Yes, Gig Review. Philharmonic Hall, Liverpool.

Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating * * * * *

It was perhaps fitting that the spontaneous applause, the sound of appreciation and love, would fill the vast expanse of the Philharmonic Hall before a note was even played, before the band appeared on stage and took their customary glances and smiles out to a sea of known faces and the curious at heart. This was Liverpool’s night to say thanks to the memory of Yes own heart, its own beating machine of 45 years and the applause was enough to recognise that whilst Yes were in the building, Chris Squire was going to be missed on stage.

Rachel Newton, Here’s My Heart Come Take It. Album Review.

Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating 9/10

When someone offers you their heart, is it polite to take it, to hopefully cherish it and keep it safe from harm or does the thought of such responsibility make you breathe strangely, make you feel wary of the possible outcomes, that somewhere down the road you will be the one to break it, tear it apart and scar it forever. When Rachel Newton proposes the notion, Here’s My Heart Come Take It, it is almost a veiled threat, a conjuring of emotions that knows what you are capable of doing to the sensitive organ and should you not take it seriously then the repercussions are too immense to deal with.

Kyla Brox, Throw Away Your Blues. Album Review.

Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating 8.5/10

The sound of the authentic is enough to drive you wild, it can certainly stir the heart strings and play deference to life as it life itself becomes rich and balanced for it; authentic never means toeing a line built by others but it does mean that those preaching it from their soul are genuine, dependable and full of truth, whether you wish to hear it or not.

Ripper Street: Men Of Iron, Men Of Smoke. Television Review.

Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating * * * *

Cast: Matthew Macfadyen, Jerome Flynn, Adam Rothenberg, MyAnna Buring, Lucy Cohu, David Threlfall, David Warner, Rob Compton, Owen Teale, Anna Burnett, Jonas Armstrong, Jack McEvoy, Anna Koval, Matthew Lewis, Jake Mann, Charlene McKenna, Karl Murphy, Benjamin O’ Mahony.

Nothing much has changed in football, there has always been the odd case of corruption, of players being disloyal to the team, of bitter rivalries and even more bitter jealousies; murder though, that it quite new and usually appears in the form of a drug cartel’s anger over a particular player’s actions on the field of play.

Fables: Happily Ever After. Graphic Novel Review.

Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating * * * *

“…And they lived happily ever after”…is the world of fairy tales most valued sentence, it is the culmination of the narrative into which the book closes and the tired parent leaves the eager child hanging on for the next adventure, for the next moment in which the reality of princes saving damsels and ogres munching on the bones of the inquisitive are taken as fact. Fairy Tales don’t really exist but Fables now that’s a different matter and as in the world of humans, nobody truly lives Happily Ever After, the cop out of innocence never runs that’s smooth.

Despised From The Pulpit.

It was never something new, something

that came out of the blue,

I was always an irrelevance to you;

I saw it in your eyes and felt it

strangle me when you would

go out of your way to hold

a smile for me despite knowing

full well you truly despised me.


It was in your handshake,

the “What’s your name again”,

you found such a laugh on that cold

winter’s night in church

and the silent accusations looking down

from self-imposed high and mighty position

Timber Wolves.

I had put the forests with their delicate shades of autumn dying feast behind me and the land of my Grandfather into perspective. The stories he had told me as I sat helpless, intoxicated by adventure and a noble spirit inside the frame of a now large man, weathered by time, eaten away by the wrongs he had caused his family, triumphant in the blasts of heroic failures and the conquering of young delusions and milestones, all were lapped up by a young mind powerless to stop the imagination from flooding over in torrents; wave after wave of images that he brought to life with a sensitive and yet commanding air, I now had buried in the forests where the buses refused to go and where the Timber Wolves sit waiting to harvest the dead.

Pearl Handled Revolver, If The Devil Casts His Net. Album Review.

Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating 8.5/10

Nobody is truly innocent, nobody has the right to ever suggest before any type of unearthly realms jury that they have no stain upon their character or are completely above suspicion, in the end If The Devil Casts His Net wide enough, he will catch us no matter what; it all depends on just how good your lawyers are on whether you get away with it or if you end up filing pokers for the rest of eternity.

Please Breathe.

I shouldn’t see the type of film where anger dwells,

where fury starts to rise in my guts and demands stoking,

where if left unchecked fire burns

and nettle stings my eyes and makes them

burn in their own private nasty Hell, no sanctuary,

no quarter given, no refuge, no safe haven;

instead all I end up thinking about is you

and how I was not able to save you,

how I let you down as you lay

on the cold Salisbury pavement,

the sound of an ambulance drawing near

The Psychotherapists’ Sewing Kit.

The sound of Carol King’s Tapestry

fills the blue sweet room

and whilst I tell you that I am falling

asleep, that my eyes are feeling

the smarting torture of days

and the end of times,

you sit, cross-legged, but in readiness

for a career in psychotherapy on my

gnawed through and tender seat

and smile, the analyst is in, the twinge

of saying too much and being judged

in rocking horse silence… I ache

too much and I feel like I am being eaten,