The Wound, So They Say, Is Healed.

The wound is healed, new skin

grown and you cannot see

the join, where the ribs were exposed

to the harsh light of the surgeon’s eye

in the centre of his forehead, bones

but no muscles, convulsing, pumping,

in and out, in and out

watered down blood

now coursing through proper veins

and on time, you cannot see the join,

but I can, I still feel the tick

of the open pulse, I see the pain

of open heart surgery before me

and left exposed for a month,

John Stamp, Franklin 54. Album Review.

Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating * * * *

No matter how long you spend away from the pursuit of creativity, given just a single moment in the company of one who can present the muse with generosity and with a keen eye for your own heartbeat’s desire, soon enough you find your way back to the place in which the diverted sign post sent you down a road which was fulfilling and wholesome but to which arguably caused you to be immersed too long, you studied every notch and cranny in this place and now soon enough the urge to sing once again is paramount.

Blackberry Smoke, Find A Light. Album Review.

Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating * * * *

We are nothing but flesh and bone that walks an Earth that is often painful, frequently bitter and habitually elusive. We find our way only by listening carefully to our souls, by wandering, often without hope or company, that one hand in the darkness that gives us reassurance, until finally through the dark, the clawing mist and the years of doubt, we succeed in the treasure of the universe as we Find A Light to guide us to our natural surroundings.

Thunderbird. Album Review.

Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating 8.5/10

When the battle cry is over, all that is left running and garnering admiring looks from the stunned but energised crowd who witness the spin of the wheels and the heat, the sheer plume of fire and smoke that comes out of the exhausts and causes the thin layer of reason between Earth and the sky to cloud over and mingle in the sound of an engine beating with excitement, when all is said and done, only the Thunderbird remains.

Kacey Musgraves, Golden Hour. Album Review.

Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating * * * *

The trailer always moves on, by an artist’s own definition it cannot remain in the same place forever, how else would the same scenery inspire the muse or its creator to keep on producing new and exciting material if that were the case.

Martin Rowson: Karl Marx & Friedrich Engels’ The Communist Manifesto. Graphic Novel Review.

Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating 8.5/10

It is only apt that in the times we find ourselves in that Communism should be once more a topic of serious debate, that the works of Karl Marx, in the bicentenary of his birth, and that of Friedrich Engels should be considered an alternative to the unpalatable rhetoric that comes with the ever diminishing responsibility that Capitalism has shown to be grateful to shed.

Come Home. Television Review.

Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating 8.5/10

Cast: Christopher Eccleston, Paula Malcomson, Anthony Boyle, Brandon Brownlee, Darcy McNeeley, Lola Pettigrew, Kerri Quinn, Rhys Dunlop, Patrick O’Kane, Susan Ateh, Brid Brennan, Seainin Brennan, Joanne Crawford, Derbhie Crotty, Daryl Foster, Roisin Gallagher, Perveen Hussain, Grainne Keenan, Rory Keenan, Paul Kennedy, Edward MacLiam, Eleanor Methven, Clara Onyemere, Shashi Rami, Sean Sloan, Abe Smyth.

Animal’s Farmed.

Society’s thoughts on writers are wrong,

and shown to be flawed

when celebration

is seen, waving the Dollar

the pound and the Yen

around like confetti

at a bride’s sixth wedding,

when a letter in an author’s handwriting

is sold

at auction

for more money than society

allowed him to live on

as he began to close his eyes.

 

Ian D. Hall 2018

Ritchie Blackmore’s Rainbow. Memories In Rock II. Album Review.

Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating 9/10

Memories of Rock gigs, the nights in which you went as a crowd to have pre-planned fun and to toast the future of the band you had made your way, perhaps for a couple of hundred miles, to see, or the strange sensation of finding yourself alone in a crowded auditorium, wide-eyed and feeling the passion steam roller through you as if you were the only person on the planet that it had managed to ignore all your life and was now Hell bent on making sure you were blessed with the memory forever.