Shop is
now open!
The new guitar shirt is speeding through
the pre-production stages 
and soon we'll have some samples to approve, and then we'll
be on our way. We think it's looking so good, we couldn't
resist posting the artist's rendering of it, just to whet
the appetite.
Delivery isn't
scheduled yet, but we reckon towards the end of the month,
so watch this space.
And now we're thinking
about baseball hats...
THE
NATURE OF THE EBEAST DECEMBER 2012
Andrew's
Health
As we've had so many mails asking about Andrew's health
we'll begin with a reply to that. He is very well and enjoys
the great fortune of recovered good health. Of course,
there are cetain trade-offs but they were well worth it.
There really isn't much more to say about that. It's
never wise to let any illness define a person. And so,
that chapter in our lives is firmly closed. Well, for
the most part.
The
Next Camel Album
So where is the next Camel album? Somewhere in the
making. When all was said and done, and the crisis
receded, it was time to return to 'normal' life. We
started making plans. But it turned out to not be
there any more, that 'normal' life. It was, quite
simply, totally different. Of course, the sun rises
and sets, the earth revolves on its axis, etc., except life
was anything but the way it once was. When you spend
two full years trying to anticipate -- and outwit -- the
worst scenario possible, it takes a rather insidious
toll. When the storm passes, it's an involuntary
reflex to get right back to business. We wanted to get
Camel back on the road for the Retirement Sucks Tour, write
a new album, record a new DVD, just get on with it in
general. But we hadn't grasped one very important
aspect of having gone through a life-changing
experience: We are Survivors. And that, in
itself, is life-changing. What we needed to do was
quite the opposite of our grand plans, and was something
that just happened without our really knowing.
Survivors need to exhale deeply and learn to inhale without
the imposition of dread. Unexpectedly, we needed time
to recover from the battle itself. Finally, we're
ready for the challenges ahead.
Camel
Shop (NOW CLOSED UNTIL 7 JANUARY 2013)
The first challenge we faced was sorting out the Camel
shop. To our complete shock, our supplier accidentally
destroyed our entire folder of artwork files. They are
being sorted, but it couldn't be done in time for the
holiday season. The new Camel/Gibson Guitar
design has caused quite a stir, so we'll not only offer
t-shirts, we'll have hoodies and possibly a couple other
smaller items. It's a huge disappointment to miss the
season, but sometimes that's how it all goes.
We'll be ready in the early new year, and hope to have some
rarities on offer such as a boxed set from our Japanese
label, which includes all of Camel Productions' catalogue
and makes a very nice addition to the collector's stash.
Camel
in the iTunes Store
Camel is slowly being established in the iTunes store.
The process involved is a fascinating maze of meticulous
data entry that has to be very precise. Hence, we are
carefully moving towards having the entire catalogue
available to purchase for download. Presently, the
titles are not showing up if you search for Camel, so for
the time being, it's necessary to search for the album
title. Dust and Dreams, Rajaz, and Harbour of Tears
are uploaded and selling well. A Nod and a Wink is in
the process as we've had multiple requests for this title,
and the other titles are in the process of being prepped.
The
Holiday Spirit
Xmas has always been a subjective time of the year.
Some hate it and some, like us, love it. For us, it's
not just the one day. It's the entire season, more
like Yule which, if you look that up in the dictionary, it
usually refers to a 'heathen festival' over a 12-day period
of time. It's about the ending of the year, the
closing in of winter and the dramatic changes in the
landscape. The night sky in winter seems to
sparkle. And then there's all the music. I seem
to never tire of the seasonal songs and it's the one time of
the year I can move about in the town humming merrily, and
no one looks at me as if I need a padded cell. Going
Christmas Caroling is tops on the list, though it seems to
be an endangered species. It's not as easy as it once
was, to gather folks together and tempt them to trundle
about, bursting with song on a frosty, cold evening.
But we were successful one year. There was one very
special evening that came into our lives in 1981. We
lived in London at the time and I couldn't find any
carolling events, so decided to organise my own. This
was not as easy as I thought, despite being in the centre of
London with its vibrant musical community. But I did
wrangle a few friends, twisted the arm of Anthony Phillips
who brought along his friend and fellow muso Dennis
Quinn. In all, there were only eight of us but my
goodness we made a lovely noise! Andrew and Anthony
brought acoustic guitars and Dennis Quinn had a
harmonica. The rest of us had candles. London's
streets were deep in snow.
We stormed a couple of pubs where we knew we'd have a
captive audience and could collect shamelessly for our
favourite charities. We went down a storm. Then
we headed out, into the community. The night was
incredibly still and clear. We found a sort of square,
with stunning white, Georgian houses, mostly made into
flats. Best of all, we weren't encroaching on any
other carollers territory (something we hadn't considered
along with a required permit). It was all a bit dark
and empty looking, so we approached the first house with
lights on, and started singing Silent Night. Lights
flickered quickly, and it wasn't long before the residents
responded. They were very generous indeed. The
next house had already come out, so we moved along singing
'It Came Upon a Midnight Clear' (very fitting), 'Ding Dong
Merrily on High', even 'Jingle Bells', etc. But
'Silent Night' was the masterpiece. Before we knew it,
people were waiting for us. It started to snow as we
got to the first turning in the square, big, fat snowflakes
you can catch on your tongue. A man asked if we could
come up to the door of his house and sing because his wife,
ready to give birth imminently, couldn't quite make it past
the landing. Well, of course we could. The light
inside the hall was very soft and low, but we could see her
lying on her side, bundled up with her 'bump', resting on
the landing. Other family members in the house were
peering over the staircase. We made the sounds of
angels. It was like a scene from 'It's A Wonderful
Life', sans Jimmy Stewart of course.
By this time, however, Andrew and Anthony's fingers were
starting to stiffen from the cold, and Dennis' lips were
starting to stick to his harmonica! I'd brought along
those disposable heat packs, but we didn't realise they
needed 30 minutes to heat up! Add to that, the guitars
were reacting to the cold, contracting and creaking in
protest. They refused to stay in tune. Still,
the lads soldiered on, casting aside their natural desire
for musical perfection and giving it the best they
had. All I can recall is that it sounded simply
magnificent. There was something in the air that
transcended all technical problems, and the snow softened
the acoustics. The instruments took a life of their
own and lifted us well beyond our expectations of a simple
carolling evening.
As we were heading back on the other side of the square, a
very beautiful, very elegant woman came out to greet
us. She had a soft, kind voice, and was genuinely
complimentary towards us, applauding not only our voices,
but also our efforts. She was exceptionally generous
in her donation. At first, we hadn't noticed that a
very tall, and equally elegant, man stood behind her with a
tray in his hands. On that tray sat 7 glasses of wine,
perfectly positioned in line, cradled by white-gloved
hands. He was the Butler! I'd never even seen a
butler before! The glasses sparkled in the
starlight. He graciously offered us each a glass, and
we graciously accepted. I don't think I'd ever tasted
such exquisite wine before. Or was it the magic of the
night? I can still see the stars shimmering between
the drifting snowflakes in the night sky above us, as we
stood there singing for that kind woman with her handsome
butler. They applauded us for a long time as we sang
our way to the end of the square. When we reached the
last house, the snow was falling thick and fast, sticking to
our hair and eyelashes as we looked back at the
square. It was ablaze with lights. We had
all been removed from our everyday life to a place where
faery dust and magic play delightful tricks on little
pockets of our world. It was the perfect moment to end
that perfect night, in that magical Chelsea square in
1981. And we had raised £300 in donations.
We have not failed to recall that deeply nostalgic, silent
night every December since. It never fails to
warm our hearts. As it simply isn't possible to
recreate such an experience, Andrew surprised me with a
little gift of music to celebrate that mystical
memory. We want very much to share a bit of magic with
all of you at this year-end.
We will, as we have always done without fail, light our Hour
Candle this year-end. With that little light, we send
our fondest best wishes for love, contentment, health and
peace, this year and beyond. All in all, it really is A
Wonderful Life.
See you in 2013!
Susan Hoover
