Not going quietly into the Twilight

Jeepster Magazine November 2019

Not going quietly into the Twilight’

By Alice Burton

Gerri Ashton and Hester Grant aka Harmonium have been part of the music industry for almost thirty five years. They had their first hit with the legendary ‘Complex’ in 1985, enjoying three number one singles, issuing eleven acclaimed albums and enjoying numerous sell out tours. Their ethereal electronica has proved influential over three decades and remains fresh and astounding .

In an era dominated by male electro duos such as Soft Cell and Pet Shop Boys, Harmonium were unusual in being female (although they have nothing but praise for their male peers). Ashton became known both for her ironically smooth vocals that were influenced by the likes of Dusty Springfield and French 60’s singers like Francoise Hardy and her playful androgyny. Grant’s synthesiser tracks were every bit as innovative as her male peers. They became known for songs exploring the loneliness of urban life, the transitory nature of modern love and feminism. Their 1989 single ‘Parlour games’ was recently voted one of the top five songs of the last thirty years here at Jeepster magazine

Harmonium have recently released their twelfth studio ‘Twilight stories’ (which garnered five stars here) which discussed issues around aging (Ashton had a hip replacement eighteen points ago just before the album was completed) and social media. Ashton is known for her wry and occasionally sharp pronouncements on twitter whereas Grant is legendary for her deliberately low key public profile. But in honour of the album’s release Ashton and Grant are meeting me today at their North London studio

In person Ashton is more shy than her extrovert stage persona suggests but still charming and welcoming. Wearing a Paul Smith trouser suit she still retains her Audrey Hebpurnesque looks at 60. Grant, wearing jeans, a sweatshirt and baseball cap, is affable and keen to discuss the thinking behind the duo’s music.

Grant was studying music and Ashton French when they met in London in 1981. They would form Harmonium in 1983, signing to the independent Parlet label the following year, who they remain with to this day. Ashton’s love of literature is evident in their song lyrics. Who else would get a hit song about Hildegarde of Bingen and write songs about Christine de Pizan and Colette? Harmonium also have referenced poets Adrienne Rich and Audre Lorde.

Grant is a classically trained pianist who played jazz clubs as a teenager to pay her way through college. There is a strong influence of Jazz to the pair’s music, bringing textures that were absent in their peers. Grant met Ashton when she was asked to accompany her performing some Julie London songs. In honour of how they met they released a cover of ‘Cry me a river’ in 1993.

Ashton and Grant are noted for their androgynous imagery and not conforming to the standard image of femininity. ‘We were hardly alone in that in the early 1980s, if anything it was almost de rigeur’ says Ashton ‘You saw women like Annie Lennox, Siouxsie Sioux and our dear friend Alison Moyet on Top of the Pops and just feel like you could go for it. In some ways it feels like we have gone backward’ she sighs.

The pair are famously private about their personal lives. Ashton has never denied her sexuality and discussed it in the press on a couple of occasions and they have long been icons for the LGBT (particularly lesbian) community. However was only in 2012 that the pair confirmed they have been a couple since 1983. Ashton discussed aspects of their life together in her acclaimed 2014 autobiography ‘Born under a different star’ (a Sunday Times best seller which was acclaimed for its wit and insight into the music industry). The song ‘Golden flame’ on Harmonium’s 2002 ‘Carnival’ album is widely interpreted as being about their relationship. They genuinely seem happy together and they exchange several affectionate looks during our interview

I want to ask them about what it is like to work with your life partner but don’t feel entirely comfortable raising the question. When I do and they both seem more than happy to discuss. ‘Well if anything for me it makes things easier as you understand the other person and know how to read their mood and what they want to achieve ’ says Grant ‘You have an ability to be in synch with them’

‘Mind you it means I can’t get away from her!’ laughs Ashton

While the pair may have a happy relationship, they record the complexities of the love lives of their friends and peers in their music. Songs such as ‘Morning in Paris’ tell wry tales of infidelity and broken relationships. Grants synthesiser parts meld with Ashton’s vocals to bring a considerable amount of emotion and sweetness to these story songs.

But Harmonium have also explored issues such as domestic violence in the song ‘Drifting cloud’ and sexual harassment in ‘Coffee for one’. They have discretely played benefits for and donated to various women’s and LGBT rights charities over the years.

As previously mentioned one of the themes of ‘Twilight stories’ is social media and particularly the trolling that prominent women have to deal with. One song in particular ‘Mute button’ deals with how Ashton had to deal with a number of trolls on twitter after her #metoo revelations. ‘Well it was hardly a pleasant period ‘ she notes ‘But I knew that there were other women who were getting worse abuse. The point of the song is that trolls want attention and to think they get to you. Better to not give them that power. You have to put things in perspective’.

In 2016, with the rise of the #metoo movement, Ashton revealed she had been groped by a prominent figure in the music industry and subjected to sexual harassment by another prominent figure. It had not been the first occasion she has made comments about the treatment of women in the music industry (she covered the topic extensively in her autobiography) but it was the first time she revealed the extent of what she had been subjected to.

’Well, I didn’t want to be seen as jumping on a bandwagon but felt it was important for the sake of young women coming up in the industry ‘ Ashton says. ‘It hopefully will make a difference, but there are no easy answers’.

’We have managed to get to a point where we are able to speak about these issues and not impact on how we get treated’ adds Grant ‘I mean they can’t exactly undo our record sales and earned royalities at this point!’

So do the duo think it is easier for women in the music industry today?

‘Well we are seeing more women making inroads to management and the more senior roles in the industry’ Grant says. She also makes the point women need to be in roles such as producers and engineers and involved with all aspects of the industry ‘I mean, we were lucky to have a lot of very creative female friends we could work with, it was a completely conscious decision.’

The pair are well known for working with other female creatives. They have worked with stylist Cara Rey for fifteen years (she created their looks for their last five albums and helped design their recent live shows) and acclaimed director Anna Greene has been responsible for several of their iconic videos (Grant met Greene through a mutual friend).

I ask the pair ‘So what is it like to be iconic female artists and role models?’

’Hard to say! We keep thinking about our influences. You know we were as influenced by people like Carole King, Joni Mitchell and Judee Sill as we were by acts like Kraftwerk and the Human League. We also want to acknowledge that people like Labelle, Patrice Rushen and Alice Coltrane also informed our music’ says Grant. ‘There should be as many different ways of being a woman artist as a male artist’

Grant has a successful and respected career as a producer, notably helping the band Viola with their last album. Ashton has released two well received albums of her own compositions which pay tribute to the torch songs she loves. However they always feel happiest when working together ‘It is just a very natural and intuitive relationship and we realise that we bring out the best in each other’ says Ashton.

The other theme of ‘Twilight songs’ is ageing. Ashton is 60 and Grant 61. Ashton makes a joke about her recent hip replacement. However both show no signs of slowing down ‘Well I suppose we are at an age where others are thinking of retirement!’ Grant jokes ‘I suppose we will keep going as long as we feel we have something to offer and aren’t getting completely out of touch which is a risk with two old fogies like us!’.

It looks like it is not the twilight of Harmonium’s career quite yet.

Lock down

They were locked down yet again. Third time this week. Not that they got much time out of the cell anyway.

Jim guessed that Alex had been put in the same cell as him because they were around the same age. They did not reckon on how much Alex would wind him up, how much he wanted to yell at him.

Jim had to regrets about punching that man’s lights out, even if it meant landing up here. It was one thing he could do for Gina as a father, goodness knows he had not much good for much else in the last few years. Nobody was going to knock his girl about while he was around. He could at least take pride that whatever was going on with him had never lead him to hurt Miranda, Sandra and Gina. He may have been moody and had to distance himself from them to protect them but he had not hurt them. They had all been there when he was sentenced and had visited him a couple of times. Sandra wanted him to move in with him and Colin and the kids when he got out. He appreciated the offer but no way was he going to burden her with his issues.

After all what sort of a life did he have outside anyway? At least he knew where he would be for the next few month , knew what was expected of him. He also didn’t mind the privations or even the bad food – he was used it (and at least he knew he would get a meal). And much as he hated being locked in a cell it gave him a bit of time to think. He had never had that- he had always been having to react to situations. He was certainly better equipped than Alex for prison life. Jim would like to see him deal with some of the conditions he had to deal with in the army. He could laugh at the look of disgust on Alex’s face most meal times.

He had tried to be a good man. He went into the army at age seventeen because he genuinely wanted to do something positive rather than sit around on his arse on the dole. He enjoyed the discipline and structure. Prison was very like those early days in the Army in some ways. He married Miranda after he got back from Iraq in 1992. Sandra arrived a year later and Gina three years later. Jim knew he got lucky with Miranda. Miranda had settled into life as an army wife easily enough, never minded the moving around or long absences. Jim was always grateful for that. It was life after he had left the army that proved more difficult.

He got wound up every morning by Alex going through his routine. What a vain man with his moisturizers and hair products (when he could get them). Alex would come out with some line about keeping up standards. Jim could laugh at the ridiculousness. He wanted to scoff every time he saw Alex brushing his (greying) blonde locks. This was not the type of place where you wanted to appear soft. But soft was exactly what Alex was.

Not that Jim necessarily disapproved of taking care of your appearance. He had done so for years – neat and ordered appearance had been vital. He had tried to keep up appearances (in more ways than one) since leaving the army but now sported a beard and clumsy ponytail. Funny how he now resembled the type of person he used to scoff at. There was something in that.

Outside the storm rages. Voices raised. Too many people in here. Each one carrying their own issues. All clashing, all in pain.

Jim had served in both the Gulf Wars. Neither had exactly been exactly a picnic. Still he got through both. Managed to rise through the ranks and become someone who could be depended on. Almost twenty five years service. He had left the army with an honourable discharge. He always though was a strange phrase.

Alex had been safe at university while Jim had been in the middle of a conflict zone. Had established himself as a GP in a nice suburban practice. He had been a successful man. Had a nice big house, nice car, nice wife and family. Obviously that was all over, all gone in one fell swoop. Struck off as a Doctor, nice wife had requested separation and sold nice car so no returning to nice house. No wonder he couldn’t stop whimpering. Jim had seen Alex’s wife when she came to visit that one time. Quite a looker but not really his sort. Came to ask Alex for a formal separation. Jim was grateful he had gotten the whole business of divorce sorted years ago. Good to at least be able to be friends with Miranda. Her freedom had been the only thing he had that he could give her by that point. She was happy enough with her new man. Fair enough.

Jim knew the term for what was wrong with him. Four letters. He knew all the statistics. He wasn’t a fool. He had seen where he had been heading the last ten years. The flashbacks, the panic attacks, the sudden anger.

Jim also knew what Alex was the minute he saw him. He recognised the signs. He had seen enough people with drug problems while he was in hostels to know to recognise a drug addict. For all his neat and tidy appearance Alex bore the marks of addiction- addiction that had lead him here. He had been helping himself to prescription drugs for years. It was a surprise he could function at all with what his intake eventually became. He was receiving treatment while in prison. Fair play to him. Didn’t make his withdrawal symptoms any less easy to be around

But what was Alex’s excuse? What had happened to him? Jim had once asked him directly (on an occasion when Alex had been more than usually annoying). Well Alex told him and Jim wished he had never asked. Don’t ask someone to tell you their deepest secret if you are not prepared to hear.

Alex was trying to read up and researching his options for when he was released. Typical swot. Jim couldn’t even begin to think what he would do. He had quite liked gardening. Possibly that was something he would pursue. Yes, that would be nice.

Jim had tried a bit of security work after leaving the army. But his mind was too fractured by this point. He couldn’t provide a home or keep a job. Strange how everything fell apart. It had almost been a relief. Suppose it was time to turn things around

The disturbance outside is getting worse. The angry winds of too little space, too little freedom whirl round.

Alex began moaning and crying in his sleep. Oh God, not again. Jim longed to yell out too but somehow he didn’t. He wanted to punch that door down, throw something against the wall. Suddenly the inner scream within him filled the room.

Alex climbed out of his bunk and lay on Jim’s. He placed his arms around Jim. He did not have to say anything. He held him firm and tight letting him know that he was secure and safe. Jim placed his arms around Alex and stroked his head. Jim had never realised that reaching out to another person in pain answered and helped heal his own. That compassion and gentleness could well inside of him instead of anger. The storm may rage outside but in here there was a strange peace. Jim knew Alex would hold him close until those winds abated.

Dawn was breaking outside. A kind of order was being restored by the prison authorities. Soon both his and Alex’s sentences would be served. What would happen afterwards? All Jim knew is that Alex and him had a pact they would rent a flat together (Alex had a bit of money to do this). They would support each other as they each tried to make a new life. No Jim did not regret landing up in prison at this point. He had found the truest friend he ever would.

The Bells

Of course she would meet him in a Library. There was something about the scent of age and knowledge of that particular library she found appealing. She would always think of him when she got that scent, when she felt the crispness of an autumn evening.

It had been a strangely happy time in her life- she was successfully in a post she enjoyed, she like the home she had been in for a year. She filled her life with music. It seemed the hard years were behind her.

The first sight of him beguiled her. Of course he was a Piscean, of course. She somehow had this very specific type- handsome moody Piscean with dark eyes and dark hair. He even had a connection to Abbey Road!

She would make her weekly pilgrimage to share his Sunday morning with him. Sometimes she made the same journey mid-week (she recalled the train broke down once- that had been a long journey home). It made it seem like something even more sacred and worthwhile to be with him to have to make that journey, to travel to a place she never knew before so often. She heard the bells calling her

He had visited her once at her home, just before Valentines Day. She would never forget seeing him at the bottom of the stairs at her work on Valentines day itself. He never looked more like a puppy. How she hugged him. Did her hear the bells too? Did they call him to her?

She never thought she would find so many things about herself answered in him. How much he echoed her experiences. She had found it so hard to relate to men. She was often scared of them but he had been such an exception. He seemed so gentle and thoughtful.

She remembered the blossoms were all out that Good Friday. He was like Spring. He was a gentle warmth in her heart, a blooming of sleeping flowers. Those particular spring blossoms would die forever never to bloom again after him.

An Easter kiss turned so cold by Pentecost. 49 days . Not long. Of course things began to go wrong in May. It had always been a strangely painful month the last few years. It always took something when it left. This time it would take him.

That Pentecost something died in her, never to be reborn. She would never forget how she felt when he uttered those words. It is was like she had physically been switched off.

How she regretted how angry her pain and loneliness had made her toward him, the angry words she told him. But what she felt was like an energy that needed to turn itself somewhere. She did not like how bitter she had been. She learnt the danger of making another human the focus of her happiness.

If she learnt one thing, it was that she understood what it meant to actually be in love. It had not been the childish crush she mistook for real feelings before. It had not been some immature bedazzling. She had learnt that she did have the ability to love and give another person that way. She may never feel that way again but she had at least felt that way once.

In the year after him, she made some effort to try and see if she could date other men. She even went on a couple of dates that came to nothing. But he was the true image. It only reminded her that no other man could ever occupy that part in her heart. He had been a rare exception, her one in a million. She realised that men held no real attraction for her. It had taken one that she had felt exceptional to even call her out of her solitude. She was not prepared to settle. The severance from him had almost killed her. But she did not regret anything about what she had learnt by the experience.

Perhaps she directed what she had felt for him into her love for the city she had spent part of her childhood in. The spring blossoms never stopped blooming there.

In the years after him, she learnt a lot about standing up as her own women. She would never be able to believe the things she believed when she was with him. If anything, his behaviour proved the points of the feminists she would follow. There would be no more Easter blossoms. No more worship of dead times and dead men. Her reborn life would have to affirm life, to affirm the beautiful now. She would learn to be a proud spinster. A wise hag helped her see the beauty of that term .

She thought about that song she used to listen to when travelling home from visiting him on Sunday – ‘I’ll never hear the bells again’ . Well she never would. But she would hear the call of solidarity with other women

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qCLZxiu9SyE

Where have I been?

I had not used this blog for over five years up until a couple of weeks ago. I tended to use Tumblr until around 2017 then twitter. However I wanted to use this blog for the Hannah Gadsby post then realised I had other things I wanted to write about

I left the job I had been for over thirteen years at the end of 2017. I have been in a variety of jobs since. This is a decision I have no regrets about. I left on good terms but have no regrets about moving on. However because of some of the traumatic events in that job and other issues I decided I would prefer not to stay in contact with my ex colleagues. I have also not really heard from them either. But things are what they are. I feel a lot better for moving on. I never thought I would. I was not in a good place for the last few years in the role

I have had some very positive experiences since such as one of my jobs. This is a very uncertain time. But I have hope.

Try and do some feministing on twitter and upholding women with Turner Syndrome too.

We may be locked down but every day has the happiness of each other’s presence.

I walk by your door in the morning and you stand in the doorway and smile. I wish you good morning, wishing the best to you and all the loved ones who share your home and life. You always hold a cup of coffee in your hand. I know it means you wish things were as they were, that we were actually sitting in a café as we are wont to do! I smile to let you know you are not alone in this wish. I smile to let you know your loved ones are precious to me for the happiness they have brought you.

You walk by my door in the afternoon. I smile to let you know that your presence has brought joyful hours to this house, that these people I love that this home contains miss you too and wish for your presence too. Know they send you and yours their good wishes. I see you smile to let me know that you find this strange distance in closeness painful too.

We know we share worries about our loved ones far away. We knew the journey we are on wold take us physically far from them if not emotionally

Of course we will talk and laugh and share over the phone later. We will share silences and quiet moments as usual. We will laugh and delight in this friendship we share.

But oh how I miss the reassurance of you standing alongside me. How I miss you hand on my shoulder letting me know all will be well. I miss walking together. I miss us observing the world together, little looks exchanged and ideas noted.

Our friendship will stand.

The vampire

It is a Friday evening. As usual the girl had been at the hospital. In the past eighteen months every part of her had been scrutinised and found wanting. She was too clumsy. She did not speak properly. She was not outgoing enough. She was not clever enough. And of course there was something broken inside her.

She is twelve years old in her school uniform. Even by the standards of her age and time she is not very worldly. And of course even for her age she does not take up much space in the world.

She recalled a butterfly had landed on her arm one afternoon. It found out her secret and whispered its revelations in others ears. But she had not been trusted with these secrets. She had to figure it out. Soon a whole rabble of butterflies would be descending to study her and deconstruct her.

She will be put under their microscopes. They will tell her how they will improve her. She will sit in many different rooms while they talk at her.

There was a flutter in the air. She looked behind. There was the boy. He showed his sharp teeth. Discoloured fangs. His face contorted with malice. It was almost as if he

She knows immediately what type of a creature he is. Knows she must watch her step. She knows that much. That knowledge she was born with, like all girls

He follows her, tries to make some excuse to talk to her. She

She tries to walk faster. Holds her bag knowing she may need to use it as a weapon.She sees the cruelly with which he looks at her.

' You know I am a vampire right'almost like a boast or a demand for attention.

He tries to grab her. Tries to pull her toward those fangs. Seems to think she should bend herself to him and be grateful That somehow he is showing her the way things are.

She will not be his victim. She has had enough taken from her the last few months. He will not take more.

She yells and struggles and runs. She will not tell of this for years. Like all girls she has been taught not to speak of such things- who wants to believe they happen?

She could have told him older and more skilled vampires than him have their claim on her. Ones who she cannot run away from.

Wednesday Afternoon 3pm

Every Wednesday at 3pm, Stella puts out she has baked (Victoria sponge –Isabel’s favourite) and brews the tea (Stella has Darjeeling just for Isabel to drink) . Wednesday afternoon was one time of the week they had a couple of free hours.

They were born within week of each other almost 54 years before, a couple of years before the really hard times. They began school on the same day. They became teenagers soon after the war began. Stella left school at fourteen to work in the factory, Isabel stayed on another year, then also started at the factory before moving on to clerical work.

Stella always thought Isabel brighter than her, but she never made her feel less. Isabel was constantly praising Stella’s intelligence (more than Stella thought she deserved), sharing books she found interesting, and encouraging her to learn more about different topics. They would spend hours discussing books and newpaper articles when they had free time (which was rare).

Stella always thought Isabel a beauty - what it was to have seen her grow into the woman she was. Her sparkling eyes, auburn hair, her glowing smile. More than this, she always knew how to carry herself with grace. Stella admired her ability to dress as elegantly as any duchess even on the little money she ever had. Even in her mid 50s she was still a striking woman. Stella always felt dowdy and ordinary (actually she knew she was) but Isabel always told her she was anything but. And that made her feel beautiful.

Ian started courting Stella when she was seventeen and they married when she was 19. He has always been a gentleman. He had been all Stella could have asked for in a husband. If Stella had to chose a man, then she made the right choice. He has never once failed her in any way and always been an affectionate and loyal husband, always been a gentle man in every way. When Stella thought of some of the men in the town, she counted herself truly lucky. There was a sort of love between them and he was the father of her beloved children, the man she made a home with. They had grandchildren who visited them every Sunday. Would she have lived my life without her children and grandchildren, even for Isabel? Stella did not know. Ian will always have a part of her. He sometimes placed his hand in hers to let her know all is well and all is enough. But Stella sensed he knew what place Isabel held in her life.

Isabel married Stuart. She waited a bit longer to marry– until she was twenty two. Their two children live in other towns, being encouraged by Isabel to think beyond the streets of this town. Stuart sometimes looked at Stella like he knew. She felt there could be something cutting about how he spoke to her at times. Still he was a good man in his own way.

Isabel was always able to see the limits of this world and see the ways in which they were bound. She got involved with trade unionism. She managed to gain a seat on the local council. It had been hard work but Isabel won the respect of her fellow councillors.

When their children were teenagers, Isabel understood how things were changing for them. She always loved the music her children were listening to, particularly The Beatles. Stella never really got their music until she saw Isabel dancing round the room to them.

When the feminists started getting in the news a few years back, it was no surprise Isabel was a big supporter. She always said that women had it harder and needed to stick together (well she and Stella certainly did). She even set up a women’s consciousness raising group and she worked to help get funding for childcare.

Soon there would be more difficult times, Stella knew. She was glad that someone with Isabel’s sense was around this town.

Isabel arrived promptly at 3pm. Tea and cake are served and updates given on both families. Then Isabel would touch Stella’s face. Then she would pull her close into her arms. Every Wednesday 3pm it was just the two of them.

It was strange that it was not until Stella was in her late forties that she discovered the word for what she and Isabel felt for each other. Stella began to wonder at the miracle that she and Isabel had found each other. She started to comprehend the wonder that all she felt for Isabel was mirrored. They had a life together. They had this time.

Every Saturday at 2pm Stella and Isabel go for a walk in the local park. People are used to seeing them there at that time. They sit on the bench and talk a while if the weather is good. It was an early autumn afternoon and the trees were already beginning to turn. The last burst of summer’s rays warmed the park. How glorious Stella thought to be here in this moment.