'Well they didn't give people what they wanted because they were never consulted.
When you are dealing with people's lives, you can't assume anything, you must get things right.'

I forget what they call it - it's a planning group like for the area. At our first meeting, me being me, I asked, because C7 [housing association] are there, Kensington Regen are there and we actually had some people from Liverpool City Council there, so I asked 'All the boarded properties, that you've managed to acquire on this side at the moment, what is going to happen to them should we win the public enquiry?' And they went 'Uh, well, you're not going to win so we've got no plans.'

(Chair, residents association)

Eyeless In Gaza, with their gorgeous 3xCD pack Summer Salt/Subway Sun, its contents described by the record company as an 'astrally projected experimental fondue pot of swirling beauty and skewed rhythm that makes you feel like you’ve crawled back to the womb';

The Trees Community, a Christian, contemplative community and music group based at the Cathedral Church of St. John the Divine in New York City, whose 'traveling life in the 1970’s was shared publicly, across America and Canada, through original music as well as through other forms of service to others', and whose reissue of 1975's The Christ Tree is an astonishing mix of 'Incredible String Band and Moody Blues, Indian Raga and Balinese Monkey Chant, traditional American sacred folk music and Terry Riley, Steve Reich, Charles Ives, Bela Bartak and Claude Debussy' - and David's Psalms, both of alienation and of praise;

Lost Gospel Music Volume I: Beneath the Bleeding Moon, recorded live with vocals and ent-banjo, an instrument of TiMOTHy's own design, at Unreal House, direct to tape, in September 2004. Adopting the lyrics of 17th century English Catholic divine Richard Crashaw, 'here are moon-songs to God and the green wood, and secret songs to night angels - drawing influences from east (Ostad Elahi, Abdelah Ghania) and west (Buell Kazee, Derroll Adams)...'

Crow Tongue - Ghost Eye Seeker in which TiMOTHy and A.E. Hoskin's first full length 'finds them summoning distant howls from the fog of night. Fingerpicked strings and Eastern instruments recall Crow Tongue’s musical heritage (the acid-folk of Stone Breath), but here they are layered with primitive homemade instruments, circuit-bent electronics, and mantric drones.'

In the late ‘60s, Tokyo’s J.A. Caesar advertised his apocalyptic music as being: “Voodoo rock that invokes blood and the memory of blood.” So it is with TiMOTHy. This Revelator music may claim to be Christian, but what a bloody and pagan Christianity it is. For the Revelator embraces both the blood and the darkness in the void, continually invoking the Sun, the Moon, the Twilight, the Darkness … hell, kiddies, its veritably Armenian in its worship of the Christ; it’s like some throwback to the sort of arcane early Christianity that still had to rub shoulders with the worshippers of bollockless Attis & his old lady Cybele, and with the shrill-voiced effeminate priests of Frey dragging their God/Idol through the muddy fields of Jutland. TiMOTHy’s practising an Ur-Christianity from back when it was still just one-of-many cults competing for bums-on-seats, so it had to accept the pagans upon the heath and their desire to worship this new Peace God the old way.... It’s Noah sacrificing the lamb on the Tukh Manukh stone altar on the Mithraic hill of Etchmiadzin at the foot of Mt Ararat. A bloody covenant, children. A vandal handshake through the hole of the Odin Stone up at Stenness, on Orkney Mainland; a handshake and the inevitable cutting of flesh/spilling of blood. Directly interfacing with the Divine Godhead....

The Counties are an important part of the culture, geography and heritage of Great Britain.... Britain needs a fixed popular geography, one divorced from the ever changing names and areas of local government but, instead, one rooted in history, public understanding and commonly held notions of cultural identity.

Lunch beside the Duke's Dock where children and teenagers tried their luck at scrambling up three Superlambananas whilst parents and friends - and we - looked on. All over the city people are doing this: part of the joyous art of these sculptures is their tactility, the way they invite people onto and alongside them.

Crossing the arid piazza cityside of the Echo Arena and BT Convention Centre to find all doors on the Arena closed against us, and security staff at the convention centre politely but firmly rebuking our curiosity, sending us out the way we came in, quite rapidly.

Meandering through the fascinatingly mixed-purpose area between Wapping and Park Lane, including a detour into Jamaica Street. Here crumbling old warehouses stack against dead factories reconditioned as nightspots, Mexican restaurants, media labs, whilst sparks still fly inside MOT garages and steel fabricators sheds.

Visiting Simros Carpets in an old warehouse on Jamaica Street, where on the wall hangs a picture of Elvis, 'signed' with a message from The King noting Priscilla's appreciation of the floor covering he'd bought there for Graceland.

Glorying in the beautiful Nineteenth century houses on Great George Square, what few are left after wartime bombs and peacetime developments took their toll.

Feeling unwelcome in the empty Tradewing Square, East Village, plotting to invert the signs posted on every wall so that rather than asserting that Please Respect Residents equals If You Don't Live Here, Keep Out they would instead welcome children, dogs, skateboarders, humans.

Reaching the very tip of the tail of our Superlambanana on narrow Henry Street, outside John McCall Architects.

Ruminating on the social tensions involved in apartment balconies - on narrow Shaws Alley and Cornhill where opposing apartments are almost within touching distance and there is no privacy for high-rise residents intent on sitting out in the summer air.

Finding back routes into the next area to be gentrified - between the Baltic Fleet and the empty but still imposing Joseph Heaps Rice Mill.