The Great Invasion of Sidmouth Town

Ravencam's finest hour as the 1000 voice workshop explodes onto the streets of folkie-town.

The Wonderful Videos of Em

These gorgeous film clips are the work of the delightful Emily. We recommend her to you. If you like her work, you will find more here.

Enjoy their delicious noirness. (and blancness of course).

Veni, Vidi, Spooky

Across the skies we have come, trailing clouds of stories. The first half is now done and it is time for this little spooky to return to the forest. The blog has been a little neglected of late, but more news will follow in a flashback kind of a way.

The tales must be told. The invasion of a seaside town, the day the raven danced, and the many wonders of the castle.

Oi

Where we are

The way of the Spooky Man is complex. Our path is strewn with fallen hair and lined with black fabric. We come together in various combinations determined by geography, circumstance and whim. Each of our journeys, both individual and collective, is different, as we explore the vast territory that lies between the thug and the wimp.

We bond around the call to sing. Loosely organised (and both loose and organised) we form a single rank: from tops, though bottoms and ultimately to the middle. We sing what we are told, but we do so in our own way. We remain motionless, but we each have our own way of moving. We are both fleet of foot and slow to move. We are first among our peers, but often last to arrive. In our private lives we can be found on the loftiest academic peak and on the vilest sinks of human depravity. The spooky Man is both special and an Everyman in black.

Our colourless costumes span our varied histories and approaches to life. We are one-horned Viking. We are the pirate, the lost and confused, the overly-confident and the wise. We are occasionally in complete command of all before us and sometimes lost in our own crowd. We are often just jazzed to be on the show. We are pointless. We are grand.

Beards, hats, and a black-clad wall of sound. We are the Spooky Men.

From time to time and place to place

The raven faces down the accused bird-nappers in Cambridge:




Stirling eats the weight of his face in "Trio of cheeses, fried egg and chips"



Ash was unavailable for photographs, dye to non-compliance with a 1-way sign while cycling.

John was left behind at Toddington Services (sniff).




And thw workshop at Warwick attracted a largish crowd. Much learning was disseminated.

Boil water, the baby's coming.

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Before/After

A tea urn on the baptismal font marked our visit to Leeds. This combination of complementary, yet conflicting themes typifies the tension which can be a feature of Spooky gigs. There is the creative, the "new", the hope for what might be, contrasting with the need to stop and relax, to ease the burdens of the day with refreshments. Perhaps even the hope of a biscuit.

There were fortunately, no calls for babies to be anointed during our performance. No names were distributed. No tea-bags harmed. Rafters were however filled and there were gleeful crys for more and more. We obliged. Veni, vidi, visa (we came, we saw, we merchandised).

We made time on our long drives for the seeing of the various sites by which we passed. And see the sites we did. Sites of great significance. Sites that would make the sorest eyes soar. The Angel of the North seemed to us to encapsulate the spirit of pointless grandeur which we dedicate ourselves to pursuing. Enormous, bold, proudly overlooking its home and ultimately unable to do anything about that which it observes. Spooky.

There was indeed much driving to be done. Each day saw us in a new place, new motorway services to explore, new roundabouts to go around. Ravencam recorded much of both the places we went and the peoples whom we passed as we went there.



This photo shows the good billeting folk of Ashton Keynes, a village full of welcome and loveliness. The tiny Thames flows through this village. Like our tour it is sweet and pure but later becomes a torrent passing through the smoke that is big.

In the course of his wandering about, your correspondent discovered the perfect solution to the "hat-hair" dilemna which plagues all the Spooky Men:

Stylish, timeless and durable, it is sure to become the model for future performance-wear.

On discipline and driving

This disturbingly-marked school bench indicated to us that the good burghers of Corbridge take a stern view of schoolboy misbehaviour. We approved of their approach generally, but had some misgivings (fear does not always make you louder).

We took part in several knowledge-dissemination sessions at the Corbridge Middle School. All were well-pleased.





A sunny day in Sheffield sees the battle-hardened and world-weary Spooky Men progressing purposefully towards Oxford and all that the fabled city of learning has to offer.