books

Long time Planetgong acquaintance Kevan Furbank was tasked by the publishers of this series of entertaining encyclopaedic type volumes with writing about every track on every Gong album from 'Magick Brother' in 1970 to 2019's 'The Universe Also Collapses'.

Kevan informatively examines the songwriting, arrangements and mythology that inspired each track and is offered insights from Mike Howlett, Tim Blake, Graham Clark, Kavus, Dave Sturt, Josh Pollock and more in his attempt to illuminate every Gong album so far.

The book also offers analysis on the many off-shoots of the Gong family tree - Mother Gong, Pierre Moerlen's Gong, etc.

Completed by daevid in 1966, this book was not printed until found in the GAS archives in the late '80's. The first cover illustrated above is typical of what lies within. A little classic that rewards repeated readings and viewings. Fragments of future daevid and Gong lyrics and proto-pixies emerge from the mix of unique swirling alien line drawings. (booklet cover colours may vary)

When daevid decided spontaneously to travel to Romania in July 1990, all he knew about the country was from media coverage of the December '89 revolution - which fascinated him - and that there were many, many orphans needing help. He arrived in Bucharest with knowing no-one and with nowhere to stay, but found a warm, generous and stimulating people, eager to communicate on all levels - despite the invisible hand of fear and social repression still hovering over their shoulder. daevid's view of life in Romania has the unique and personal quality of a poet, political observer, traveller, humanist and friend. You'll love it. (booklet cover colours may vary)

The story of Zero the Hero continues… Forbidden the use of money, he enters a limbo-like state linked to constant travelling around the world by plane, leaving it briefly at various destinations for further strange initiatory adventures.

Written and illustrated by daevid. Full of detail, an unmissable aid to the fuller and deeper understanding of Gong's 'Shapeshifter' album (not to mention the Alien brain).

As the Shapeshifter album is Radio Gnome Invisible Part 4, this book is a vital and highly entertaining key to understanding the link between the 'You' and 'Zero To Infinitea' albums.

daevid was slightly apprehensive about seeing his parents for the first time since he left Australia almost 10 years before. This funny fantasy cartoon on how the meeting might possibly turn out was his response. Needless to say many things had changed since he left Oz a fresh-faced, basically un-chemically experienced beatnik in 1959, added to which they were also meeting Gilli for the first time.

The year was 1992. Poisoned Electrick Head had existed since 1986. We'd released one album on Liverpool's Probe-Plus label, though some cassette-only albums and a 7-inch single had preceded it. We were gigging constantly and had been introduced to the festival scene by Liverpool anarcho-squatter nutjobs, 'Radio Mongolia'. Somehow we'd also drifted into the radar of the Space Agency [Keith 'the Missile Bass' Bailey's booking agency], and had supported Here & Now a few times on their northern appearances. Gong and Here & Now were key influences in our sound, and there was also a strong Hawkwind feel, a touch of Zappa, the chaotic energy of Punk and a big slab of Devo for good measure. We even had a half-cyborg, half telephone mascot called the Telebot who lived in a Marshall cabinet, the front of which would open to reveal him. I remember one gig where we decamped to the communal dressing room after our support slot with Here & Now, killed the lights and installed Telebot in all his day-glo glory. Keith Bailey staggered in bathed in sweat and famously exclaimed in exasperation "Fuckin' psychedelic bands!"

Back in our home town we'd amassed a sizeable following. St Helens was and remains an industrial town that falls geographically between the twin stars of Liverpool and Manchester. People seeking a cultural experience beyond rugby and fighting would gravitate to one or the other. When we unleashed our brand of entertainment we unwittingly ticked a lot of boxes. We became a common denominator for potheads, acidheads, straights, casuals and those guys who you don't make eye contact with and cross the street to avoid. This last demographic group we had at least two in the band. Unusually, the various tribes co-existed under this collective umbrella at our gigs in a peaceful cloud of sweet-smelling smoke, dilated pupils and massive bar sales.

The working-men's club scene was well established but working men were becoming an endangered species, so we quickly realised that these huge, well appointed venues could be transformed for one night into a freak-out, where once or twice a year we would bring in a top-tier P.A. and lighting rig, and take the door money to finance future tours, studio time, etc.

This was the situation we found ourselves in when Jake, the manager of the arts centre 'The Citadel' (a great place, that has consistently to this day acted as a cultural oasis, despite the ups and downs of arts funding, to bring richly diverse entertainment to the town) contacted me.

He'd booked daevid allen's Magick Brothers, and then been informed that we were playing at the cavernous Thatto Heath Labour Club the same night. It would inevitably split the crowd. I remember thinking of guys I knew, three spliffs in who would be in turmoil at such a turn of events - they normally only have to wring their hands over what album to put on next.

I wouldn't call it a stand-off but we had everything in place so I told Jake that we couldn't reschedule at this stage, we'd have to just go with it. We were all gutted at missing a daevid allen gig in town on top of it.

Then I'm called by Jake to say that the Citadel is off but daevid will come over and play with us guys. It was all a bit unreal, the most exciting thing that had ever happened in this place was a big win on the bingo.

The Magick Brothers arrived mid-afternoon and we did all the soundcheck stuff, ate a little and discussed practicalities. daevid said that their music was gentle and pastoral and would benefit from being performed before the psychotic rock-shock our set amounted to. We shuffled uncomfortably in our seats, but acquiesced. If you had the pleasure of meeting him, you know there were smiles all round.

A huge percentage of the folk who regularly came to our gigs were massive Gong-heads. Some of them had heard in advance what had transpired, and some had a big grin-inducing surprise. Suffice to say, St Helens has never seen a night like it since. By rights there should be a plaque on the wall, but the underground and interesting stuff rarely gets such accolades. The best you can hope for is that you were there.

Poisoned Electrick Head reformed a few years ago with four original members from the initial eight and are still out there, collaborating with Arthur Brown, Nik Turner and others. About ten years ago I wrote the Poisoned Electrick Head biography, and include an extract here about that mythical night…

This concert came about under unusual circumstances and probably did little to enhance our tenuous standing with 'The Space Agency', but by that time their gigs for us had all but dried up and we were doing fine under our own steam. Maybe we'd made it clear that £50 support slots were counter-productive to us locally, but more than likely our asshole behaviour had precluded us from any further involvement (however, for some reason we kept emerging in their universe like an unwanted bubble under the wallpaper).

Thus, when daevid allen came to town - an astute move on the part of the Citadel's promoter - the first we heard of it was when we glanced at that month's listing in the local free paper and there it was: daevid allen's Magick Brothers Friday June 12th, 1992.

We quickly realised that we were playing that night anyway, we'd decided to move things up a notch from our usual 'Peasley Cross' shows and try our hand in the flagship labour club of the town - the cavernous Thatto Heath; which welcomed us with open arms to the horror of the regulars, despite being a fiercely traditional place. Word had spread through clubland about this particular cash cow and like the lady says, money talks and bullshit walks. The only dilemma lay in the hands of local heads who had to choose which soundtrack would accompany their Friday night skinning-up duties.

Then, in what was a bold move, Jake from the Citadel rang asking us if we could re-schedule, and when we refused, announced that he would inform The Space Agency that he was pulling the gig. A few days later the situation took another strange twist and resulted in daevid allen, after much consultation, agreeing to join us at Thatto Heath on the bill there, much to the chagrin of the support band. They were a power rock trio called Israfel, all excellent musicians playing much in the style of 'Rush', and had been badgering us for a support slot for some time.

(We were eternally criticised over the support band issue and for us it was a no-win situation. Any competent bands we chose resented the audience not acknowledging the fact, and if we used an inexperienced band - always at their behest I might add - we were accused of picking them just to make ourselves look better. We were bombarded daily with requests from Dead Fly customers who, seeing only the local exposure it offered failed to realise that a sizeable chunk of the crowd weren't even that taken with our music, so unless they played the Zappa/Floyd card they were lambs to the slaughter. After a while we sidestepped the dilemma via more practical means. We chose trios. They took up less room.)

These changes in events meant that Israfel would have to go on earlier, leaving just the thorny subject of who would follow. In terms of experience, fame, reputation - well, in most terms really - The Magick Brothers pissed all over us, but daevid allen's music had a gentle, pastoral, spiritually uplifting quality, and was mainly acoustic in delivery, so these facts coupled with the full-throttle psyche-fest we indulged in meant that they got to go on second. I truly believe it wouldn't have worked any other way, and even though they were fine and dandy about it, looking back it still seems audacious of us.

On the night itself a record crowd turned out and witnessed something very special indeed. They were warmed up by Israfel during their post-arrival pint quaffing session, before being mesmerised and hypnotised as Daevid Allen's snake-charmer qualities transported them through ambrosial vistas of moon-kissed mystical delight. At times you could almost hear a blim* drop (*a piece of cannabis resin deemed so small as to be of almost no consequence) as Graham Clarke's dreamy violin floated through the 600 strong crowd, intertwining with Mark Robson's haunting whistle, and though they may have been a trio who didn't take up much room, they sure knew how to captivate one.

Despite a long history of "quality turns" stretching back to the fifties, I'm sure Thatto Heath had never played host to such artistry, and we couldn't help but feel blessed for having inadvertently and quite accidentally made it occur.

Stonehenge. The very good reports I'd heard are totally justified. From a musical perspective if you are interested in the slightest in the development of the free festivals, their ethos and indeed their end, you should read this book. It is undoubtedly a harrowing read at times, and one still guaranteed to make to you angry, but it's a story that needs more widely known. I wasn't in England through most of the '80s, but I have heard, first hand, many people's stories of that time, and indeed that day, and this is certainly the best collection of accounts you could hope for.

On June 1st 1985, a convoy of new travellers, peace protestors, green activists and festival-goers set off from Savernake Forest in Wiltshire to establish the 12th annual free festival at Stonehenge. There were around 450 people in total, and they included a number of women and children.

They never reached their destination.

Eight miles from the Stones they were ambushed, assaulted and arrested with unprecedented brutality by a quasi-military police force of over 1,300 officers drawn from six counties and the MoD.

That event has gone down in history as 'The Battle of the Beanfield'. This book is the combined effort of a large number of people who feel passionately that only through reaching an understanding of what actually occurred before, during and after the events at the Beanfield, can a proper 'closure' of the event take place for those involved and the many people who have been in some way touched by those events.

The 14 chapters feature extracts from the police radio log and in-depth interviews with a range of people who were there on the day - including travellers Phil Shakesby and Maureen Stone, journalists Nick Davies and Kim Sabido, the Earl of Cardigan and Deputy Chief Constable Ian Readhead - as well as Lord Gifford QC, who represented 24 of the travellers at the Beanfield trial in 1991. These accounts cut through the myths, misconceptions and propaganda that have built up around 'The Battle of the Battlefield' to present a detailed picture of what actually did happen.

Also included are many previously unseen photos, a description of the making of the documentary 'Operation Solstice', and chapters which set the events of the Beanfield in context. These look at the evolution of the free festival scene, new travellers, convoys and peace protestors, 'raves' and road protests, the campaigns for access to Stonehenge, and the wider implications of the events of the Beanfield, through increasingly draconian legislation, on civil liberties in the UK.

Two little notes:- There is a chapter based on a very good Beanfield booklet produced by Bruce at Unique Publications (now in this very building) in '86. Enabler Publications, run by Alan Dearling, who by the way was a contemporary of Steve Hillage at University, also published 'Alternative Australia', which has contributions from daevid allen and Thom the Poet. This book is also back in stock and is therefore available to order once more.

This is to do with Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee's Four Point Plan. What can we do about the state of the world? We can do whatever grows out of following the first three points, which are Witnessing, Grieving, and Prayer. This will be different and particular for each one of us. If we listen to the Earth until She tells us what it is for us to do then the Earth can organise her own healing. She does, after all, know better than us.

This book does not have the answer. I can only describe my own personal journey to a place where I think I can just about make out what I can do myself. It's not what I expected. I hope I've got it right. I began by making friends with the River Brue in Somerset. Now, I could assume that I know what I'm talking about, go back to the beginning, and write a handbook describing what to do and how to do it. But life is not like working from a handbook. It's much more of a jumble.

So this is more or less how it's happened so far, or what I think are the most important and interesting bits. And since I have this strange compulsion to write things down and turn them into stories, I've made it into a book. I've even included an index. This is my fourth book about the River Brue and related matters; this is the Fourth Point - at least, it's my understanding of it. Now it's over to you.

The nearby summer festival that has taken on Glastonbury's name is well known, but this is only one strand of the story; the town has its own tale. The story of Glastonbury's growth since the late 1960s when the first 'flower people' began to arrive in the fabled Vale of Avalon - some answers to long-standing questions, some surprises, and all together make a difference.

Today perhaps a third of the town's population, and more than a third of its High Street shops, have come as part of this extraordinary influx. As with many small country towns, Glastonbury's traditional market economy has all but disappeared. What has replaced it, however, is very different from anything that has happened elsewhere.

This change has been a fascinating process, full of side-plots and sub-plots, struggles, conflicts, excitement and fun. It is chronicled here by someone who has taken part in much of it and who remains enthusiastic - after more than 40 years - about the on-going results of what has happened.

The detailed story of the sometimes fraught, always thought provoking, entertaining and often decidedly strange development of Glastonbury's alternative community over the past 40 years. Part celebratory blueprint of how we can be, part black-box recorder of what the heck happened? In short - an inspiring paean to maverick individuality in service to anarchic collectivism at a unique location in time and space. Wot?

RAF Molesworth, in Cambridgeshire, was intended to be the second cruise missile base in the UK, after Greenham Common. In August 1984, part of this unfenced world war two airfield was occupied by a mixed group of Green activists, travellers, Quakers, anarchists and peace campers.

The occupation, and the 'Rainbow Village' that it became, remained on MoD land for nearly six months. Eventually it was brought to an end by a massive operation involving police, soldiers, and Defence Secretary Michael Heseltine in his flak jacket.

The experience of living at Molesworth during that winter was physically, emotionally and politically intense. The climax, the eviction that took place overnight on February 5th/6th 1985, was perhaps the most dramatic occurrence in all the peace and anti-nuclear campaigns of the 1980s.

The prehistoric origins of patriachy and social oppression. Some long considered questions addressed. Once, before the great cultural advances of 35,000 years ago, before the technological developments which made life possible through the last ice age, before the beginnings of farming, before the neolithic 'revolution', before the first towns, before the first cities, there was one basic reality to human life. And afterwards there was the farmer and the herder, the European and the Asiatic, the 'matrist' and the 'patrist', the hunter-gatherer and modern civilisation.

The key element of this change was the emergence of patriarchy - rule by men - along with oppressive social structures, and warfare. How and why this came about is a question which the academic establishment has failed to answer. We are still living with the myth, left over from nineteenth century preconceptions, that 'primitive man' was brutish, sexist and lacking in culture. This is quite untrue. Patriarchy, and the injustices and cruelties which have come with it, is not natural to human beings. It has only been a significant force in society since about 4,000 BC.

The myth has been dispelled to some extent by recent work which highlights the Goddess Culture of neolithic Europe. Its demise at the hands of warrior invaders from the East is well described - but with no explanation as to why this came about, nor what caused such a warrior culture to come into being. This book carries the discussion forward by presenting a fresh exploration of human origins: not only our physical evolution but also the economic, cultural and psychological aspects of our development. The results are both intriguing and hopeful.