Tribute to Venus Carmichael


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Breaking News – 10th anniversary celebration!

In or around August this year (we haven’t kept the exact date, we’re just waayy too rock n’ roll to do such a thing) Kelly and I have been celebrating the life and works of Venus Carmichael for 10 years. We were keen to mark the occasion in some way, because what started as a side project has now become a special thing that I know we both cherish as a real bright spot in our lives. Whatever else is going on, when I strap on that guitar and she picks up that tambourine we know that, at some point, maybe not every song on every night, but at some point, musical magic is going to happen!

 

The Dalriada

So. Ms Brooks has secured a couple of rooms of the Dalriada, Portobello, for the evening of Sunday, the 19th August, and we egregiously request your presence! It’s a great place where I’ve only done spoken word before, but it’s a regular music pub, with great acoustics, a friendly atmosphere, and good food and beverage.

As you can see from the pics, it’s along the seafront at Porty, so easily accessible from the centre of town by various buses. There’ll be us, and a couple of other bands too!

 

One of the interior spaces

More details soon, of course, but in the meantime, a special shout out to Fife fans: I’m thinking of investigating a bus to take us there, if there are enough of you interested, so if you are, please get in touch via the usual channels as soon as possible and I’ll look into costs. It would be great to see you there!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sunset on Porty. Pics courtesy of Dalriada website.

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Venus Awakes

Things have been quiet on the Venus front since our last gig in May (see pic, with our new backing singer!)

However, while we gather ourselves for more Venus-related activity, the woman herself has resurfaced with a key bit of her life story on her blog. We’ve no idea what happens in between these posts: she’s not a techy type, our heroine, so there’s no social media posting or idle chit-chat: just occasional slices of a life lived on the edges of the conventional.

This post deals with the loss of her father, which going by the Marie Rose reference, must have happened in 1982.

The Marry Rosie

Stupid old bugger. Stupid, stubborn old bugger. He’d retired, two years before; given up the sea as a bad job.

I can just picture him there, standing at the bar in one of the pubs down at the harbour, flat cap pulled over his head, jeans, boots and gansey, the proper fisherman’s jersey Mum still couldn’t get off him; the one that stank of seawater, cigarettes and fish. Hands knotted by arthritis, features carved nut-brown by the wind and weather.

And Peter Thom coming up to him and saying, Davy was laid low, and they were a man short, could he – ?

To read more, go here

Pic: Kenny Mackay