Dear Matilda,

I hope that I am not being too forward in writing to you, but our mutual friend, Julieanne, handed me your address last night and gave me leave to write to you. She was playing a gig at the 12Bar Club and seemed pleased to see me, so much so that she kept asking from the stage "do you like my new song?" and "have you heard that one before?" I don't know what the people who were watching on the live internet web-broadcast thought, but at least, now, I am famous by association. Still she gave them a varied selection of her beautiful songs, including three that I had not heard before. I particularly liked the one about beachcombers and skyscrapers.

Afterwards, Julieanne introduced me to her bass player, her tour manager, one of her session musicians and her album producer. Julieanne lured us in to watch a blues trio who were playing the graveyard shift. (I think that she must have fancied the drummer, as she was constantly lighting his cigarettes and retrieving his drumsticks for him. He comes from a part of Belgium called Walthamstow.) I was more impressed with the guitarist, who dressed like Jeff Buckley, but looked more like the actor Willem Dafoe up close. And he sang like him too, unfortunately.

I was very tired when I arrived home, but I listened to the first three songs of Julieanne's album before going to sleep, and the rest when I awoke four hours later. Now I am not sure if it was her music or the harmonica trio, but something prompted me to have one of the weirdest dreams that I ever recall having. Maybe it was just something that I had inadvertently inhaled at the bar.

Anyhow, I loved the album, from the sublime harmonies on 'Reverse' to the ascending bass-line on 'Laments'. My first impression was that the album had an air of 1978, but I now realize that what I was picking up on was anger; not so much in her voice, but in the playing of the backing band. There was the same sort of aggression pounding through the tracks that has enhanced music from the likes of 'the Who' to 'Green Day'. Having said that, I thought that the album contained, in my opinion, the best version of 'Digging' that I have yet to hear. But nothing overshadowed the voice. The two things that stand out most are Julieanne's very individual voice and the songs themselves. Many artists have recorded records where the tunes get lost in the mix, but here it is the songs that truly dominate, and Ms McCambridge's haunting melodies stick in the mind long after the CD is returned to its' case. (You can quote me on that last line, if you wish.)

Please tell her that I had a wonderful evening thanks to her. I am sorry that I've blabbed on a lot to you, but I know that you will understand. You must be very special to Julieanne because she wrote a song about you. But then she must be special too, because people are always writing about her.

Yours in sincere appreciation

StB

Dear Matilda,

did you pass my last message onto Julieanne? I played her CD again and have become completely enchanted by it. I guess that the first listening was to acclimatise myself to the session musicians, but on subsequent playings it sounds perfect.

Julieanne asked me about the articles that I wrote some time ago. I may still have them on disc, so I can e-mail them across if she wants. I hope that she wasn't too tired to train people on the Clarinet the next day and that her producer stayed awake to give his lecture on the Eurythmics.

Yours last-thing-you-want-to-hear-on-a-Monday-morning-ly

StB

Dear Matilda,

I went to see Julieanne at the Rock Garden at the weekend. I was a little disappointed that you didn't show up, but then I guess that you've been busy too. As it was, half the audience arrived too late and even the bass player got held up when he got stuck behind a carnival float in Ladbrooke Grove on the way to the venue. When I arrived, Julieanne had just appeared in the doorway, the first time that we had met each other in daylight. This has put pay to the rumours that one or both of us might be vampires, although we only stayed above ground for ten minutes, just to be on the safe side.

Her performance was as powerful as ever, no doubt prompted by a verbose woman on the front table, who soon shut up when Julieanne sang the words "Whore...whore...whore...whore" after the chorus of 'Reverse'. (I'm not sure now if it actually is a chorus, since she sings "...I am stuck in the verse, stuck in the verse.") Anyhow she went on to trash her guitar in true McCambridge fashion, the set being somewhat truncated, but the audience were content with quality rather than quantity. Conspicuous by the absence from her set-list were 'Gum Feet' and 'Jezebel', the two songs from her album which, bizaarely, have an air of Debbie Harry about them in the opening lines. Perhaps Julieanne was wearing her blonde wig when she recorded these two and had neglected to bring it with her to Sunday afternoon's concert?

I ventured off, afterwards, towards Leicester Square, avoiding the overcast deluge by perusing the sale stock in the Waterstone's Arts shop in Long Acre. The skies were clouded, the rain fell heavily down and thunder echoed deafeningly above the city. Summer, for one day, had been put away. Once again, it seemed, the autumnal elements conspired to tell the world that Julieanne was back in town.

Yours in post-Galloonian tranquility

StB

Dear Matilda,

I noticed from the television listings that Julieanne's favourite film is being screened next Monday on C4 at 1.10pm. No, not 'Jane Eyre' or, for that matter, the movie 'Shane', but the 1938 classic 'Jezebel'. I didn't think that Julieanne was that old, but when she first watched the film the following year, at the outbreak of WWII, she complained that she was tired of watching it with her gas mask on. I have not seen the film in question, but might I ask this; how can we tell that she's wearing red if it is filmed in black and white?

Yours pedantically

StB
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Dear Matilda,

guess what? I got an e-mail from Julieanne. She says that she had a great time in Dublin. I am so pleased for her. She also said that all would be revealed in the 'Jezebel' film. I watched it yesterday, with baited breath...

The movie was set in 1852, the year that Millais painted the drowning Ophelia. It would be another 20 or so years before he painted Julieanne about to drown as the 'Martyr of the Solway'. And it was no great surprise that Bette Davis should play 'Miss Julie' in 'Jezebel', a fiery temptress, who always swims against the tide of convention. The outbreak of fever in the latter half of the film had most of the cast putting handkerchiefs to their mouths, but no gas masks; these were not invented until fifty years later. Garrett A Morgan, who patented his breathing apparatus in 1914 had earlier been a dress-maker and invented the sewing machine belt drive. But this African American's presence could be felt in the deep south spirituals that haunted the soundtrack of the movie. Although Bette Davis did not appear in 'South Pacific', I wonder if she grew "tired of wearing that grass dress" in her earlier appearance in 'the Petrified Forest'? I know that Julieanne alludes to her own self when singing as Jezebel, sometimes fed up with being scrutinised by everybody; sometimes suffocating in the very mask that is supposed to be her protection. Like Jezebel, the only restraints that she has not thrown off are the ones that she has imposed upon herself. The only difference is that whilst Miss Julie knows that she has done bad, Julieanne would have us believe that she has done wrong, whereas, in fact, she is only a martyr to the ill-fated elements that conspired against her in the past. Perhaps Julieanne was a Jezebel when she wrote the song, but now she is more the Penitent Magdelen, coloured with a touch of a Bronte-esque heroine still haunting the moors, for subtle effect. My one disappointment with the film was that Miss Julie confessed her ills at the end; she would have made a far better femme fatale if she'd knocked her rival's block off and ran off with the undertaker, the only person guaranteed to stay in business during the epidemic. And despite there being a large orchestra in the ballroom scene, there was no trombone player. I wonder if Julieanne had seen to this when she teleported back in time to act as screenplay adviser. Nevertheless, she was right in saying that all would be revealed. I hope I didn't look too deeply.

Yours in post-Jezebellian-plague-disorder

StB
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Dear Matilda,

my spirits are a little flagging as I write, soak'd through to the skin as I return'd in the rain from my guided tour of the Palace of Westminster. I am also barely awake after returning home from the 12Bar Club to see Suzanne & co at 3am, so I will be glad when the day is finish'd so that I can rest properly. I pick'd up a flyer for the 'Duke Garwood Trio', featuring Paul May & Fabien Peulvast. I'll let you into a little secret; last time that Julieanne play'd the 12Bar, she went all schoolgirlish over them - particularly the drummer - so would you let her know that they are playing Denmark Place this Saturday night, onstage at 9.30pm, so that she can volunteer to be their roadie or groupie or something. The support, interestingly enough, is 'the Brothers Falloon' (sounds like something else), which is probably Shane & Toby's new band.

I hope that you don't mind my keep sending you messages; I know that you are always in popular demand, but poor Julieanne doesn't get much mail; she thanked me for 'some of the best e-mails ever'. You are obviously keeping back the best ones from other people for yourself.

Yours in post-traumatic-rhat-disorder

StB
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Dear Matilda,

Oh dear. I hope that I haven't upset Julieanne. What I told you about Julieanne and the drummer was a joke; and meant for your ears only. Now I'll never get on the guest list for any of her concerts. I am sure that the last thing she needs is my teasing her when she has the more serious concern of ironing out the administrative details of her album's impending release. I don't know anybody who has had a record released on time, but if it's any consolation sometimes the longer the wait, the better. Tori Amos's first album release was delayed by eight months, by which time everyone was itching to get their hands upon it. I can tell that Julieanne is out of sorts; even the smiley punctuation face at the end of her last message had the nose on upside down. ?:)

Lets hope that things turn to Julieanne's favour now that her season of Autumn is upon us.

With love and uncertain face :^x

StB
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Dear Matilda,

Julieanne wrote me at the weekend, asking me to post her the articles that I wrote about her music. Rather than send them all in one go, I think it best to send them at intervals, just in case they clog up her server. I wouldn't want to upset her again. How many lives, if any, have I got left in her eyes, I wonder?

Anyhow, here's something from the Walker Art Gallery catalogue of Pre-Raphaelite Paintings, which I thought best to send you, Matilda. If Julieanne is in a good mood, you can show it her, but you have to pretend that it was just something you stumbled across in an art catalogue. Whatever you do, don't tell her that I wrote it, else she'll think that I've taken leave of my senses.

By the way, do you know the date and time that Miss McCambridge is playing the Water Rats? I would ask her myself, but she might accuse me of not listening properly when she told me before.

Yours in artistic deviousness

StB
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Dear Matilda,

here's two more articles from the Julieanne archive, more to do with her music than her martyrdom. The first doc is a press release; the second a one page feature from the ill-fated 'Noses Off' magazine, that only ran to two issues.

More tomorrow,

StB
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Dear Matilda,

just when you thought that it couldn't get any worse - today's offering arrives. Back in 1998 I had taken the Martyr of the Solway thing to the extreme and 'discovered' the attached manuscript, together with a very different line engraving by the artist Millais of the unfortunate Julieanne. Surely, it can't get any worse? Well, at about this time, a Scottish girl in my office decided that she wanted to win the lottery to clear her monetary debts, so I gave her a copy of the attached, in the hope of prompting her to win the desired amount by using a combination of luck and numerological divination, but mostly auto-suggestion. She was completely convinced of the story, having at the time not heard of the 20th Century Julieanne. After all, have there not been both modern and historic persons with the names Jane Seymour, Richard Burton, Winston Churchill and Madonna? But what does one now do with a 19th Century treatise on numerology? It might not be ideally suited for the purposes of promoting her new album, but Julieanne did ask me to send 'any stuff' that I had. It doesn't take much imagination to guess what will be attached in my next e-mail...

As for this evening, I found no reference to the gig in Time Out and couldn't remember if her nibs said the 20th or the 27th. Fortunately I found a concert listing on-line which gives the correct details, so I hope to get there at some time or other tonight. I may see you at the Water Rats tonight, unless Julieanne keeps you locked up at home again. Tell her all the best from me, and that I am looking forward seeing her play.

Yours numerologically

StB
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Dear Matilda,

I went to see Julieanne last night; I didn't even know that she had a band now. I was very pleasantly surprised. They were very professional and no-one would have guessed that it was their first gig together. It was nice, too, to see Julieanne laughing onstage. I had 'closed myself down' on the way to the gig, so I might have appeared a little shut off to everyone, but I did enjoy myself nonetheless.

I overheard Julieanne tell someone that she is off to Scotland today, so I wonder if she is taking you with her. I know that you don't take up much space, so you can always fit in one of the suitcases. If you get bored, you can read the attached on the journey. If, however, you don't get to read this until Julieanne returns, set aside twenty minutes for the displeasure of reading the attachment. I apologise, once again for the content of the enclosure, but then, it was written a long time ago.

With love

StB
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Dear Matilda,

no time, no see. Since I have heard no word from you for a while I have presumed one of two things; that you are still in Scotland as part of Julieanne's retinue, or that you were both so displeased with the opera that you have vowed never to speak to me again. If the latter is true then it will not matter if either of you is offended by the article that I discovered on the internet. If, however, you are merely sojourning in Scotland at my time of writing, do not follow the attached link, otherwise you might endeavour to switch to the latter presumption of not speaking to me.

Karen Thompson popped round two weekends ago; I played her some of the 'Stars and Mud' CD. She liked what she heard and wanted to borrow it to make a copy, but I firmly resisted her pleas. After all, Julieanne would not be terribly pleased if there were more bootleg copies of her album in circulation than official ones.

God bless 'ee for now, Matilda, and hope that you and your companion had a good trip to Caledonia.

StB
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Dear Matilda,

I'm barely awake as I write you this morning, having got home at 3.15am this morning after Suzanne's gig. When I last saw her at the bar, she was massaging the back of the guitarist from that skiffle group who played after Julieanne's last gig at the 12Bar (and Julieanne DIDN'T fancy the drummer). The cool guitarist has found employment as glass collector and bottle washer at the 12Bar. Rock and Roll!

The night before I had been to see Julieanne and her band Upstairs at the Garage (funny name for a band?), where the band were very together but the audience could have been a bit livelier. I asked Julieanne about her big flyer - that the pupil of her right eye appeared to be shaped like a guitar plectrum. She was distracted, possibly by Toby's brother who was playing support. But Julieanne was not going to be upstaged by a glum version of 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun." She ensured that her musicians played at the right speed and with the precise degree of velocity to convey the subtle nuances of her array of songs. After she had finished signing autographs after the show, I stole a moment to enquire if all was well. She informed me that you had passed on to her the link to the Father Ted interview that I had sent you. Now I know that you were being mischievous, Matilda, for doing that, but Julieanne only has herself to blame for then copying it on to her record company. I'm surprised that anyone is talking to me at all now. I told the girl in my office that I was going to see Julieanne McCambridge the other night. "Is she the ghost from your opera?" she enquired credulously. She is now expecting a soggy apparition to appear upon her doorstep, sometime between now and Christmas.

Yours dangerously

StB
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PS:- Please don't copy this to Julieanne's record company.

Dear Matilda,

it's me again. Do you know anything about the meaning of dreams? Two nights ago I dreamt that I was in a cemetery and there was a woman lying on top of one of the tombstones. She was dressed completely in black with one of those 'Scottish Widows' hoods over her head. I knew that she was a ghost, or rather, one of the dead who did not rest in the grave below. Something told me not to go any nearer, but I threw caution to the wind. I gazed upon the face of the woman. It was Julieanne. But then it wasn't. Well, it was her in a past life or something. Julieanne from 300 years ago. She didn't say a lot, but just stared, as she sat up on the stone slab. It was night. It was windy. And there were dead leaves everywhere. Of course.

Last night I dreamt that I met Anthony Hopkins outside the Coroner's Court in Horseferry Rd. He lived with two Chinese women and asked me to take them to Burger King for a milkshake, whilst he could nip out and buy himself a proper meal. I took them to McDonalds instead.

What does it all mean? Have I been eating too many cheese flavoured Doritos before bedtime? Is Julieanne a female version of the immortal 'Highlander'? And where exactly is the nearest Burger King to Lambeth Bridge? Only Matilda can answer these questions. I wait with baited breath.

StB
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From: StB
Sent: Monday, October 23, 2000 04:15
To: Matilda
Subject: More Articles

Dear Matilda,

I've decided to write to you, because Julieanne ignored my last message; it's funny, because she always replies when I send a message to you. Anyway, here are two more concoctions for your delectation. The first would make a nice hand-out for the cushy gig, but the second is probably best left for another occasion. What do you think?

StB
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