was excited that someone had made a movie with music that I loved but wasn’t allowed to play in my home – it gave my wife and daughters seizures. This film vindicated my love of bluegrass music and I didn’t feel like such a weirdo, being the only person in Australia who had heard of Alison Krauss and the Cox family. This film really put bluegrass music on the map. My kids still hated it and Hilary believes she was deeply scarred by having to listen to bluegrass music as a teenager. On this soundtrack, tucked away, was Gillian Welch and I wouldn’t even find out who she was until a broken leg intervened years later.

But the great song on the CD was the Cox Family classic, “I am weary (let me rest).” I have always found this a moving song, a little bit sad but one of the best the Cox family played and an absolute classic of American bluegrass music.

Ah, music as therapy. Nothing like it to cure pain – physical and metaphorical. God created pain to plague humans and show us what a bastard He can be, but then He felt guilty and invented music. Tonight, I really am weary and in pain. Please let me rest.

Books and music as rehabilitation therapy

October 11, 2015 by KJK Leave a Comment

A very quiet Sunday. My neck was still hurting when I woke up but it may be getting a little better. Still can’t swim. I got up about 8 AM and watched a recording of the Wales v Australia Rugby test at Twickenham which I’d taped overnight. Amazing display of heroism by the Australians who were down to 13 men at one stage. They also popped the Welsh scrum a few times. Very rare to see an Australian rugby scrum being used as an offensive weapon. Hard to believe that I played a game at Twickenham in the late 1970s when London New Zealand got to the finals of the Middlesex 7s . Long time ago. I was going to the gym but as I packed my bag, noticed that my hamstrings were really tight after yesterday’s session so went for a walk down to Manly instead. Shoulder hurt a bit but it was bearable. Listened to Alison Krauss singing There is a Reason on the way out to Fairy Bower. God it’s a beautiful song. It’s from the So Long So Wrong album which is one of the first of hers that I bought back in 1997. I never tire of listening to it. The harmonies send shivers down my spine. Krauss

Why do we suffer, crossing off the years

There must be a reason for it all

Hope she’s right.

Didn’t want to go back and sit in my apartment on my own so I called in to Manly Wine bar, got myself a seat at the window and had a cup of coffee. Read the Sunday papers and watched the world go by outside. I love being perched up there, looking at the ocean and seeing everyone going about a peaceful Sunday. Australia is an amazing place. You know that no one will ever let a bomb off and blow you out into the street in a crowded place like that. At least you hope not.

Walked back and spent most of the afternoon reading. On Friday I finished an Australian book called Chasing the ACE by Nicholas J Johnson. It’s about two conmen in Melbourne. It’s fiction but he obviously knows a lot about the trade and it was quite amusing if only light. Hemingway and John Steinbeck would have had a field day with characters and subject matter like that.

Friday night I started another book called The Cartel by Don Winslow. I’d only decided to read it after seeing a review in the Sydney Morning Herald which praised it highly. It was also mentioned in a review of a recently released film called Sicario. A quote, on the cover, from James Ellroy, one of my favourite authors, caught my eye.

“This is the War and Peace of dope-war books.”

Only James Ellroy could say that. However, he’s pretty right. It’s a book about the drug wars in Mexico and I can’t put it down, although I’m not normally interested in this subject matter. Narco books about drugs, drug dealers or drug users just leave me a bit cold. Nevertheless, he’s a good writer who knows how to write with a broad sweep in the plot. I wish I could write fiction like this. I even took it to dinner tonight to read in the restaurant – Manly Fish cafe. I’ve become the weird, lonely old guy that sits in the corner, by himself, reading a book at dinner. I reckon it doesn’t matter if you have a good book to read.

It has a great line, Every man needs a fallen women in his life to rescue. Wish I’d written that.

Books and music as rehabilitation therapy for a broken leg – cheaper than booze, not as nasty and habit-forming as drugs and hey, they don’t make you fat!.

Barry in trouble

October 3, 2015 by KJK Leave a Comment

Saturday dawned hot and still. I woke with a dull pain in my neck extending down into my left shoulder blade. It wasn’t the hot, burning pain that has plagued me over the last fortnight just a constant ache. It’s nevertheless debilitating. On a brighter note I have no pain from my broken leg. It’s gone! In the mornings when I wake up, the first thing I feel is a sore neck. Another big positive -I can now hyper-extend my right leg, the damaged one, as much as I can hyper extend, the left, unbroken leg. This has been a big achievement and it’s only occurred in the last week. No leg pain. Thank you God, at least for that. However, You are giving me the shits by moving the aggravation from one place to another inside my body. No complaints. Really! But please stop doing it. OK.

At 630am arrived at Balmoral for the Saturday swim. Just the typical 1 km race which I didn’t feel much like and undertook in a state of extreme apathy. I had promised Barry that I would do some extra kilometres with him after the race but felt even less like doing that. Half way through the race decided I’d let him do the extra training on his own. When I arrived on the beach he was waiting and suggested we swim down to the baths at the southern end of Balmoral. That’s about a 1,500m round trip. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I didn’t feel like it. Turned around and dived back into the water. We set off on a beautiful calm day with a low tide exposing the reef at the end of Edwards Beach. I tried to give it a wide berth. Clean, warm water – it must be about 19°C. Because of my stiff neck had trouble breathing properly and swallowed a lot of water. When we arrived at the other end I noticed Barry was rubbing his elbow and left arm. He has been having trouble now for the last couple of weeks. Diagnosed with an inflamed Ulnar nerve in his arm. Might be a nerve root problem. Pain shoots into his fingertips. It has been keeping him out of the water most days and he is very concerned about it. He thought it was getting better. This is obviously a set back for him and he couldn’t hide the disappointment. I realised standing there in the water, that our proposed swim from Palm Beach to Manly in December must now be in some doubt as neither of us has been able to train properly. The following conversation ensued as we caught our breath.

“How the is your neck feeling?” Barry asked.

“Not too bad. I’ts more a dull ache than a sharp pain. What about you?”

“It’s not good,” he said, rubbing his arm and stretching it. “I can feel the tingling all the way down into my fingers.”

“No problem. If we can’t do the swim in December, we’ll simply postpone it until the Autumn. It’s better to do the swim when we are fully fit than attempt it when we are not and fail,” I said.

“I agree,” Barry replied, continuing to rub his arm.

“We’re getting old, mate. We just can’t do the things that we did when we were 20. Bodies just won’t stand up to it. There’s no way we could do a 30 km swim if either of us are in a lot of pain. It’s better to get fixed up and then try again.”

Barry agreed and we stood there chatting on a beautiful spring morning in Sydney harbour, the sun beating down on us, the water crystal glowing.

We headed back to the club. Strangely enough, by the time we got back there, I didn’t feel too bad. The hot water from the shower running on my left shoulder is incredibly soothing and I think the massage I had during the week really helped.

The rest of Saturday was quiet. I came home, looked at some houses for sale, had breakfast, read the Saturday papers and fell asleep for a couple of hours. In the afternoon I went for my normal long walk out to Shelly Beach and as I walked along I was playing Apple Music and a song came on called, I want to Sing that Rock ‘and Roll by Gillian Welch. Hadn’t heard the song before but it went out of my phone into my ear and lodged in my brain. Thank you Steve Jobs. Apparently the song is from an album called Time (The Revelator). Like Nancy Griffiths, Gillian Welch’s voice immediately captivated me. I’m not sure if it’s US folk or West Texas blues. I don’t think it’s bluegrass. I couldn’t stop listening to this song. Played it all the way out to Fairy Bower and back to Manly Wine bar where I stopped for a late afternoon cold beer. Watched the late afternoon crowd stroll past on a busy, warm Saturday afternoon in Manly. Maybe this broken leg is at least worthwhile as I have discovered the music of Nancy Griffiths and now Gillian Welch. Thank you God, at least for that. And thank you for sending us Steve Jobs. I know you have called him back but at least I know there will be good music in Heaven when I get there.

I want to sing that rock and roll.
I want to ‘lectrify my soul,
‘Cause everybody been making a shout
So big and loud, been drowning me out.
I want to sing that rock and roll.

I want to reach that glory land.
I want to shake my savior’s hand,
And I want to sing that rock and roll.
I want to ‘lectrify my soul,
‘Cause everybody been making a shout
So big and loud, been drowning me out.
I want to sing that rock and roll.

I been a-traveling near and far,
But I want to lay down my old guitar,
And I want to sing that rock and roll.
I want to ‘lectrify my soul,
‘Cause everybody been making a shout
So big and loud, been drowning me out.
I want to sing that rock and roll.

Gillian Welch and David Rawlings at the Filmore Theater

Gillian Welch at the Filmore Theatre

Beautiful ear candy kiddies. Check this out ……….. I want to sing that rock and roll

Music as therapy for a broken tibial plateau. Yes.

I just realised that Gillian Welch sings Hickory Wind on Return of the Grievous Angel, a tribute to the late Gram Parsons by fellow musicians. I bought the CD in 1999 and have been listening to it ever since. One of my favourites and only just realised she is on it. Been listening to her for 16 years.