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thelenazavaroniarchive · 8 months ago

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20th March 2024.

𝐓𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟓. The Stage noted that Lena would be appearing at the Pavilion Theatre, Bournemouth from Tuesday 25th . Barry Britten thanked the Solomons for booking him to appear with Lena in Bournemouth and South Africa.

𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟖. Lena appeared in the final episode of Opportunity Knocks. ITV 6.40 pm- 7.25pm. She sang ‘Should’ve Listened to Mamma’

Host: Hughie Green. Artistes; Les Dawson, Peters and Lee, Tom O’connor, Lena Zavaroni, Frank Carson, Little and Large, Mary Hopkin, Pam Ayres, Freddie Davies, Berni Flint, Duane Family, Neil Martin, Millican & Nesbitt, Tony Holland.

Music; Bob Sharples. Director Stewart Hall, Production Company; Thames TV.

𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟖. The Daily Mirror had a full page article about the final episode of Opportunity Knocks.

𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟖. The Belfast Telegraph had a small article about the Show.

𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟖. The Kent Evening Post mentioned Lena in a short piece about Opportunity Knocks.

While Scotland's Fourteen years superstar was on ITV, BBC 2 had a programme about America's Fifteen year old superstar - Jodie Foster.

𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟖. London Weekend Television sent out publicity Photographs to promote The Lena & Bonnie Show. They also mentioned that they would be on Our Show to promote it. Lena’s rabbit was called Clyde, Bonnie also held one which I think was called Bonnie. Lena and Bonnie were photographed at Kent House Studios rehearsing for their Easter show, by Chris Moorhouse for The Press Association.

𝐓𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟎. The Stage reported that Stewart Morris would be producing a series of shows with Lena, and then another series of shows which would become known as Summertime Special, and which Lena herself would present in a couple of years time.

𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕. The Birmingham News ran an article about the latest incarnation of Opportunity Knocks with Bob Monkhouse.

#lena zavaroni #Opportunity Knocks

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moonchildflower · 3 years ago

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John Mayall & the Bluesbreakers

Photo by David Wedgebury

#john mayall & the bluesbreakers #john mayall #eric clapton #john mcvie #hughie flint

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rolloroberson · 4 years ago

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John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers “Beano” album cover featuring John Mayall, Eric Clapton, John McVie, and Hughie Flint. Photographed by David Wedgbury. (A guy by the name of Jack Bruce also added bass to the sessions.)

#john mayall #bluesbreakers #eric clapton #john mcvie #hughie flint #beano #david wedgbury #jack bruce

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odk-2 · 7 years ago

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John Mayall and The Bluesbreakers - It Ain't Right (1966) Walter Jacobs (AKA Little Walter) Little Walter Cover from: "John Mayall and The Bluesbreakers with Eric Clapton"

Album Personnel: John Mayall: Vocals / Harmonica Eric Clapton: Guitar John McVie: Bass Hughie Flint: Drums

Produced by Mike Vernon

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Little Walter and His Jukes - It Ain't Right (1956): https://tmblr.co/ZoHQpk2VaaQZc

#The Bluesbreakers #John Mayall #John Mayall and The Bluesbreakers #John Mayall and The Bluesbreakers with Eric Clapton #Walter Jacobs #Little Walter #Little Walter and His Jukes #Blues #British Blues #60's #1966 #Eric Clapton #John McVie #Hughie Flint #Mike Vernon

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thefrogholler · 4 years ago

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Musical Birthday Notes - March 15th

Musical Birthday Notes – March 15th

View On WordPress

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thespliffbunker · 4 months ago

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#the Beano Burst #Eric clapton #bluebreakers live #hughie flint #john mcvie #johnmayall?#paving the way

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longliverockback · 1 month ago

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John Mayall Bluesbreakers with Eric Clapton 1984 Mobile Fidelity Sond Lab ————————————————— Tracks: 01. All Your Love 02. Hideaway 03. Little Girl 04. Another Man 05. Double Crossing Time 06. What’d I Say 07. Key to Love 08. Parchman Farm 09. Have You Heard 10. Ramblin’ on My Mind 11. Steppin’ Out 12. It Ain’t Right —————————————————

Eric Clapton

Hughie Flint

John Mayall

John McVie

* Long Live Rock Archive

#MFSL #Mobile Fidelity #JohnMayall #Bluesbreakers #Eric Clapton #Hughie Flint #John Mayall #John McVie #Bluesbreakers with Eric Clapton #Reissue #Blues #1984 #Debut

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sgtjamesrogers · 2 years ago

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taps mic. please enjoy the sequel to the wip Wednesday that was actually many more moons ago than i realized. aka, 'hughie forces butcher to do an incredibly experimental treatment for his temp v brain holes, it's on maeve's farm in the kansas flint hills, abba is involved, there's pre-fic polyam negotiations, it's already named after a billy joel song.' i hate me.

He’s prepared to make some kind of smart remark, but any words on his tongue instantly evaporate as he watches Butcher slide slowly into an armchair facing the bank of windows. He’s limp like he’s shrugged out of the shell marked ‘stubborn bastard’ that kept him standing, and something about his beaten-down posture makes Hughie uncomfortably aware of how ill Butcher is.

“Jesus, you should have said something,” Hughie says as he rounds the chair, bending to look Butcher in the face as he clumsily seeks out the pulse in his wrist. “Maybe we should get started right now. Frenchie did say the sooner the better–”

Butcher gives him a worthless shove with a grunt. His pulse is fluttery and light, a wounded bird under his fingertips.

“If you try to get all McDreamy on me right now, I’ll take a shit in your suitcase when you fall asleep,” he says, though the heat in his words is like a fire flickering and dying rapidly under a harsh gust of wind. “I’ll make sure to get all of your pants, you’ll have to borrow some from Maeve’s lady, they’ll look like… those short pants that were big, back in the early aughts.”

Hughie lets go of his wrist with a sigh, sitting on the edge of the sturdy wood coffee table opposite the chair.

“You’d have to squat long enough to pinch one off without passing out, which is not a thing you can do right now,” he says, leaning back on his hands. “Plus you’ve been loaded up on painkillers for the last two weeks, you’re too constipated to even think about the phrase ‘bowel movement’. Also, for the record. They’re called capris.” He lets his head fall forward and tries not to yawn. Fuck, but he’s tired.

By the time he drags his chin up from his chest, he finds Butcher’s eyes on him, expression utterly unreadable.

He could ask ‘what is it?’, or even ‘is there something on my face?’ but instead he just looks back at him. Meeting Butcher’s gaze feels uncanny, like unbuttoning his shirt and offering a place between his ribs to stick a knife. He holds it anyway; gently, like something that might break rather than as a challenge. He’s pretty sure it’s only partially because Butcher couldn’t get out of the chair on his own, even if he tried.

Finally, Hughie asks, “You wanna go lay down?”

Butcher shakes his head, expression stymied.

“Just leave me here a while, I’ll get up in a minute.”

Hughie privately doubts that but he leaves Butcher to it, standing up from the coffee table and making his way to the french doors that lead out onto a small deck overlooking the pond. He can hear some sort of bird (or maybe several birds) cheep-cheeping back and forth from the loose ring of trees, and as a dry breeze tugs at the collar of his shirt and plays with his hair, Hughie feels his shoulders start to relax.

He throws himself into a tatty rattan deck chair, legs splayed as he fishes his phone from his pocket.

Oscar has landed in Grouchland! :)

He sends that sentence along with a picture of the pond as the sun slinks away from its high noon position to the group chat MM has set up in a secure messaging app. A handful of seconds later, Annie’s contact picture is lighting up his screen.

“Hey!” He exhales with something like relief, an uncontrollable smile stretching his face. “I wasn’t sure if you’d see that until later, I know you guys are in—“

“Dubai was a bust, actually,” Annie says before he can finish, but she doesn’t sound too upset about it. “Our transport chickened out on us, which I think Frenchie was fine with. He wasn’t too excited about the whole ‘parachuting in’ segment of the plan. So instead–” He hears a paper bag rustling from somewhere in the background, followed by the ambient noise of television at low volume. “- it’s butter chicken, garlic naan, and the last season of Fargo.”

Hughie can almost imagine it, as he sits back in the deck chair with the sun starting to bake him. The exact aroma of the butter chicken, the apple tv remote in his hand, curling on his side after dinner with his head in Annie’s lap while she plays with his hair. It’s not sadness he feels, exactly. He’s somehow a little shocked by it, that the wistful ache kneading his sternum like a friendly cat can coexist with his sharp desire to be here, twisting Butcher’s arm into recovery. Hughie supposes that two things can be true at once.

“Party foul, watching Fargo without me,” he teases, and warms again at the sound of her soft laughter.

“Make Butcher watch it with you,” she says, mouth half full. Hughie can picture the precise scrunch on her nose while she chews, like somewhere in her subconscious she can’t believe she’s talking with food in her mouth. He loves her so much it hurts. “How is mister grimy asshole doing?”

“Not great…” he mutters, twisting to look over the back of the chair into the bunkhouse. The reflection from the sun on the windows keeps him from seeing much beyond Butcher’s slumped form still in the chair, but it’s telling that he hasn’t moved. “He slept the whole flight, and then most of the drive. I barely got him to eat.”

Annie makes a hum that Hughie knows translates to, ‘I’m nervous, but trying to be optimistic.’

“Yeah, I know,” he says, voice still quiet like he’s in the room with Butcher. “I’m hoping once we get started…” “You haven’t done the first dose yet?” Her voice sounds clearer, a rustling of a paper bag as she sits upright. Hughie winces.

“He’s…” Hughie looks over his shoulder again; a reflex. Butcher bit his head off when he suggested it. Butcher will probably just throw it up with no food in his stomach. Butcher’s going to strangle him as soon as he has enough strength for it. “...really exhausted. I’m going to get him started first thing in the morning. It feels neater that way.”

“True,” she gives him, and she sounds about as put out as he feels. Or at least that’s what he thinks until she hums again. “So, are you going to tell him before or after he starts healing up?”

Hughie almost drops his phone.

“I’m, I don’t,” he splutters, fighting the urge to audibly gulp like he’s in a Looney Tunes cartoon, his palms suddenly beading sweat. “I don’t know that I really ever need to say anything.” He looks over his shoulder again, like Butcher will suddenly be looming over him and listening to their conversation.

“...uh huh,” is all Annie says, and there’s something sly in her tone that makes his ears burn. “If you say so. It’s no skin off my back to keep you to myself.” It’s the sort of casual approach she’s had since they talked all of this out; though he feels like he can trace it back farther, to waking up with a mile of stitches and both of them standing over him in the hospital.

When Hughie doesn’t respond, she softens her voice. “No matter what happens, he cares about you. In an ass-backward sort of way, but.”

Instead of responding, Hughie laughs softly instead and says, “You are so from Des Moines sometimes, oh my god.”

Because she’s an angel, Annie lets him do it and retorts with, “Ass-backwards is a very normal phrase! People say ass-backward all over the place, city boy.”

“Say ass-backward again,” he whispers, unable to keep a childish grin from spreading across his face. “Ass-backwards,” she says as seriously as possible, smothering a laugh. His heart thuds at the sound; a dog’s hindleg thumping uncontrollably as it’s scratched just right.

Annie stays on the phone with him for a little bit longer, chewing as she clicks through Netflix and tries to explain the plot of Dead to Me. Hughie swears he’s following along but realizes he’s having a hard time keeping his eyes open when she repeats his name a few times. “...Hughie? Am I lulling you to sleep?” She teases. “Maybe I just like the sweet sound of your voice,” he says, groaning as he pushes himself up and out of the chair. Without checking the time, it feels like four in the afternoon, which probably means it’s around three.

“Go take a nap, you sound like you need it,” Annie tells him, and when he promises that he will, they hang up.

Wandering back inside on stiff legs, Hughie finds Butcher still in that chair, and soundly asleep. Head craned back and to the side, his chest rises and falls slowly; a modicum of peace on his face. Hughie thinks that somehow he looks younger like this, the developing frown lines between his brows and at his eyes somewhat smoothed out, the tension in his mouth disappearing. And without anger in his expression, his dark dramatic brows give him a quizzical, almost sardonic look.

Not for the first time, Hughie wonders what Butcher was like, before. If he still had these jagged edges, or if some piece of him was irreparably broken away when he lost Becca. But, perhaps he’s always been this rough monument to brutalism and the ends justifying the means. After all, Becca isn’t exactly around to ask, and Hughie’s not even sure what he’d say. If she would have even liked him, seeing as they didn’t get much of a chance to interact in those bare days of her being alive.

Hughie hopes that she would have liked him.

Carefully finger combing dark hair away from his forehead, Hughie tries to gently cram a throw pillow from the couch between Butcher’s head and the back of the chair. It takes some maneuvering, but he manages to take the strain off of his neck. He yanks the plaid flannel from the back of the couch and settles it across Butcher’s lap.

“There you go, asshole,” he whispers, almost fond as he steps back to admire the effect.

Hughie knows he could poke around and find one of the bedrooms, but being too far away makes him feel uneasy. He pictures Butcher waking up and trying to go to the bathroom, only to crumple to the floor facedown, unable to call out loud enough to rouse Hughie. So instead, he kicks off his shoes and folds up on the couch after he sets a timer for six pm, letting sleep yank him away from consciousness for as long as he can afford.

#okay..... last wip update before i buckle in #the boys #butchie #is.... is that the name #also there is hughie x annie because hughie has two hands #hughie campbell #billy butcher #jesse writes fic

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julio-viernes · 1 year ago

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Tom Newman, productor de "Tubular Bells" y ex Thoughts, ex Tomcats y ex July en "Suzie", una homenaje al famoso "Wake Up Little Susie" de Everly Brothers contenido en su primer LP "Fine Old Tom" (Virgin, 1975) en el que contó con los servicios de Fred Frith, John Field, Chris Cutler, Hughie Flint, Neil Innes, Lol Coxhill, Mick Taylor, Mike Oldfield...

Hace pocos años una persona mezquina señaló con dedo acusatorio a Vicente Cagiao - grande y sabio a pesar de lo que diga éste tío- porque era "de los que ponían en la radio en los 70s una cara entera de álbum del grupo progresivo de turno". Le habría echado encima a La Santa Inquisición Musical de llegar a existir. Parece ser que prácticamente no merecía vivir por no ceñirse a la canción cerrada pop.

¿A dónde vas Epiblas? Voy a que hubo un tiempo en que el siempre alabado D.J. John Peel fue también otro de esos de los temas largos y más largos... Puso las dos caras enteras de "Tubular Bells" en su programa de radio cuando le mandaron una copia del LP en 1973, una y después otra, e imagino que pondría muchos temas extensos en el periodo en que la música se complicó. Años después pincharía "Teenage Kicks" de los Undertones y "Part Time Punks" de Television Personalities sin problema. A Peel le gustaban las dos cosas y programaba lo que le parecía bueno. ¿Merecía por ello la hoguera- la hoguera- la hoguera?

#tom newman #the everly brothers #mike oldfield #vicente cagiao #john peel #the undertones #television personalities #javier krahe

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unlikecharlie · 4 years ago

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Tagged by my love @mwagneto to list my top 10 favorite male characters from any fandom. Thank you, honey <33

I will list them as I remember them, so no particular order:

Harry Potter from,,,,well

Sirius Black from Harry Potter

Captain Flint from Black Sails

John Silver from Black Sails

Tony Stark from Marvel

Hughie Campbell from The Boys

The Captain from Ghosts BBC

Martin Blackwood from The Magnus Archives

Jonathan Sims from The Magnus Archives

Cliff Steele from Doom Patrol

Tagging: @tinynebula @bi-scottsummers @charro @selflesslovingdean @twinliches @tennet and anyone else who wants to do this! Just say I tagged you <33

#tag game #tagged #rambling #thank you cwis uwu

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classicrockblog1 · 6 years ago

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Bill Ward (born 5 May 1948) is an #musician best known as the original #drummer for the #heavy #metal #band Black Sabbath. An original founding member of the band, Ward also performed as lead vocalist on two Black Sabbath songs; “It’s Alright”[1] from the album Technical Ecstasy and “Swinging the Chain”[1] from the album Never Say Die! Ward is known for his very unorthodox style of playing the drums, often using snare-drills and tempo-drop to match both vocals and riff.

Bill Ward started to play drums as a child, listening to the big bands of the 1940s and his major influences were Gene Krupa, Buddy Rich andLouie Bellson.[2] Later he was influenced by drummers such as Larrie Londin, Bernard Purdie, Joe Morello, Keef Hartley, Hughie Flint, John Bonham, Ringo Starr, Jim Capaldi, Clive Bunker.[3] In the mid-1960s Ward sang and played drums in a band called The Rest.[4] Ward and guitarist Tony Iommi played together in a band called Mythology,[5] and upon that band’s dissolution joined vocalist Ozzy Osbourne and bassist Geezer Butler, who had played together in a band called Rare Breed.[6] The new band called themselves Earth, soon to be renamed Black Sabbath.

Ward’s drug and alcohol use increased throughout Black Sabbath’s heyday. By the late ‘70s Ward was drinking during gigs, something he had never done before.[4] He also began experiencing panic attacks.[4] Ward has said he cannot remember the recording of 1980’s Heaven and Hell due to his alcohol abuse.[7] According to Black Sabbath bandmate Iommi, Ward disappeared on 21 August 1980, without saying goodbye, other than a telephone call to then-Black Sabbath vocalist Ronnie James Dio informing him “I’m off then, Ron.”[8] He then briefly played in a band called Max Havoc.[5] He sat out one album (1981’s Mob Rules) before returning to Black Sabbath for 1983’s Born Again album. He once again left the band for health reasons prior to touring in support of Born Again. He again rejoined Black Sabbath in the mid-1980s, though the band did not record or tour during this period.

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