I had no idea it would be so difficult to choose just 30 songs to share. There are so many gaps, I’m seriously thinking of ways to incorporate more music into my blog — either as a regular “thing” I do, or as some sort of challenge/prompt. More to come on this …
But as Seneca (and Semisonic (1)) said “every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end”, so first things first.
For the last post I guess I could have chosen The Last Post. No, not really.
My list of potential finale numbers was almost as long as the month itself, but in the end, I’ve chosen Lie in the Land, written and performed by Eva Prowse as part of the band Fly My Pretties.
I began the month with a New Zealand artist, and an image taken on Greenhithe Wharf. I’m ending it the same way.
I can’t find the lyrics of this song online anywhere, but it does include the lines:
Rolling on, rolling on
How do you find where you belong
Rolling on, rolling home,
Lie in the land that you come from
Sarah at Art Expedition has hosted 30 Days 30 Songs during June. You can hear all of her musical choices by visiting her blog. Her final song is one of my favourites too.
It seems like winter arrived with indecent haste this month. Cold air, lowering clouds, morning mists, not to mention the odd thunderstorm or two. On a scale of one to indoor beanie-wearing, we seem to be hovering on Ugg boots.
The first half of the month disappeared in a haze of flu-recovery, but in the last couple of weeks, the Big T and I managed to get away for a long weekend in Tauranga (with a detour to Field Days), and discover a regional park that could become our new favourite place.
Field Days, Mystery Creek, Waikato, NZ. Not really doing justice to a four-day event that attracts over 130,000 visitors. Image: Su Leslie 2019
We’ve been telling ourselves for years that we really should go to Field Days. It’s a huge agricultural trade show, and useful for the Big T to do some business networking. But it also gives a fascinating snapshot of an industry that has both real and mythical significance to the NZ economy and psyche.
It was bigger, noisier and more confusing than I expected, but I am glad we went.
Trusting there is actually a bridge behind the mist. Driving to Field Days. Image: Su Leslie 2019
Image: Su Leslie 2019
I love the sign. What it doesn’t say is that you probably have to buy it at birth to actually achieve that claim. Image: Su Leslie 2019
New Zealand — where police vehicles include tractors. Image: Su Leslie 2019
Never to busy to check FaceBook — or more likely the Field Days app. Image: Su Leslie 2019
Looking as overwhelmed as I felt. Image: Su Leslie 2019
After exhausting ourselves looking at diggers, chainsaws, water flow indicators (as you do) and the latest from Swanndri (iconic Kiwi clothing — what’s not to love about scratchy woollen bush-shirts?), we headed to Tauranga where the skies were blue, and the weather practically tropical (for a while at least).
McLaren Falls Park, Kaimai, NZ. Image: Su Leslie
Sunset, Kulim Park, Tauranga, NZ. Image: Su Leslie 2019
Twilight, Tauranga, NZ. Image: Su Leslie 2019
I think this is the remains of a punga log, but I’m not sure. Seen at McLaren Falls Park, BoP, NZ. Image: Su Leslie 2019
Image: Su Leslie 2019
Image: Su Leslie 2019
Seen on the wall of an empty building, Tauranga, NZ. Image: Su Leslie 2019
Image: Su Leslie 2019
Detail of punga log (or whatever it is). Image: Su Leslie 2019
The Pacific Ocean from Ohope Lookout, BoP, NZ. Image: Su Leslie 2019
Twilight, from the apartment balcony, Tauranga. The next residents might not be so lucky as there’s a multi-storey carpark being built next door. Image: Su Leslie 2019
Sunshine on Ohope, BoP, NZ. Image: Su Leslie 2019
While we were there, the Tauranga Art Gallery had an exhibition of work by local artist, Natasha Cousens. Called ‘Let Me Tell You a Story’ it consisted of sculptures created from clay, fibreglass and textiles; all referencing the wildlife imagery common in fairy tales. It’s the artist’s first solo show, and I found the pieces slightly disturbing and sad, but beautiful and exquisitely made.
A rainy-day visit to the Mahurangi Peninsula, just north of Auckland allowed us to discover Scandrett Regional Park. Formerly a farm owned by the Scandrett family, the park still contains the old homestead, with its beautiful cottage garden. Around the coast a little, at Scott’s Landing in Mahurangi Regional Park, the rather grander Scott family homestead still exists too. Both houses have been preserved; the latter by the Auckland Civic Trust which holds occasional open days.
Hauraki Gulf, from Scandrett Regional Park, NZ. Image: Su Leslie 2019
Old-fashioned roses, homestead garden at Scandrett Regional Park. Image: Su Leslie 2019
New growth, Pohutukawa tree on Scandrett beach. Image: Su Leslie 2019
Scott’s Landing, Mahurangi Peninsula, NZ. Image: Su Leslie 2019
Scott’s Landing, Mahurangi, NZ. Image: Su Leslie 2019
Scandrett homestead. Image: Su Leslie 2019
Image: Su Leslie 2019
Scott Homestead, Scott’s Landing, Mahurangi, NZ. Image: Su Leslie 2019
Beach, Scandrett Regional Park, Mahurangi, NZ. Image: Su Leslie 2019
During June I’ve taken part in 30 Days, 30 Songs, hosted by my dear friend Sarah at Art Expedition. It’s been lovely to each day choose a piece of music and reflect on what it means to me. There has also been a certain amount of self-imposed stress, deciding what’s in and what’s not. So you won’t be surprised that I’m going to sneak an extra track into this post.
I love Sentimental Walk, from the 1981 film Diva. It is very like Erik Satie’s Gymnopédie No.1 — another piece I love. Both make me think of Paris, but also of wintertime rain.
Day 29 of 30 Days, 30 Songs. I’m looking at the list of possible songs I made at the start and wondering why so few have been posted — and how those that have made the cut.
Simple choice today. Patti Smith is incredibly talented and Because the Night (written with Bruce Springsteen) is a great song.
Take me now, baby, here as I am Pull me close, try and understand Desire is hunger is the fire I breathe Love is a banquet on which we feed
[Pre-Chorus] Come on now try and understand The way I feel when I’m in your hands Take my hand come undercover They can’t hurt you now Can’t hurt you now, can’t hurt you now
[Chorus] Because the night belongs to lovers Because the night belongs to lust Because the night belongs to lovers Because the night belongs to us
[Verse 2] Have I doubt when I’m alone Love is a ring, the telephone Love is an angel disguised as lust Here in our bed until the morning comes
[Pre-Chorus] Come on now try and understand The way I feel under your command Take my hand as the sun descends They can’t touch you now Can’t touch you now, can’t touch you now
[Chorus] Because the night belongs to lovers Because the night belongs to lust Because the night belongs to lovers Because the night belongs to us
[Bridge] With love we sleep With doubt the vicious circle Turn and burns Without you I cannot live Forgive, the yearning burning I believe it’s time, too real to feel So touch me now, touch me now, touch me now
[Chorus] Because the night belongs to lovers Because the night belongs to lust Because the night belongs to lovers Because the night belongs to us Because tonight there are two lovers If we believe in the night we trust Because tonight belongs to lovers Because the night belongs to lust Because tonight belongs to lovers Because the night belongs to lust
10,000 Maniacs did a good cover of this in 1993. Worth listening to.
Sarah at Art Exhibition has hosted 30 Days, 30 Songs during June. You can hear her latest choice here.
Persimmon, ginger and walnut muffins. Image: Su Leslie 2019
Saturday morning breakfast; coffee and muffins and the fabulous Nina Simone.
Like other artists I’ve included in my 30 Days, 30 Songs list, Nina Simone has provided much of the soundtrack to my adult life and I struggled to select just one song.
But this one is upbeat and perfect for a Saturday morning — and I do like the video.
I don’t believe in an interventionist God But I know, darling, that you do But if I did I would kneel down and ask Him Not to intervene when it came to you Not to touch a hair on your head To leave you as you are And if He felt He had to direct you Then direct you into my arms
Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms
And I don’t believe in the existence of angels But looking at you I wonder if that’s true But if I did I would summon them together And ask them to watch over you To each burn a candle for you To make bright and clear your path And to walk, like Christ, in grace and love And guide you into my arms
Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms
But I believe in Love And I know that you do too And I believe in some kind of path That we can walk down, me and you So keep your candles burning And make her journey bright and pure That she will keep returning Always and evermore
Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms Into my arms, O Lord, into my arms
I could listen to this for the guitar alone. But the lyrics are unforgettable too.
So, so you think you can tell Heaven from hell Blue skies from pain Can you tell a green field From a cold steel rail? A smile from a veil? Do you think you can tell?
Did they get you to trade Your heroes for ghosts? Hot ashes for trees? Hot air for a cool breeze? Cold comfort for change? Did you exchange A walk on part in the war For a lead role in a cage?
How I wish, how I wish you were here We’re just two lost souls Swimming in a fish bowl Year after year Running over the same old ground And how we found The same old fears Wish you were here
— Roger Waters / David Gilmour, Pink Floyd
The very talented Sarah, at Art Expedition, is hosting 30 Days, 30 Songs. You can see her latest musical choice here.
Carshalton, England. c. 1966. My brother, mum, great uncle Tom and me. Leslie family archive.
My parents divorced when I was in my 20s. The family photographs were divided, though over the years some have been given to me as the de facto family historian. Others have been lost, probably forever (most of Mum and Dad’s wedding photos — I’m looking at you baby brother).
And for all the hundreds, if not thousands, of photos that I take, very few are of people. Especially now that the boy-child has grown.
Something to think about.
Wish that I took more photographs of us Said goodbye now, our love’s collecting dust Just a memory of you is not enough I wish that I took more photographs of us
I can’t believe I left you feeling solo I was just at Nan’s going through old photos And you ain’t in many of them, you’re barely in any of them Three or four of them I wish you were in more of them I just wish there were more of them ‘Cause now all I got is memories And I cry but that river’s run dry If only time was something money could buy Goodbye, but it ain’t With words there’s only so many pictures I can paint And I’m running out of film now There’s only so many pictures I can take How does Faith feel looking at pictures of B? How does Courtney feel looking at pictures of Kurt? Is the pain worth the thousand words, I love you But I hate looking at pictures of you ’cause it hurts
Wish that I took more photographs of us Said goodbye, now our love’s collecting dust Just a memory of you is not enough Wish that I took more photographs of us Oh oh oh, oh oh oh I wish that I took more photographs of us
We all thought we’d live forever We all thought that the moments would last But the moments don’t last, the moments pass And the only thing that lasts is the photograph But what about the pictures we didn’t take? What about the moments that we forget? What about the memories that we’ve lost? That only leave you full of feelings and regret Over the people we neglected And the time we took for granted When all you can do is close your eyes And hope that the memories develop in the darkness Like photos do, I wish I had a time-machine and a photo-booth I know to grow I’ve got to learn to let go But I just wish that I had something I could hold on to
Wish that I took more photographs of us Said goodbye, now our love’s collecting dust Just a memory of you is not enough I wish that I took more photographs of us Oh oh oh, oh oh oh I wish that I took more photographs of us
Last time we met, I saw change in you You sat there calm and explained the truth How addiction ain’t nothing but greed and guilt Could just eat the whole world like a baby roof And you got under my skin All the nights that eyes-rolled sunken in gin ‘Cause I don’t want you to go die like Owen and Brian I already wish I had a picture with him
I wish that I took more photographs of us Said goodbye, now our love’s collecting dust Just a memory of you is not enough I wish that I took more photographs of us Oh oh oh, oh oh oh I wish that I took more photographs of us
Songwriters: Emily Warren / Chris Loco / Rory Graham / Stephen Paul Manderson
The very talented Sarah, at Art Expedition, is hosting 30 Days, 30 Songs. You can see her latest musical choice here.
Zimmerbitch 