What do you do when its just pissing down with endless rain. Like, on my fucking tennis court! On a Sunday morning! And Mel has run off. Ok, gone to work, same thing. And left me, all alone. No nanny. No carer. No wardens. No play date. No tv because every single channel is talking about Boris Johnson and whether the fat fuck should be Prime Minister again or whether a general election is the way forward which would put wooden red-faced puppet Starmer in charge. The man who has ‘integrity’, without question, but simply nothing else whatsoever. Which is like having a tanker full of petrol but no car. So for now, its just me… and Alexa. And we are hitting our groove.

On Friday night I saw a documentary about ‘soul’ music. It was late, on BBC4, but was so brilliant that Mel stayed awake. It showed how the transition from ‘gospel’ to ‘soul’ was the simplest thing ever. It was just taking the line “oooh, how I love my God like no other” and swapping the ‘God’ for ‘baby’. Job done, gospel’s consigned to the church, where it belongs, soul music is here. All thanks to Ray Charles. Who was the first to do such a thing in public. Then Otis Reading who actually had a ‘mixed race band’. Which in the late 50s, early 60s world of ‘segregation’ in America was radical. And I don’t use the word in hyperbole but in a true, politically rebellious, danger to your life, way. These early soulsters were all from the South, where even after the Bill of Rights was passed, those good old boys chose to retain segregation in schools, on buses, restaurants and most definitely relationships.

Then Berry Gordy opened up ‘Hitsville’ in Detroit and Motown was born. But this program differentiated between proper ‘soul’ music and the ‘pop’ which was produced by the Motown machine.

I’ve just spent an hour with Alexa and Stevie Wonder. It was a wonderful time. Stevie was a soul singer/writer, who drifted across to pop to make money and back to soul because it was his passion. And in the 70s he was simply the master of music.

By the mid 70s soul had evolved to ‘funk’ and then Studio 54 got involved and introduced drugs into the mix. And for dance lovers, ‘funk’ music was a game changer. I used to go to a club called Countdown in the West End because they only played imported funk music. Funky Nassau. Soul Makossa. Alexa wasn’t around then, she was just known as ‘Peking’. So to hear these you had to find a shop which imported records.

What does ‘funky’ mean? In my trip with Alexa this morning we drifted to Stevie Wonder’s ‘Maybe you baby’. That will show you. Or the Commodores ‘Brick House’. Even Grace Jones anthemic ‘Pull up to your bumper’. A sound which is raw and dirty.

Go listen to them now. It’s the antidote to ‘the end of British politics as we know it’ which is becoming more boring, repetitive and stupid with each passing ‘endorsement’ of another Tory tosser.

Happy Sunday

A xxxx