It is of a rare occasion that you perchance to hear a melody, a tune – no, a hymn – on the Gramophone that later allows you to remark;

“So that’s how I ended up with tobacco burns on my gullet, a broken toe and my poor Cossack Semyon following me around with a bedpan waiting for my monocle to pass.”

Yet, there, perched atop a ladder in one of the Mountain’s libraries, is where my story begins.

I had agreed with Ahni that I should remain fast to my word and endeavor to organise our ponderous assortment of volumes. However – as is my want – I had ended up just moving our various stuffed mustelids about the room in perhaps a vain effort to get the right alignment of badger weasel ferret pine martin between the vases and instructional ornaments.

As is the fashion at the Mountain, one of the help usually brings elevenses at around three. Today, it was one of the girls, the smiling sort that has never quite learnt to keep her eyes down. As the usual tray of vegetable threatened broth, jasmine blossom tea, fifty grains of laudanum, stout, a coffee infused whisky, assorted cigarettes, a loaded revolver and a large brandy, was settled down on a desk with a gentle slosh. The common enquiry came, “Would Sir have a preference for some musical accompaniment with his refreshments?”

Though, back turned, I am sure I waved her on with a proper hand. I may well have gruffly murmured encouragement.

Regardless.

I am of the mind that she found the twine bound bundle of seventy-eights I had only received Wednesday last. As it crackled into life it sounded like just another field recording of the watutu. Of course, this was fiercely interrupted by rousing drum and horn. This is followed scant immediately by a distinguished voice calling for his faithful man servant to fetch his trousers.

Two minutes into the battle hymn, and some thirty seconds after some unfortunate unpleasantness, I shooed the maid off to find Lazarina, Semyon and the Footmen.

Transfixed man, I was transfixed I tell you.

A strange energy took a hold of me, vibrating the chord of my very being. I had to take not two, but three large pinches of snuff to steady myself. It was only as the seventy-eight spun down to a rotating crackle that I was able to strike myself from my rigid pose to the Gramophone. Setting the thorn back, I closed my eyes to the wonderful wild opening strains of foreign music that marks the opening of the piece. Ether like the melodies and beat of those war drums shook my senses free from my body and I tell you, honestly, the last thing I remember is a voice – quite possibly my own – murmuring the word, “Splendid.”

Believe me, I’d like to be able to tell you how long I was caught in the arms of this aural hypnotic. Just as I am assured you would like me to be able to inform you. But alas, it may have been hours, as when Semyon found me, there was a small pile of Gramophone thorns dulled from what can only be called repetitive circulation.

I do believe, when I was finally attended, I was in an agitated state. My hair was unkempt and my clothes, stained with sweat and heavy with the odor of laudanum. The contents of my elevenses tray were largely drained and scattered about the Gramophone. The desk was covered in pages the contents of which were almost illegible due to the rapidity of my pen. Here and there amongst the notes and documents, Semyon could see strange maps. Etched with some care, they sat like water lilies amongst the pond of my pages.

As it is recalled to me; I was atop a table, my person caught by some sort of dark continent St. Vitus dance. A decanter clutched in my left hand, a revolver in my right. There, bellowing in concert with the voice on the seventy-eight, I was marking the beat of its war-drums by vehemently discharging my revolver into the rapidly powdering stucco above me.

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While the above is not really my review of Professor Elemental’s new album. It is how my review would look, if one were able, like on Facebook to change the language of this piece to Victorian/Bonzo Dog/Chap/Steampunk speak. Much in the same way as you can change your Facebook to look as if it was written in Pirate.

Translate it back as you wish.

This was originally planned as a simple tribute piece to the genius that gave birth to Professor Elemental, his song ‘Fighting Trousers’ and its video. But upon hearing the song for a second time, I found myself uncharacteristically on the good Professor’s website, creditcard in hand, buying everything musical he had for sale.

Passed on to me by Ara. Thank You.

The album, ‘The Indifference Engine, is a truly wonderful piece of music. It is a natural successor to the Bonzo Dog Do Dah Band and in that majesty, it is beautiful.

Rife with excellent songs such as ‘Splendid’, ‘Penny Dreadful’, ‘A fete worse than death’ and really all the others. I cannot recommend this enough. At five pounds on the artists site, it is beyond good value.

Go. Now. Buy.

Professor Elemental’s Emporium

The song and video you see below is the opening salvo in a hip-hop battle. One between an originator and a parodist and one I think, Professor Elemental and his orangutan butler Geoffrey are destined to win.

If you listen quietly, you can hear the haunting cry of the Badgermingo.