Glasnost: Art & Nostalgia Series: Suede Fan Site Community Singles/Album Cover Challenge

The online Suede Fan Site community recently asked fans if they would like to reimagine and create their own versions of the band's singles and/or album covers, and my good lady and I obviously were only too happy to oblige. The best ones were published on their Twitter account and these two that we submitted were included:

Suede, 'The Wild Ones'

Suede, - 'Coming Up'

Glasnost: Art & Nostalgia Series: "Snooker Sunday: Etude in Red", Country Life Magazine, 2018

Nostalgia is a huge part of life at the moment. Here's the first in a series of pictures of my very fine lady that have been published in various productions over the last few years.

'Snooker Sunday: Etude in Red',
 Country Life Magazine, 2018:

- xx

Some Concert History

This questionnaire seems to be doing the rounds on social media and blog land currently, so here's my concert history.

First concert: Bucks Fizz

Last concert: An Evening of Music and Conversation with Nick Cave (June 2019)

Best concert: James in 2016. Tim Booth came into the auditorium and sang Just Like Fred Astaire whilst holding mine and Lydia's hands. And it was on our wedding anniversary.

Worst concert: Ian Brown (supporting the Manics)

Loudest concert: Hanoi Rocks

Seen the most: Probably James. But the Manics and Echo & the Bunnymen would be very close, too.

Most surprising: The Proclaimers

Wish I could have seen: Queen, Frank Sinatra, Billy Mackenzie/The Associates, Madonna in her imperious phase (1985-92)

Next concert: A pipe dream, currently. Who knows if this situation will ever change.

A Few Thoughts on How We Now Listen to Music

 

It's been something of a surprise to me to see just how many people there are who have needed the biggest crisis this country has seen during most of our lifetimes to actually start posting things on social media about how important listening to music is. I was & still am slightly flabbergasted by this. I know that up until a few weeks ago we lived in extraordinarily busy times (and time is money, right?) but it still surprises me how much has changed in the way people listen (if they do at all) to music (and make time for real art - not entertainment - in general). Music has been one of the most important things in my life since my very early days. Growing up, it was about learning, rebellion, opening my eyes to possibilities, discovering how other people experienced the world, poetic lyrics, romance, love and New Gold Dreams. The big craze now, of course, is music that 'heals' or promotes "well-being", which makes me wonder when life became all about well-being in the first place. Of course well-being and health is the greatest gift anyone can possess, and I have nothing but profound admiration for health workers, doctors and people who are helping and treating others through psychology and Ancient Chinese Medicine, for example, as this is a beautiful thing to do. But my gripe is with the people who are now bringing music into this mix, as music is one of the few places left where the imagination is free to explore different, often hedonistic realities. This situation actually reminds me of a great couple of lines that Robin Williams' character in Dead Poets Society says to his students:


To which I would also add music. 

I guess some of this change probably boils down to class. From the 1960s onwards, it's generally been the middle class who have favoured the "well-being" approach to the arts, favouring wholesome books, songs and films over anything that was ecstatic or touched with the daemonic, and the biggest contrast in listening habits came after the hippy movement had been in its prime. For while the middle classes settled down on their bean bags and became expert lay practitioners of Buddhism whilst listening to bands such as Jethro Tull, and Hawkwind and the like, who had preposterous album titles such as Warrior on the Edge of Time, or Yes with the equally nauseating Tales from Topographic Oceans, in working class and lower class communities, listeners instead wanted escape from their sociologically trapped lives, or more particularly, they wanted escape and excitement, and this was to be found principally in the adrenaline inducing glam and rock music of the early 70s, through to the blazing "do it yourself" excitement of punk, to the sparkling, hedonistic, whole body eroticism of disco that surfaced at the end of that era through to the existential angst of post-punk. But it seems to me as if music is now being hijacked by the do-gooders who want to promote the idea of wellness at the expense of music's key Dionysian characteristics of euphoria, excitement, danger, sensuality and rebellion. Do you think Freddie Mercury would have wanted his music to be used to promote "well-being"? I think Freddie would have hoped that his music made your life either, a. more enchanting or, more likely, b. made you want to sing and drink and cry and then dance and have transcendent, earth-shattering sex. (Which actually sounds like a prescription for well-being to me, although I don't see any posts from Spiritualists or Buddhists suggesting that people should put a sultry Queen playlist on, and then go and have mind-blowing, consciousness expanding sex whilst listening to it, even though this could surely be classed as promoting well being at its upmost, and relieving stress at the same time.) Bowie openly admitted in the early 70s (although he was a tease with a gigantic heart and soul so may well have been kidding us) that he wrote and sang only to please himself, but he was overjoyed that his music and performances helped people break down the limitations of the personality they had and that he somehow helped them to open their minds to explore different possibilities inside them. The Manic Street Preachers have an energy that could start a revolution if it could be transferred outside the concert hall. Tim Booth and James would have us all diving under waterfalls and making love to the rhythm of the trusting tides whilst listening to the sound of moons calling. Shirley Manson of Garbage would have us all embrace our inner Queer whilst reminding us that Sex Is Not The Enemy whilst informing her female (and male!) devotees that they should never be shamed into not exploring and celebrating their Supervixen (Aphrodite/Venus) side. And then there's Donna Summer, who serenades us with arguably the greatest 12" record ever made, a paean to slow dancing and sensuality (and probably much, much more!) that lasts for almost fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes of ecstatic euphoria that we could probably all access if we could only let go of our egos, in a song so simply but so profoundly titled: 'Love to Love You Baby'. Bronski Beat's 'Smalltown Boy' showed that escape from narrow minded, bigoted small town communities was possible and that a life with people who wanted to live in a different way with different values was just a train journey away. Country Musicians and sultry Torch singers shared their intense longing and searing tales of love, grief, heartache and eventual rebirth, like a butterfly from a chrysalis, bruised and torn but perhaps stronger for it, and showed us it was possible to survive and emerge from the other side of loss as well. And, last but certainly not least, Madonna, the Bad Girl herself, who wants to Dress You Up in her love, and through whom came the command to all of us who have an element of the blushing wallflower in our make up: Express Yourself! And this is merely the tip of a wondrous musical iceberg. But what do people promote & listen to in the main now? Music to apparently heal to, with posts on social media now reminding us to 'deep listen' to A WHOLE ALBUM (Oh! the shock!) as this might be of help during this extremely difficult time. This is all very noble in its way, but dear, oh dear, have we really reached the stage where people need to be REMINDED to listen closely? I'm glad to say I've been deep listening to music all my life. Not just pop, cabaret and rock music, but classical too. For if you read the lives of the composers they were just as mad, bad and dangerous to know as any modern rock or pop star, and their music expressed deep emotions ranging from burning desire to hellish fury and devastating melancholy that could never be reduced to "wellness music." For most of the artists I've mentioned here, and their listeners, their music, and Art in general is not a separate realm where they go and hide from life for an hour or so, but rather, it is a constant spiritual image of life itself, where life is made more intense, more colourful, and more alive, and where every ecstatic experience is heightened through it. So, please, spare me this "music that promotes well-being" nonsense. Music has, and will continue to inspire, devastate, enrich, soothe,  romanticise and sensualise my experience of this crazy little thing called life, and that will be the case throughout this terrifying period, and hopefully, after the storm has passed, too, whenever and however far away in the mists of time that may be.


"The levels of hell are filled with the virtuous."
- David Byrne (Talking Heads), The New Sins

On Being in an Indie Power Couple, No.1: Nick & Susie Cave

"And so if you have a good indie-power-couple story, go ahead, share it. share as many indie power couple stories as possible!"

amanda palmer x

https://www.patreon.com/posts/31358271?fbclid=IwAR3BWMhszdsS2ANTM2EJMsM7eLAsKkHWVFlV2mNqsFh_r_8cLqlfkshJDTM

I recently came across this lovely article by Amanda Palmer entitled 'On Being in an Indie Power Couple' in which she invited other people to explore their favourite, most inspiring Indie Power Couples, as well as celebrating their own sense of being in an Indie Power Couple, if they felt they were part of one. This whole idea began because of a Twitter post in which somebody described Amanda Palmer and Neil Gaimon as being an Indie Power Couple, which then caught her attention and which then grew and grew as people began to reveal their Indie Power Couple stories. And I have to admit, this Indie Power Couple idea sent my imagination into overdrive as I feel I've learned a great deal about relationships and how inspiring they can be from my musical and artistic heroes. The first, and probably most informative relationship that I first witnessed, was the incredibly beautiful and loyal relationship my Nain & Taid had. They were married for 65 years, and the care they had for each other and the way they respected each other taught me something incredibly profound. Although they probably couldn't be described as an indie power couple, oh boy did they adore and support each other. As I got older, I started noticing things and learning about how others saw and valued their relationships, and, as a fascinated observer of the human animal in all its strange and wonderful behaviours, this started to interest me enormously, too. It was quite strange for me, though, as when I entered my late teens and headed into my early twenties, most of the people I knew didn't seem to prioritise romance or their relationships. Most of my friends who happened to be in relationships usually played down their affection for their partner and I also noticed that the next generation up seemed to have what can, at best, only be described as relationships of convenience. The women would moan about their men constantly and would only get dressed up in the hope of catching the eye of anyone other than their supposed fella or, even worse, make any excuse under the sun so as to be able to spend as little time with them at all. And in turn, the chaps would refer to their wives/girlfriends as the "ball and chain," who they were delighted to be away of from for a couple of hours so they could get down to the real fun of ogling other women whilst talking about their own current partners with disdain. Why on earth would anyone choose to live in that way was my immediate reaction to all this. And fortunately, I had different guides to call on who offered an enchanting alternative, and who were ready to come to my rescue. There were, of course, the Romantic poets I came to adore, who placed love & sex & sensuality & connection as something sacred & miraculous in the human universe, in fact one of Life's greatest gifts, and wrote about the life changing and enriching experience of being in love. And they wrote passionately of the importance of refusing to be with or stay with someone out of convenience, particularly writers such as Mary Wollstonecraft, as in most of the cases in their period of history from which they were writing about, was from the viewpoint of women. There were others also, who I will talk about in future blogs of this series, such as David Bowie, who wrote and sang of Romance in a way that echoed directly the feelings in my own heart, especially once Lydia and I began courting, and who always insisted that his wonderful marriage with Iman, not his successful records, was the thing that he was most proud of and thankful for having in his life. Bowie's gentlemanly, dandified stance on his marriage to Iman oozed grace and dignity, and showed me how glorious and meaningful a relationship can truly be. The obvious sizzle & frisson that quite clearly existed between them also showed me that the boring old adage that long term couples can't find each other sexually alluring after many years together to also be absolute twaddle. (That was a relief! wink, wink!) But, for this first instalment of my 'On Being in an Indie Power Couple' series, I want to focus on another of my favourite artists, Nick Cave, and his wife, the model & clothes designer, Susie Bick. For so many reasons, when I reflect on it, they are definitely in the 'On Being in an Indie Power Couple' bracket, and here's just some of the reasons why I find their relationship so inspiring.






Nick Cave reflecting on his first date with Susie:
https://www.theredhandfiles.com/what-is-shyness/



Nick Cave's music and words touch me deeply, no doubt predominantly because they are so gloriously romantic. His achingly gorgeous song, 'Into My Arms,' which I have had the immense fortune to sing a few times, is, to me, an atheist prayer to the beloved via the road of angels, muses and gods. It is a search for meaning in a universe that may quite possibly have no meaning whatsoever. And there's the rub for me. That's what being in a relationship can be all about. Nick Cave's music has grown deeper & more profound over time, as well as more cheeky ("I've got the No Pussy Blues!") he sings in one very naughty lyric, as the protagonist of the song is continually and hilariously rejected and frustrated by his paramour, with each quite hilarious attempt to get some desperately sought nookie:

"I bought her a dozen snow-white doves,

I did her dishes in rubber gloves,

I called her honeybee, I called her love,

But she just still didn't want to...

She just never wants to...

Damn!"

And artistically, he and his wife both share their lives and help with each other's work and dreams. Susie, for example, appeared on the cover of Nick's Push The Sky Away album...



...an album cover which sent the twittering moralistic classes into meltdown, and who decided, in all their holier-than-thou wisdom, that it was "obscene," and where they then proceeded to all but crucify Nick for apparently "objectifying and exploiting his wife." Rather than defend this mysterious cover myself, I'll let Nick himself do it. This is what he had to say about how the picture came to be used as the cover for the album:


Our dear friend Dominique Issermann was photographing Susie, at our home in Brighton, for a fashion magazine. I was the designated assistant for the day and when I poked my head in the room to see if anyone wanted a cup of tea, Dominique asked me to go to the bedroom window and open the shutters to let the sunlight in. Susie was changing for the next shot and was naked under her robe and in a purely improvised act of subversion dropped the robe as I opened the shutters. Dominique, the most fast-thinking and attentive photographer I have ever met, snapped the picture – one photograph and that was it. We were not attempting to shoot an album cover, rather this was a moment snatched from time, which we promptly forgot about.

The next day, as Susie and I sat with Dominique looking through the shots, we found this remarkable photograph. It instantly spoke to us, reminding me of Masaccio’s fresco, Expulsion from the Garden of Eden, a much-loved Old Testament story of mine, and I thought it would make a great cover for Push the Sky Away, as it felt in keeping with many of the record’s concerns. I showed it to the band and they seemed happy and everyone in my office loved it. So that was that, the Dominique Issermann picture became the cover.
How lovely the cover is and how beautiful my wife looks – the animal stance, up on her toes, the defensive positioning of her arms, and her face hidden in her hair. It is a brave and unsettling picture pulsing with ambiguity, mythology and life, and is probably Susie’s most treasured shot of herself and a favourite of Dominique’s as well.

When the record came out there was a flurry of disapproval from a handful of people that questioned why Susie was naked and I wasn’t, that it was exploitative and sexist, inferring that I had somehow forced Susie into taking the picture. I was flattered that there were people who thought I had Svengali-like powers over my wife, and could cast spells on her and do with her as I pleased, but sadly this is not the case. I would say, in fact, that the situation is completely the reverse.

I understand why people may have found the cover disturbing, but in the end, beauty knows best – it leads us beyond our narrow notions of what is appropriate into the realms of the enigmatic and discomforting. Here, beauty creates a dissonance in the mind that inflames the imagination. This fire of the mind is the place where the angels and devils play happily together. I hope this is also the place where many of my songs reside.

Dominique’s photo is an uncanny and haunting work, born of a happy accident and full of contradictions, that will be forever attached to Push the Sky Away and of which Susie and I are immensely proud." 

-Nick Cave, Red Hand Files, no. 31.

So much for the twittering classes and their supposed higher wisdom of all things, eh? How wrong they were, as they invariably have been throughout history. And Nick also supports and helps Susie's career in equal measure. The images used to promote her clothing range, the wonderfully named 'The Vampire's Wife,' often include Nick in them, and they sometimes offer a unique insight into the tender bond the two of them have, and the pictures are often works of art in their own right:



But it's also the way they have both responded to unthinkable tragedy, and helped and supported each other through that, and also supported each other's dreams, the knowing of which makes the above picture with the flowers so incredibly poignant. For their son, Arthur, tragically died four years ago, aged just fifteen, when he fell from a cliff near their home in Brighton. Nick has spoken many times since about how the outpouring of sympathy they received helped him reconnect with life, and with the public. Lydia and me were fortunate enough to attend one of the 'In Conversation With Nick Cave' concerts last year and it was a truly profound experience. He never shied from the toughest questions, and refused to take any cliched easy way out answers. He also responds to fans' questions on his Red Hand Files website and the answers he gives, along with the subjects explored, are an absolute treasure chest of wisdom, humour and poetry. The way that Nick and Susie have supported each other through personal tragedy is as clear as crystal, and offer a real glimpse into what it means to love and support another human being.

And so I give you, in the first of this 'On Being in an Indie Power Couple' series, Nick and Susie Cave. They inspire me, not just as individuals, but as a couple also. From the outside looking in, they seem to me to have the kind of relationship that is one worth aspiring to. Supportive and tender, Romantic and sensual, individual and unashamed, and with each of them somehow finding a balance between their personal and professional lives, even though Nick does talk about how difficult it is for them both when he is away from home on tour.

And they obviously have a very deep and profound connection. I hereby salute them both. Nick Cave, the Prince of Darkness, and Susie Cave, The Vampire's Wife. And while some people have Christianity's Ten Commandments, or Buddhism's Four Noble Truths as guides, I myself prefer more Pagan sources, preferably ones that don't denigrate the astonishing physical world that we reside on, and, distressingly, attempt to minimise its vast array of riches. One of these is Nick Cave's ideas of The Nine Muses & Nine Angels, which he uses as spirit guides and which he describes thus:

1. The Seraphs, who keep us sexy & freewheeling:



2. The Cherubs, who stop us doing anything too stupid:




3. The Thrones, who keep us Strong and Virile:




4. The Dominations, who free our minds, Right on!:




5. The Principalities, who stop us getting weepy
& nostalgic:




6. The Powers, who transform us into small gods:




7. The Archangels, who deal with the cops: 



8. The Virtues, which keep us humble:  


9. And the ordinary angels, who keep us childlike:

So, thank you Nick & Susie for your inspiration & sharing your souls so openly with us.

"And so i would love to remind you all that love and art and making and being-together in this life is so much more gigantic than we remember to remember."
- Amanda Palmer

2020: Spotify Wrapped

So, the Spotify 2020 Wrapped results are in.

I generally dislike the whole idea of Spotify Wrapped immensely, but there's something about this year that means this minor irritation is exactly that, minor. As we all know only too well, there are, sadly, far more serious things to be concerned with. And so, with that in mind, here's what I learned about my 2020 listening on Spotify.

The band I listened to the most was... the Manics (no surprise, there). Bowie and Marc Almond came in at 2nd and 3rd. (no surprises, there, either. I don't think I've ever relied on my musical loves to get me through such terrifying days and nights, and my heart and soul hasn't exactly been in the best place to be open to new music.)

My most listened to Podcast was the hilarious and imperious Chart Music.

My second most listened to song this year, is, actually, not to mention surprisingly, a new release. A truly fabulous, glam and disco kissed banger called 'Supreme Beings' by a pop trio called Houglvss, that, if this whole horror pandemic had never happened, I am pretty sure would have been a smash summer hit. As it stands, it's a song that hardly anybody as heard, which is a terrible tragedy in itself as it deserves a huge audience...

And my most played song of 2020? I wouldn't have guessed before the results were revealed but when it did, it made perfect sense. The online Feeling Gloomy Twitch events (Pulp, Suede, Pet Shop Boys, Manics specials all included) that my wife discovered have helped to save both mine and my good lady's sanity during this momentously difficult year. Through it we've made new (hopefully lifelong) friends that we have *met* there, and my own 'Feeling Gloomy' playlist, that has been inspired by the wonderful host of the Feeling Gloomy night, Clifford Gloom's, own choices, is listened to by me with great regularity. It's also been wonderful to finally meet the Feeling Gloomy gang as they have been on our radar for many years, although, sadly, mainly because of my health issues, we hadn't been able to get to any of their events. We even have a picture of my good lady with their postcard that was taken circa 2016/17...

And so... on to my most listened to song of 2020 on Spotify. 

It has been...

'It's Alright' by the Pet Shop Boys.

No wonder the lyrics (see below) in this wonderful song are something I have so desperately needed to hear and attempt to believe in, and which has  helped me make it this far...

"I hope it's gonna be alright
'Cause the music plays forever
(For it goes on and on and on and on...)

I hope it's gonna be alright
(On and on and on...)
'Cause the music plays forever...
(For it goes on and on and on and on and on and on and on)

The year three thousand may still come to pass,
But the music shall last,
I can hear it on a timeless wavelength
Never dissipating but giving us strength...

I hope it's gonna be alright...

I hope it's gonna be alright..."

Here's hoping!

And a huge thank you to Clifford Gloom and the wonderful Feeling Gloomy gang, who have made us feel so welcome. We will never forget it. 

Until next time, I remain,
Your Nocturnal Butterfly xx

I Put A Spell On You

This story is based on a true event.

"He seems to me to be equal in good fortune

to the gods, whatever man, who sits on the

opposite side to you and listens to your

sweet replies

and desire-inducing laugh: indeed,

That gets my heart pounding in my chest.

For just gazing at you for a second,

it is impossible for me even to talk;

my tongue is as broken,
all at once a soft flame

has stolen beneath my flesh,

my eyes see nothing but you,

my ears ring,

sweat pours down me, a tremor

shakes me, and I believe I am at

the very point of fainting."

- Sappho, Fragment 31

"Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
Fled is that music:- Do I wake or sleep?"
- John Keats, Ode to a Nightingale

Part 1

I wasn't planning on doing anything at Halloween last year, but when my friend texted me and said that she had a spare space for our local hotel's 'Spells 'n' Daggers' event that night, I agreed to meet her there. I made the best costume that I could in the little amount of time that I had, called a taxi, and within the hour I was at the Cliff Lodge Hotel. My friend had unhelpfully neglected to inform me that she was actually working on the door for the night, so after putting my coat in the cloakroom, I decided to go and get a drink and get a feel for the evening. There was a distinctively delightful and inviting atmosphere, with many guests dressed in all sorts of eye-catching costumes, including a handful of skeletons, ghastly ghouls and decadent Grand Guignol ghosts, and also, a rather striking and confident looking lady, who had a very long red wig, and in her vampyre costume looked as if she was the kind of person that would only be visiting this party as a starting point for a wondrous night ahead. I decided to have a wander around the hotel but before I got any further than the end of the main corridor my attention was suddenly drawn to the main entrance, where there was obviously something unusual happening as there was a sudden sizzle of electricity in the air, and the clicks and flashes of a hundred camera shots being taken was noticeable above the excitable noise. And then there emerged from the crowded entrance the cause of all this commotion, and my heart leapt as it beheld two creatures who glided into the bar room. I blinked furiously. Were they even real? Downing my gin and tonic in one so as to try and steady myself, I then heard the band start up in the adjacent room. The sultry tones of 'She's a Black Magic Woman' rang through the hotel air and I ventured back into the bar area. From my secluded spot I could observe the two new arrivals to my heart's content. She (I later learned that her name was Lilith) simply radiated a fathomless mystery and allure in a truly magical costume. Divinely attired in a sensual deep V-necked black dress that perfected the art of seduction in that it concealed even as it revealed and revealed even as it concealed, her quite astonishing beauty left me reeling, and my eyes were drawn to what looked like a necklace which was no doubt a magic pendant from another dimension, which hung suggestively around her alabaster, work of art neck and enchanting décolletage as if it were actually conscious of the immense privilege it was being granted: an intriguing, glimmering, shimmering Red Right Hand. She had bewitching hair which reached in parts up to the moon and the stars and which shone a lustrous white in glorious, timeless glamour. I was suddenly, in my mind, whisked back to my college days studying European Literature, and instantly realised that this wondrous being actually fulfilled the two functions of poetry as I had been taught it by a dashing, outstanding professor of Aesthetics and Art, and who I had fallen desperately in love with at the time, in that she revealed and unveiled, to every eye that had the sensitivity to notice and without a hint of the shrinking shyness that so limits the vast majority of us, the ideal aspect of the outer and inner parts of all creation. To see my former professor's poetic theory parading as real life in front of me provided an added layer to this already dizzying experience, but it was one that simply made me hunger for this hard, gem-like flame that I was feeling more than ever. The gentleman with her, draped in black velvet and with dark, spiked hair that also seemed to be reaching for the stars, had all the qualities of a devilish nineteenth century poet that I had also studied on my course, and who, it is often said had once written a famous story about a vampyre: Lord Byron. As I watched them, trying desperately to pluck up the courage to go and talk to this unusual, captivating couple, I suddenly noticed the woman in the wig watching the lady called Lilith with total fascination in her eyes. Just as with me, it seemed, a spell had been cast over her and she was as intoxicated and indeed, as spellbound, as I was. I saw her walk over to talk to the couple and I couldn't help but notice that there was something eerie, but also sublime about their exchange. It was as if the lady in the long red wig was drinking in the energy that flowed in waves from Lilith, and I became increasingly aware, although this will seem very strange to the reader, that the atmosphere in the hotel had subtly changed. I looked again and saw that an envelope of lighted mist surrounded the three of them. Lilith had the ensnared vampyre woman in a trance and to my amazement, I became aware of a sensation suddenly flooding through me which suggested that she was actually reading my very thoughts from the other side of the room. And then, all at once, the band broke into another song, and the singer suddenly howled the lines that open that all time Halloween classic, that perfect three minute song which explores and encapsulates infatuation and the dark delights of euphoric desire so succinctly: "I Put a Spell on You!" 

The woman in the long red vampyre wig was now so possessed that she was unable to control herself any longer and she grabbed Lilith's laced white gloved hand and whisked her up onto the dance floor. But this was actually a crucial lesson for me in matters of control as to the casual onlooker, it would have appeared that Lilith was doing the other woman's bidding, so let this be a lesson to you as well, dear reader, for as with so many things in life, first impressions can be deceiving, for it was crystal clear to me that she was actually acting upon an impulse that she could simply no longer resist, and it was an impulse that had been planted there by the mischievous Lilith. For when I had first arrived, this very woman had looked the very image of confidence, self-control and self-restraint. But now, following Lilith's arrival, and under her mesmeric spell and wicked witchcraft, she was quite obviously little more than a marionette puppet at the bidding of strings that Lilith was pushing and pulling to her own playful, intoxicating fancy. Dear reader, how little do I realise I know following this strange yet wonderful night, and what an enlightening lesson, in so many ways, it proved to be.

The two of them drew every gaze with them onto the dance floor. They whirled and whizzed as they seemingly shifted shapes and made a mockery of that thing we humans call time. There was a fire and magic in the air that made seconds seem like long, drawn out minutes, and long, drawn out minutes seem to flash by like seconds. They then finished their dance and a haze came over my mind and over the entire room as everything became slow-motion and they embraced one another. What happened in that smoky, dream-filled moment, dear reader? Well, you may well ask. For in that scintillating, haunted atmosphere it could have been one or more of many things. Did they share a crimson kiss? Did Lilith whisper secrets from another world, or feel the gentle caress of her capture's desperate, yearning eyes and hands? Did she perhaps make promises that she would or could never keep? Did she cast an everlasting spell over her? All I can say is that we will never know. Perhaps none of these things, perhaps all of them. But one thing is absolutely certain: something completely otherworldly had overcome the room but whatever transpired between them will remain forever unknown to all except for the two participants.

A curious calm then seemed to settle over the hotel at this point and a sense of normality appeared to have been restored. Lilith and her enraptured captive were joined on the dance floor by other guests as the band started to play another wonderful Halloween classic, 'Sympathy For the Devil.' Seeing that the very image of Lord Byron was currently sitting by himself, quietly sipping what appeared to be a quite splendid Espresso Martini whilst he scanned the room and bathed in the atmosphere, I quickly downed another gin and strode over to him. But strangely, when I got to the place he had been sitting he was no longer there. I turned around and saw he was now on the dance floor with Lilith. I shook my head at this strange happening and put it all down to the gins that I had drunk, rather swiftly, since the evening had began. But I knew, deep down in my soul, that I simply couldn't let the evening end without talking to this unusual, completely captivating couple. And then, all at once, I realised I had to take the next opportunity as, distressingly, it looked as if they were preparing to leave. I quickly positioned myself in the hall so I could catch them before they got to the main door, and so I wouldn't look too conspicuous. But, just as they approached where I was standing, I clumsily caught the sleeve of my chiffon blouse on the table and knocked my drink over, and in the confusion of that split-second, they passed me by. I raced after them so as to be able to talk to them in the graveled car park outside and when they went out of the hotel door, they were only a couple of yards in front of me. I'd had a few gins, the atmosphere of the evening had got under my skin, I knew I had the courage... it was now or never. And so, after taking a deep breath, I quickly stepped outside to hail them but, to my utter surprise, the hotel car park was completely empty. There simply wasn't a soul in sight. It was impossible. Whither had they gone? Had they vanished into the air, as breath into the wind? And then, all at once, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. My mind was, once again, in a whirl. I heard a noise behind me and turned quickly around to discover that the the woman in the long red wig who had danced with Lilith had herself ventured outside behind me to get some fresh air. Her eyes were strangely lost but also dazzlingly ablaze, and it was clear that she was in a state of an intoxicated, but exhausted enchantment, her previously self-assured soul caught, as it were, between this world and some other realm. 

"You seemed to enjoy your dance," I said to her, breaking the silence. "Was that lady you were with a friend of yours?" 

"Oh, my beautiful witch?" she answered, dreamily. "Oh, no, no, no. I'd never seen her before in my life until tonight. This night. Her name is Lilith, you know, and she knows all... all all all...all the thoughts and experiences of the world. She has been a diver in the deepest seas, and trafficked for strange pearls with Eastern merchants. She divines the secrets of the moon, the stars, the sea, the secrets of love...(here happened a telling pause before she then continued)... even of life itself, and all this has been to her but as the sound of lyres and flutes."

 And ever since that night, this new found friend and myself meet up every evening at the Cliff Lodge Hotel, hoping beyond hope to get another glimpse of the woman who has stolen our very hearts and souls. We both reminisce, share memories and reveal our deepest desires. I endlessly repeat how Lilith is the embodiment of the two functions of poetry according to the theory that I was taught by my old flame, the Professor of Aesthetics and Art during my college days. And when, finally, we manage to fall asleep, we see in our intoxicated night visions Lilith's generous, hypnotic, snake-like dancing, her captivating gaze and mesmerising grace and strange generosity, which has allowed us to dream richer dreams than we could have before imagined, and our questing, hungry eyes are drawn to the Red Right Hand charm around her divine, alabaster neck and décolletage, and in that moment we hear her voice ringing out to us, repeating, over and over again, from Beyond the Sea and for all eternity, that haunting refrain from which we shall never, or ever desire to be, free:

"I Put a Spell on You, Because You're Mine... And it is Heartache, Because You're Mine!"

Epilogue

News of this strange and eerie evening and of the extraordinary couple who had visited the Cliff Lodge Hotel that night soon became the talk of the town, and the mystery increased mightily when it was revealed that despite the hotel owners, the publicists for this unique 'Spells 'n' Daggers' Halloween event, and the many bewitched guests who had taken, quite literally, hundreds if not thousands of photographs of the couple as they had arrived, all awoke next morning to discover that no images of the previous night remained on their devices. It was as if they'd all been erased by some kind of magic.

But, a few weeks later, my friend who worked at the hotel and who had invited me to the Halloween party and who was, by now, well aware of the fact that I'd been completely altered and spellbound by the mystery that was the lady known as Lilith, allowed me to have a few pictures that did somehow manage to survive that night. For although the CCTV had also been completely erased, the hotel manager had, a couple of months before Halloween, had to install a couple of secret, hidden cameras because of an insurance claim. These cameras were top secret and only my friend and the manager of the hotel had any knowledge of them. It transpired that these special cameras had managed to secure a few precious images of that enchanting evening, and I hereby share them with you, dear reader, in the hope that they, along with my words, can convey to you just an inkling of the haunting atmosphere, and the bewitching enigmatic beauty of Lilith, from that spine-tingling, life-changing evening, under a full moon at the Cliff Lodge Hotel, one glorious Halloween.

Dedicated to Lady Stardust:

 "There's no nicer witch than you!"

Sleep Well, Everyone. 

Bites & Kisses. 

xxx