Low Company Rock & Indie 3 Items

Bobby Would Lp#2. Wistful Waltztime Psychobeat For Warding Off / Wallowing In The 2020-21 Weltschmerz. Swelling And Smearing The Vision Of 2018's Skeletal Rock'n'roll Heartbreaker Baby, Most Of The Songs Here Are Ballads - Minimalist, Ultra-Hypnotic But Lavishly Melodic Space-Punk Lullabies And Bright, Bruised Expressions Of Jingle-Jangle Mourning. Highs, Lows And Heavenly Blows. Bw's Guitar Is, More Than Ever, A Thing Of Fearsome And Filigree Beauty, Moving Effortlessly From Misty, Mellifluous Diy Pop-Dreams To Wailing Vertiginous Whiplash Leads And Dazed, Epiphanic, Angels-Wept Metha-Drone, Ringing In Infinity - And Tethered To This Earth Only By His Beloved Monotone, Numbed-Out, Serial-Killer Croon. Spinning In Its Own Orbit, But With Recognisable Dabs - Perhaps - Of Phantom Payn / Jg39, Les Rallizes Denudes, Gary War, Peter Gutteridge's Pure...And Of Course Bobby's Own Work In Heavy Metal And Itchy Bugger.

Corrupt West loser Walker meets happiness undermine rock titan Melchior is useless album.

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"Television star Martin Shaw last night said justice had been done after seeing his stalker convicted of a 5-year campaign of harassment. The Judge John Deed actor looked relieved as he left King's Lynn Magistrates Court and said he hoped Sandra Price would find peace following yesterday's guilty verdict. Shopkeeper Price, 66, also from Hingham, began writing to Mr Shaw after his marriage to TV presenter Vicky Kimm broke up in 2005. But the letters became increasingly offensive and Price began appearing outside the homes of Mr Shaw and his partner Karen da Silva. And delivering his verdict, district judge Tim Daber praised his onscreen counterpart's 'meticulous' evidence. Of Price, he added: 'I am not convinced that all these explanations are wholly truthful.'

"Price, who originally came from Settle, North Yorks, moved to the village in August 2006 and opened a craft shop. She hand delivered a 45-minute tape to the actor's house and left him a 120-page dossier detailing his movements, explaining her behaviour and threatening to kill herself in his garden. Yesterday she told the court that she wanted to help Mr Shaw by giving him 'healing'. When the trial opened on Tuesday she denied harassment but admitted causing criminal damage by pouring petrol through Ms da Silva's front door. But under cross examination, she admitted collecting and keeping personal information about the couple, including the Land Registry deed to Ms da Silva's house. And in the 120-page document, which she called The Chronicle, Price admitted she 'wanted to get under his skin enough for him to be curious about her'.

"In another extract read out in court, a person referred to in the third person as The Woman said she would drive to Hingham, go to Martin Shaw's Garden, wrap herself in a sleeping bag and take an overdose of painkillers. Price agreed she was The Woman. Robert Warner, prosecuting, told her: 'I suggest you have developed an unhealthy interest in Martin Shaw and his personal life and also the personal life of Ms da Silva.'

"Price was warned to stop contacting Mr Shaw after the actor complained to the police in November 2005. Police arrested her after petrol was poured through Ms da Silva's letterbox last July. PC Mark Bandrowski said when he searched her home in Chapel Street, Price showed him bottles which had contained petrol, oilskin clothing and a lighter. Price admitted pouring the petrol through the door. She told the court: 'Someone told me that she had been calling me a stalker, Martin's stalker. I've always complied with whatever I've been told to do and I thought my name was blackened in the village. I was angry. It's not a good thing to do I will admit but I became enraged.'

"Extracts from letters Price sent Mr Shaw were read out in court. One said: 'Please don't regard this letter as an invasion of your privacy (although it is).' She signed another from Sandra The Crackpot. Price said she had not deliberately set out to pass Mr Shaw's house or Ms da Silva's property, but she loved to walk long distances around the village."

Just another album by The Doozer. One concerned with illness (no, not that one) and recovery. Inside to outside. Darkness into light. A way through the woods. The Doozer aka Simon Loynes is now seven LPs into a subterranean solo voyage begun in 2007, and to those of us who have followed it, the songs that make up Convalescence could be seen to embody a kind of late style - ultra-lucid, pared-down, precise; seemingly simple in form, richly complex in effect. Where The Doozer's last outing, 2018's Figurines (FTR360), showcased his songs at their most propulsive and and electrified, Convalescence is a more hushed, hermitic, even claustrophobic affair - dispensing with percussion almost entirely, the focus is tight on Loynes' voice and plangent acoustic guitar, with occasional daubings and interludes of wheezing keyboard, all recorded to Tascam 246 4-track cassette in Edinburgh, Summer 2019. For a considerable chunk of time, health issues had left Loynes unable to sing. On this record you can hear him rediscovering his voice: its unique grain, its responsiveness, its capacity for creating and sustaining emotional ambiguity, for oscillating elegantly between whimsy and woundedness. As with previous Doozer albums, there's an arcadian impulse at the heart of Convalescence: a sense of exile, or withdrawal, from 'The Garden' - and the need to return. The idea that, in your lowest ebb, you might recover your sense of self somewhere in the pastoral landscape of your memories. We're told the shadow of Malcolm Lowry looms large over the record - Lowry the void-chaser, the great misadventurer. Does Convalescence report from the abyss? If so then it's with a coolness and control, a lightness of touch, that conceals as much as it reveals. But beyond the neurosis, the ironic deflections, the flashes of matter-of-fact bleakness ("there isn't time / there isn't love"), there lies a deep, Lowry-ish romanticism, and a rejection of pessimism: even at its lowest ebb, Convalescence gestures towards an immense and lovin...