Flyer for forthcoming Meridian 2011 conference - Click to read, see you there you lemmings.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Friday, June 03, 2011
Friday, July 17, 2009
Ever bought six can's of low-grade lager for £5. We have.
The 6 for 5 rap.
When you’ve been slaving 9 to 5
It’s nice to get home with 6 for 5
At the four o’clock drop, everything stop
Cos you thinkin’ it’s 6 for 5 on dem boss
Chorus -
6 for 5, 6 for 5
You got it boss, it’s 6 for 5
But hangabout, I only want two
Maybe tomorrow I’ll pay what’s due
But for now, I’ll just take a couple
Cos 6 for 5 it ain’t worth the trouble
6 for 5, 6 for 5
You got it boss, it’s 6 for 5
But no, he’s hollerin clear
The strains of his battle cry loud in my ear
What’s his problem, he don’t make no loss
But still, it’s 6 for 5 on dem boss
6 for 5, 6 for 5
You got it boss, it’s 6 for 5
So now I’m leaving with a bulging sack
It ain’t what you think, it’s beer in me pack
Going home now to drink till eleven
Little does he know, that I took 7
6 for 5, 6 for 5
You got it boss, it’s 6 for 5
Repeat chorus to fade....
The 6 for 5 rap.
When you’ve been slaving 9 to 5
It’s nice to get home with 6 for 5
At the four o’clock drop, everything stop
Cos you thinkin’ it’s 6 for 5 on dem boss
Chorus -
6 for 5, 6 for 5
You got it boss, it’s 6 for 5
But hangabout, I only want two
Maybe tomorrow I’ll pay what’s due
But for now, I’ll just take a couple
Cos 6 for 5 it ain’t worth the trouble
6 for 5, 6 for 5
You got it boss, it’s 6 for 5
But no, he’s hollerin clear
The strains of his battle cry loud in my ear
What’s his problem, he don’t make no loss
But still, it’s 6 for 5 on dem boss
6 for 5, 6 for 5
You got it boss, it’s 6 for 5
So now I’m leaving with a bulging sack
It ain’t what you think, it’s beer in me pack
Going home now to drink till eleven
Little does he know, that I took 7
6 for 5, 6 for 5
You got it boss, it’s 6 for 5
Repeat chorus to fade....
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Koza and Effect – The story of a Polish goat.
Chapter I - Sweet Destiny
You’ve seen the pictures below, and marvelled endlessly I’m sure at the primal beauty of the Koza himself. But where is he from, why is he here and am I ashamed to have wrenched him howling from his native land? In forcing him to become part of a two-bit website with beans and the sidekick to a dead-end dj peddling unknown-but-there’s-a-reason-for-that second rate pub-rock, have I not sullied the creative, elemental forces that shaped him?
After a recent Polish news interviewed me to get the lowdown on the Koza and the story behind his coming to England, I decided it was time to set the record straight and get on with my life. Damocles’s sword has been hanging over me for so long, Damocles himself is bored of not knowing. Poor Damocles, ever since he pulled that lion out of his mousse, things haven’t been the same. But I Tigress.
Zywiec Museum sits, interestingly and thankfully, in the nearby town of Zywiec. Zywiec is roughly 40 kilos from the distant town of Bielska-Biala –the town of two rivers. Zywiec, as any stag night lout who has wandered naked through the streets of Krakow will know, is home to Poland’s most refreshing beer – Zywiec. Pronounced Jivee-ets, Zywiec is particularly noteworthy for it’s charming central squares where at easter, markets selling small painted birds and wooden eggs spring up. Just off one of this squares, through a park, lies the museum itself, a classical building of some grandeur. Huge stone rooms full of exhibits, some fascinating, others only mildly so fill Zywiec Museum, whilst the lack of visitors makes it feel like any other display of regional tat. But unlike The Sidmouth Sock Museum or The Chipping Sodbury Museum of Horse Parts, Zywiec Museum had an interesting exhibition on. An exhibition of such rare character and such animal magnetism that it struck a chord deep within all who attended. Even me.
For there, amidst a collection of polish archetypes hewn from wood and cloth, was a huge dog wrapped in tartan, a conical canine idiot with a maw like the entrance to a Swiss railway tunnel. Gaping, beckoning, the mouth hung open in silent yelp as if to invite one in. I was smitten.
Of course it was no dog, it was a goat; a Koza, as they say in Poland.
This was an extraordinary moment, a waterfall of epiphanies washed over me, the possibilities rang multitudinously in my ears like sea-shells murmuring of the ocean and the secrets of it’s hidden depths. Everyone was leaving the museum now, but I couldn’t go, couldn’t leave. I raced back up the steps for one last look at my daft, joyous pal. It did not go unnoticed, this mad distemper that had struck me down and made me fall impetuously, madly in love. Zosia and Jacek, who had been kind enough to take me and my lady to the museum in the first place were quick to act. But I, as yet, had no idea what they might be up to.
Unbeknown to me at the time, Zosia had contacted the curator of the museum, one Barbara Rosiek. Rosiek had orchestrated the gorgeous smorgasboard of authentic polish folkcraft that had so enchanted me and it was she who had made the Koza pride of place in the exhibition and dressed the beaming sod in a tartan blanket for warmth and effect. Zosia & Rosiek, I learned later, spoke of the Koza and Rosiek had given Zosia the name and address of the maker of all the exhibits – it was a name that would come to mean much in the coming year. Josef Hulka.
Sweet destiny, riding the twin horses of good fate and humble kindness, had ridden straight into my camp at nightfall, ripped open my feeble shelter and delivered a precious seed. Wheels were now in motion that could not be stopped and I, holding the seed delicately between thumb and forefinger, looked out across a horizon which held, instead of our great sun, the mouth of the Koza.
Chapter 2 to follow soon – stay tuned.
Chapter I - Sweet Destiny
You’ve seen the pictures below, and marvelled endlessly I’m sure at the primal beauty of the Koza himself. But where is he from, why is he here and am I ashamed to have wrenched him howling from his native land? In forcing him to become part of a two-bit website with beans and the sidekick to a dead-end dj peddling unknown-but-there’s-a-reason-for-that second rate pub-rock, have I not sullied the creative, elemental forces that shaped him?
After a recent Polish news interviewed me to get the lowdown on the Koza and the story behind his coming to England, I decided it was time to set the record straight and get on with my life. Damocles’s sword has been hanging over me for so long, Damocles himself is bored of not knowing. Poor Damocles, ever since he pulled that lion out of his mousse, things haven’t been the same. But I Tigress.
Zywiec Museum sits, interestingly and thankfully, in the nearby town of Zywiec. Zywiec is roughly 40 kilos from the distant town of Bielska-Biala –the town of two rivers. Zywiec, as any stag night lout who has wandered naked through the streets of Krakow will know, is home to Poland’s most refreshing beer – Zywiec. Pronounced Jivee-ets, Zywiec is particularly noteworthy for it’s charming central squares where at easter, markets selling small painted birds and wooden eggs spring up. Just off one of this squares, through a park, lies the museum itself, a classical building of some grandeur. Huge stone rooms full of exhibits, some fascinating, others only mildly so fill Zywiec Museum, whilst the lack of visitors makes it feel like any other display of regional tat. But unlike The Sidmouth Sock Museum or The Chipping Sodbury Museum of Horse Parts, Zywiec Museum had an interesting exhibition on. An exhibition of such rare character and such animal magnetism that it struck a chord deep within all who attended. Even me.
For there, amidst a collection of polish archetypes hewn from wood and cloth, was a huge dog wrapped in tartan, a conical canine idiot with a maw like the entrance to a Swiss railway tunnel. Gaping, beckoning, the mouth hung open in silent yelp as if to invite one in. I was smitten.
Of course it was no dog, it was a goat; a Koza, as they say in Poland.
This was an extraordinary moment, a waterfall of epiphanies washed over me, the possibilities rang multitudinously in my ears like sea-shells murmuring of the ocean and the secrets of it’s hidden depths. Everyone was leaving the museum now, but I couldn’t go, couldn’t leave. I raced back up the steps for one last look at my daft, joyous pal. It did not go unnoticed, this mad distemper that had struck me down and made me fall impetuously, madly in love. Zosia and Jacek, who had been kind enough to take me and my lady to the museum in the first place were quick to act. But I, as yet, had no idea what they might be up to.
Unbeknown to me at the time, Zosia had contacted the curator of the museum, one Barbara Rosiek. Rosiek had orchestrated the gorgeous smorgasboard of authentic polish folkcraft that had so enchanted me and it was she who had made the Koza pride of place in the exhibition and dressed the beaming sod in a tartan blanket for warmth and effect. Zosia & Rosiek, I learned later, spoke of the Koza and Rosiek had given Zosia the name and address of the maker of all the exhibits – it was a name that would come to mean much in the coming year. Josef Hulka.
Sweet destiny, riding the twin horses of good fate and humble kindness, had ridden straight into my camp at nightfall, ripped open my feeble shelter and delivered a precious seed. Wheels were now in motion that could not be stopped and I, holding the seed delicately between thumb and forefinger, looked out across a horizon which held, instead of our great sun, the mouth of the Koza.
Chapter 2 to follow soon – stay tuned.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Zarebski & Koza rock The Green Man Festival
After the dynamite set, Koza met some of his diehard fans
Concentrate you fool - Koza berates his idiot sidekick Zarebski
Another set completed - Koza heads of to the bar for his favourite Polish vodka - Teatowelski.
A blend of glacial vodka strained through old teatowels for 8 years.
Koza caught on film
A special 1.12 minute documentary has been made of the Koza's alreadly legendary appearance at The Green Man Festival - find it here.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LU7d7rY75Ho
More pics and full report to follow.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LU7d7rY75Ho
More pics and full report to follow.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
DJ Koza rips up garden party
The Koza has been doing some DJing down at the Secret Garden Party in Cambridgeshire.
After signing autographs at the 'Pagoda', Koza played a diverse set that included 'Kozmir' by Led Zeppelin, 'Clever Koza' by Ian Dury and the Blockheads and the finale 'Goat El it on the Mountain' by an unknown redneck banjo player. A fine hoedown was had by all.
After dancing with revellers, the Koza was then strangled with bunting and mobbed before being whisked into the waiting car. He was lucky to escape with only one minor injury and a small nail should fix that.
His next engagement is at The Green Man Festival in Wales.
"Play the one about the Green Eyed-Monster" - The Koza and his humble assistant Zarebski
Impersonations were, of course, common, but no-one does Koza like Koza.
"Excuse me, you're strangling the DJ"
"Gasping for breath after the bunting ordeal. Concerned onlookers wonder about medical assistance but he's up and
about in no time.
After signing autographs at the 'Pagoda', Koza played a diverse set that included 'Kozmir' by Led Zeppelin, 'Clever Koza' by Ian Dury and the Blockheads and the finale 'Goat El it on the Mountain' by an unknown redneck banjo player. A fine hoedown was had by all.
After dancing with revellers, the Koza was then strangled with bunting and mobbed before being whisked into the waiting car. He was lucky to escape with only one minor injury and a small nail should fix that.
His next engagement is at The Green Man Festival in Wales.
"Play the one about the Green Eyed-Monster" - The Koza and his humble assistant Zarebski
Impersonations were, of course, common, but no-one does Koza like Koza.
"Excuse me, you're strangling the DJ"
"Gasping for breath after the bunting ordeal. Concerned onlookers wonder about medical assistance but he's up and
about in no time.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
The coming of a new age. The age of the Koza.
The story of the Koza is long and winding, and for another time. Suffice to say that the first one published below was the spark for a journey that would take me into the depths of the Polish countryside looking for it's creator. When I found him I asked him if he would make another Koza for me. He did and one year later I returned to Poland to meet him and bring him home. Together we returned to England to allow him to sample life away from the windswept plains of Southern Poland.
His coming is significant, and marks nothing less than the beginning of a new religion. He is all knowing, all powerful and he is so beautifully daft, he will blow you away.
I need not ask for your silence, nor for your reverence. He demands it in ways unsaid and unheard. He is your master. He is the Koza - you need search no more.
In the arms of his maker, the Polish folk artist genius, Mr Josef Hulka.
In the departure lounge at Katowice airport the waiter asked him what he was having. He had the usual of course, a shot of the finest polish vodka with a side-salad of apple, cress and tea towels.
Heading for England, the Koza sees clouds from above for the first time.
Arrival....excitement and disbelief after having been locked in the aircraft toilet for take-off and landing.
The Koza is at rest for a few weeks before heading out into London for a series of state functions and happenings. More of his adventures and his incredible life story to follow soon. Stay tuned.
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