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scotianostra · 6 months ago

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August 20th 1872, saw the death of the Scottish " laureate of the nursery", William Miller.

Miller was born in Glasgow in 1810 and spent most of his boyhood in what is now the city’s Parkhead area. His ambition to become a surgeon was ended by serious illness and he was eventually apprenticed as a wood-turner. He became a skilled craftsman, developing a particular talent for cabinet-making. Early in his life he began writing poetry and children’s rhymes, mainly in the Scots language he used in everyday life.

His song Wee Willie Winkie along with other verse by Miller, first appeared in Whistle Binkie: Stories for the Fireside, a compendium of songs, in 1841, it went on to appear in further editions of that and many, many more publications since then. However it was not received well at first, indeed the editor of Whistle-Binkie,David Robertson was not keen on the grumpy figure personifying sleep and it was received with mixed opinions by Robertson’s friends. To settle the dissent, he dispatched the manuscript to R. M. Ballantyne of Edinburgh (who had himself contributed much to the publication and was the writer of over 100 books in his lifetime) who asserted, according to the Perthshire Advertiser that:

“There is not at this moment in the whole range of Scottish songs, anything more exquisite in its kind than that little Warlock of the Nursery, “Wee Willie Winkie.”

Miller suffered from ill health throughout his life and never managed to make a career solely as a poet and continued to work as a cabinet-maker and wood-turner for most of his life, most of the time from his own house, he did however have his fans, Lord Jeffrey, founder of the prestigious Edinburgh Review, being one, another was the Countess of Selkirk, and it was during one of his bouts of illness it became known she helped the erstwhile poet out when reported in The Glasgow Herald in 1846 that…:

“We learn that the Countess of Selkirk has transmitted to Mr David Robertson of this city, by the hands of the Rev.Mr Underwood of Kirkeudbright, the sum of £2, for behoof of William Miller, the author of “Wee Willie Winkie,” &c.; her Ladyship having been impressed with a favourable opinion of the poet from having perused his Nursery Rhymes. Mr Miller is so much improved, that he is now able to pursue his occupation of a wood-turner.”

In November 1871, an ulceration of the leg forced William give up his trade. Despite the increasing frailties of his body, his mind remained as sharp as ever and he continued to write and disseminate poetry, works which appeared in publications such as The Scotsman. Learning of his condition as an invalid, The Greenock Telegraph and Clyde Shipping Gazette on the 1st March 1872 urged its readers to furnish monetary contributions ‘for this deserving old poet:

WILLIAM MILLER THE POET.

“Perhaps the most delicious nursery song that has been written by a modern minstrel for the delectation of the “bairns” in these northern regions is the song of “Wee Willie Winkie.” We are sorry to hear that the writer of it has for a long time past been an invalid, and that he is in poor circumstances. William Miller has a strong claim on the public for some help to smooth his declining years. He is now upwards of sixty, and at his advanced age, afflicted as he is with serious disease of the limbs, there is no prospect of his ever being able again to resume work. By trade he is a wood turner, and he resides in Glasgow, of which city he is a native. One who knows him says that his heart seems still young, his mind still vigorous; but he feels his position irksome and his spirit galled that he cannot now, as formerly, earn by the swear of his brow the bread of independence.”

You have to love the language of the day used in these newspapers!

The following July, Miller stayed at Blantyre for a time, hoping that the town’s airs – the settlement was 8 miles from Glasgow – would reinvigorate him. The trip proved futile and he was soon returned to his son’s house in the city, having suffered a paralysis of the lower limbs. He passed away, destitute, at the age of 62 on the 20th August, 1872.

The poet subsequently received a number of obituary notices in the newspapers lamenting the loss of this Scottish talent. The account below, in The Greenock Telegraph and Clyde Shipping Gazette on the 22nd August, 1872), reports the grim news:

DEATH OF WILLIAM MILLER, THE POET

“The death is announced of William Miller, the nursery poet. He was born in Glasgow in August, 1810. He was early apprenticed to a wood turner, and by diligent application to business made himself one of the best workmen of his craft; and even in his later years there were few who could equal him in the quality of his work. It is, however, as a poet that he is known to fame. In his early youth he published several pieces in the Day and other newspapers; but from the fact that no record of these productions was observed, it is impossible to know when they issued from his pen.

The first thing that brought him into public notice was the publication of the nursery song “Willie Winkie.” The MS. of this song was sent to Mr. Ballantine in Edinburgh, who gave it unqualified praise, as being the very best poem of its kind that he had ever seen. This led to the publication of the poem, and it at once attracted a large amount of attention. This was followed by a number of other pieces of a similar description, all of which were received with great favour, and led to the author’s acquaintance with Lord Jeffrey and other gentlemen of literary tastes.

The best of his nursery songs which have obtained for him the well-earned title of the Laureate of the nursery were all written before he was 36 years of age; but it was not till 1863 that, at the request of several friends, he collected together and published a small volume, entitled “Nursery Songs and other Poems.” It had a wide circulation and has earned for the author a reputation that will never decay.

Miller is buried in Tollcross Cemetery in a plot that does not bear his name a sad state of affairs that led to friends and admirers raising a memorial stone by public subscription and it stands in the Glasgow Necropolis, near the Bridge of Sighs.

In 2009, Glasgow City Council unveiled a tribute to the poet at his former dwelling, 4 Ark Lane in Dennistoun, erecting a bronze plaque on the wall of the Tennent’s Brewery which now sits on the site of William Miller’s house. A blue plaque in the Trongate also serves as a quirky tribute to his most famous creation, declaring that ‘Wee Willie Winkie was spotted here in his nightgown’ in 1841.

It is clear that, even now, William Miller’s pyjama-clad figure still urges children to get into their beds and sleep as a nursery song learnt and replayed the world over

Here is the Scots version of ‘Wee Willie Winkie,’ a rhyme anglicised very soon after its publication:

Wee Willie Winkie runs through the toon,

Up stairs and doon stairs, in his nicht-goon,

Tirling at the window, cryin’ at the lock,

Are the weans in their bed, for it’s now ten o’clock?

Hey, Willie Winkie, are ye coming ben?

The cat’s singing grey thrums to the sleeping hen,

The dog’s spelder’d on the floor, and disna gie a cheep,

But here’s a waukrife laddie that winna fa’ asleep.

Onything but sleep, you rogue, glow’ring like the mune,

Rattling in an airn jug wi’ an airn spoone,

Rumbling, tumbling round about, crawing like a cock,

Skirlin’ like a kenna-what, wauk’ning sleeping fock.

Hey, Willie Winkie – the wean’s in a creel,

Wambling aff a bodie’s knee like a very eel,

Ruggin’ at the cat’s lug, and raveling a’ her thrums-

Hey, Willie Winkie – see, there he comes!’

Wearied is the mither that has a stoorie wean,

A wee stumple stoussie, that canna rin his lane,

That has a battle aye wi’ sleep before he’ll close an ee

But a kiss frae aff his rosy lips gies strength anew to me.

#scotland #history #scottish #Poet #Makar

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slack-wise · 2 months ago

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Creative year in review 2024

1. I have a tradition of looking over the previous year from a creative bent. I tend to start with success/failure rates submitting to open calls. This year has been pretty kind. 15 submissions with 7 Yeses. That's a 47% success rate, which might be my best ever. Certainly compared to last year where I had a 100% failure rate! (which was unprecedented). Also in previous years I had ended up peppering these submissions, but in more recent times they have been paired back and slightly more targeted.

2. Of course submitting to open calls is only a small part of the whole spectrum. One of the biggest things I got out of the door in 2024 was XXto2, a (thick) zine I made with the super talented Tyrone Williams. We had been hatching the project for a while and were approaching publishers, despite a whiff of interest from a couple of small independent presses we ended up self-publishing the project. We launched at an event organised by the wonderful Photomafia studios (run by Joe Westley and Alex Macchiarelli). We put up a small, very haphazard exhibition and sold some zines. There are a handful left at: https://slackwise.org.uk/shop/xxto2/

3. What is quite notable this year is that I have hardly taken any photographs. I started working on a a huge project earlier in the year, but didn't make much headway. In fact I have only just sent off two rolls of film to be developed at the end of December. The only other photography I seemed to have engaged in are instant Fuji Instax images taken on the large format camera (with a Lomograflok back). I had been thinking though, when people ask and realise how expensive large format film is, I think even in my busiest periods I might only shoot 20 4x5 negatives in a single year and very often less.

4. In August our studio, studio MALARKEY hosted its first arts event since we set up shop. It was coordinated with NN Contemprary and called NNights. There were several venues around the town hosting arts events for one evening in early August. The footfall was very good and we had some curious visitors to our studio.

5. Probably the biggest thing I was involved in this year was the show we curated at studio MALARKEY called 'Apparition / Aberration / Your Mum'. This brought together 22 internaitonal artists presenting an array of work centered around themes of witchcraft, metaphysics, sacred geometry, the unknown and conjuring with a sprinkling of humour. I also showed a work in this exhibit. I was formulating the idea in June and gave myself a September deadline to take a single photograph. The image I made is a reworking of the Four of Cups Tarot card. But by far the biggest boon was contacting the artists, logistics, ordering prints, curating then mounting the show. Very proud of this one.

6. Another big thing for this year seemed to be purchasing (or gifted) artists books and zines. I don't think I have ever highlighted this in previous years, but 2024 seemed notable. I bought publications by Andreas Olesen, James Casebere, Lynn Cohen, Ariel C. Wilson, Al Palmer, Tyrone Williams (my collaborator from earlier this year), Billy & Hells (who included a lovely artists proof print), Lewis Baltz, Lauren Hubbard, Hikaru, Joe Westley and an extraordinary book called Made of concrete - 2011, from a trio of artists Sami Benhadj Djilali, Tarik Hayward and Guy Meldem (image pictured).

7. Odds and sods: I finally got a scanner (very affordably) that can cope with 8x10 negatives. I bought a 3m long pneumatic cable release (see next point). Very tangential: I got to see Melt-Banana perform live (this was on my bucket list). I mothballed my bot, Glyphbot. I built a new website for a very discerning customer, Jessica Harby. I backed a Kickstarter that is making a digital leaf shutter for large format cameras. Leaf shutters have not been manufactured since 2016.

8. What is next? I am working on a book (literally as we speak). Like most of my projects it has been delayed, was hoping to put it out this year, but it will roll into next. I have taken the final photographs for it, now comes the arduous task of layout. Hoping to publish it with a local artist friend who has a small press and is an all round mensch. In the summer as part of NNights I am hoping to open MALARKEY to use as a portrait studio. I have an old 5x7 camera (see above). Earlier this year I bought 4 film holders for it (these are quite hard to come by in the UK) plus the seller threw in 2 boxes of black and white film. I want to get sitters to take their own portraits using a very long 3m cable release I managed to pick up. I plan to take the portraits in a very narrow corner of the hoist room (a little annex to our studio). Think Irving Penn, German Expressionist cinema and this lovely old portrait by Cecil Beaton.

Err that's it!

You can peruse the 2023 review here (if you want).

#year in review #creative year in review #2024 #cyir #cyir2024

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dailyanarchistposts · 8 months ago

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F.8.4 Aren’t the enclosures a socialist myth?

The short answer is no, they are not. While a lot of historical analysis has been spent in trying to deny the extent and impact of the enclosures, the simple fact is (in the words of noted historian E.P. Thompson) enclosure “was a plain enough case of class robbery, played according to the fair rules of property and law laid down by a parliament of property-owners and lawyers.” [The Making of the English Working Class, pp. 237–8]

The enclosures were one of the ways that the “land monopoly” was created. The land monopoly referred to feudal and capitalist property rights and ownership of land by (among others) the Individualist Anarchists. Instead of an “occupancy and use” regime advocated by anarchists, the land monopoly allowed a few to bar the many from the land — so creating a class of people with nothing to sell but their labour. While this monopoly is less important these days in developed nations (few people know how to farm) it was essential as a means of consolidating capitalism. Given the choice, most people preferred to become independent farmers rather than wage workers (see next section). As such, the “land monopoly” involves more than simply enclosing common land but also enforcing the claims of landlords to areas of land greater than they can work by their own labour.

Needless to say, the titles of landlords and the state are generally ignored by supporters of capitalism who tend to concentrate on the enclosure movement in order to downplay its importance. Little wonder, for it is something of an embarrassment for them to acknowledge that the creation of capitalism was somewhat less than “immaculate” — after all, capitalism is portrayed as an almost ideal society of freedom. To find out that an idol has feet of clay and that we are still living with the impact of its origins is something pro-capitalists must deny. So are the enclosures a socialist myth? Most claims that it is flow from the work of the historian J.D. Chambers’ famous essay “Enclosures and the Labour Supply in the Industrial Revolution.” [Economic History Review, 2nd series, no. 5, August 1953] In this essay, Chambers attempts to refute Karl Marx’s account of the enclosures and the role it played in what Marx called “primitive accumulation.”

We cannot be expected to provide an extensive account of the debate that has raged over this issue (Colin Ward notes that “a later series of scholars have provided locally detailed evidence that reinforces” the traditional socialist analysis of enclosure and its impact. [Cotters and Squatters, p. 143]). All we can do is provide a summary of the work of William Lazonick who presented an excellent reply to those who claim that the enclosures were an unimportant historical event (see his “Karl Marx and Enclosures in England.” [Review of Radical Political Economy, no. 6, pp. 1–32]). Here, we draw upon his subsequent summarisation of his critique provided in his books Competitive Advantage on the Shop Floor and Business Organisation and the Myth of the Market Economy.

There are three main claims against the socialist account of the enclosures. We will cover each in turn.

Firstly, it is often claimed that the enclosures drove the uprooted cottager and small peasant into industry. However, this was never claimed. As Lazonick stresses while some economic historians “have attributed to Marx the notion that, in one fell swoop, the enclosure movement drove the peasants off the soil and into the factories. Marx did not put forth such a simplistic view of the rise of a wage-labour force … Despite gaps and omission in Marx’s historical analysis, his basic arguments concerning the creation of a landless proletariat are both important and valid. The transformations of social relations of production and the emergence of a wage-labour force in the agricultural sector were the critical preconditions for the Industrial Revolution.” [Competitive Advantage on the Shop Floor, pp. 12–3]

It is correct, as the critics of Marx stress, that the agricultural revolution associated with the enclosures increased the demand for farm labour as claimed by Chambers and others. And this is the whole point — enclosures created a pool of dispossessed labourers who had to sell their time/liberty to survive and whether this was to a landlord or an industrialist is irrelevant (as Marx himself stressed). As such, the account by Chambers, ironically, “confirms the broad outlines of Marx’s arguments” as it implicitly acknowledges that “over the long run the massive reallocation of access to land that enclosures entailed resulted in the separation of the mass of agricultural producers from the means of production.” So the “critical transformation was not the level of agricultural employment before and after enclosure but the changes in employment relations caused by the reorganisation of landholdings and the reallocation of access to land.” [Op. Cit., p. 29, pp. 29–30 and p. 30] Thus the key feature of the enclosures was that it created a supply for farm labour, a supply that had no choice but to work for another. Once freed from the land, these workers could later move to the towns in search for better work:

“Critical to the Marxian thesis of the origins of the industrial labour force is the transformation of the social relations of agriculture and the creation, in the first instance, of an agricultural wage-labour force that might eventually, perhaps through market incentives, be drawn into the industrial labour force.” [Business Organisation and the Myth of the Market Economy, p. 273]

In summary, when the critics argue that enclosures increased the demand for farm labour they are not refuting Marx but confirming his analysis. This is because the enclosures had resulted in a transformation in employment relations in agriculture with the peasants and farmers turned into wage workers for landlords (i.e., rural capitalists). For if wage labour is the defining characteristic of capitalism then it matters little if the boss is a farmer or an industrialist. This means that the “critics, it turns out, have not differed substantially with Marx on the facts of agricultural transformation. But by ignoring the historical and theoretical significance of the resultant changes in the social relations of agricultural production, the critics have missed Marx’s main point.” [Competitive Advantage on the Shop Floor, p. 30]

Secondly, it is argued that the number of small farm owners increased, or at least did not greatly decline, and so the enclosure movement was unimportant. Again, this misses the point. Small farm owners can still employ wage workers (i.e. become capitalist farmers as opposed to “yeomen” — an independent peasant proprietor). As Lazonick notes, ”[i]t is true that after 1750 some petty proprietors continued to occupy and work their own land. But in a world of capitalist agriculture, the yeomanry no longer played an important role in determining the course of capitalist agriculture. As a social class that could influence the evolution of British economy society, the yeomanry had disappeared.” Moreover, Chambers himself acknowledged that for the poor without legal rights in land, then enclosure injured them. For “the majority of the agricultural population … had only customary rights. To argue that these people were not treated unfairly because they did not possess legally enforceable property rights is irrelevant to the fact that they were dispossessed by enclosures. Again, Marx’s critics have failed to address the issue of the transformation of access to the means of production as a precondition for the Industrial Revolution.” [Op. Cit., p. 32 and p. 31]

Thirdly, it is often claimed that it was population growth, rather than enclosures, that caused the supply of wage workers. So was population growth more important than enclosures? Given that enclosure impacted on the individuals and social customs of the time, it is impossible to separate the growth in population from the social context in which it happened. As such, the population argument ignores the question of whether the changes in society caused by enclosures and the rise of capitalism have an impact on the observed trends towards earlier marriage and larger families after 1750. Lazonick argues that ”[t]here is reason to believe that they did.” [Op. Cit., p. 33] Overall, Lazonick notes that ”[i]t can even be argued that the changed social relations of agriculture altered the constraints on early marriage and incentives to childbearing that contributed to the growth in population. The key point is that transformations in social relations in production can influence, and have influenced, the quantity of wage labour supplied on both agricultural and industrial labour markets. To argue that population growth created the industrial labour supply is to ignore these momentous social transformations” associated with the rise of capitalism. [Business Organisation and the Myth of the Market Economy, p. 273]

In other words, there is good reason to think that the enclosures, far from being some kind of socialist myth, in fact played a key role in the development of capitalism. As Lazonick notes, “Chambers misunderstood” the “argument concerning the ‘institutional creation’ of a proletarianised (i.e. landless) workforce. Indeed, Chamber’s own evidence and logic tend to support the Marxian [and anarchist!] argument, when it is properly understood.” [Op. Cit., p. 273]

Lastly, it must be stressed that this process of dispossession happened over hundreds of years. It was not a case of simply driving peasants off their land and into factories. In fact, the first acts of expropriation took place in agriculture and created a rural proletariat which had to sell their labour/liberty to landlords and it was the second wave of enclosures, in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, that was closely connected with the process of industrialisation. The enclosure movement, moreover, was imposed in an uneven way, affecting different areas at different times, depending on the power of peasant resistance and the nature of the crops being grown (and other objective conditions). Nor was it a case of an instant transformation — for a long period this rural proletariat was not totally dependent on wages, still having some access to the land and wastes for fuel and food. So while rural wage workers did exist throughout the period from 1350 to the 1600s, capitalism was not fully established in Britain yet as such people comprised only a small proportion of the labouring classes. The acts of enclosure were just one part of a long process by which a proletariat was created.

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matttgirlies · 9 months ago

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Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - mentions of guns,, drug use,, threats,, mentions of affairs

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 21

Putting together the best musicians, sound and lighting technicians, costumers, and choreographers, he was taking no chances this time. He scoured the music scene for the top sidemen in the business. Auditions were held and he handpicked each player—names such as James Burton, John Wilkinson, Ronny Tutt, Glen D. Hardin, Jerry Scheff. He loved the sound of the Sweet Inspirations, backup group for Aretha Franklin, and he hired them on the spot as a warmup act and to sing backup vocals. He also hired his favorite gospel group, the Imperial Quartet.

Before leaving Los Angeles, Matt rehearsed at RCA Sound Studios for ten days and then polished the act for a full week prior to the opening. It was the event of the summer in Vegas. Colonel Parker brought the preopening publicity to fever pitch. Billboards were up all over town. On the third floor of the International, administrative offices bustled with activity. No other entertainer coming into Vegas had ever stimulated this kind of excitement. The hotel lobby was dominated by Matt paraphernalia—pictures, posters, T-shirts, stuffed animals, balloons, records, souvenir programs. You’d think Barnum and Bailey were coming to town.

Back home there was also excitement as we girls discussed what we’d wear to the opening. “I want you to look extra special, Baby,” Matt said. “This is a big night for all of us.” I hit every boutique in West L.A. before finding just the right outfit.

Though it had been nine years since Matt had given a live performance, you never would have known it from his opening. The audience cheered the moment he stepped onstage and never stopped the entire two hours as Matt sang, “All Shook Up,” “Blue Suede Shoes,” “In the Ghetto,” “Tiger Man,” and “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” He mixed the old with the new, the fast and hot with the lyrical and romantic. It was the first time I’d ever seen Matt perform live. Wanting to surprise me, he had kept me from rehearsals. I was astounded. At the end he left them still cheering and begging for more.

Cary Grant was among the stars who came backstage to congratulate him after the show. But the most touching moment was when Colonel William arrived with tears in his eyes, wanting to know where his boy was. Matt came out of the dressing room and the two men embraced. I believe everyone felt their emotion in that moment of triumph.

I don’t think we slept that night. Nate Doe brought in all the newspapers and we read the rave reviews declaring, “Matt was great” and “He never looked or sang better.” He shared credit for his new success with all of us.

“Well, we did it. It’s going to be a long thirty days, but it’s going to be worth it if we get the reception we got last night. I may have been a real tyrant, but it was well worth it.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” we all agreed, laughing. “You were a tyrant.”

The International Hotel was delirious over Matt’s performance and the box-office receipts. The following day they signed a fiveyear contract with the Colonel for Matt to appear twice a year, usually around the same time, January and August, at the then unheardof salary of one million dollars a year.

Matt literally took over Las Vegas for the entire month he was there, playing to a packed house every show as thousands more were turned away. No matter where we looked, all we could see was the name Matt—on television, newspapers, banners, and billboards. The King had returned.

Initially, Matt’s triumph in Las Vegas brought a new vitality to our marriage. He seemed a different person. Once again, he felt confident about himself as a performer and he continued to watch his weight and work out every day at karate.

It was also the first time that I felt we were functioning as a team. I made several trips to New York, trying to find unique accessories for him to wear onstage. I bought scarves, jewelry, and a black leather belt with chain links all around it that Bill Belew would later copy for the famous Matt jumpsuit belts.

I loved seeing him healthy and happy again, and I especially enjoyed our early days in Vegas. The International provided an elegant three-bedroom suite that we turned into our home away from home. During his show I always sat at the same table down front, never tiring of watching him perform. He was spontaneous and one never knew what to expect from him.

On occasion, after his midnight show, we’d catch lounge acts of other performers playing Vegas or we’d gamble until dawn. Other times we’d relax backstage, visiting with entertainers captivated by his performance. This was the first time I’d been with Matt at a high point in his career.

With the renewed fame came renewed dangers. Offstage he could be guarded by Sonny and Red. Onstage he was a walking target. One night that summer Nate and Sonny were tipped off that a woman in the audience was carrying a gun and had threatened to shoot Matt. A true professional, Matt insisted on going on. Additional precautions were taken and everyone was on the alert. Matt was instructed to stay downstage, making himself a smaller target, and Sonny and Jerry were poised to jump in front of him at the slightest sign of suspicious movement in the audience. Red was positioned in the audience with the FBI agents.

The show seemed to take an eternity. I glanced at Patsy apprehensively and she in turn grasped my hand as we comforted each other, longing for the night to end without incident. James remained backstage, never letting Matt out of his sight and praying, “Dear God, don’t let anything happen to my son.”

Because of this and other threats, extra security was arranged wherever Matt appeared. Entrances through backstages, kitchens, back elevators, and side exits became routine.

Matt had his own theory about assassinations, based on the murders of the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr., and Robert F. Kennedy. He felt that the assassins gloated over their “accomplishments,” and told his bodyguards that if any attempt were made on his life, they should get the killer—even before the police. He didn’t want anyone bragging to the media that they’d killed Matt Sturniolo.

Sonny and Red lived in so much tension these days that they were constantly frenzied. Suspicious in crowds of overzealous fans, they were quick to respond to any sign of danger. Compared to Sonny’s diplomacy, Red’s reputation was to act first and ask questions later. Eventually, numerous assault-and-battery charges started piling up against Matt. When James warned him about Sonny and Red’s aggressiveness, Matt said, “Goddamn, Red. I hired you to keep the sons of bitches away from me, not get me in any legal binds. Somehow you’re going to have to control that redheaded temper of yours.”

Although Matt would joke about the death threats—and there would be several more throughout the Vegas commitments—the fear and constant need for security heightened the pressure of nightly performing.

In the beginning when Matt began doing regular Vegas engagements, we girls visited frequently. We’d fly in over the weekend, sometimes bringing our children, spend three or four days, and then return home.

On the days we were apart I’d take hundreds of Polaroids and home movies of Charlotte. She was growing so rapidly I didn’t want him to miss out on her development. Daily he’d receive his “care packages,” as I’d refer to them, including tape recordings of me teaching Charlotte new words and Charlotte mimicking me. Each week, upon my arrival, I’d paste photos on the mirrors in his bedroom to remind him that he had a wife and child.

During his first couple of engagements he still seemed humbled by lingering doubts of whether the public was fully accepting him. At this point he had no interest in outside affairs or flirtations, his concentration on daily rehearsals and performances every evening excluding everything else.

Later he would become more cocky. The crowds’ admiration took him back to his triumphs in the early fifties and he found it hard to come down to earth after a month of nightly cheers. His name on the International’s huge marquee would be replaced by the next superstar. The offices on the third floor would be cleared out and incoming calls for reservations would stop.

Thriving on all the excitement, glamour, and hysteria, he found it difficult to go home and resume his role as father and husband. And for me the impossibility of replacing the crowd’s adoration became a real-life nightmare.

At home in Los Angeles, there was just the usual group around—strictly a family atmosphere. This abrupt change was too much for him and soon he developed the habit of lingering in Vegas for days, sometimes weeks, after a show. The boys were finding it increasingly difficult to resolve the conflict between working for Matt and maintaining a home life.

Crazed with inactivity and boredom, Matt became edgy and temperamental, a condition exacerbated by the Dexedrine he was again taking to control his weight.

Sometimes, to ease the transition home, Matt would insist we all pile into cars and head for Palm Springs. Since our marriage we had spent-many weekends there sunning and watching football games and late-night television, but after Charlotte was born, my needs changed. The Palm Springs heat was too much for her, the long drive boring, the idleness of resort life wearying. One weekend I suggested, “Matt, why don’t just you and the guys go down?”

From that time on, the guys developed their own lifestyle in our secluded desert home. Occasionally we wives would be invited to spend the weekend, but by and large, Matt now considered Palm Springs his private refuge.

He made it clear that this time away was good for him, giving him a chance to think, to hang out with the guys. In reality Matt was lost. He did not know what to do with himself after Vegas. He escaped in more powerful, unnecessary prescribed drugs to raise his spirits and ward off boredom.

After he had conquered Vegas, it was agreed that Matt should go back on the road. Colonel immediately began booking concert tours around the nation, starting with an impressive run of six sold-out shows in the Houston Astrodome, which earned over one million dollars in three nights.

The night I arrived in Texas to watch the performance, Amber, Judy, and I flew in on a private jet. I looked down on the Astrodome and found it hard to believe my eyes. The length of a football field—and already sold out. It made me nervous. I could imagine how Matt felt.

Matt too found the Astrodome overwhelming. “Goddamn,” he said when he first walked in. “They expect me to sell this son of a bitch out? It’s a goddamn ocean.”

However dwarfed he was by the giant facility, he electrified his audience. Houston was our first run-in with mass hysteria. The limousine was strategically parked by the stage door for Matt’s immediate getaway. Even so, screaming fans surrounded the car, frantically yelling out his name, presenting flowers, and trying to touch him.

If anything, Houston was an even greater victory than Vegas. The King of Rock and Roll was back on top. The strain of sustaining such a hype was just beginning and, for the moment, I could believe that everything would still be all right. I did not realize the extent to which Matt’s touring was going to separate us, that this in fact was the beginning of the end. After Houston Matt began crossing the country, making one-night stands, flying by day, trying to catch some sleep to maintain the high energy level demanded by his performances. From 1971 on, he toured more than any other artist—three weeks at a time with no days off and two shows on Saturdays and Sundays.

I missed him. We talked constantly of being together more, but he knew that if he let me join him, he couldn’t refuse the requests from regulars whose marriages were also feeling the strain of long separations. For a while a group of us would fly in from time to time, but this didn’t last long. Matt noticed that his employees were lax in discharging their duties to him when spouses were present, and he established a new policy: No wives on the road.

I didn’t really miss the one-night stands, a tedious routine at best: Jump off the plane, rush to the hotel, unpack as little as possible, since you had to check out the next day, go to the performance, then back to the hotel for a little rest before heading back to the airport. Everything was the same except for the name of the town.

It was the day Matt suggested I come to Vegas less often that I became really upset and suspicious. He’d decided that we wives would attend opening and closing nights only.

I knew then I’d have to fight for our relationship or accept the fact that we were now gradually going to grow apart as so many couples in show business do. As a couple, we’d never sat down to plan out a future. Matt, individually, was stretching as an artist, but as man and wife we needed a common reality.

The chances of our marriage surviving were slim indeed as long as he continued to live apart from Charlotte and me, and in bachelor quarters at that. It came down to how much longer I could stand the separation. Matt wanted to have his cake and eat it too. And now, as the tours and long engagements took him even further from his family, I realized that we might never reach my dreams of togetherness.

I had trouble believing that Matt was always faithful, and the more he kept us apart, the more my suspicions grew.

Now when we went to Vegas, I felt more comfortable at the openings. He was always preoccupied with the show and I felt he needed me then. On closing nights I always felt uneasy. Too many days had gone by, enough time for suspicions to poison my thoughts. The Vegas maître d’s invariably planted a bevy of beauties in the front rows for the entertainer to play to. Curious, I would scan their faces while watching Matt closely to see if he seemed to direct his songs to any girl in particular. Suspicious of everyone, my heart ached—but we were never able to talk about it. It was to be accepted as part of the job.

Backstage one night James was jokingly negotiating for a key that had been tossed to Matt. She was an attractive middle-aged blonde—James’s type. Matt said, “Dad, you’ve got enough problems at home with one blonde. You certainly don’t need two.”

“Well, okay,” James said. “You’re going to have problems of your own if your wife goes out in the street looking like that.” I had begun wearing skimpy knit dresses and see-through fabrics that were daringly revealing. Steven and Charlie whistled and gave wolfcalls, while Matt proudly showed me off.

The jokes I played on him were also efforts to get his attention. One night, after he’d left early for a show, I put on a black dress with a black hood and an exceptionally low-cut back. When it came time for Matt to give away kisses to the girls in the audience—a regular part of his show—I went up to the stage. Instead of kissing me, he kept on singing his song, leaving me to stand there. With my hair hiding the dress strap around my neck, I appeared from the back to be nude from the waist up. I could hear the “oooh”s and “ahhhh”s of the audience. They were under the impression that a topless girl had cornered Matt and that he couldn’t figure out what to do.

I kept whispering to him, “Kiss me, kiss me, so I can sit down,” but he decided to turn the joke on me, and made me wait in the spotlight for the duration of the song. Planting a big kiss on my lips, he surprisingly introduced me to the audience. I felt a bit embarrassed and made my way back to my seat.

Later in the show he’d strut back and forth onstage, tease his audience, talk to them, tell them stories, even confide in them. “You know,” he’d say, “some people in this town get a little greedy. I know you folks save a long time to come and hear me sing. I just want you to know, as far as I’m concerned, there won’t be any exorbitant raise in price when you come back. I’m here to entertain you and that’s all I care about.”

Matt was having an ongoing love affair with his audience and the next time I was home alone I knew I had no choice but to start more of a life of my own.

It was with that thought in mind that Amber, my sister Michelle, and I planned a short trip to Palm Springs. In the course of the weekend I opened the mailbox to check the mail and found a number of letters from girls who had obviously been to the house, one in particular signed “Lizard Tongue.” My immediate response was disbelief, followed by outrage. I dialed Vegas and demanded that Nate find Matt and bring him to the telephone. When Nate said Matt was sleeping, I told him about the letters and insisted I speak to Matt. Nate promised that he would have Matt call as soon as he woke up. He did, but it was clear that Nate had filled him in on the situation and Matt had his explanation ready. He was totally innocent, the girls were just fans, they were out of their minds if they said they’d ever come to the house, and besides, it was their word against his. As usual, in the end I apologized for putting him on the spot, but things at this point were becoming too obvious.

He said, “Get out and do things while I’m gone, because if you don’t, you’re going to start getting depressed.”

Although my choices were limited—he still objected to my taking a job or enrolling in classes at college—I continued my dancing and started taking private art instruction.

Matt was a born entertainer and although he tried to avoid crowds, disliked restaurants, and complained he “couldn’t get out like a normal person,” this life-style suited him. He handpicked the people he wanted to be around him—to work with and travel withand they adjusted to his routine and his hours and his temperament. It was a pretty close clan throughout the years. A few arguments erupted and a few couples left over some misunderstandings, but they usually returned in a week or two.

My view of life had been fashioned by Matt. I had entered his world as a young girl and he had provided absolute security. He distrusted any outside influences, which he saw as a threat to the relationship, fearing they would destroy his creation, his ideal. He could never have foreseen what was happening as the consequence of his prolonged absences from home. A major period in my growth was beginning. I still feared our separations but felt that our love had no boundaries, that I was his and if he wanted me to change, I would. For years nothing had existed in my world but him, and now that he was gone for long stretches of time, the inevitable happened. I was creating a life of my own, starting to achieve a sense of security in myself, and discovering there was a whole world outside our marriage.

Over the years of playing Vegas, other pressures began to mount. There were more death threats and lawsuits, including alleged paternity suits and assault-and-battery charges. Jealous husbands claimed they’d seen Matt flirting with their wives, and others continued to charge that Sonny and Red were manhandling them. Matt began to get bored with these nuisances as well as with the sameness of the show. Inevitably, he tried to change the format, but then he felt it just didn’t have the same pacing as the original. He’d add a few songs here and there but then revert to the original. Pointed suggestions that he make changes before the next Vegas date added to the pressure.

Bored and restless, he increased his dependence on chemicals. He thought speed helped him escape from destructive thinking, when in reality it gave him false confidence and unnatural aggressiveness. He started losing perspective on himself and others. To me he became increasingly unreachable.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - welll..🎀

#matthew sturn #matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #Spotify

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oatflatwhite · 1 month ago

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writing year in review

tagged by @pegasusdrawnchariots <3 had a couple of nothing months (jan and jul) where i couldn't find anything i might have written, fic or original work, so. overall comments: lots of ww2 rpf! (plus blink and u miss it original ww1 yaoi)

tagging @spaceshipkat @hartigays @shadowquill17 @itstheheebiejeebies and @eliever if you guys want <3

JANUARY

FEBRUARY

Buck takes a step back. It feels as far as Lake Michigan. Stood on the edge of it you can’t even try to see the other side. “I’ll see you,” is what he says, and John thinks tiredly: you already do.

MARCH

Buck’s sitting with his back to the window and if John looks at him a certain way he’s bathed in its warmth. His shirt is blue, the sleeves short. John hasn’t seen his elbows since summer in the stalag. They’re nice elbows, the sunlight picking out the golden hairs along his skin. John had spent a lot of time looking at those elbows, and thinking, fuck you, Marge.

APRIL

His hand feels everywhere over John, despite all the clothes they’re both still wearing, and John’s kissed and been kissed in the two weeks since he came over to England but it wasn’t like this. Curt’s mouth is insistent and rough against John’s, still tasting like gum, and the thought comes to John, unbidden:

If I ever kissed Buck it would taste like this.

MAY

They completed a lopsided circuit, avoiding the far left corner of the barn. It was unoccupied, save for one man sat on an overturned pail. He was jacketless despite the cold, sleeves rolled to his elbows, and noticeably thin. Stood side-by-side he’d likely be taller than Jack, but hunched down with his bony wrists exposed like that made him seem small. He had long fingers. Two of them curled limply around a half-smoked cigarette. [original fiction]

JUNE

“It just felt like,” and Dick looked back at him as he spoke, “it was something married people ought to do. And then I thought, it was silly thinking about marriage when I hadn’t even plucked up the courage to kiss you yet. So.”

“So.” Nix started to smile. Dick pressed his lips together to stop his own from forming but it was useless. It split across his face in a way Nix could watch every day for the rest of his life.

JULY

AUGUST

The darkness felt familiar—in a sense, Thomas had never really seen it lift. This great house, that had once seemed to hold every answer to his whole life, now felt cold, and lonely, and so very, very big. Thomas suspected you could press into its wallpaper the lives of every person who had died here—William, Lady Sybil, Mr Pemuk, that handful of unlucky officers who took a turn for the worse during their convalescence—and now poor Mr Crawley—and still not cover every detail in its panelling; every floral flourish.

SEPTEMBER

He had a strange, shifting tolerance for Web’s conversation—sometimes laughed, with all his teeth, even when Web didn’t think he’d been particularly funny. Other times Joe barely let him finish before stomping away, mood cloudy when it suited him and never willing to offer an explanation why. Way back at Toccoa, he’d been at first enigmatic, then untouchable, to Web—his age, his accent, the Star of David he wore alongside his dog tags and the long, lean line of his body not the least things that set them apart.

OCTOBER

Compared to Nix, Dick’s room is sparse and Army-neat, his only allowance to personal taste the photographs on his bedside table: one from Toccoa, Dick long-limbed and coltish in his PT gear and Nix smiling at him, rather than the camera; the other a family shot of his parents and Ann. In Nix’s room, the bed is rarely made and the chair under the window has been uninhabitable for months, piled as it is with papers and clothes. Nix calls it his Leaning Tower of Shame. Dick calls it his “Jesus, Lew. This what your footlocker looked like in the war?”

NOVEMBER

In the Ardennes, breathless and quietly hysterical, Lip had taken the cigarette from Luz’s mouth and put it inside his own. Luz had been shaking—with fear, with grief, with the cold—and it was the longest stretch of time Lip had ever spent with him in silence, except for the whistle and thunder of the shells.

DECEMBER

Kurt thinks of handing Finn his jacket before being tossed in the dumpster. He thinks of the first time Finn threw a slushie at him, and how he’d been thankful, rinsing himself off in the disabled bathroom, that Finn had gone for red syrup over blue. He’s mostly given up his crush on Finn, but he understands the desire to look past the ugliness of a person to find the good underneath.

#tagged #oatflatscribbles #liz.txt

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world-of-wales · 1 month ago

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─ •✧ WILLIAM'S YEAR IN REVIEW : 𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 ✧• ─

𝟕 𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 : Homelessness : Reframed Exhibition opened at Saatchi Gallery.

𝟗 𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 : William released a personal tweet announcing the end of London Air Ambulance's Up Against Time Campaign. Subsequently, it was announced that William & Catherine made a private donation to the campaign.

𝟏𝟏 𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 : The Prince and Princess of Wales appeared in a video with British celebrities & sporting legends to celebrate Team GB's success at the Paris Olympics.

𝟏𝟎 - 𝟏𝟏 𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 : William & Catherine and their children attended the Gone Wild Festival in Norfolk.

𝟏𝟐 𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 : William marked International Youth Day.

𝟏𝟓 𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 : Kensington Palace marked The Princess Royal's birthday.

𝟐𝟎 𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 : The Prince of Wales wrote a letter to World War II veteran Manette Baillie, ahead of her becoming Britain’s oldest skydiver for her 102nd birthday fundraising efforts.

𝟐𝟒 𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 : William and Catherine posted a personal tweet wishing the best of luck to Paralympics GB.

𝟐𝟓 𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 : WillCat & their children joined other members of the Royal Family for a Sunday Church Service at Crathie Kirk.

𝟐𝟔 𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 : William released a statement of condolence on the passing of Sven-Göran Eriksson.

𝟐𝟖 𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 : William attended the Memorial Service of Lord Robert Fellowes.

𝟐𝟗 𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓 : Royal Foundation announced the plans to provide extra Funding for National Police Wellbeing Service's Police Treatment Centres.

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shipwreckedwithcaptainmarrow · 6 months ago

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Another milestone! My second book "Pirate Ghosts & Buried Treasures of the Northeast Coast" has been finalized, and as of today a proof copy is being created for me to review before ordering stock! After its been in progress for 5 and a half years I'll finally be able to hold it in my hands. Wanted to share the update with you mates, and again pre-orders can begin August 28th.

For those unaware, this book is a compilation of both popular and incredibly obscure piratical claims of both hauntings and buried treasure claims regarding the American states of Maryland up to Maine. All tales are relayed as they are known, but then I provide historical context and provide my own notes of their own validity and actual history that may have spawned such claims. Back of the book reads:

Alleged adventures of rakish seafaring rogues and the skeletons they left behind! Do you wish to uncover the secrets of pirate folklore and the mysteries of their buried treasure? Written by pirate historian Captain Marrow, this book takes you on an exciting journey to reveal the truth behind the claimed tales that span from Maryland's Chesapeake Bay, to the shore of Long Island, Boston, the remote Isles of Shoals, and to Maine's Penobscot Bay. Legends such as those surrounding New England superstitions, and prominent pirates Thomas Tew, Samuel Bellamy, Edward Low, Dixie Bull, and of course the legendary Captain William Kidd. What other treasures remain from Kidd beyond those of Gardiner's Island? What supernatural beings and magical practices must be taken into consideration when hunting for pirate treasure? Who was the Witch of Wellfleet? What of ghost ships sighted in so many of these rocky bays? This assessment on obscure southeastern pirate folklore presents a comprehensive compilation like no other before, with all tales beneath the intense scrutiny of historic fact and separating truth from fiction. Unearthed from depositions dating to the days of piracy, modern accounts, and newspapers stretching between, no stone is left unturned by pirate historian Captain Marrow in "Pirate Ghosts & Buried Treasures of the Northeast Coast."

Hoping you guys enjoy this one as much as the first one!

Message for Pre-Orders - August 28th Amazon Release Date - September 18th

#pirates #pirate history #folklore #indie author #captain marrow #new england #maine #ghosts #treasure #piracy

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houseofbrat · 11 months ago

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Is there actually a #Wales Kid Number Four or is that a metaphor for something else? What am I missing here? I don’t understand. Stephen Colbert jokes on live TV that William knocked up her mistress. Is that it? Does Wales kid number 4 have a different mother? And is that what caused Kate’s nervous breakdown? What wrong decision did William make that he can’t admit to?

As I posted a few things on William's past this weekend, let's remember that William a) has a temper, b) has a big ego, and c) is thin-skinned.

William's reputation as being a "good" king-in-waiting solely rests on statements and pr games his mother played thirty years ago during the War of the Waleses. His cult of fans love him because he was hot twenty years ago; although, some still think he's hot now. I'll leave it to you to decide.

Anyhow, cut to September 2022 when William became the heir to the throne, The Duke of Cornwall, and The Prince of Wales. After that, William no longer had to depend on his father to bankroll him and his office. Before September 2022, William's (& Kate's) office reported up to Clarence House, office of the previous Prince of Wales, Charles.

Since then, William has proceeded to fuck plenty of things up, even though his über fans view everything with rose-colored glasses. Let's review some of those fuckups & weird shit:

There was the fuckup at Boston in 2022 when William issued a statement throwing his godmother under the bus when all he had to say was “This is an issue for Buckingham Palace.” Except he didn’t.

No foreign tours since becoming The Prince & Princess of Wales.

There was the bizarre photo op of Andrew being driven to church by William last August (2023), when everyone with a functional, long-term memory knows that William has never kowtowed to his father.

Kate’s stretch of wearing thirteen pantsuits in a row, ‘cause she was all about “the work.” Somehow, she didn’t go on a crusade about wearing pantsuits when she was only The Duchess of Cambridge.

Announcing Kate had “planned abdominal surgery” the day after said planned abdominal surgery. If it was “planned,” then wouldn’t they have said something at least the day of rather than the day after?

The entire pr fuck up of not having Kate photographed leaving The London Clinic after being discharged, which in turn led to more fuckups.

Then there’s the timeline of fuckery that’s happened from Christmas until 09 March 2024 that I collated before The 2024 Mother’s Day Photo Disaster.

William is an emotionally damaged, thin skinned, control freak with a privacy fetish.

Due to his natural, control-freak-plus-privacy-fetish state, he fucked up Kate's whole pr when she left the hospital. The entire controversy regarding "Where is Kate?" would never have even happened had he handled it properly.

All he had to do was allow her to be photographed leaving the hospital. She didn't even have to walk out of the hospital. He could have just driven her out the same way he himself was photographed leaving The London Clinic.

Except he didn't do that.

Because he's an emotionally damaged, thin skinned, control freak with a privacy fetish. Again, his über fans who view everything he does with rose-colored glasses because they're parked up his rectum, will write odes and songs as to how William "protected" Kate's "privacy."

Ah, yes, the same "privacy protecting" moves that have garnered comments like this from the UK press:

“I think the thing we’ve actually seen pretty consistently about Kensington Palace since the Prince of Wales took over as it were, isn’t actually–they aren’t very good at communicating with the public. They had that visit which didn’t go very well. They’re doing whatever’s going on with here. I think clearly there’s a problem.”

“The pr machine that can handle Megxit can surely handle the princess getting surgery, and it has–just as Stephen says–spun out into these wild, wild rumors. Most of which are pretty crazy, ultimately stemming from the fact that something doesn’t feel quite right about this in a story with multiple witnesses and no photos. But, you know, let’s see, maybe, in the next 12 hours some photos do emerge. That would be a fascinating development.”

Note that these two comments recognize the before and after William became the heir to the throne. For some reason, the Kensington Palace press office could handle the shitshow of Megxit in 2020 when they were under the auspices of Clarence House. Except today that is no longer the case.

Because the Kensington Palace of today is the one that helps The Daily Show write their script for the evening.

youtube

Because they've become an INTERNATIONAL JOKE!

And it's the current Kensington Palace that picked a fight with the British Army over Kate's picture at The Colonel's Review almost two weeks ago.

Because, again, William is an emotionally damaged, thin skinned, control freak with a privacy fetish.

William is a few fries short of a Happy Meal, one beer short of a six-pack, one egg short of an omlet, not the sharpest knife in the drawer, etc.

And yes, there is unquestionably more crazy shit coming our way after William goes on vacation for several weeks.

Again.

#ask #Wales kid number FOUR #princess basement baby #british royal family #William The Prince of OWN GOALS #William The Weak #William The Terrible #prince william #William The Prince of Wales #kensington palace #palace officials #kate middleton #Catherine The Princess of Wales #my gif #Wales fandom ARMAGEDDON #Workshy Will

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sunburnacoustic · 1 month ago

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Muse wow Wembley

18 June 2007 - Emily Wood for BBC Devon

Teignmouth indie band Muse played to a sell-out audience at the new Wembley Stadium on 16 June 2007 - and as our reviewer Emily Wood reports, they put on a spectacular show.

Muse put on a spectacular show

Arms aloft, listening to rocking guitars, with ticker tape falling and a statue of Bobby Moore outside, you can only be in one place - watching Devon band Muse in Wembley Stadium.

With the hype leading up to the occasion - Muse being the first band to sell out the new Wembley - I was a bit worried about being let down by the show, but both the band and the venue easily exceeded all expectations.

Entering the stadium by appearing on a podium in the middle of the crowd to fireworks, glitter, smoke and classical music, the Teignmouth trio left you with no doubt that they were there to put on a show of immense proportions. And they did.

With giant screens behind and to the side of the stage, showing pre-recorded videos and shots of the band; lights fitted in see-through satellites dishes; balls that changed colour in the seats behind the stage; sometimes you didn't know where to look.

But above all that was the music. The performance was spectacular but also had substance, thanks to the impressive back catalogue of songs that Muse have to choose from.

Starting off with the epic Knights of Cydonia, the last track from their latest album, they then played other recent hits including Supermassive Black Hole, before going back to the first song from their first album, Sunburn.

Other huge tracks followed, such as Plug In Baby and Newborn, proving that Muse aren't just a show band, they write high-quality songs as well.

Storm clouds over Wembley for the Muse gig

That being said, lead singer Matt Bellamy is undoubtedly a showman, ably supported by bassist Chris Wolstenholme and drummer Dominic Howard.

Together they put on a performance that not only confirmed their title of one of the best live British bands of the moment, but it will also have to be one of my top three gigs of all time!

-------------------------------------

Muse kick off at new Wembley

By Laura Joint, BBC Devon

Devon trio Muse are to play the most prestigious shows of their careers, when they appear at the new Wembley Stadium in the summer of 2007.

Muse at Wembley (Action Images Ltd)

Devon rockers Muse have been booked to play two concerts at the new Wembley Stadium in June 2007.

Muse were initially penciled in for one show on at Wembley on Saturday, 16 June, but it sold out so quickly that they are to play a second gig on Sunday 17 June.

They will play in front of around 70,000 fans.

The Teignmouth indie band are widely acclaimed as the most exciting live act around at the moment - they were named Best Live Act at the 2006 Vodaphone Live Music Awards.

They have also been a big hit at major festivals, including Glastonbury, Reading and Leeds.

And, amid their hectic schedule, they also made time to play for their South West fans, at a sell-out gig at the Eden Sessions in Cornwall in August.

The announcement caps a hugely successful year for the trio - Matt Bellamy, Chris Wolstenholme, and Dominic Howard.

Their album, Black Holes and Revelations, went straight to number one when it was released in July 2006.

Robbie Williams and the Rolling Stones were each due to stage a series of concerts at the new Wembley, but the gigs had to be cancelled because the stadium wasn't ready.

The venue is costing some £757 million to build, but has been dogged with problems and delays.

Wembley Stadium's chief executive, Michael Cunnah, said: "Wembley Stadium is a world class music and sporting venue and we are thrilled that top British rock band Muse is going to be one of the first music acts to play here next June."

George Michael is set to be the first musical act to perform at Wembley - he has two shows on 9 and 10 June.

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