Bend it like bouzouki

I mentioned my friend who said that witnessing Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash sing together in the Auckland Town Hall was the most erotic thing he'd ever seen on a stage. That was before he saw Dave Dee in the same venue, later that year. Dee's rendition of his hit 'Bend It' was shocking; forget Mick Jagger at the Civic in 1965, he recalled, this was positively lewd.

At the time (c1970) I felt it was an achievement to rattle off the splendid name of Dee's band: Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick and Tich. Dee, who died last week aged 65, had a career before he became the nudge-nudge guy of '60s pop: he was a policeman. The Independent reminded me of the accidental role he'd played in early rock'n'roll history:

[Dee] felt privileged to see Buddy Holly at the Salisbury Gaumont in 1958. He became a police cadet and was called to the car accident which killed Eddie Cochran in Chippenham in April 1960. "I was a big Eddie Cochran fan and we took his guitar back to the station," he recalled. "It was there for two months and I used to play it from time to time."

Here is 'Bend It' in full, lurid, living colour. And, one more time for Mick (the only drummer with an excuse to speed up) ... filmed in B&W more clearly showing the undeniable influence of Zorba the Greek on rock'n'roll.

Get a room

At Rip It Up in the 1980s a regular advertiser used to be a local clothing retailer. Their ads always featured the manager and her boyfriend in different outfits from the store, looking very coy. Each month our accountant - a blonde bombshell herself - would cash the cheque, re-apply her lippy, roll her eyes and say: "Fucking in public. Is that a good look?" For some reason I thought of this when I came across the above clip of Kris Kristofferson and then-wife Rita Coolidge, both leather clad, singing his 'Help Me Make It Through the Night.'

A friend who worked at the New Zealand entertainment magazine Playdate in the late 1960s saw Johnny Cash and his (at last!) wife June Carter perform together in the Auckland Town Hall stage circa 1970. He said it was the sexiest thing he had ever witnessed on a stage. (I think he was referring to 'Jackson'.) This clip is from about that era; June helped Johnny make it through the night, though she always reminds me of some kind of eccentric aunt ... 

I got to these via the great website When You Awake, devoted to all things country-rock. Especially check out their "twang" mixtapes of (mostly) country singers covering songwriters like the Stones, Dylan, the Band and Gene Clark. The eclectic, country-fried rock reminds me of Rip It Up's neighbours in the Elliot Street building, Snake Studios: screenprinters to the stars and 1970s gentlemen who loved sharing their great vinyl collections, etc. Take a bow, Dave Perkins (RIP), Hal Chapman and Greg Cobb.

Do the morris

1. A world without morris

Twenty-five years ago Rick Bryant said to me that the very mention of the curiously British activity "morris dancing" was guaranteed to make you laugh. He then started chortling, and kept chortling until he had to wipe tears from his eyes. You should try everything once, Edwardian conductor Thomas Beecham is credited with saying, "except morris dancing and incest."

Although still legal among consenting adults, morris dancing is under threat. The UK Morris Association says the practice is on the verge of extinction: "young people are too embarrassed to take part." While other exponents of centuries-old British folk traditions have managed to update their art while still reflecting the past - such as Eliza Carthy with Dreams of Breathing Underwater, which is my album of the year - morris dancing is now "carried out by an ever-dwindling stalwart band of enthusiasts".

I have never danced the morris. Nor have I forgotten Rick's line: the memory, and the activity, always brings a smile. But looking at this clip I think that without the gallant dancers of the morris, there would be no Monty Python. No knotted handkerchiefs shielding pink pates from the sun.

2. Cuppa tea, lie-downs

Also in today's Guardian, a report on the demise of another Anglo-Irish institution that could have a significant impact on New Zealand. After 250 years, the crystal and china company Waterford Wedgwood has gone "into administration," threatening 2700 jobs in the UK and Ireland. Among the brands produced by the company are Waterford crystal - which always seems to belong in the over-stuffed parlours of Dublin's elite, as portrayed by James Joyce in The Dead - Wedgwood porcelain and Royal Doulton bone china.

Let them eat cake, the callous might say, but the ramifications for New Zealand are significant. Irish tomato soup and media tycoon Anthony O'Reilly owns, with his brother-in-law, about 60 percent of the shares in Waterford Wedgwood and has poured about £375m into the company in recent years. O'Reilly may have to cash up his 39.1 percent investment in APN News & Media, the media company which owns the New Zealand Herald and the Listener, among other publications. These are more important to this country than the mere vessels produced by Waterford Wedgwood. Whatever one's opinion of APN's handling of these titles, and although O'Reilly has allegedly received offers for his stake, it's hard to conceive of a suitable - rather than just suited - investor able to front up, especially after the experience of US tycoon Sam Zell borrowing big to buy the Chicago Tribune.

Sgt Kosher's Jewish Hearts Club Band

From memory, Brian Epstein wanted the Beatles to use a plain
brown-paper wrapper for the cover of Sgt Pepper's. Maybe this version would have persuaded him ... or, with Gene Simmons comparing tongues with Einstein, maybe not. It's from the Jewish Historical Museum in Amsterdam, and I found it at Harry's Place. Click here for a larger image.