Music Obsessive

123 or 1-2-3

2012-02-17T06:00:00.000Z

It never ceases to amaze me how, yet again, seeminglyunrelated old memories can be triggered by songs. There I was, browsing a post over at RockRoots about Spanish one-hit-wonders Los Bravos, like you do, and the memoriesattached to their mighty opus, ‘Black is Black’ came flooding back. For some reason they involve the purchase ofmy first bike, a handsome blue-framed affair, and why I inexplicably decided tocover it with football stickers. ‘Blackis Black’ with its Gene Pitney-esque vocal is one of those songs that define mychildhood as a sixties kid but quite why the bike is involved is beyond me.

This post also led me on to musing about other sixties one-offsand it was then that a fragment of a song forced its way into myconsciousness. I could hum it withreasonable certainty yet couldn’t quite get a handle on its entirety. As much as I tried I just couldn’t rememberwho sang it or what it was called. Itwent…er, let me see…

One two three…

Da da da daah da dadah

Da-da-da-dah, da da dadah da dah

It’s easy (it’s soeasy)

Like taking candy,FROM A BABY!

First I tried searching all the possible singers. The timbre of the voice suggested singerslike Andy Fairweather-Low (Amen Corner), Chris Farlowe, Frankie Valli or Barry Ryanbut no luck with any of them.

I then tried every ‘find your song through its lyric’website I could find, but none of them could reveal it despite using all thekeywords like ‘123’, ‘candy’ and ‘baby’. I tried my old standby, Everyhit.com but it still didn’t come up. It was only days later that it suddenlypopped into my head. Of course! It was ‘1-2-3’ by Len Barry. Hurrah! I’d got the song title right all along but all the lyric sites I’dconsulted didn’t recognise ‘123’ in place of the official title of‘1-2-3’. Search engines eh? Who writes these things?

The other discovery I’ve made about this single is that LenBarry is actually an American where I’d just assumed he was British. My apologies to my US readers for taking thecredit for this single for well over 40 years but I’m putting the recordstraight now. In my defence, ‘1-2-3’does have a very British feel to it and during the 1960s beat boom it isperhaps not surprising that it does.

Funnily enough, this one doesn’t have a specific memoryattached to it; it was just sort of…there. I still love it, so here it is. Nice suit!!

Fathom OST - John Dankworth

2012-02-03T06:00:00.000Z

I have to admitthat only a decidedly small proportion of my music collection is given over toSoundtrack albums – less than 5 in fact. I have a couple of well-loved John Barry/James Bond compilations and acollection of ‘Bronze’ acts from the Buffy TV series, but that’s about it…untilI downloaded John Dankworth’s soundtrack to the film ‘Fathom’.

‘Fathom’ is myvery-guilty-indeed film pleasure, a British made Bond/Avengers spy-spoof madein 1967, directed by Leslie H Martinson and starring my 60s pin-up, RaquelWelch in the title role. It was shot onlocation in sunny southern Spain and in the probably rainy UK at Sheppertonstudios and the cast includes a whole bunch of British character actors likeRonald Fraser, Richard Briers, Tom Adams and Clive Revill along with America’sTony Franciosa as the film’s other major draw. Adapted from the unpublished draft of Larry Forrester’s second Fathomnovel, ‘Fathom Heavensent’, the screenplay by Lorenzo Semple Jr (of Batman TVseries fame) tells of how Fathom, a US dental assistant-cum-vacationingskydiver, is drawn into a web of espionage and intrigue involving H-bombs andvaluable Chinese artefacts. The scriptis full of twists and turns with a host of running gags to keep it light andairy – it’s no coincidence that Leslie H Martinson had also directed ‘Batman –the Movie’ the year before.

Whilst never morethan a ‘B’ movie (I saw it first when it was doing the rounds as second featureto ‘Beneath the Planet of the Apes’ around 1970), it has a classic 60’s vibe oftongue-in-cheek innocence and frothy inconsequence. However, the photography, especially over thebrilliantly lit Spanish Costa Del Sol, is quite stunning, Ms Welch, at 27, isat the peak of her sexpot period and the performances range from competent tohammy, but who cares? I watch it quiteregularly and am charmed every time by its dated yet engaging point-in-timeaura. It just oozes 60s appeal from theunique make-up and clothes to the curious ‘bright’ yet slightly washed outcolour rendition that all films of that period seem to have.

Last but notleast is the soundtrack. Written bywell-known jazz musician and spouse of Cleo Laine, John Dankworth, it is theepitome of hep-cat sixties jazz and it fits the joie de vivre of the film perfectly. In places it veers a bit too close to HenryMancini or Ray Conniff territory for my liking but the theme itself is amasterpiece – conjuring up the sort of ‘hip’ jazz that films used to use as‘party’ music in the early 1960s, pre-Beatles in an effort to sound cuttingedge. In particular, there is a flamencostyled section that accompanies Raquel’s skydive to a villa perched on theSpanish Coast that is quite exhilarating and worth the price of the albumalone.

Sadly, Dankworthdied quite recently and much of his work is not available on CD but thesoundtrack to ‘Fathom’ is a wonderful reminder of what a talent he was. Cool, Daddy-O!

Cyndi & Sandie

2012-01-20T06:00:00.000Z

Having nothingbetter to do on New Year’s Eve, I watched a bit of Jools Holland’s Hootenanny(HOOTENANNY!) to usher in 2012 and whilst enjoying the usual entertaining mixof acts backed largely by his own Rhythm and Blues Orchestra, I was constantlynagged by one question that seemed to loom large over the proceedings. And it was this: Why do the older generationsof popular music just refuse to go quietly?

Don’t get me wrong,I am not complaining, just a little mystified that most acts who are now edgingretirement age are not donning the comfy slippers and having an earlynight. Exhibit A was Sandie Shaw who didfirst rate versions of both ‘Always Something There to Remind Me’ and ‘LongLive Love’ whilst predictably bare footed and wearing a dress that she probablybought in 1967 and showed acres of well preserved leg. But not only that, she danced, flirted withJools, sat on fellow guest James Morrison’s lap and generally terrorised theaudience. No wonder Jools saw her offwith a ‘Wild Woman of Rock’ accolade. ‘Such fun’, to coin a phrase.

The other thingthat I find a bit disconcerting about performers of her vintage is thevoice. Obviously, age plays tricks withyour vocal chords and the register and timbre often change as the years go by. This is only to be expected. But what is a little disconcerting is thatevery now and again, the younger version of the voice peeps through and itfeels like the years have rolled back just for an instant. This was very apparent during Sandie’sperformance. If you closed your eyes itwas like her older and younger selves were vying for prominence in a Dr Whotimey-wimey sort of way. Weird.

Exhibit B was CyndiLauper, who whilst not quite as old as Ms Shaw, also refuses to grow oldgracefully. She also is beginning toshow signs of the dual voice syndrome when doing her hits. We were treated to an utterly mad version of‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ and a beautifully re-arranged version of ‘TimeAfter Time’ with strings and pipes. Notonly that, she showed us a new side to her with a traditional blues number fromher 2010 album, ‘Memphis Blues’ which I thought suited her perfectly. It takes character to sing the blues andCyndi has it in spades.

I like Cyndi Laupera lot. She is humble and has a truemusical soul. Her performances weremesmerising and full of heartfelt honesty. How unlike her hard-nosed business woman contemporary, Madonna. Madge, take note – you may be infinitelyricher but you could learn a lot from Cyndi. And even Sandie.

While My Guitar Gently Weeps

2012-01-06T06:00:00.000Z

Every now and thenI’m drawn back to listening to The Beatles’ ‘White Album’. Owing to its sprawling all-styles-and-qualitynature, it is an album that invites debate – that is its weakness and itsstrength – but for me personally, there are three songs that always standout. Neatly, but quite by chance, thetrio comprises one effort each from John, Paul and George. Even more intriguingly from an album wheremany of the songs are acoustic guitar based, they all have a pianointroduction. Spooky or what?

The first isMcCartney’s ‘Martha My Dear’. Mostcommentators dismiss this as a typical piece of McCartney whimsy but I likeit. It just drips with melodic inventionwhere the same idea is barely used twice. The main theme is curiously phrased across bars so that it has aslightly wonky rhythm which extends and then contracts like an elasticband. Love the jaunty piano andorchestral flourishes as well.

The second isJohn’s ‘Sexy Sadie’, his scathing sideswipe at the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. Who’d have thought that Lennon, an instinctivewriter rather than a grafter, could come up with such a McCartney-esquemelody? It too has a slightly strangemelodic progression which tends to be linear rather than cyclical. In this respect it is a natural bedfellow for‘Martha My Dear’ but where MMD is jaunty, SS has a classic Ringo backbeat thatjust nails it to the floor making it tougher and more Lennon-like.

But I’ve saved thebest till last. The third is probably myfavourite song from the whole album and it is George’s ‘While My Guitar GentlyWeeps’. This is where Harrisoncomes of age, baring his soul in the most emotional way and underpinned by theuncredited Eric Clapton’s mesmerising guitar. Up to that point The Beatles didn’t entertain guests on their albums butthe addition of El Clappo adds a new dimension to their sound. George noted later that when Eric arrived todo his stuff the whole band upped its game. That’s peer pressure for you. Interestingly, Jethro Tull guitarist Martin Barre tells a similar storyabout the recording of ‘Aqualung’ when Jimmy Page paid a visit to theirstudio. Martin’s solo on that track isprobably his finest ever!

Hundreds of yearsbefore, the likes of Bach and Mozart knew all about the power of a descending harmonicprogression and George hammers this home in a stately yet frankly over-the-topway during the verse and then glides weightlessly over the chorus cum middlesection. It is a powerful combinationwhich lends itself to a massive guitar solo. It is the kind of trick that Pink Floyd used frequently some years laterbut here Eric Clapton shows remarkable restraint and taste. Perhaps he was frightened of showing up themost famous band on the planet? Eitherway, it works beautifully.

There are severalversions on YouTube but this is one of my favourites from the Concert ForGeorge in 2002. Eric gets to sing aswell as play and he is backed by a bewildering array of drummers, guitaristsand keyboardists – including Ringo and Paul and Dahni Harrison who looks solike his Dad, it makes your heart bleed.

Christmas and the Rite of Disco

2011-12-23T06:00:00.000Z

There comes a timein most people’s lives when life catches up with them and they are willingly orotherwise, exposed to the social event that is the disco and more specifically,the Christmas Disco. Generally thisoccurs around the teenage years and beyond where a large number of participantsare squeezed into a very small space for the purpose of dancing or shouting ateach other over the din. Schools, highereducation establishments and nightclubs are all responsible for this rite ofpassage and whether you are the life-and-soul or wallflower, the experiencedoes tend to alter your perception of humanity, but for better or worse?

But it is not theoutcome that interests me here, but the din. Dependent on your age, and I shan’t ask, there are always a few tunesthat seem to haunt you through the years – those hits that were so prevalent atdiscos that the very thought of them now makes you shudder with long suppressedmemories. Of course there is always ‘HiHo Silver Lining’ but this doesn’t count as it has been a juvenile disco staplefor so long that nobody bothers about it anymore.

No, it is the oneslike the Eagles’ ‘Lyin’ Eyes’ that are one of my bêtes noirs. It was EVERYWHERE during my non-dancing yearsand didn’t I just hate it. It put me offThe Eagles for several decades. Anotherseason ticket holder was Steve Harley’s ‘Make Me Smile’ which even today bringsback that slight eye twitch that I’d thought I’d finally got rid of. What is it about these tunes – and I’m sureyou can supply your own list - that provokes such a reaction, years after theevent? Is it the thought of youryounger, gaucher and generally less assured self trying to grapple with lifeafter one too many vodkas or is it something deeper?

For me it wascertainly the above but also it was because I loved music and somehow theenvironment of the disco always seemed to degrade it and make it nothing morethan background noise or worse, the soundtrack to someone else’s matingritual. Nothing will erase the memory ofthe isolation of the partner-less last dance and for this, 10cc has much to answerfor. I realise that this is a veryesoteric stance to take as all through history, music has been specificallycomposed for the express purpose of dancing (Minuet anyone?) and to complainabout it now is a bit churlish but nevertheless that is still how I feel aboutit.

Whichis why you will always find me at a concert rather than a nightclub. It became clear to me very early on thatdiscos are for those who enjoy dancing and who need not be music lovers at all. In fact, they were frauds. ‘Make me Smile’ indeed.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

The End of Abba

2011-12-09T06:00:00.000Z

Like most people, Ido like the odd Abba song. ‘SOS’ was theone that did it for me and I was hooked: my collection of 70s vinyl singles isthe proof. You see, even at the time, Ijudged that Abba were really a singles band and never bought an LP of theirsexcept for the singles compilation double LP ‘The First Ten Years’, releasedwhen they had thrown in the towel (probably of Ikea design). And I think I was right. Madness was another such band. Great singles band but name me a killer Madnessalbum? (On second thoughts, don’t bother – it’s probably ‘Rise and Fall’)

But unlike mostpeople - and yet again I find myself a little off kilter with the great generalpublic – I have two distinct Abba quirks. First, I can’t stand ‘Dancing Queen’, by general consensus most people’sfavourite. Never have, never will. It would not be on any Abba ‘Best Of’ thathad me as a compiler and I would be more than glad if I never heard itagain. The fact that my most hatedperson on the planet, Bono, attempted a version of it has nothing to do withit. When that dreadful leaden introstarts up my heart sinks, after all there are so many other decent tunes topick, so why that one?

Second, despite theundoubted fact that they served up some corking stuff from ‘Waterloo’ onwards(although actually ‘Waterloo’ is also on my Very Iffy list…along with ‘RingRing’ but let’s not dwell on this), my real preference is for the material theywere writing just at the very end, around the time of ‘The Visitors’. ‘One of Us’, ‘Head Over Heels’, ‘UnderAttack’ and the sublime ‘Day Before You Came’ are the songs that really get tome. Magnificent slabs of Scandinavianmelancholy without the over-extrovert backing tracks. It’s obvious that I’m swimming against thetide here as these were the singles that sold in fewer and fewer quantities asthe public deserted them and must have played a big part in the decision topack it in.

Which is ashame. There is something about theirsong writing at this point that was just coming to the boil. Bjorn’s lyrics were darker and more literateas he mastered the obtuse English language and Benny’s music, whilst stillveering towards the whimsical, had an edge to it. The bleak Swedish railway station in thefilm-noir video for ‘Day Before You Came’ just about sums up where they were atthat point but it is a fascinating place, artistically. The final single, ‘Under Attack’ is one oftheir finest yet it sold very poorly (peaked at 26!) and suddenly they weregone. But what a note to end on!

George Gently and The Cream

2011-11-25T06:00:00.000Z

I’ve mentioned this before but I’ve found watching the last two episodes of TV cop drama ‘InspectorGeorge Gently’ a profoundly unsettling experience. Now set in 1966, at which time I was a lad of10 summers, it is a bit like watching your own childhood pass before youreyes. Whilst the stories and acting arewell up to the usual BBC standards for this type of drama, it is the perioddetail that really gets to me.

Like the cars. A blue Ford Corsair similar to the one usedin the series, used to sit on a neighbouring drive during those long agochildhood years and most of the other makes and models pressed into ‘Gently’service would drive up and down our road regularly. Then there are the boxes of Subbuteo leftcarelessly in a child’s room and the Airfix planes and…ooh, all sorts of otherbits and pieces that are immediately recognisable. It’s all a bit spooky.

And, of course,there is the music. 1960s music is sorecognisable. It has an aura all toitself and it proclaims a time when the UK music business was booming. The programme is littered with fragments ofEnglish beat boom and American soul classics that threaten to divert yourattention from the plot. There was amoment towards the end of the second episode, ‘China’ where it did just that. In the background was a strange wailing soundappended to a mildly oriental sounding backing and for an instant I couldn’tplace it - but then a burst of fuzzy Clapton electric guitar put me right. It was ‘We’re Going Wrong’ from the amusinglytitled Cream LP, ‘Disraeli Gears’ from late 1967. OK, so it was a little out of the correctperiod but somehow its haunting quality complemented the scene perfectly.

It made me think abit about Cream, who as the first supergroup, bestrode the earth in the mid tolate sixties like the most evolved dinosaur of their time and reconsider theirplace in the scheme of things. Whilsttheir music was undoubtedly rooted in the Blues, there was a strange experimentalside to them. As a band very much oftheir time, they took Indian, African and oriental influences and fused themwith the western attributes of harmonic progression and odd melodies.

‘We’re Going Wrong’is a prime example of this side of their nature – a rather disconcertingkeening vocal from Jack Bruce swoops over an atmospheric backing from MessrsBaker and Clapton. In fact, you mightalmost say that Cream are the band most representative of the second half ofthe sixties, more so that the Beatles who tended to have a more scatter gunapproach to musical styles. A fusion ofthe past (Blues) and the future (Prog) was at the core of Baker’s primal,mystical percussion, Clapton’s wah-wah drenched rhythm playing and Bruce’smelodic bass and experimental writing.

Somehow, when Ilisten to them now, and especially if it is the 1968 ‘Wheels of Fire’ album, the music justscreams ‘1960s!’ and you cannot help but be transported to that era. As period pieces go, they were the Cream.

Noel Gallagher's High Flying Birds

2011-11-11T06:00:00.001Z

So finally the Brothers Grimm have gone head to head. Ever since Noel flounced out of Oasis we have been waiting for this moment. Liam got his shot in first with Beady Eye’s ‘Different Gear, Still Speeding’ released earlier this year and now we have brother Noel’s offering, ‘Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds’. So now we have both to compare and contrast, how do they fair?

First up, let me say how respectful Liam has been in gathering together the remnants of Oasis and rising from the ashes in a different guise, that of Beady Eye. It would have been all too easy to carry on using the Oasis brand with all the global goodwill that entailed. Lesser persons would have done just that but a clean break, at least in name, has opened a new chapter and avoided a whole heap of prolonged legal grief. Unfortunately, it hasn’t quite worked out to plan as DGSS is dangerously close to being just what they were trying to avoid, the reheated leftovers of a once-great band (at least for a couple of albums, anyway).

I’m afraid that despite one or two decent moments, I can’t really get on with DGSS and find it rather insipid. Overall, it all sounds a bit tired and a tad dated. Whilst the songs are entering new territory, the sound of the band is, well, a bit Oasis-like and not being a huge fan, I’ve had enough of them now. I need something different. Perhaps Liam would’ve been better off gathering some fresh talent around him?

Which, of course, is what Noel has done. OK, so most of them are old friends, but at least they are not Oasis. Noel has the opposite problem in that although his band doesn’t sound too much like Oasis, his songs still do. I suppose he can’t really help that but then when Paul Weller left The Jam, his next project, the Style Council sounded nothing like his old band, so it can be done.

Nevertheless, NGHFB does have a bit more verve about it. There are the classic Gallagher trademarks – the ‘on the one’ up-tempo numbers and the epic ballads but there is a grandeur about it that sets it aside from Liam’s more down to earth rock ‘n’ roll. It’s as if he was straining to create something worthy to get back at his irksome brother. In a way, this album reminds me of The Teardrop Explodes’ ‘Wilder’. It too was Julian Cope’s attempt to broaden his horizon with brass and string arrangements yet still retaining the epic nature of his own song writing. Cope also was a big believer in the ‘on the one’ backbeat (exhibit A ‘World shut Your Mouth’, m’lud).

Although this probably isn’t it, I feel it in my bones that Noel has one great solo album in him. There is a sense of development in his song writing that implies different things to come. Let’s hope he can break a few of his own self-imposed barriers and pull it together in the not too distant future.

In conclusion, neither DGSS nor NGHFB is a classic but I’m hovering in the Noel camp for the time being.

Imelda May and the Curse of Rockabilly

2011-10-28T06:00:00.000+01:00

For someone who has spent a lifetime in the grip of rock ‘n’pop, you’d think that I would know something about its origins, wouldn’tyou? But shamefully the answer is more a‘sort of’ than a ‘yes’. I suppose theproblem has been that my assimilation of knowledge has been via first hand experiencerather than vicarious study and that I have basically winged it by livingthrough its twists and turns.

So when it comes to a subject such as Rockabilly, I stillfind it hard to know whether it is angel or devil. What I do know is that it is the earliestform of rock ‘n’ roll, emerging in the early 1950s from a primeval stew of Blues and Hillbilly (Country) and carried into the public ear by the likes of CarlPerkins and Elvis but as a style I’ve never really had much truck with it.

I can almost pin down exactly when it swung into the ‘devil’category and that was in the early 1980s when the Rockabilly Revival stormedthe charts in the form of The Stray Cats and numerous imitators and evolvedinto the dreaded Shakin’ Stevens. Need Isay more? I hated both of them with avengeance and vowed that Rockabilly or anything even vaguely resembling itwould be banished from my collection for all eternity.

However, the door was edged open again in 1992 whenMorrissey’s ‘Your Arsenal’ was released. Subsequent to The Smiths’ breakup, Morrissey had offered up 2 soloefforts in ‘Viva Hate’ and ‘Kill Uncle’ but the quality was on the wane and thecritics were circling. Luckily for him,ex-Bowie guitarist Mick Ronson took on production duties for ‘Your Arsenal’ andpushed Morrissey’s style into Glam and *gulp*…Rockabilly. And blow me down, it worked and it workedwell. Somehow, Morrissey’s ultra-modernmuse was enhanced by the muscle of the oldest form of rock known to man and theDevil-Angel-ometer began to waver alarmingly.

Fastforward to 2008 and Dublin born Imelda May and her suitably be-quiffed band releases‘Love Tattoo’ followed in 2010 by ‘Mayhem’ and the meter is registering ‘Angel’for the first time. There is somethingabout her take on the form that is irresistible, especially her version of theNorthern soul classic, ‘Tainted Love’. So am I a convert? Well…up to apoint. Whilst I like much of what Imeldadoes, there is a limit and I still find myself cherry-picking tracks from heralbums. It goes without saying that I’dstill barricade the door if Shaky or The Stray Cats came a-calling. Everything in moderation, I say.

Reflections

2011-10-14T06:00:00.002+01:00

I have made an amazing discovery. It is something that pertains to a song that I have known since its release in 1967 yet has only just revealed itself to me via the almost inevitable service of YouTube. When I tell you what it is, you’re probably going to say, ‘Oh, that old thing…didn’t you know?’ but then I’m always the last to pick up on most things.

Anyway, the year of release - 1967 - will give you a clue as to what sort of song it is. The Summer of Love was the height of Psychedelia and anyone who was anyone was experimenting with studio weirdness following The Beatles’ lead. Most of the experimenters were taken from the growing ‘albums-only’ underground which would reveal itself as progressive rock in the 1968/69 period so it was a bit of a shock to find that the voice of Young America, Tamla Motown, a label carefully geared towards the commercial singles market, was also a willing participant. There were several ‘experimental’ singles released by Motown during this period, mainly by the more progressive elements such as The Temptations, but the one I am referring to here is ‘Reflections’ by Diana Ross and the Supremes.

Written and produced, as always, by the Holland-Dozier-Holland team, ‘Reflections’ is one of my favourite Supremes hits. It has all the usual hallmarks of a great H-D-H song with Ross’s breathy vocal carrying a compelling melody over a classic Funk Brothers backing track (with, unless I am mistaken, a signature slithery bass line from James Jameson). But it is the psychedelic extras that are most interesting – the signal oscillators over the intro and verses and the strangely reverberated tambourine being just two devices on show.

And now we get to it, the bit that has surprised me over 40 years later and it is this: the main rhythm is carried by, of all things, an accordion! I mean, who knew? I didn’t expect to find an accordion in pop music at all let alone in a Motown single. But then the Summer of Love opened the door to all sorts of exotic instruments, many from India, so I suppose it was inevitable that that most Victorian of instruments would turn up eventually. Just not in Detroit.

Well damn me, if the video I based this post on hasn't been blocked over at YouTube. You'll just have to listen to Reflections and try to pick out that accordian for yourself!

Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles

2011-09-30T06:36:00.001+01:00

For my at-home film fest this year, I watched the entire second season (22 episodes) of Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles. This was originally broadcast on Satellite TV here in the UK a few years back so as the only person on this isle that does not have a Satellite Dish disfiguring their house, it passed me by. Nevertheless, watching it years later on DVD has its benefits, one of which goes, ‘OK - I’ll watch just ONE more episode…’

…Six episodes later I rise bleary-eyed from the sofa to get a coffee fix. Yes, it is that addictive. The plot has more twists than the Hampton Court Maze and the acting is superb – especially from Summer Glau as Cameron the Terminator whose unnervingly spooky not-quite-human mannerisms are very unsettling. All in all, it is cracking stuff, which means of course that those haters of quality TV, the Fox Corporation, immediately cancelled it.

It has become abundantly clear that the business model that is Television is now completely broken. Programming exists merely to ensure that as many viewers as possible are available to watch adverts. Advertising is now the real reason why television exists, with the programmes between them being a subservient lure. Quality programmes that attract an enthusiastic core following are not, by their very nature, a strong enough enticement to casual ‘viewers’ (i.e. those that merely have the set on while doing something else) to satisfy the real paymasters; the advertisers.

Science fiction and fantasy programmes seem to suffer particularly badly from the core viewer syndrome. Look at the number given the chop (programmes, not viewers) prematurely, Buffy (although reprieved after season 5), Angel, Firefly, Dollhouse, Tru Calling, and now The Sarah Connor Chronicles. The real reason these projects were canned was because their viewers don’t watch adverts like good little consumers. We actually prefer good drama. Shame on us.

Which brings me to another subject: Torchwood. What the hell has happened to it? The current series, ‘Miracle Day’ sucks. After three episodes of a 10 episode run, I’m bored out of my brain. Seems the mix of UK and US locations/writing/actors just doesn’t work. The best of US produced Sci-Fi/Fantasy (see all those in the canned list above) are fabulous pieces of TV. Ditto, the UK series, Dr Who being the prime example, which are also magnificent. But try and make a hybrid and what do you get? Torchwood. I may not stay the course. I’m going to cancel it before someone else does for the first time ever. Yay me!

Marina and the Diamonds - Fear and Loathing

2011-09-16T06:00:00.002+01:00

Some time back in the mists of blogdom I raved about Greek Welshwoman, Marina and the Diamonds. Time has passed since her last release, ‘The Family Jewels’ and she has been a bit quiet of late. Well, she’s back and if the phrase, ‘A game of two halves’ was invented for anything, it was made to apply to her new material – an album track labelled ‘Part 1: Fear and Loathing’ and a single release, ‘Part 2: Radioactive’. Videos for both have just been launched on her YouTube site.

It appears that they are supposed to be linked but I’m buggered if I can see what the connection is. ‘Part 1: Fear and Loathing’ is by far the better of the two. It is a smouldering ballad wallowing in a massively atmospheric backdrop, the type of which she seems more than adept at writing. This sort of tuneful yet slightly dark song suits her unique vocal delivery down to the ground. It makes you realise that there is no one around currently who sounds exactly like her or has her peculiar accent. I find it very endearing, but that’s probably just me.

It takes a few listens to get all the hooks but this in itself is a plus as there is nothing worse than a song that you can sing on first hearing – there is nothing left to know. If this is a taste of what’s to come on the new album then bring it on.

Unfortunately, ‘Part 2: Radioactive’ rather lets the side down. The polar opposite of Part 1, it is the type of up-tempo electro-pop that everyone and his dog is putting out at the moment from Katy Perry to Jessie J and it just doesn’t stand out from the crowd. In fact, I struggle to stick with it all the way through which is a dreadful shame as these types of songs on her debut CD all had tremendously hook laden tunes but this is just not strong enough. I just hope that this one is not representative.

Either way, I shall await the new material, to be entitled, ‘Electra Heart’, with much agog-ness as ‘The Family Jewels’ was close to being my Album of the Year, 2010. Second albums are always a bit of a decider for me as to whether I stick with them or not so there is much resting on Ms Diamandis. I hope she pulls it off again, as I consider her a rare talent.

Garbage - Best Live Act?

2011-09-02T06:00:00.000+01:00

Isn’t it funny how some things just sort of creep up on you with all the impetus of an unstoppable, developing realisation. Since the burgeoning force that is YouTube hit our computer screens I’ve been diving in and out watching clips of favourite bands like there’s no tomorrow, but when it comes to a bit of live rock ‘n’ roll, the type where you can turn the volume up to 11 and shut the world out for four of five minutes, I find that I am returning more and more to the live performances of one band; Garbage.

It begs the question; are they one of the world’s greatest live bands? I think they probably are, but I doubt they would feature on any ad hoc list should a consensus of the great general public be taken. I’ve not turned up one bad performance from Shirley and the Boys. I’ve said before that I consider Shirley Manson one of the best live singers in rock and until I hear a really bad performance from her, I shall stick to this view. The band members are no slouches either.

The band is a classic example of a deliberate sleight of hand. Ask yourself: what do a bunch of session musicians, that is, Butch Vid (drums), Steve Marker (guitar) and Duke Erickson (guitar, keyboards & bass) do when they want to form a band and the following is apparent?

They are slightly over the hill age-wise to be pop stars
Let’s be kind, they are photo-genically challenged, and
They have a need to put out some killer material but can’t sing for toffee

Answer: they employ a fiery, feisty extremely photogenic Scottish singer, 10 years younger than them, to hide behind, to divert the attention of the paying public and of course, to sing. The thing is, the guys are extremely competent, experienced rock musicians and adding Ms Manson has just put a cherry on an already excellent cake.

I bought their first two albums, ‘Garbage’ and ‘Version 2.0’ in the mid-90s and played them to death but curiously never bought their later work but that has now changed with the purchase of ‘Bleed Like Me’ from 2005. It’s a cracker – what took me so long? It may almost be their best album.

Here’s a track from the album, ‘Why Do You Love Me’, performed at Glastonbury 2005. This whole set is worth seeking out on YouTube as the band is on top form. If anyone knows how Shirley can manage to keep singing without being out of breath after all that running around, please let me know. Perhaps she IS a cyborg after all…

Warpaint - Fool

2011-08-19T06:03:00.003+01:00

This year’s Glastonbury Festival has done me proud. First the singing Pierce sisters prompted meto listen to their current album and now Warpaint, the female foursome from thewest coast of the USA have done the same. As a consequence of being beguiled by their set on the John Peel Stage Iimmediately used up a bit of credit at iTunes and downloaded their album,‘Fool’ and what a good decision that turned out to be.

In fact there is a strong feeling of Déja Vu at work here. I remember the first time I saw The Cure atHammersmith Odeon in 1980 just after the release of ‘Seventeen Seconds’ and wasmesmerised by their minimal gated drums and chiming chorused guitars. It was a studied architectural sound when allaround, the rest of the world was snarling and making as much punky noise aspossible. Listening to Warpaint gives methat same sense of wonder 30 years on. Their sound is very much rooted in the intricate gothic structures ofThe Cure and Siouxsie and the Banshees only it is flecked with the sunnydisposition of California rather than dour new-town-ness and suburbanuniformity of Crawley and Bromley.

Interestingly, their setup of twin guitars/vocals, bass anddrums mirrors that of that other west coast female band, the Bangles yet theirsound couldn’t be more different. Don’tyou just love how rock can spawn such variety from the same roots? It’s what keeps us all interested after allthis time.

As suggested by their name, their music has a slightly tribalquality that manifests itself as a trance-dance flow that draws you into itsunique ritual where you half expect virgins to be sacrificed at anymoment. There are no solos, justintricate rhythms and carefully constructed guitar and bass figures underpinningmuted vocal harmonies. Lovely stuff whenyou’re in the mood but perhaps a little frustrating when you’re not. Sometimes you just want to shake them out oftheir carefully constructed cathedral and tell them to let go and lash up atent on the moors. Perhaps this willcome with maturity in the same way that ‘Love Cats’ followed ‘A Forest’ for Boband his mates.

Nevertheless, ‘Fool’ is a fine achievement for a debut albumand I shall be agog to see what happens next. Here is ‘Undertow’ from their appearance on Jools Holland earlier thisyear.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2

2011-08-05T06:18:00.003+01:00

Yes it’s true; I’m a big Harry Potter fan. I read all the books as they appeared ANDdidn’t opt for the ‘Adult’ covers so that people could snigger at me on thetube. For heaven’s sake, a book’s a book- how can a different cover make it an ‘adult’ version? I think the books are a great read. Not great literature but written by someonewho knows how to pay out a rattling good yarn from page one and that, for me,is enough.

So when the films came out I was a little cautious as we allknow that a film never really represents the book it is based on. In fact I didn’t see any of the first fivefilms at the cinema but curled up with a glass of wine and the DVDs when theybecame available. Generally they havebeen well constructed but lacking in the sort of detail only a book can provideas is only to be expected by the time constraint of a film.

However, for the final film, ‘Harry Potter and The DeathlyHallows - Part 2’ I took my daughter, a fellow fan, to see it on the big screen– and in 3D. It seemed only right thatthe concluding film should be witnessed as intended on a huge screen withdeafening surround-sound. And I wasright. The 3D was good, (althoughfrankly, I could’ve lived without it) and the film was possibly the best of theseries. The popcorn seemed to have aneverlasting charm on it as no matter how much we ate there always seemed loadsmore to go. But best of all was thesound which was awesome. Clashing spellshad the impact of a nuclear bomb and the destruction of land and propertyrumbled under our feet.

For once, I didn’t really miss the fine detail as the filmseemed to be very focussed upon drawing together JK Rowling’s rather disparateplot strands into a final conclusion. Infact it did a better job than the book in explaining the eventualdenouement. So hats off to theScreenwriter and Director for a thoroughly memorable experience.

Nevertheless, I still am not wedded to the cinema for onereason and one reason only. Why dogaggles of schoolgirls find it necessary to whisper and giggle through theentire film ruining all the poignant moments with their juvenile lack ofconsideration for others. Must brush upon my Cruciatus Curse ready for next time…on no! There isn’t one.

Juliana Hatfield

2011-07-29T06:37:00.004+01:00

There are some artists that never really lodge themselves inthe consciousness of the great buying public and thus never appear on thoseworthy ‘best of’ lists. However, beforeI get too pompous about this, bear in mind that I am as guilty as the rest whenit comes to US singer/guitarist, Juliana Hatfield, yet an album that I returnto on an unnervingly frequent basis is her ‘Become What You Are’.

Originally the bass player with the Blake Babies in the1980s, Juliana flirted with Evan Dando (in all senses of the word) and hisLemonheads before issuing her first well-received solo album, ‘Hey Babe’ in1992. But it was the follow up in 1993,the magnificent ‘Become what You Are’ that gave her a deserved 15 minutes offame with frequent airplay of both singles culled from the set. Configured as a classic power trio with abass/drums rhythm section in addition to herself on guitar, she produced musicthat is a joyous throwback to gutsy guitar rock with proper tunes and fewoverdubs. Thankfully, it is also exceptionallywell recorded giving a ‘live’ feel which accentuates the looseness andexcitement of the material. How manytimes have good albums been dragged down by indifferent production?

But the real draw to BWYA is the way that the music reflectsher own personality: a sort of child-woman with attitude. The whole album is a battleground where herangst, given full rein in grungy guitars and pointed lyrics is constantlytempered by quieter girlish moments of feminine vulnerability. These competing sides to her psyche were tobe laid bare in 2000’s double album ‘ Juliana’s Pony: Total System Failure’where one whole album (Juliana’s Pony) would be given over to delicate acousticsongs whilst the other (Total System Failure) would indulge in an orgy ofelectronic white noise that even Sonic Youth would shy away from. Whilst this later album shows the separated extremes,‘Become What You Are’ demonstrates what happens when the two are cleverly combinedand it is a magic that she has not quite managed since.

Juliana continues to release albums today and I feel alittle guilty that I have not investigated many of them. Somehow, BWYA has spoiled me and I don’tanticipate that anything else she does will satisfy. Perhaps I’m wrong and in a way I hope I am,but it doesn’t take away from BWYA – an album to which I will always return.

The Pierces - 'You and I'

2011-07-22T06:18:00.001+01:00

If there is one thing that is guaranteed to make me perk up my jaded ears and sit up and listen, it is a dose of classic harmony singing – think Everly Brothers, Beach Boys or even The Bangles. So when I was wading through the hours of Glastonbury footage and came across The Pierces, I was more than happy to pay attention.

It turns out that The Pierces are an ex-Alabama, now New York based sister act, Catherine and Alison Pierce, who have been around for some ten years yet only seem to be hitting the UK now with their fourth album, ‘You & I’, co-produced by none other than the Coldplay team of Rik Simpson and bassist, Guy Berryman. Their brand of upbeat retro-Californian pop is almost irresistible in these times of austerity. Once you have added their song writing ability that brings together elements of The Mamas and Papas, Stevie Nicks era Fleetwood Mac, early Jefferson Airplane and strangely, Crowded House when both Finn brothers were both on board, to their sibling voices, you have a very marketable package indeed.

Having downloaded ‘You & I’ I am now wallowing in some of the best harmony singing I’ve heard for some time. I gather that their previous albums have been a little quirky and that this is their tilt at the big time, hence it does come across as very polished 70s style AOR which I’d have thought was a little out of fashion at the moment but notwithstanding the production, this is quality stuff. The song writing is solid with the up-tempo stuff sounding a little better than the ballads which are a touch staid but the overall effect is very listenable. However, if their inspiration truly is the sunny Californian pop of the Mamas and Papas, they ought to be a bit more careful how they disguise it as ‘Kissing You Goodbye’ is so close to ‘California Dreaming’ that if anyone associated with John Phillips’ estate gets to hear it there may well be Lawyers at dawn.

But accusations of plagiarism aside, there is something magical about sibling harmonies that just sets the hairs on my neck going. It’s the closeness of those genes that makes everything so beautifully seamless yet just different enough to set them apart in the mix. Someone should devote part of a book to this phenomenon…wait a minute, someone has – it was me. Singing is food to the soul as church-goers past and present have discovered, as have those who now cram the halls of England to attend ‘Rock Choir’ events. And harmony singing is the next step to heaven. Those that can do it well, especially when singing live have my undying attention.

Here is the video that started me out on this trail of discovery – The Pierces at Glastonbury doing a live acoustic spot for the BBC and making their hit ‘Glorious’ sound well, glorious. If the harmonies at about 1:40 don’t make you go weak at the knees, you have no soul.

Glastonbury Festival 2011 (Part 2 - The Awards)

2011-07-15T06:12:00.014+01:00

This year the Glastonbury Festival marks its fortieth anniversary, the first (then free) festival taking place on a cobbled together tubular steel and wooden plank stage in 1971. In order to celebrate the fact, a ‘Spirit of ‘71’ stage was included this year where many of those who performed in 1971 returned to the scene of their crimes to perform to nostalgic on-lookers. To see the likes of Melanie and Edgar Broughton belting out old familiar numbers even gave hardened old cynic me a misty eye.

The Hippy roots of Glastonbury continue to pervade the Festival to this day and there is no doubt that the festival spirit affects both performers and audience alike. Major beneficiaries this year were undoubtedly Elbow whose connection with the huge crowd was quite mesmeric. But they weren’t the only ones and it is one reason why I love this Festival – for three days, the world seems at peace.

But enough of this new-agey stuff, on to the Music Obsessive Awards which this year were very tricky to pitch given the huge and generally enjoyable line-ups on virtually every stage. However, a decision has been made.

In third place comes the old crooner himself, Morrissey who played as the warm up act to the all-conquering Coldplay on the Saturday evening. Despite the fact that he is clearly middle-aged these days and the old joints are not what they were, and the fact that the set went a bit flat in places, I thoroughly enjoyed his mix of solo stuff and old Smiths songs. It served as a timely reminder of what a way the man has with words. The mixture of kitchen sink, no holds barred truths and wry black humour has never really been matched by anybody writing since and to hear the likes of ‘I Want the One I Can’t Have’ and ‘This Charming Man’ again was a real pleasure. All together now;

‘I would go out tonight

But I haven’t got a stitch to WE-AR….’

In second place is Beyoncé. Yes, I know. Before the Festival started, I would have laughed in your face if you’d told me I was going to type those words, but it has happened. Despite not really knowing much about her music, I was vastly entertained by her Sunday headline set and I was entertained because she didn’t fall into the trap so many of her mega-star ( and I have to say American – sorry guys) peers fall into and kept it simple. No constant costume changes, no huge sets, no complicated Busby-Berkeley dance routines – a bit of glitz, sure, but just music. Glastonbury is all about music and the connection between the performer and the audience and Beyoncé seemed to understand this. The mix of songs was spot on, drawing on all her influences from funk to ballad, from R&B to soul. Glastonbury is not a place to plug your new album, it’s a place to display your best stuff and to convince people who are not necessarily your fans that you have worth and for me she did just that. Once again Glastonbury wove its magic and you could see the emotion, especially during final song ‘Halo’ where she had to stop to catch her breath. Beyoncé, you have a new fan.

And so to my Number One Act. They played two sets; one on the Park stage on Friday and one on the John Peel Stage on Saturday afternoon and they are the all-female foursome from Los Angeles – Warpaint. Warpaint is such a clever name for starters, combining the slang for makeup, thus underlining their gender, with the more tribal connotations of warfare. Their music could also be described as ‘tribal’ being a cross between 1982 Cure/Siouxsie gothic and 1992 Cocteau Twins. It has a peculiar quality of being quite mesmerising without seeming to go anywhere in particular. Somehow, it doesn’t really matter as the heavily chorused guitars chime over intricate bass patterns and complex drumming and you are drawn in forever. Their live vocals could do with beefing up a bit as they don’t quite match the studio versions I now have in my possession on their debut album, ‘Fool’ but otherwise they were beautifully understated, yet wonderful and worthy winners this year.

But that is not really the end of it. Special mentions must also go to The Horrors, Kool and the Gang, Rumer, Hurts and Elbow and a very special mention must go to Jessie J who played her set with a broken foot and provided us with a magic moment. It occurred when she asked for a member of the audience to help her with ‘Price Tag’ and we old cynics cringed. But it turned out to be nothing like the toe-curling moment we expected and a gobsmacked Jessie didn’t quite get what she expected. It put a smile on my face for hours afterwards. Magical.

Glastonbury Festival 2011 (Part 1)

2011-07-08T06:09:00.012+01:00

Well, you have to hand it to the BBC, they always do a wizard job of covering the Glastonbury Festival and this year was no exception. The only problem for goggle-eyed TV viewers like me is finding the time to watch over 24 hours of footage, either live or recorded. It is becoming a bit of a marathon involving a sagging couch and several crates of beer.

Nevertheless, this year’s event was well up to standard and remains the Festival that all Festivals should aspire to. Despite the enormous amount of airtime set aside on up to three BBC channels (plus the red button), the ever growing size of the goings-on is beginning to defeat even the wily TV editors and the viewing experience is becoming one of not so much what you do see, but what you don’t.

This year the number of stages and line-ups over the three days was so huge that I was left feeling a bit frustrated by the fact that some of the smaller bands I wanted to see were not covered. Of course, the answer is to attend the thing myself, but as BBC presenter Jo Wiley put it so succinctly, ‘Why brave the mud, when we can do it for you?’ Having said all that, the atmosphere was like a well-used comfort blanket and for a weekend, music did what it should and provided a considerable amount of emotional pleasure.

The 2011 extravaganza was thus for me, one of undoubted enjoyment but tinged with a sense of loss. I have no real attachment to any of the three headliners, U2 (it rained heavily on them on the Friday evening - so there is a God), Coldplay (OK, but they didn't play 'Speed of Sound' - my only real must-have Coldplay track) and Beyoncé (more of her later) so this year I became more attuned to some of those lesser names further down the playing order. Many were very good indeed and some will feature in my top three acts which will be revealed, as has now become a MO tradition, in my next post, but there were names that never saw a TV camera.

Of those that were given airtime my particular favourites included the astounding vocals of Hurts, the neo-prog of Everything Everything, the wild Aussie rock (circa 1969) of sister-band Stonefield, the quite outstandingly good harmonies of The Pierces (I’m sure John Phillips was smiling down at their Mamas and Papas meets the Jefferson Airplane song, ‘Glorious’) and Jessie J complete with broken foot.

Sadly, top of my list of non-shows was the Swedish female quintet, Those Dancing Days, which was first introduced to me by fellow blogger, Zee, and whose last few singles I have enjoyed enormously. Their raw energy and slightly ragged playing style puts me in mind of bands like The Slits and the Raincoats, but they have a classic Swedish ambience all of their own. Apparently, their set on the Park stage on the Saturday was beset by technical problems so perhaps it was best they remained anonymous this once. However, in order to balance out the fact that they got no airtime, here is their latest poptastic single, ‘Can’t Find Entrance’.

Kate Bush - Director's Cut (Part 2)

2011-07-01T06:18:00.000+01:00

Previously on Kate Bush – Director’s Cut:

‘But having achieved true originality, it would be a crying shame if she insisted on unpicking it at this stage of the game.’

So having listened to it for a week or so, what’s the verdict? The short answer is that she has about got away with it by the skin of her teeth – but only just. I suppose my main criticism of this album is that I didn’t like most of the songs, the majority of which come from ‘The Red Shoes’, to start with, so the process of making a silk purse out of the various sows’ ears was always going to be a problem for me. Having said that, there are one or two cuts that have been improved. I don’t think I have listened to ‘Rubberband Girl’ more than about twice, ever, but this new version has been immersed in a classic Rolling Stones chugging rhythm that is difficult to resist.

The other song that I feel has been improved is ‘Lily’ which appears to have been slowed down very slightly and given a vice like groove and excellent new vocal. So far so good. In fact, the new vocals on every track are remarkably good. Set in a new lower key to accommodate her more mature voice, each song is sung with real abandon and a lack of self-consciousness that is pleasantly surprising and provides a real link to her younger self captured on the original recordings some 20 years ago.

In the main, these tracks have not been altered radically but rather set free from their 1980s/90s trappings. Gone are the gated drums and slightly compressed overall sound and in their place are beautifully recorded instruments which have warmth and space. There is no doubt that in pure sonic terms this album sounds so much better than the originals.

Whilst the more relaxed nature of the songs works for most of the time, I cannot help but feel disappointed with my two favourite songs here. One is ‘Deeper Understanding’ which has lost its flow completely during the ‘computer speech’ sections where a vocoded/autotuned line of speech by her 12 year old son has been inserted. So where there was a great surge of harmony we now have a jerky mechanical voice and it just doesn’t work.

The other major disappointment is the wonderful ‘This Woman’s Work’ which in its original form is a real emotional roller-coaster. But again the vocal has been slowed down and chopped up to a point where the rhythmic integrity has been lost. In the original, the drama of the chorus is intensified by a quickening of the vocal delivery. In this version the opposite occurs and all the energy of the piece dissipates. The underlying electric piano isn’t helping either making the whole thing a bit ‘chicken-in-a-basket’ nightclub fare.

On balance this album is a bit of a curate’s egg. The de-restriction of the instrumental sound and new vocals are definite plusses but the loss of intensity in the drama of some of the songs is a definite debit. And I still don’t like many of the songs, overhaul or not and that’s the bottom line with ‘Director’s Cut’. As I said, all things considered, I think she just about comes out on an even keel. Let’s see what the new material brings.

Nerina Pallot - Year Of The Wolf

2011-06-24T06:48:00.008+01:00

For her fourth album, ‘Year of the Wolf’ released this last month, Nerina Pallot has been welcomed back into the fold by Polydor (who dropped her after her debut) and has taken the brave step of enlisting the production talents of Bernard Butler, he who guided Duffy to fame and fortune on the back of the retro-sounding ‘Rockferry’. Presumably this is an attempt to move up to the big league after three albums on the sidelines. Having listening to YOTW several times now, I am still a little undecided as to whether this was a good move or not. There is certainly a retro feel to the whole project – even the cover depicts her wearing what looks like one of Carly Simon’s hats, circa 1972.

Inevitably, Butler’s fingerprints are everywhere and never more so than the rather heavy-handed string arrangements and aggressive guitar figures which attend some songs, but I can’t decide whether this has enhanced Nerina’s own personality – so prevalent on her previous outing, ‘The Graduate’ – or submerged it in unnecessary production. Either way, I am now getting more used to the overall sound and feel of the album and finding that it is not quite as un-nerving as I thought. But has she sacrificed her own essence for Polydor’s vision of success?

Having become a mother in late 2010 has clearly modified Nerina’s outlook and the lyrical content of the songs has taken on a more worldly wise tenor but still retains her trademark literacy. The songs range from the upbeat pop of ‘Put Your Hands Up’ (a real tilt at the charts, I feel) to tender ballads such as ‘If I Lost You Now’ but they all have a more polished demeanour about them than on previous albums. It is here that I am having trouble as the polishing has taken off the patina of Nerina’s great strength – her ability to communicate emotion. There are undoubtedly great tunes on this album and there is humour but the raw emotion she is capable of is somehow diluted by the production.

But as I write this and the album plays, there, nestling right at the end of the album is the killer song, ‘History Boys’. This simple piano ballad tells of mothers awaiting the return of their dead soldier sons in the streets of the military town of Wootton Bassett in SW England and it is heart-breaking. Sung at the top of Nerina’s vocal range, the melody glides over a piano and string waltz (rather than a military march) perhaps to indicate the strength of love over war? The song was composed whilst Nerina was pregnant and the poignancy of the lines in the second verse are almost too much to bear. She has admitted that this song is very difficult for her to sing as her anger and sadness spill over:

One day I'll have a child of my own
How will I tell him, oh
This world, this world it is a good place?
How will I hide the fear from my face?

Suddenly my qualms about the rest of the album pale into insignificance as ‘History Boys’ plays out and I have a tear in my eye, I realise that this could be Pallot’s finest moment, worth the price of the album on its own.

Here is an even better version with just voice and piano. Without any distracting production it is quite devastating and is what Nerina Pallot does best.

Andrew Gold 1951 - 2011

2011-06-17T06:13:00.007+01:00

I note with increasing sadness the loss of yet more members of the music community, the latest being Andrew Gold who died from a heart attack on June 3^rd at the age of 59. I am beginning to find all these deaths a bit alarming, especially as I am not that far short of 60 myself. It’s all a bit sobering. Regrettably, I admit to not really being much of a fan of Mr Gold’s work either on his own or as ‘Wax’ with Graham Gouldman, but that doesn’t mean that he hasn’t carved a small area in my life for himself.

Like most other people, I’d guess, I know him best for his 1977 hit, ‘Lonely Boy’ and it is a song that has grown with me over these last 30-odd years. At the time of its release I was totally immersed in Punk and didn’t pay it much attention, but since then it has loomed larger and larger in my mind so that today it is probably one of my favourite singles.

Let me try and explain why. Songs have different hooks. Sometimes it’s the lyric, most times it is the chorus and other times it’s some other aspect or combination. Some songs, like much of the Cardigan’s output for some impenetrable Scandinavian reason, have musically stunning verses which then makes the chorus a bit ho-hum. In that case the verse is a strong enough hook to draw you in. The real lyricists like Joni Mitchell and Bob Dylan can often hold your attention without a decent melody at all but this is very rare and shouldn’t be relied on if you are just starting out as a song writer. Most song writers fall over themselves to produce a hook-laden chorus – listen to any current Lady Gaga song to see how this works as she is no slouch in this department. Most memorable songs have their best hook in the chorus – but not ‘Lonely Boy’.

For me, the real hook in ‘Lonely Boy' lies in the combination of the tragic lyric and the musical bridge between the verse and the chorus. The verse starts in jaunty vein:

He was born on a summer day, 1951
And with the slap of a hand
He had landed as an only son

But then the rhythm changes and the mood gets just a little darker. This is the part that gives me goose bumps as the repeated melody winds up the sense of foreboding and understated guitar figures play with your heart:

His mother and father said "what a lovely boy"
We'll teach him what we learned
Ah yes, just what we learned
We'll dress him up warmly and
We'll send him to school
It'll teach him how to fight
To be nobody's fool

And so into the chorus:

Oh, oh, what a lonely boy etc.

That extended bridge section is a masterpiece all on its own. The way that it builds both the story lyric and the musical tension from the verse to the cry of pain that is the chorus is awe-inspiring. Unless you are Paul McCartney, most song writers probably manage something of this class once in a lifetime. This was Andrew’s moment.

Cee Lo Green

2011-06-10T06:57:00.012+01:00

No doubt you will all be relieved to hear that I have now fully recovered from my attack of Dad’s Disease after watching episode two of Later…with Jools Holland where Cee Lo Green powered his way through a set of three songs that, by the finale, had both audience and guests (including Bootsy Collins) dancing in the aisles.

His blend of power rock and old-time Motown soul was just the ticket for my somewhat jaded palette. In fact I’ve been a bit remiss here and failed to pick him up through the Gnarls Barkley and earlier solo career but I shall definitely be checking out his last album ‘The Lady Killer’ and his back catalogue without delay.

However, it wasn’t just the quality of music that piqued my interest, it was the band configuration. As I am sure you all know by now, I favour female singers and my preferred band set up is a batch of male instrumentalists fronted by a female singer. This just works for me as it has all the advantages of male aggression in the musical presentation, melded with the sensitivity of a woman in the vocal department. Over the years I have collected dozens of these bands from my first love, Curved Air in the 1970s, through Siouxsie and the Banshees, Blondie, Dubstar and Lush to Garbage and beyond to name but a very, very few.

But the musical force that is Cee Lo Green does it differently. His idea is to back himself with a self-contained female band, Scarlet Fever, comprising Sharon Aguila (guitar), Brittany Brooks (drums), Theresa Flaminio (keyboards) and Regina Zernay Roberts (bass). Their brand of soul infused stadium rock suits Cee Lo to a tee and it is heart-warming to see ‘proper’ instruments in a live environment. Oh dear, am I sounding old?

Of course, many of you will remember Robert Palmer’s video for ‘Addicted To Love’ in which he pulls the same gender-reversal trick but in that instance he was using models (in case you hadn’t spotted that…) rather than real musicians. Despite being put together through audition, Scarlet Fever is a proper band and they rock. I can’t think of another example of a male fronted female band off the top of my head, although I have vague thoughts of Prince doing something similar so this may not be the first of its kind. But if the Cee Lo Green experience is anything to go by, there should be more.

Song Writing

2011-06-03T06:55:00.003+01:00

Once upon a time it was all so easy. Writers of popular songs would sit in a small bare room with a thermos and a piano and toil relentlessly until they had a half decent song and then their agent would sell it to a suitable performer. Writers seldom performed and conversely, performers virtually never wrote. Everybody knew where they stood and more importantly, writers, having a target audience in mind, would tailor their songs to fit the performer.

This cosy and ordered world was upset firstly by the early rock ‘n’ rollers who often liked to have a hand in their own material, but more particularly by The Beatles who insisted on writing their own material and, what’s worse, tended to be quite good at it thus putting out of work a whole generation of writers. Their endeavours upset the apple cart of A&R and from then on artists felt duty bound to write their own material for better or worse.

This alternative universe was therefore peopled by bands and artists who wrote to their own strengths and the once noble art of writing specifically for someone with a different style to your own was submerged in the rush to make yourself into a pop star. But there were exceptions. The Beatles themselves occasionally wrote songs for others (Mary Hopkin, Cilla Black and so on) and Rod Argent, whilst with The Zombies wrote the magnificent ‘If it Don’t Work Out’ for Dusty Springfield. The latter song is a really good example of a writer working outside of his own band’s remit to create a creditable Dusty-type ballad.

Bringing this line of thought up to date, current singer-songwriter Nerina Pallot, an artist who has never written anything other than for herself, was approached last year to write songs for Kylie Minogue’s’ last album and turned out a couple of classic Kylie style pop songs. Check out ‘Better Than Today’ and the title track ‘Aphrodite’.

But here’s the rub. Should these writers be deliberately writing in the style of the performer, thus perpetuating their perceived style or should they be writing in their own style in order to broaden the horizons of the performer. Bit of a tricky one that, especially as there is money and reputation at stake. Nevertheless, I can’t help feeling that by pandering to a ‘house style’ the writer is not doing themselves or the recipient of the song any real good. The songs that Pallot has given to Kylie are a bit Kylie-by-numbers and by her standards are a little, well, sub-standard. Why not get Kylie just to cover some of her better songs even though they are not tailored to style?

Lady Gaga - Born This Way

2011-05-27T06:08:00.014+01:00

So after all the hype and leaked snippets, Lady Gaga’s new opus, ‘Born This Way’ has arrived. Let me declare my interest up front – I like Lady G a lot and feel she has brought some much needed colour to a bland corporate musical landscape. And she does have a talent, which is always a bonus. So what of ‘Born This Way’?

First up, at 15 tracks and over an hour in length, it is too long in the way that many CD albums are too long these days. I was brought up in a time when albums were limited to about 40 minutes so my attention span is pre-conditioned to this span. As a consequence, BTW plays like a short double album and like most double albums would benefit from some pruning. Nevertheless there are some cracking songs here, not least the title track, the Queen inspired ‘You and I’ and the finale, ‘The Edge of Glory’ which would give the Boss himself a run for his money. When Gaga is on form, there is no one to touch her, but in places this album feels a bit forced and sledge-hammer-like as if the pressure is beginning to tell and the only solution is to over-produce everything. When she calms down a bit, like on the sublime semi-ballad, ‘Bloody Mary’ her efforts have so much more soul. Cut this album by about 3 or 4 songs and I’d have no hesitation in recommending it unreservedly. But in the wider world, it is not just criticism of her work that she has to contend with, but comparison with past musical icons.

Many commentators have compared both this album and Gaga herself with the life and works of Bruce Springsteen and Madonna and suggest that she falls short. The comparison with Springsteen is the more relevant as they are both writers and performers and it is probably true to say that Gaga has some way to go to match the esteem in which Springsteen is held in both categories. Funnily enough, the track, ‘Hair’ is a curiously Bruce-like rocker – imagine a disco version of any of the boss’s stadium anthems and you get the idea – although I can’t quite see her competing at this genre.

However, I get a little irritated with the Gaga/Madonna comparison as I feel that we are looking at two quite different entities. Madonna is primarily an astute business woman who happens to work in the music industry. She is supremely adept at surrounding herself with the right people at the right time and manipulating business contacts to get the best for herself, be it songs written by others especially for her or marketing effort. Whilst she has a passable voice and musical awareness, she is not a musician per se but the ultimate corporate money-making machine. Lady Gaga, on the other hand, is primarily a musician who is most at home writing songs at her piano, an assertion she has alluded to on several occasions. And there is no doubt in my mind that when she does this, she excels.

It is interesting to note that during her live performance at Radio 1’s Big Weekend recently, her best work was when she sat at her piano with her live band around her and sang her heart out. Consequently, I can’t help feeling that with ‘Born This Way’, she is trying too hard and that the burden of creating her own music and maintaining her undoubted fashion consciousness is weighing heavily upon her. Perhaps she should take a step back next time out, relax, play to her strengths and just concentrate on her writing?

If she were really bold, she would shut herself away with a piano and a portastudio and create her own ‘Nebraska’. It would finally set her apart, as it is something Madonna could never do. Put Your Paws Up!

Here's an emotional Lady G doing 'The Edge of Glory' at the Radio 1 Big Weekend. If you want to skip the preamble, go to about 1:10 where the song starts proper.

Argent - Original Album Classics

2011-05-20T06:43:00.011+01:00

I love a good bargain, me! And if it involves one of my favourite bands of the early 1970s then so much the better. Browsing through Amazon, like you do, I chanced upon a series of reissue box sets rejoicing under the inspired title of ‘Original Album Classics’, each collating five albums from a set artist and retailing for about £12! Artists included in the list so far are largely from the US, so the likes of Poco, Ted Nugent, J Geils and so on get the treatment.

So when I discovered that one of these sets was UK band, Argent and comprised their first five Epic albums (‘Argent’, ‘Ring of Hands’, ‘All Together Now’, ‘In Deep’ and ‘Nexus’) 4/5 of which I have on well worn and crackly vinyl, my finger was on the ‘Buy’ button before you could hum ‘Hold Your Head Up’. Of course, the value quality of 5 albums for £12 has its drawbacks, one of which is that the box cover photo depicts the band including John Verity and John Grimaldi, both of whom joined after the first five albums and leaves out Russ Ballard who was definitely an integral part of the band through the whole series. Still, you can’t have everything. Indeed, each of the five re-mastered CDs comes in a nice cardboard sleeve with the original artwork – except ‘Nexus’ which depicts the US version of the cover, not the UK one. Hmm.

I suppose I became an Argent fan because they were a local band, springing from suburban St Albans, my home town and you couldn’t really miss them. It meant that they played the St Albans Civic Hall seemingly every other week and in those joyful days you could pitch up at the door on the day in question and get in without any trouble at all. None of this selling out within 5 seconds on the internet stuff then.

Despite being a fan, I never owned their debut and listening to it now, it is apparent that it forms the missing link between Rod’s former band, The Zombies and the more progressive band that Argent would become. Each of the subsequent albums charts this journey to Full Prog Status mixing the ethereal churchlike keyboards of Rod Argent with the down-to-earth blues/rock of Russ Ballard until finally at ‘Nexus’ it was all too much for Russ who left to pursue a solo career and write proper rock songs for the likes of Rainbow.

I still love ‘In Deep’ which was always my preferred choice with its magnificent ‘It’s Only Money (parts 1 & 2)’, but have now developed a fondness for ‘Ring of Hands’ which I hardly ever played at the time. Funny how distance alters your perception of some albums and you start hearing things you missed the first time – like Jim Rodford’s awesome bass playing on the looser instrumental sections. Let’s hope this reissue series extends to a few more UK bands in the future. My breath is suitably bated.

Here is the original line up of Argent, still rockin' in their sixties, doing 'It's Only Money pts I & II', at a festival gig in Victoria Park, London, 2010 (no hair dye then, Russ...).

The Year of 1971

2011-05-13T17:56:00.001+01:00

In the writings of one N Molesworth (the curse of st custards as any fule kno), there are described a number of patent daydreams designed for bored schoolboys to utilise during double maths – mainly space adventures with wizard whams, bonks and xplosions. But what of grown ups? Are we not entitled to a bit of downtime when life gets a bit lethargic? Can we not let our imagination drift for a minute or two during that Health and Safety presentation? One of my usual standbys is to imagine that my entire music collection has been held to ransom and I am allowed to save one particular year’s worth. What will it be eh?

After deliberating for longer than I care to admit, a few candidates start to emerge. For starters, 1982 was quite a good year encompassing some great stuff from Kate Bush, Siouxsie and Michael Jackson but then so was 1992 (Tori Amos, REM, Lush etc) and even 2006. But eventually I incline towards 1971. This is probably not surprising as I gave the game away here. It is the year that I began to buy albums in earnest and not having many of them, tended to play them all to destruction. It was a time of great discovery and great music. Let’s see the evidence.

These are the LPs I bought during the year in question as they were released:

Chicago – Chicago III

Curved Air – Second Album

The Doors – LA Woman

The Faces – A Nod’s As Good As A Wink…To A Blind Horse

Focus – Moving Waves

John Lennon – Imagine

Paul McCartney – Ram

Don McLean – American Pie

Pink Floyd – Relics

Yes – Fragile

These I taped from friends (so sue me – I’ve bought them since):

Jethro Tull – Aqualung

Lesley Duncan – Sing Children Sing

It’s A Beautiful Day – Choice Quality Stuff

And lastly, these I bought a year or two later but belong in 1971:

Beach Boys – Surfs Up

Caravan – In the Land of Grey and Pink

Deep Purple – Machine Head

Fanny – Charity Ball

Genesis – Nursery Cryme

Carole King – Tapestry

Joni Mitchell – Blue

Pink Floyd – Meddle

The Who – Who’s Next

The more I look at this list the more I am convinced that, if forced into giving up the rest of my entire collection, I could live happily with every one of these discs. Each is so well known to me in a way that most of the albums I have bought since are not. As the years went by, I bought more and more albums but with the exception of a chosen few, didn’t really listen to them much and some perhaps only once. These albums represent a time when I was seized by music and spent hours listening to it. Time and experience deadens this initial enthusiasm to a point where today, only one album in say, 10, really grabs me.

So, on my desert island, I shall sneak in all 22 of these albums and be blissfully happy playing them repeatedly like those heady days in 1971 when I was doing it for real.

Traffic - Paper Sun

2011-05-06T06:00:00.008+01:00

In a previous post, I ranted on about the falling fortunes of HMV, the high street music retailer, in the face of competition from the cheaper, leaner on-line sellers. Anyone reading that post might suspect that this is a modern phenomenon, but not so.

Back in 1973, I was already a fully fledged LP buyer limited only by a paper-round income and whilst the high street was my main source of music, there was an alternative. In the spring of that year, an advert in the music press caught my attention. It had been placed by a small mail-order company operating out of premises (probably someone’s spare room) somewhere in Essex and promised newly released albums at reduced prices in direct competition to the high street traders. Shock horror! In those days there really wasn’t such an animal as a ‘reduced price’. By and large, stuff that you bought was the same price wherever you went unless it was a dog-eared sale item.

It just so happened that there were two releases that I had my eye on at the time, ‘Mother’s Pride’ by all-girl combo Fanny and ‘Air Cut’ by a newly re-vamped Curved Air. The prices for these two discs were mouth-wateringly low when compared to standard shop prices and even with the added burden of postage; the deal looked a good one. Of course the Wait was a bit of a problem. Whilst I could waltz into any of the three music stores in St Albans and snap up these LPs instantly, mail order had attached to it the words of doom, ‘allow 28 days for delivery’.

Twenty eight days! I could die of old age. But life was more leisurely then. Postal orders had to be bought, sent by post and cashed at Post Offices, goods had to be packaged and put back into the Royal Mail system. You begin to realise how ‘instant’ ordering from Amazon really is these days. But dangling in front of the punter was a hook with bait – the deal involved the addition of a ‘free single’. This crude marketing device had the desired effect and I went for the Wait.

And it came to pass that after about a fortnight, better than the expected 28 days, two pristine LPs arrived by parcel post together with the free single. In truth, even I knew then that the freebie would probably be something I’d never heard of from about 1961 (and ex-jukebox, no doubt), but no, it turned out to be a brand new copy of Traffic’s debut single, ‘Paper Sun’ from 1967 and on the classic lurid pink Island label. Result!

There are many singles that are undoubtedly a product of their time and this is one of them. Summer of Love Indian instruments? Check. Weird psychedelic lyrics (man)? Check. Catchy 1960s melody? Definitely. This is probably one of the best freebies I’ve ever received but even this didn’t tempt me back for a second stab at mail order. From then on it was back to the record store for a good browse and instant gratification. Until Amazon, that is.

The Expert

2011-04-29T06:29:00.003+01:00

So ‘Waking The Dead’ has finally ended its 9 year TV run and Superintendent Boyd has walked off into the sunset to shout at someone else. Shame really, as despite the grisly stories of torture and death, WTD was a first rate drama built around plot and character development rather than special effects and car chases. It also added to a burgeoning tradition of police procedurals based around forensic pathology that over the years has brought us ‘Silent Witness’, ‘CSI’ and er…’Quincy’. Even the demise of WTD has not stopped in-house pathologist, Dr Eve Lockhart (Tara Fitzgerald) spinning off into her own series, ‘The Body Farm’ to be shown later in the year.

But does my memory play tricks or was there a much older version of this genre – a BBC series called ‘The Expert’? It ran from about 1969 to 1972 and starred Marius Goring as a Home Office pathologist assigned to help the local police solve crime. The reason this programme sticks in my memory is down to one particular episode, the finale of season 2 or 3. The plot involved the kidnap of Goring’s screen wife and the efforts of both him and his police inspector partner, played by Victor Winding if I remember correctly, to find her. The shockingly unexpected denouement saw the kidnapper kill his hostage before she can be rescued and seeing Goring’s anguish, the inspector’s composure snaps and he beats the crap out of the kidnapper, effectively ending his own police career.

The series thus ends on a bombshell with the future of all the major characters in the balance. At the time, this episode made a huge impression on me. In my experience of TV programmes up to that point, major characters did not die, nor did the police beat suspects to within an inch of their life. The tension and the emotional intensity were almost unbearable. Of course, these days such occurrences are almost mandatory, as ‘Waking The Dead’ illustrated time and again, but back in 1971 or thereabouts it was rare and the drama was genuinely shocking.

Unfortunately, ‘The Expert’ was made at a time when the BBC regularly wiped videotape after broadcast and I don’t believe many episodes exist in the archives. Certainly, the series has not appeared on DVD so I fear the worst. Nevertheless, I’d still like to track down that episode and see it again. Does anyone know anything more about this series and whether episodes still exist?

Jools Holland and the Onset of Dad's Disease

2011-04-22T06:49:00.004+01:00

I don’t want to alarm you but I think I’ve caught ‘Dad’s Disease’. The symptoms are complex and age related but are generally revealed as a complete lack of interest in modern music. I remember seeing the signs develop in my own father back in the dim and distant past. When I was developing a burgeoning interest in the new fangled pop music in the 1960s he would’ve been in his forties yet he never failed to watch an episode of Top of the Pops on our ancient black and white telly every Thursday nor did he fail to listen to the chart rundown on a Sunday afternoon on the wireless.

It was in the late 1970s that things began to change. He rarely watched TOTP, despite the efforts of Legs & Co, and never listened to the radio. He had hit 50 and Dad’s Disease was developing from which he never recovered. As a fifty-something myself, I thought I’d avoided the dreaded ailment, but it seems to have got me in the end. It is the new season of ‘Later with Jools Holland’ that has me worried about a possible positive diagnosis. Jools’ TV show is a modern day version of ‘The Old Grey Whistle Test’ where more ‘serious’ music is showcased in a live environment and it is a source of new material that has kept me in good stead over the years.

The first edition of this season’s show featured the following artists: Elbow, Beady Eye, Anna Calvi, Raphael Saadiq and The Tallest Man on Earth (Kristian Matsson). Normally I can find something to enjoy in any line-up but this lot just left me cold. Bland, bland, bland. Not a single note provoked my interest and I was bored stiff for a whole hour. That’s what Dad’s Disease does to you.

Beady Eye were, unsurprisingly, just a derivative sub-oasis clone churning out dated rock ‘n’ roll, Elbow were worthy and tried hard yet were ultimately a bit tedious, up & coming star Anna Calvi was dreadfully disappointing with not a decent melody to her name and Raphael Saadiq was a classic case of style and too much energy over content. The only glimmer was The Tallest man on Earth who almost had me interested, but then didn’t. Oh yes, and there were some old jazz players who could’ve been really good, but just weren’t.

Oh dear! What am I going to do? Encouragingly, my consultant says that it may not be Dad’s Disease after all but just a bit of a hiccough in the ‘Later’ scheduling exacerbated by a recent exposure to PJ Harvey’s ‘Let England Shake’. Nothing that a blast of something loud and edgy won’t cure. Let’s hope so. I’m still too young to be admitted to the ‘No Pop Music Here’ home for the permanently square.

Kate Bush - The Director's Cut

2011-04-15T06:29:00.020+01:00

Hold the front page! It’s another Kate Bush album and it’s only been, what, six years since the last one? What’s the matter with the woman? The next album isn’t due until 2017. Ah, but on closer inspection, it turns out to be a compilation.

But Kate being Kate, it’s not quite that simple. Out on 16^th May and entitled ‘The Director’s Cut’ it comprises a selection of songs from her late period albums, ‘The Sensual World’ and ‘The Red Shoes’ that have been er…‘re-imagined’. Finally released from her EMI contract, it appears she now has full control over her back catalogue and has decided to re-engineer parts of songs whilst retaining the basic skeleton to give a definitive edition – hence Director’s Cut.

The track listing will be:
1. Flower of the Mountain (The Sensual World with new lyrics taken directly from Ulysses)
2. Song of Soloman
3. Lily
4. Deeper Understanding
5. The Red Shoes
6. This Woman's Work
7. Moments of Pleasure
8. Never be Mine
9. Top of the City
10. And So is Love
11. Rubberband Girl

Hmm. I have to say that despite being a BIG KT fan, ‘The Red Shoes’ is her weakest album by some margin and ‘The Sensual World’, although much better, does not enter my top three Bush product either so I’m not expecting too much from this. As a taster, she has already released the re-constituted version of ‘A Deeper Understanding’, a song that I like very much and blogged about over three years ago! Interestingly, its lyrical content about computer dependence and lack of human contact seems even more relevant today than it did when it was first released in 1989. This 2011 version is interesting in the way that all re-mixes are interesting but I’m not sure it improves on the original. In particular, it replaces the eerie ‘computer’ voice of the original with a vocoded sample of her son’s voice and this doesn’t work half as well as it chops up the timing of the song.

Quite by chance, I was watching her video for ‘There Goes A Tenner’ on YouTube the other day and it got me to thinking about originality, a word that is bandied about in the media all too often. It occurs to me that far too many new artists from the last 20 years have been feted as ‘the new Kate Bush’ or compared to her in one way or another, but watching this video just kills all those assertions stone dead. No one is like her.

In the video her young self looks other-worldly, beautiful, enigmatic, funny and serious, welcoming and aloof. The song is like no other – a kaleidoscope of melodic fragments, rhythmic shifts, 80s synths, brass bands and a myriad of voices. The video itself is a concoction of part dance, part drama against set piece backdrops, dripping with imagery. No one since comes close to creating the wonderfully weird world of music, lyric and presentation that Kate managed (and largely by herself - no teams of writers, arrangers and ‘advisors’ doing the donkey work.)

But having achieved true originality, it would be a crying shame if she insisted on unpicking it at this stage of the game. (Now read part 2).

Is HMV's Time Up?

2011-04-08T06:05:00.008+01:00

As someone who seemed to spend their young life rushing to music shops to buy first-day-of-release LPs and then dashing home clutching the huge cardboard cover in my hot sticky mitts, I’ve never really got over the thrill of record shop browsing. Even though I now buy virtually all my music on-line either as a download or, more usually, as a CD I can hold in my still warm hand, the lure of the high street shop remains strong.

So it was with a degree of sadness that I turned up at HMV near Bond Street tube the other week only to be met with a paper notice sellotaped to the wall saying, ‘This store will close on 5 March’. I have to admit that the news wasn’t a complete surprise. The store had had that aura of an old unkempt dog shuffling around waiting to die for some time. The Virgin Store at the other end of Oxford Street had had the same feel about it before it handed over to the short-lived Zavvi some years before.

There is something unbearably distressing about the death throes of a music store. Where it was once vibrant and relevant, it just becomes scruffier and scruffier, gives up trying to stay on top of new releases, has endless bargain bins and descends downmarket into the sale of T-shirts and tacky tourist items rather than proper music which then gets shoved to the upper/lower floors like some unwanted embarrassment.

But mixed in amongst the sadness is a little annoyance. HMV have really had it coming. Their pricing policy has had a head-in-the-sand quality about it ever since the rise of Amazon and their ilk, years ago. Even with their closing down notice on the wall and a pervading ‘everything must go’ feel about the place their ‘sale’ items were still more expensive than on-line sellers. It just beggars belief. As intimated above, I have long since given up buying anything from HMV because their prices are way too high. Surely in their time of closure they could give some of us old hands a few bargains? But no.

OK, I understand that shops with overheads cannot compete with on-line sellers but the premium HMV is asking for instant access is just too high. Another example: In a desire to get my browsing fix, I subsequently visited the HMV in the basement of Selfridges Department Store and noted to my utter amazement that the Star Trek Original Series 1 remastered DVD set I bought for £12.50 from Amazon was being offered at £50. I mean, FIFTY QUID! Perhaps Selfridge’s customers don’t care about this sort of money, but I do.

In my more uncharitable moments, I think that HMV deserves to die.

The Last Bryan Adams Monopoly

2011-04-01T06:04:00.004+01:00

‘In The Summer of ‘69’

Thus warbled Bryan Adams in the summer of ’85 but then he was wrong on both counts. What he should’ve been keeping his eye on was the summer (and autumn) of ’91 as that was the time when we all had something to worry about. That’s when a collective madness descended on the UK and billions of copies of ‘Everything I Do (I Do It For You)’ were bought thus ensuring that it remained at number one in the singles charts for a concentration-wanderingly massive amount of time. Archives show that it was sixteen consecutive weeks to be precise and a record probably never to be broken.

It reminds me of spring of 1977 when I was a student whose first job on returning from lectures was to turn on Capital Radio (95.8!) and listen to the day’s ‘Hitline’ ( a daily chart voted by listeners) only to find that it was topped by Hotel-bloody-California AGAIN! This went on for months as I recall and has ensured that HC remains firmly on my ‘not to be bought under any circumstances’ list.

But that was then (1970s to 1990s) and this is now and one thing that is now guaranteed is that singles no longer have a shred of longevity, so perhaps we should be grateful. Looking back over the last 5 years or so, if you exclude Gnarls Barkley (‘Crazy’) and Rihanna ft Jay-Z (‘Umbrella’), no single has lasted more than 3 weeks at the top in the UK and the majority only hit the top spot for a single week. This not really surprising as first, the singles market is now vast and moves at close to the speed of light so blink and you’ll miss a release and second and infinitely more annoying, pent up demand is deliberately created by advertising a single in the media weeks before you can actually buy it. This ploy ensures maximum sales in the first week of release and hopefully a number one spot immediately.

But it also means no longevity, as all those who want to buy it have done so in one huge and unseemly rush. Anyway, there are ten billion new singles to choose from next week, so for any song to last in the top 40, let alone number one, for weeks on end is about as likely as a snowball in the proverbial. All these smart-alec music companies are on to a loser with me anyway, as my inclination is to buy a single I like soon after first hearing it and if I can’t do so for weeks, my memory is now so bad that I’ll forget about and paint the spare room instead. Age has its benefits and thwarting the music industry without really trying is one of them.

P J Harvey - Let England Shake

2011-03-25T06:51:00.012Z

What does one make of PJ Harvey? Genius or madwoman? Or both? Certainly, she lacks nothing if not integrity, ploughing her wilfully lonely furrow for over twenty years without any sort of acknowledgement of prevalent trends.

I don’t mind admitting that despite my preference for weird and wonderful artists, I have struggled with Polly Jean. I’d like to be able to love her unreservedly and whilst some of her output has been dazzling there are significant areas that I have always found unpalatable. But of late, I have come to an uneasy truce and it is her output since ‘Stories From the City, Stories from the Sea’ in 2000 that has suddenly clicked with me.

My problem has been that her first two albums, ‘Dry’ (1992) and ‘Rid of Me’ (1993) were fierce and almost savage in their presentation making for some very uneasy listening. The next two, ‘To Bring You My Love’ (1995) and ‘Is This Desire’ (1998) were more interesting, the latter having some very fine moments indeed, but I still found listening to an entire album hard work. On the plus side, live performance was another matter altogether. PJ thrives in a live environment and comes to life in her natural habitat where she can perform but on album, somehow it just doesn’t work.

But with the recent trilogy of ‘Stories’, ‘White Chalk’ (2007) and her most recent offering, ‘Let England Shake’ (2011), the penny has finally dropped. These three albums are poles apart from one another; ‘Stories’ is edgy pop/rock with her usual snarling guitars and vitriol laced lyrics, ‘White Chalk’ comprises hushed ethereal piano-led laments and ‘Let England Shake’ is a variant of early Pink Floyd progressive folk. With its unusual arrangements, use of out of sync effects and lyrics dwelling on war and death, it is very possibly, a masterpiece. Ask me again next year and let’s see.

The key to these latter releases is melody and consistency. PJ has developed a real skill with melody that bucks the trend of virtually all other artists I know. Generally, it seems to be the case that an artist’s ability to write new tunes wanes over time and is concealed by ever-more sophisticated production, but not PJ. Her capacity to write unusual melodies appears to be in the ascendancy and she presents them in a stripped down format which is why I have accepted her later work more readily. Also, her latter albums are more cohesive to the point where to pull out a song and stand it up on its own makes no sense. As with Pink Floyd, you have to hear the album as a whole. As always she is different, unique and out-of-step.

But lest you think with all this tunefulness, she has copped out of the ‘madwoman of rock’ tag, consider this. Who else, after a period of inactivity, would choose to perform ‘Let England Shake’ from her current album live on Andrew Marr’s political talk show in front of Marr himself and then-Premier Gordon Brown? A more unlikely audience could not be imagined as she put on her best ‘bag-lady with an autoharp’ act, screeching out her disgust of England’s hidden truth whilst they sat, be-suited and uncomfortably goggle-eyed in shot.

Genius or madwoman?

Sarah Blackwood

2011-03-18T06:37:00.001Z

‘The best things in life are free’

So sang The Beatles in one of their early covers and who would argue with them? Recently, I posted about the return of ace 90s band, Dubstar but prior to that reunion, singer Sarah Blackwood, at a loose end whilst her then band Client was on hiatus, indulged in a short solo career whilst retaining her identity as ‘Client B’. In 2008 she played an informal acoustic gig with ex-Dubstar guitarist Chris Wilkie. A selection of seven songs was subsequently released as a free download entitled ‘Client B – Acoustic At The Club Bar and Dining’ and it is these that I have been playing constantly since I discovered them.

The short set list comprises old Dubstar songs (‘Stars’, ‘Not So Manic Now’ and ‘Elevator Song’), Client songs (‘Drive’, ‘Price Of Love’) and two covers (‘Stop Me’ – The Smiths and ‘True Faith’ – New Order). The performances are mesmerising. Chris Wilkie’s acoustic guitar picking is crisp and precise and Sarah’s vocals are beautiful once she has conquered first song nerves. I’ve always rated Sarah Blackwood. She has an intensely honest vocal style which is million miles away from the vocal gymnastics of a Maria Carey or a Whitney Houston. Her style is unfussy, almost conversational and direct and the small venue acoustic setting for these songs suits her like a second skin.

The two covers especially, are fabulous. You’d think that the twin issues of Morrissey’s idiosyncratic singing style and his highly personal kitchen sink drama lyrics would make difficult subjects for anyone else to cover. The only person I know to manage this to date has been Sandie Shaw with her interpretation of ‘Hand in Glove’, but Sarah’s matter-of-fact delivery of ‘Stop Me if You Think You’ve Heard This One Before’ makes the hairs on my neck stand up. Wilkie’s Johnny Marr impersonation with little more than an acoustic guitar is also first rate. Similarly, her stripped down version of ‘True Faith’ shows a depth of lyric that I barely noticed in the New Order original.

I’ve always felt that the acid test for any song is whether it still holds its magic when performed acoustically. The MTV ‘Unplugged’ series in the 90s tested this theorem and discovered a few nuggets and the same holds with this collection. This is music at its most accessible delivered without pretension to a small audience. Yes, there are a few wobbly moments yet it is steeped in an authenticity that is hard to ignore. It is an instance where the artist connects directly with her audience even via the recorded medium and you can’t always say that of music today.

For those interested, these songs are available via a link from http://5-against-4.blogspot.com/2008/05/client-b-acoustic-at-club.html

The download is in .RAR format so you will need to extract the MP3 files using something like WinZip or UnRar.

Adele, Rumer & Duffy

2011-03-11T06:48:00.024Z

Who’d have thought it? Nearly 50 years after The Beatles assaulted the charts, an artist has equalled their record of having 2 singles in the top five singles chart and 2 albums in the top five albums chart. Congratulations Adele! It seems that there is no stopping the girls these days who are cornering the solo singer market with apparent ease.

When I was a nipper in the 1960s, there was Sandie, Cilla and of course, Dusty. These three represented what to me were the musical equivalent of the stand-up comic in comedy circles in that they didn’t play an instrument, they didn’t write songs, they didn’t – horror of horrors – dance, nor did they fraternise with others in the form of a band (at least not after Dusty left the Springfields). They just stood there in front of an audience and sung – beautifully. There were others of course, like Lulu; but then she had her Luvvers and there was the likes of Petula Clark, Shirley Bassey and Helen Shapiro but somehow they belonged to a different era and didn’t count. No, Sandie, Cilla and Dusty were the ones.

Today, I am getting this feeling again. The industry seems to be overflowing with solo female singers. This situation has been building for at least the last ten years and we have seen the emergence of Gabrielle, Dido, Norah Jones, Katie Melua and Corrine Bailey Rae to name but a few. I’m excluding all talent show participants and ex-members of Girls Aloud here, but even so the tide of female singers is growing. But for me, the three that stand out, just for the moment are Duffy, Rumer and Adele.

All three satisfy the Stand-up Comic test even if these days an artist must, at the very least, contribute to their own material less they are labelled an incomplete musician. But they do stand in front of an audience and sing (no dancing!) – beautifully. And all have a bluesey poignancy that sets them apart.

A year or so back, Duffy ruled supreme but a period away from the bright lights and a less than well received second album have knocked her back to a point where she is hanging on by her fingernails to a top three position and I hear on the grapevine, may retire altogether from the music industry. Rumer, on the other hand is a rising star and an interesting performer with a voice that is part Karen Carpenter and part Dusty Springfield. Her debut single ‘Slow’ sounds, as one YouTube commentator put it, like Karen Carpenter doing a Bond Theme. And it does.

The youngest of the trio is Adele, now 21 (as her new album proclaims) and holder of the ‘I equalled The Beatles record’ award. Possessed of an extraordinarily emotive voice, she looks set for a glittering career despite not conforming to the conventional image of a present day pop star and makes the talent show wannabes, who do, look like so much chaff in the wind.

Lyrics - a Forgotten Art?

2011-03-04T06:31:00.007Z

‘As long as I gaze on Waterloo sunset

I am in paradise’

Amazing how some lyrics can transport you to another place. In this well known case you can see the setting sun glinting on the Thames as a chill wind whips through the concrete arches, yet it gives you a warm comfortable feeling. Ray Davies was always at his best when conjuring images of old England – a place we’d all like to visit but never will as it only exists in our imagination.

I’ve always felt that a song is basically about the music and that whilst important, lyrics are secondary to a good tune but when the two come together the effect can be sublime. In the hands of the best writers, it only takes a few words to create an image and some of them are quite strange. One of my favourites is:

‘And the three men I admire most

The Father, Son and the Holy Ghost

They caught the last train for the coast’

Taken from Don McLean’s epic ‘American Pie’ this concept always makes me smile. It’s the mixture of the celestial and the mundane that intrigues. Were they strap hanging in a crowded carriage? Did the Holy Ghost have an argument with the ticket inspector for not having a valid travel pass? The possibilities are endless.

But if you want realism, look no further than a lyricist with a flair for kitchen sink drama - The Smiths’ Morrissey, whose ability to sum up teenage angst was legendary. Try this;

‘Boy afraid

Prudence never pays

And everything she wants costs money’

Or this:

‘I was looking for a job and then I found a job

And heaven knows I’m miserable now’

Morrissey’s acute observation and black humour always makes me laugh. He is one of the most humorous writers around yet has a reputation for being a miserable old sod. Perhaps he is, but he’s a funny, miserable old sod.

My final example is a bit of a cheat as it is not a lyric at all but a piece of genuine poetry. In the middle of Curved Air’s 12 minute prog masterpiece, ‘Piece of Mind’, Sonja Kristina recites the following over a rippling piano and violin theme:

The river sweats
Oil and tar
The barges drift
With the turning tide
Red sails
Wide
To leeward, swing on the heavy spar.
The barges wash
Drifting logs
Down Greenwich reach
Past the Isle of Dogs.

It comes from T S Eliot’s ‘Wasteland’ and it sends shivers down my spine even today. There is something about the imagery (the Thames again) and Curved Air’s classical rock musical hybrid that just works in this instance. Of course this is a vast subject, I haven’t even started on Joni Mitchell or Jim Morrison, so I may return to it in the future.

In the final analysis a great lyric cannot save a poor song but it sure as hell elevates a good one.

Statistics

2011-02-25T06:23:00.005Z

Those of you who, like me, use Blogger as your platform for spouting forth to the world will have noticed that a recent addition to the dashboard has been the Stats function. Since its appearance in the middle of last year, it has been busily collecting data about my blog and letting me know, amongst other things, which posts are the most popular on the basis of cumulative hits. This has given rise to some interesting facts and inferences.

What has become clear is that four of my posts are considerably more popular than the other 200-odd and when I mean ‘considerably’ I mean at least double the hits of the chasing pack and in the case of the top two, significantly more. I am a little puzzled about this because if I have one criticism of Blogger it is that it does not appear to push metadata to the major search engines like Google with any enthusiasm unlike Wordpress which seems to do a much better job. So how are readers finding these pages? That aside, these are the posts that have the largest number of hits over the last six months.

By far the most popular is ‘Beatles Remastered’ (Jan 2010). This one sent my hits through the roof to a level never achieved since. What is it about The Beatles that 40 years later the world is still desperate to read about them? Actually, I feel a bit guilty about its popularity as the post was more a ‘what I got for Christmas’ post than an in depth review of the Remastered reissues of The Beatles back catalogue. I can imagine all those readers avidly seeking out my post in order to find out what I thought about the ethical implications of the correction of Paul’s slightly off key backing vocal on ‘Can’t Buy Me Love’ and being horribly disappointed. Oh well.

The second most popular post has been ‘Lesley Duncan, Singer Songwriter (1943 – 2010)’ (March 2010). This I find particularly heart-warming. To know that there is a large number of people in the world that care about Lesley, who after all was not a big, nor particularly well known star, restores my faith in the human race. I’d actually written this post some months before her death and had intended to post it immediately but other more pressing posts got in the way. So it was pure coincidence that it was eventually published a few days before she died at the age of 66 after a long illness and I quickly had to go back and rewrite parts of it, post publication, to turn it in to a sort of eulogy.

Third in the list is ‘Curved Air – Reborn’ (July 2008). I find this astonishing given that it was originally published in mid-2008 and is still a post that garners a record number of hits. It comprises little more than a review of their reunion album which was released through violinist Daryl Way’s website that year prior to their reunion tour. Clearly there is a lot of interest in this band from old fans like me who remember the glory days of the early 1970s. In fact, despite my comments about metadata above, the post has occupied a front page position on Google for two years now.

The final post in the Big Four is ‘Cult Bands – The Violet Hour’ (April 2010). This is similar to the Curved Air post in that it appears there are hoards of Violet Hour fans still out there pining for their lost band despite the fact that they only lasted a few years in the early 1990s and produced a lone album. Presumably that is the attraction?

So I’m a bit flummoxed. The evidence of post 1 shows that the biggest band of them all still attracts a huge audience, yet posts 2-4 indicate a solid following for those lesser names, stitched into the margins of the vast tapestry that is Rock ‘n’ Roll. I think this is saying, write what you feel? I hope so.

STOP PRESS: Just heard of the sad death of Nicholas Courtney, known to all Dr Who fans as Brigadier Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart. A massive loss to the Dr Who family. RIP Nicholas, and don't forget, 'Chap with horns, five rounds. Rapid!'

King

2011-02-18T06:20:00.007Z

As you will have probably noticed, I’ve been musing on the 1980s recently and this sort of thing can throw up all sorts of forgotten gems. This was a period when a decent income and few responsibilities meant that I could indulge myself, musically and my music collection grew exponentially. Unfortunately, the downside was that most of my purchases never really received my full attention for long and many fell by the wayside. It also meant that little pockets of music became forgotten - like this one: ‘Love & Pride’ by the extravagantly attired, cockatoo coiffeured Paul King and his similarly clad mates, or collectively, King.

I revived this forgotten memory whilst trawling YouTube and was unexpectedly blown away by its sheer vivacity. It just jumps out of the speakers at you – all 80s synth stabs and fat plunking bass with Paul King’s impassioned vocal overlaying the musical maelstrom. For some reason it brings back memories of driving down to Hove for a weekend with friends, to visit another who lived in a flat overlooking the sea, yet I don’t recall playing it on any of those journeys. It must’ve just been in the air during those carefree years of the mid-1980s.

In fact, I discover, I have a cassette copy of King’s second album, ‘Bitter Sweet’ – but that doesn’t have ‘Love & Pride’ on it either. So quite where that recollection has sprung from I really don’t know but there is no doubt that it has the salty smell of the English Channel permanently attached to it in my mind. In fact, now I come to think about it, I had a King Christmas concert on video for a time – I recall it was taped over eventually in favour of some other fly-by-night. Oh, the vagaries of youth!

King was a bit of a here-today-gone-tomorrow outfit. Having burst onto the scene with ‘Love & Pride’ in 1985 they stayed around for little more than a year but in that time scored big-time with the equally fab ‘Alone Without You’ and ‘The Taste of Your Tears’ as well as collecting a few other minor hits along the way. I believe Paul King now works for MTV again, having been a VDJ prior to the formation of King, the band, which is a bit of a loss to the music industry.

In essence, King were a classic starburst in the rock ‘n’ Roll firmament – bright and dazzling but soon over. And that’s a pity really, as I have unexpectedly enjoyed rediscovering their material from 25 years ago and have not only resurrected my copy of ‘Bitter Sweet’ but have speculated 90p to put ‘Love & Pride’ on my iPod. A great band and probably a bit under-rated. There, something good came out of the 80s after all.

Nik Kershaw and Howard Jones

2011-02-11T06:51:00.009Z

Is it just me, or do certain things or people just belong together? I’m not talking about pairs like salt and pepper or Laurel and Hardy, which clearly do belong together but other rather unrelated stuff. Perhaps it’s a memory thing. As I'm in a bit of an 80s mood at the moment let's go with it.

Often, when I try to remember something from the past, something else muscles its way in, like they were magnetised together. For example, when I think of the album ‘Chicago III’ my mind immediately shows me a picture of the dirty living room windows at the house we lived in during the early 1970s. The linkage goes something like this: in 1971 I did not own my own record player and was thus forced to use the family ‘Alba’ auto-changer-in-a-box player that sat in the living room. The living room faced south and in the depths of winter when the sun was low on the horizon, its watery beams would spear into the room illuminating the window pains and revealing them to be a bit on the shabby side after a winter of rain and frost. Quite why I would only play this particular disc on sunny winter days rather escapes me, but there it is – a memory frozen for all time.

More particularly, I was reminded of another linkage when I heard Chesney Hawkes one-hit-wonder rendition of ‘I Am The One And Only’ on the radio the other day. Most people will know by now that this song was written for him by Nik Kershaw who churned out a number of very competent songs for both himself and others from the mid 1980s onwards. And as soon as I think about Nik Kershaw there is a knock on the door and who should rush in but Howard Jones. To me the two just seem to be inseparable and I can’t think of one without the other.

Why does this happen? Well, let’s see…

They both bothered the charts in the period 1983-1986 then disappeared

They both sported a ridiculous mullet

I own two albums from each of them

Er…that’s it

Doesn’t really seem enough does it? Yet they even sit close together in my alphabetically stored LPs (J,K) and you feel like separating them like an over-zealous primary school teacher and banishing them to the A and Z sections. Musically, however, they were quite different. Howard Jones offered a dose of care-free pop in the classic tradition of hummable throw-a-way tunes set in the genre of the day, electro-pop. Listening to ‘New Song’ and 'What is Love’ now just make me smile which is what they are designed to do so mission accomplished.

Kershaw, on the other hand, was always a bit more knowing musically and wore his jazz leanings on his padded shouldered sleeves. There was always an aura of cleverness associated with his output which, because it was always topped by a good tune, I kinda liked. Things like ‘The Riddle’ with its slithery melody and ‘Wouldn’t it Be Good?’ are beautifully crafted songs.

Perhaps that’s the link. For a brief period, I liked them both, but I still haven't worked out why Kershaw gave away his best song.

Propaganda

2011-02-04T06:44:00.007Z

As the decades roll past it generally takes a little time for their traits to be revealed. As we look back on the sixties we now think of miniskirts, Carnaby Street, concrete high-rise buildings and the summer of love. Closer to home, the 2000s and 1990s are still a little vague but time is now beginning to bring a decade like the 1980s into sharper focus. It was a time of big shoulders, even bigger hair, mobile phones and Yuppies, wine bars and loadsamoney.

Musically, it can be thought of as the decade when music was transformed by technology. Synths bred like rabbits and in some arenas replaced the evergreen guitar completely. Synthesised bass and drums replaced the real things and by the end of the decade, computers were putting in a bid to take over music completely.

Whilst we kicked off with the largely traditional New Wave and the New Romantics, by the end of the 80s music had been reinvented by the onslaught of Rap and Hip-Hop based around the beatbox. In between, bands struggled to adapt to the acceleration in technological change by mutating into electro-pop outfits. Whether you were New Order, Depeche Mode, The Human League or The Pet Shop Boys, you had to embrace the synthesiser, the sequencer, the drum machine and (gasp) the use of backing tapes for live performance. It is a style of music that is finding favour again with today’s young artists and it was against this backdrop that German band Propaganda produced their stunning debut, ‘A Secret Wish’ for one of the coolest record labels of the time, ZTT.

Formed by entrepreneur Jill Sinclair, music journalist, Paul Morley and ultra-trendy producer, Trevor Horn, ZTT was home to Frankie Goes To Hollywood and the Art of Noise, two bands that typified the 1980s as an in-your-face-whilst-backed-by-cutting-edge-tech sort of time. But the real gem in their stable was neither of these two, but a band called Propaganda whose 1985 album; ‘A Secret Wish’ is a shining example of what could go right with the 80s.

In the early 1980s, Propaganda was part of Germany’s arty hardcore industrial music scene and comprised Ralf Dörper (keyboards), Michael Mertens (percussion), Susanne Freytag (spoken vocals) and Claudia Brücken (sung vocals). ZTT invited them to the UK and gave their insistent hardcore rhythms an electro-pop treatment, allowing main vocalist, Claudia Brücken, space to project their strangely beautiful melodies in her unique yet oddly attractive nasal, Teutonic voice. As you would expect, the production is classic Horn/Stephen Lipson larger-than-life fare which, at its best, is quite intoxicating. ‘Duel’, Dr Mabuse and ‘P-Machinery’ are all fabulous slices of 80s overdrive sourced from computer based instruments and given a sheen of musicality by their shimmering melodies.

Firmly rooted in the Me-Me-Me attitude and burgeoning technology of the day, this album could only exist in the 1980s and it is worth a visit back to 1985 to bask in its strange Anglo-Germanic glow.

Even after all this time, Claudia Brücken is still my favourite German – fact.

Here is the fab ‘P-Machinery’ essayed in a completely bonkers German Art School video.

The Return of Dubstar

2011-01-28T06:11:00.005Z

Let’s face it; life can be a bit humdrum sometimes so when a tiny bit of excitement comes along, it’s worth making a great big fuss of it. A bit like when your birthday falls at the weekend or you accidentally get given two free vouchers instead of one. It’s the small coincidences that count. In this case two of my favourite musical things have coincidentally collided creating a small, yet beautifully formed nebula in my universe.

In 1981, riding on the crest of the New Wave, a band called The Passions released a single entitled ‘I’m in Love With a German Film Star’, as a precursor to their album, ‘Thirty Thousand Feet Over China’. It was to be a sizable hit and regrettably, their only hit but it remains a monumental slice of minimalist dream-pop, all echo-y guitar figures, pumping bass and Barbara Gogan’s cool vocal waffling on about posing Germans drifting in and out of the aural architecture. I loved it at the time and I love it today. It and the subsequent album have places permanently reserved in my all time Hall of Fame.

Fast forward to a little over 10 years later, and a band called Dubstar was being formed by DJ Steve Hillier and guitarist Chris Wilkie. Realising that they needed a proper singer, they recruited northern lass, Sarah Blackwood and struck gold with their first single, ‘Stars’ - a dizzy mix of DJ dance and electro-pop but with a proper melody and real guitars. Three albums followed which highlighted their flair for a good tune, a deft arrangement and Sarah’s dour Halifax vowels. Interestingly, she has since put on record that she always found Dubstar’s interval-jumping melodies difficult to sing, but they always sounded fine to me. So much so that at least two of the three albums have pride of place in my collection.

Nevertheless, by 2000 after disappointing sales of the third album and a kiss-of-death ‘Best Of’ had appeared, it was clear that they had run their course and eventually Sarah left to become half of a new duo, Client (of whom I have posted previously) with Kate Holmes. A series of industrial electro-pop albums ensued but they never rose above cult status.

And so we arrive at the present where finally these two strands of musical history cross and a new star is born. I hear with unbounded joy that Dubstar have reformed and as a sign of intent have recorded a song for ‘Peace’, an Amnesty International benefit compilation. Guess what it is? Yes, it’s a cover of ‘I’m in Love With a German Film Star’. And it’s not half bad. Not tremendously different from the original but it still conveys the original dream-pop ambience beautifully. Only with north-country vowels. Bliss.

Paul McCartney

2011-01-21T06:19:00.003Z

Christmas this year, or should that be last year, furnished me with a few additional CDs for my collection, one of which was the recent three disc reissue of Wings’ ‘Band On The Run’. This, at last, replaces my worn out vinyl copy that spent much time on my turntable from the day I bought it in early 1974.

From the split of The Beatles, I was always a McCartney fan and amongst the first albums I ever bought in those musically formative years, were ‘McCartney’, ‘Ram’ and ‘Band on the Run’. Despite being a Paul-o-phile and hence rather inexplicably, I passed on ‘Wildlife’ and ‘Red Rose Speedway’ and never bought another McCartney album after BOTR. In retrospect my instincts were entirely correct as to me, only the former three albums are essential from his entire solo catalogue to date. Certainly after BOTR and having listened to ‘Venus and Mars’, I lost interest in his work altogether. Listening to all three of these early albums again two aspects have struck me.

The first is how adept McCartney is at musical arrangement. All these albums are bursting to overflowing with clever uses of instruments, unusual backing vocal harmonies and little guitar and synth figures. Every song has its own atmosphere derived from combinations of these devices. In addition, the mixing and production of the albums enhances these features. ‘Band On The Run’ in particular has some very complex arrangements yet each piece of the multi-layered jigsaw is presented in an uncluttered way. This is a real skill and one which makes these songs such a pleasure to listen to.

The second aspect is Linda McCartney. Universally derided by fans for being untalented, she nevertheless has a towering presence on these works. Yes, she was a lousy lead vocalist and yes, she wasn’t much cop as a musician either, but her backing vocals are really quite wonderful. They lend an element to the sound that is instantly identifiable and all her own. Have a listen to McCartney albums that feature her and contrast them with those that don’t. There is a huge difference and the ones with her backing vocals as part of the overall sound stage are strangely familiar and enticingly attractive. Perhaps it just nostalgia, but yes, Paul, I miss her too.

Whilst the BOTR reissue has been nicely remastered, the playing is immaculate and the production is first rate, I can’t shake the feeling that the album is a bit of a style-over-content work. The songs are OK, but it is the clever arrangements and presentation that ratchets up their appeal. Left to my own devices I’d always go back to ‘Ram’ and the homemade ‘McCartney’ which contain much better and more quirky material and seem to have more soul than the ultra-polished BOTR. The unbridled passion of Paul’s yelling, ‘Oh-Oh! We believe that we can’t be wrong!/ Yeah Yeah Yeah!’ at the end of ‘Backseat of my Car’ is a spine tingling moment of pure abandon. You won’t find anything like it on BOTR.

Here's Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey' from 'Ram'. It has everything:- a whole montage of tunes, complex arrangement, humour and Linda's patent backing sound. Wonderful.

Blog Awards 2010

2011-01-14T06:58:00.023Z

It must be about time to hand out some awards, don’t you think? But not music awards, blogging awards. I feel that the time has come to give a modicum of recognition to those blogs that have held me enthralled over the past year. The trouble is, there are quite a few of them but I am going to limit myself to five. So without further ado and in no particular order, they are:

YourZenMine – This blog, written by an Aussie husband and wife team, set out to review 365 randomly chosen albums from their collection – thus two individual views per album - everyday for the year of 2010. Despite the enormity of the task, they succeeded in style. Frankly, I can only goggle at their tenacity in completing this challenge as I know what it takes out of you writing informative, yet appealing reviews, especially if the day’s choice was a bit disappointing. And to crank out a review a day for the entire year deserves some acclaim. The sometimes conflicting views, the opinions, the husband/wife banter, the insight into past lives have all been fascinating as well as vastly entertaining and I am rather sad that it has now come to an end. Whilst the blog takes a bit of a rest, I understand that it will continue in 2011 but in a new format. Let’s hope so! This blog gets my ‘Against All Odds’ award!

Luminous Muse – When I cast around for new blogs to follow, I am often appalled at how shallow and badly written some sites are. However, this does not apply in any way to Luminous Muse which is quite the reverse. This blog is a relatively new discovery for me and is written by an American composer and all round music nut. The subjects cover all areas of music from classical to modern and whilst the writing is undisputedly superb, it is the insight from a musician’s perspective that keeps me returning for more. This is not a blog for the faint hearted as the posts are often quite long and the analysis deep, yet like all good teachers, he always manages to make the text understandable to the layman without dumbing down. This blog gets my ‘We Can Work It Out’ award!

A Novice Novelist – This is one of the first blogs I stumbled across when I started out in the blogosphere over three years ago and it is the one that I still return to now. What better recommendation? It records the trials and tribulations of a would-be novelist and her attempts to become a published author and is written by the endearingly dotty, London based, Jayne. Jayne has the talent that all good writers possess, that of observation. Her posts are chock full with wry observations and self deprecating humour in the best English style. She never fails to make me smile and has done so for many years. This blog gets my ‘Still Crazy After All These Years’ award!

One for the Dads – I can’t ignore this one despite the fact that there is very little text in it but comprises a collection of video clips of all those Dancing Queens from the 1970s; Pan’s People, Legs & Co, Ruby Flipper, Zoo, Hills Angels and others. In the days before music videos, these ladies populated TV music programmes to the delight of the Dads. Congratulations to its host, Young Mr Grace, who has done very well indeed in amassing all these clips and collecting followers who now include daughters of some of the dancers featured. This blog gets my ‘Music To Watch Girls By’ award.

Music and More – Finally a mention for this freshly minted blog by a young British woman who has clearly caught the music bug. Early days yet, but this blog looks very promising. It is upfront and opinionated. Love it! This blog gets my ‘New Kid In Town’ award!

My thanks to these and all the other blogs that I follow. Happy New Year!

iPod Start To The New Year

2011-01-07T06:19:00.013Z

Aargh! What a start to 2011 - it looks like Apple has finally got me. After many years of studiously avoiding iTunes like the plague by use of my trusty Creative Zen, I have now relented and replaced it with the unfeasibly tiny iPod Nano. I’d like to think that there are several compelling reasons for this so I’m going to state them here just to reassure myself that I’ve done the right thing:

1. My 20Gb Zen was feeling its age and was beginning to have all sorts of disc start-up and shut-down problems making me spend hours rebuilding libraries and trying to hard reset the thing in an effort to make it work at all.

2. Having changed my computer, I have found that Windows 7 does not support the software associated with my old Zen, so I cannot add or manage the music files any longer. Well, there’s a surprise. And the Creative website offers no upgrade either so I’ve been made obsolete. There’s an even bigger surprise.

3. My daughter already has an iPod so iTunes has become a way of life for her and vicariously for me. I’ve learned that it is possible to keep multiple music libraries in a single install of iTunes. By holding down ‘Shift’ when you fire it up, it allows you to choose which library you wish to see and thus sync to. This is not generally advertised on the iTunes website – I discovered it on a user’s forum. That probably means it will be withdrawn when the software next updates, leaving me high and dry.

4. I don’t actually like the new generation of Creative products – hence I have been enticed by the undoubted style (over content?) of the iPod.

My only other consideration was which iPod. Up until now, my Zen has housed a large proportion of my music collection but I’ve come to realise that now the novelty of having access to most of my LPs and CDs on tap has worn off, I don’t really need them all. So instead of a bulky, disc driven device that makes holes in my pockets, I’ve gone for a lighter, solid state 16Gb model with the intention of only carrying around stuff I am currently listening to and changing the playlist every so often. It means that I pay less and can therefore afford to replace it when it, again, becomes obsolete - as it will. It has no camera or other useless gimmicks and just plays music - perfect. Whether all this works in the long term or has me hankering for a larger capacity model remains to be seen but for the moment the experiment continues.

Watch this space!

PS - I've just discovered that the damn thing has no on/off switch. You can only put it into standby which eats the battery - great!

The Ultimate Christmas

2010-12-23T06:09:00.008Z

So, here we are at the end of another year, in the unenviable position of having to dust off those Christmas CDs for their annual outing. So what will be playing at chez Music Obsessive this year whilst the tree is decked and mince pies sizzle? Will it be that famous convicted murderer and his celebrated Christmas Album? Perhaps not.

Nor will it be any of the usual Christmas suspects by The Beach Boys, Maria Carey, The Carpenters, Andy Williams, Elvis et al but something quite different. In fact, despite its humble background this CD has become an established part of the Christmas ritual at our house along with the Christmas morning fizz and evening slump in front of the TV.

It arrived in our house some years ago as a freebie with the daily newspaper and unlike most of its stable mates did not end up in the bin but was rather unexpectedly, played quite a lot. Like most free CDs it can only be described as a right old hotchpotch of songs from artists old and new(ish) but somehow it has a Christmassy charm that has saved it from the fate of others. Perhaps because it does not comprise traditional carols, which are still played in our house, or recent chart pop songs it falls neatly into that area of Christmas nostalgia – the period from the 1940s to the 1960s.

So in amongst the obvious and slightly hackneyed contenders like Bing’s ‘White Christmas’, Perry Como’s ‘Silver Bells’ and Nat King Cole’s ‘Christmas Song’ there are some interestingly irreverent additions like Eartha Kitt’s sultry ‘Santa Baby’. Quite what my children think of this is unclear – clearly they’ve never seen Marilyn Monroe singing it. Another favourite is ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ sung with satin-like silkiness by Crystal Gayle.

The only hint of more contemporary fare is given by Dolly Parton’s ‘Winter Wonderland’ and Roy Orbison’s ‘Pretty Paper’, together with Tom Jones and Michael Ball who also get a look in, but overall there is not a hint of Wizzard or the Pogues which, of course, is a huge seasonal blessing. This disc does not pander to in-store browsing pop but harks back to an era when snow decorated every Christmas and families sang around old upright pianos and drank mulled wine whilst breathing in Dad’s pipe tobacco smoke.

It is rather heart-warming to note that these old chestnuts seem to signify Christmas rather than the usual Slade and Band Aid offerings even to my iPod-generation children. Frankly, I’d rather that they take away memories of these songs with them into adulthood than Shakin’ Stevens.

I'm off to take my usual seasonal break from the keyboard, so I'll see you all in the new year. Merry Christmas!

Your Move

2010-12-17T06:43:00.004Z

Last week, I attended the London Chess Classic at Earls Court Olympia and followed the four games being played in Round 3 of the 7-Round all-play-all competition as they unfolded live on stage.

This is only the second year that the London Chess Classic has been staged but already it is gaining momentum. This year the players are: the young Norwegian, Magnus Carlson (currently rated the world’s number one), Vishy Anand (the current World Champion), Vladimir Kramnick (the ex-World champion), Hikaru Nakamura (the US number 1) and the top four rated English players (Messrs Adams, Short, McShane and Howell). Quality or what? Play started at 2.00 pm and spectators may remain until all games are complete which can be anything from 2 hours to 7+ hours. And the cost of a ticket? £10.

Where else in the world of sport can a spectator get to see the current and ex-World Champion and the World Number One player for a tenner? It seems that Chess is the last bastion of a time gone by when the average punter could get up close and personal with the elite of sport – and all for a modest cost. I even shared a lift with veteran world title challenger, Victor Korchnoi and held the gents' door open for eventual tournament winner, Magnus Carlson. Only in chess would this happen.

In the early 1990s, I attended a Chess Event in a Park Lane hotel that is now known, rather quaintly, as the Snowdrops v Veterans Match in which a team of young-up-and coming Women players takes on a team of Veterans. The event I attended featured some of the best women players at that time and the vets team included a seventy year old Vasily Smyslov, World Champion I957-58, who eventually won a gruelling 7 hour game. He died earlier this year, aged 89, but I am so glad I was able to witness his success on that day from little more than a few feet away from the board.

The event didn’t start well as the lights failed in the playing area and we were told to go away and come back in an hour when play would start. Taking the lift down to the ground floor, I found myself in the company of half the women’s team including Sofia Polgar and Pia Cramling, two of the best Women players the world has ever seen. What is it about chess players and lifts? Anyway, they sauntered off down Park Lane as if it was the most natural thing in the world – no entourage, no bodyguards.

A year or so later, I found myself browsing the foyer bookstall with Vassily Ivanchuk, the Ukrainian Grandmaster, rated number 5 in the world at that point, during the London Rapidplay competition. I cannot think of any other sport where the world’s top players have such freedom to come and go, usually unrecognised and where the likes of you and I can mingle with them and watch them perform for so little.

Unfortunately money is already raising its ugly head in the Chess world and prize money is increasing. How long before we, the public, lose contact with the players as we have in virtually all other sports?

Pop Charts

2010-12-10T06:00:00.003Z

A slab of research a while back gleefully revealed that in the year of 2009, ‘pop’ music trounced ‘rock’ and most other forms of music in the singles chart, by a considerable margin. The report cites the success of Lady Gaga and Cheryl Cole and others as proof that ‘pop’ is back in a big way and all traditional rock bands are running for cover. The first question that immediately springs to mind is: who did the labelling?

Music is notoriously difficult to categorise. The music press love to put labels on all music but as far as you all know by now, there are only two types of music; good and bad. However that doesn’t stop the media devising ever more complicated structures of genres and sub-genres with which to box up every known utterance. In truth, pop music never really went away no matter what the media would have you believe and I cannot remember a time when rock music dominated the singles charts. So the second question is not only, is it true, but does it matter?

The singles chart has always been the more frivolous sister to the deadly serious older brother album chart and there is no reason why this should not continue. At its extreme in the late 60s and early 70s the singles chart was cut adrift in an open boat. After all, no rock band worth its salt released singles as it demeaned their serious intent, thus the singles chart was a veritable cauldron of silly songs and one hit wonders. Just don’t get me started on ‘Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep’…

Rather ironically, it was the anti-establishment punk bands that broke the stand-off in the mid-70s and rock once again vied for contention with pop and the singles chart reverted to basically what it was designed to be – a barometer of what is popular (but not necessarily any good). But then you did get Top of the Pops and Pan’s People to act as your guide so it wasn’t all bad. As far as I can recall, the singles chart has been that way ever since so quite where all this ‘pop makes a comeback’ nonsense came from is debateable.

Personally, I like a bit of pop me, provided it falls into the ‘good’ category (Gaga, Abba, Madness) and not the bad (Black Lace, Gary Glitter, Dawn) and don’t really care a fig if the serious bands don’t join in. I wonder what will be the epitaph of 2010?

The Smiths

2010-12-03T06:28:00.004Z

So here I am, busily writing this blog when I glance at the calendar and…heavens! I’ve been tapping away for over three years now - and I still haven’t got around to The Smiths. So here is a post to redress this appalling oversight.

If ever there was a band that split the music community, it was the Moz and Marr cooperative (Manchester division). On the one hand there was (and still is) a hardcore following of fanatical devotion and on the other, a bevy of critical and equally fanatical Moz-haters with me sort of in the middle ground but with leanings towards the devotees.

Actually, I’ve become more of a fan as the years have gone by but it was only recently whilst I transferred all my Smiths vinyl LPs to MP3 files that I have undertaken a proper retrospective. And the findings have been not quite what I expected. Back in the day, I bought each album as it arrived and rather leaned towards the earlier works like ‘The Smiths’, ‘Hatful of Hollow’ and ‘Meat is Murder’. By the time ‘The Queen is Dead’ arrived my interest was waning and when ‘Strangeways Here We Come’ was released I very nearly ignored it.

Undoubtedly, as a complete body of work, you really can’t fault it. The marriage of Marr’s complex guitar driven melodies and Morrissey’s grimly realistic kitchen sink lyrics is a gift that doesn’t get offered too often. It is simply like no other song writing partnership before or since. Then add in the killer rhythm section of Joyce and Rourke and it’s difficult to see how they could’ve gone wrong.

Listening to the albums again in sequence my initial view that the early stuff is best still holds but only for ‘Hatful of Hollow’ the compilation of BBC sessions, which remains their finest hour by a big margin. The playing, enforced by the live session environment, is tight and crisp and the material exemplary. Funnily enough, I now find the early studio albums a bit bland and have begun to appreciate the later ones more. In particular, ‘Strangeways’, the album that almost didn’t get bought, I now find is very listenable indeed.

So, I’m still a big fan of The Smiths, but not in the same way that I once was. ‘Hatful of Hollow’ is still the album to buy, but where I would’ve pointed newcomers to the early studio albums, I am now going suggest ‘Strangeways’ and possibly ‘The Queen is Dead’. Just don’t ask me again in another ten years as I’ll probably have changed my mind again.

Here's 'William, It Was Really Nothing' which just aches with 80s nostalgia.

KT Tunstall - Tiger Suit

2010-11-26T06:08:00.007Z

Ever bought an album and wondered why you did? I am having that feeling about KT Tunstall’s ‘Tiger Suit’, her latest offering.

Like most people, I first got to know her when she burst onto ‘Later with Jools Holland’ doing the stomping ‘Black Horse and the Cherry Tree’ back in 2005 but it wasn’t until I heard ‘Suddenly I See’ followed by the fabulous ‘Another Place to Fall’ that I was interested enough to buy her debut album, ‘Eye to the Telescope’. At the time I thought it a bit patchy and one of those albums that had two or three crackers in amongst some pleasant if not inspiring material. Accordingly, I failed to buy its follow up ‘Drastic Plastic’ when it turned up in 2007.

Since then I’ve not really thought about KT but recent reviews of ‘Tiger Suit’ made me curious to know what she is up to now. So it was that I found myself owning a copy after a bit of an impulse buying spree in HMV a few weeks ago and have been listening to it on and off ever since. And this is where I start to think about what my motives were. Once again, there is nothing much wrong with ‘Tiger Suit’ but somehow it doesn’t quite grab me despite having some nice moments.

This time around, KT has gone for a slightly less folksy sound and opted instead for a series of electronica environments into which to pour her almost traditional sounding songs. This has had the effect of modernising her sound without detracting from her Celtic roots and the stomp evident in ‘Black Horse and the Cherry Tree’ is still to be heard on tracks like ‘Push That Knot Away’ but in a more dancey and less folksy way.

One thing that becomes apparent is that she likes to hang on to a single chord. This she often does for so long that when the chord change finally comes you are so grateful for the harmonic shift that it sounds just heavenly, like reaching an oasis after a 25 mile crawl across sun baked sands. But you can pull this trick once too often.

In fact, the album starts very well indeed with probably the best cut, ‘Uummannaq Song’ which sports a gorgeous chorus over wailing primal backing vocals. Next up ‘Glamour Puss’ is almost as good, but after that the focus falls away a bit and by the end of the album my attention has wandered a little. This seems to sum up KT Tunstall for me – one or two really good songs surrounded by OK but not outstanding album mates. Perhaps in future, I should get to listen to her albums and cherry pick the best? I'm not so sure as already this album is growing on me. Perhaps it just needs a bit more time? We'll see.

Here's KT on Jools Holland - see what you think. And check out the fab guitarist - it's Charlotte Hatherley...AGAIN (ex-Ash, Client, Bat for Lashes, sometime solo artist and now with KT Tunstall. Blimey, she gets around.)

The Return of Duffy

2010-11-19T06:08:00.002Z

There’s nothing like opening your mouth to prove you’re a liar. As soon as I suggest that, let’s say, Duffy has vanished off the face of the earth, never to be seen again, then, blow me down, there she is, large as life on ‘Later with Jools Holland’, warbling a few new songs from her forthcoming album, ‘Endlessly’. In fact in the same show was The Ting Tings, also back after a period of nothingness, with their new single, ‘Hands’. You just can’t win.

But when you start thinking about it, this business of when and how to release product onto the market, is one steeped in difficulty. It seems to me that as an artist with a long term career, you are in constant danger of falling into one of two Deep Dark Wells.

Deep Dark Well One is labelled, ‘Not you again, can’t you just leave me alone? I’ve only just got used to your last album and can’t really find the cash just now’. Normally, I like to savour an album for a bit, especially if it is particularly good, and get to know every nuance and inflection. This generally takes a bit of time and the last thing you want is to find that yet another album is on the shelves begging for your attention. Record companies are particularly bad at pushing artists into seizing the moment and releasing a load of half-baked songs onto a public that are lapping up the current stuff. I know that the Beach Boys used to release about 4 LPs a year but frankly, I couldn’t cope with this.

Deep Dark Well Two is labelled, ‘Who? Where the hell have you been for the last 5/10/15 years? Sorry but I’ve moved on and have a huge roster of new artists to devote my limited time to’. This is always a bit sad, but go away and hide for long periods and you really can’t expect your public to be waiting around like a stood-up date for very long. Life’s too short and there is always another band to come along and fill your shoes. Unless you are a mega-star you really cannot get away with not producing anything for decades, can you Kate?

So what’s the solution? With the benefit of 40-odd years of buying and following bands, my considered opinion is that an album every eighteen months to two years is about the right balance and if an artist could see their way clear to releasing a new song, say as a download or EP in the middle of the fallow period just to say, ‘I’m still here’, that would be grand. This approach has several benefits. First, it allows the artist to write and refine some decent material rather than filling up with rejects from the previous effort and second, it gives the buyer a bit of a breather.

On this basis and assuming that new albums from Duffy and The Ting Tings will not be available until late 2010 or early 2011, they might just have left it a shade too long, methinks.

TV Themes

2010-11-12T06:03:00.008Z

Like all media, music has had to move with the times. Much of what we now consider ‘classical’ music was often commercially motivated or was written for specific audiences – mainly the church and those that fancied a bit of a dance at their next Grand Ball (DJ Mozart, anyone?) Later those commissions came from film makers, first silent accompaniment and then soundtracks.

So with the advent of the cathode ray tube, music found itself being commissioned by programme makers either as an incidental background, or more specifically as an opening theme. TV theme tunes, despite being short and sweet (barely 2 minutes to cover the credits) have since taken on a life of their own and many are remembered with nostalgic affection. To create a brief, yet memorable theme that actually reflects the content of the ensuing programme is no mean feat, so as a tribute to the many composers of TV themes, here are my personal ‘six of the best’ choices.

Hawaii Five-O (Morton Stevens) – arguably the best TV theme ever. It brims over with a joie de vivre that is hard to ignore. Like all of the best TV themes it has since de-coupled itself from Hawaii Five-O, the TV programme, and is generally known as a great tune in its own right yet it still retains that alluring vision of sun and sea. ‘Book him, Danno!’

Mission: Impossible (Lalo Schifrin) – another massive theme tune and probably the only one written in the singularly lumpy rhythm of 5/4. Again, this theme now has a life of its own and is synonymous with derring-do in all its forms. It has become a staple for all programme makers who deploy it in the sort of situations that require a bit of tension and excitement.

The World at War (Carl Davis) – This strangely asymmetrical, yet grimly compelling melody, together with the stark images it overlays, lands an almighty emotional punch. I defy anyone not to be moved by its poignant grandeur, especially that gut-wrenching final chord. Interestingly, this theme has not broken free. If ever there was a permanent link between programme and theme, this is it. Quite haunting.

Dr Who (Ron Grainer arr. Delia Derbyshire) – who would’ve thought that this theme, cobbled together from taped samples of signal generators and home-made sound-effects would turn out to be probably the best known piece of electronic music? A masterpiece of arrangement by Delia Derbyshire and the BBC Radiophonic workshop. And made in 1963 without a box of digital tech in sight!

The Virginian (Percy Faith) – A waltz has never quite had as much momentum as this western theme by the late Percy Faith. You can’t help but be swept along by its galloping beat and visions of the great windswept western frontier. Knocks other contenders like ‘Bonanza’ into a ten-gallon hat.

YouTube won't let me embed it here so click here to hear.

Jeeves and Wooster (Anne Dudley) – A fabulous pastiche of 1920s jazz/swing by pop keyboardist Anne Dudley (Art of Noise). To replicate the style of the roaring twenties is one thing but to make it sound as recklessly foolish yet endearingly familiar as the Wodehouse novels themselves is a real achievement. Try not humming this for days after hearing it. Again, YouTube won't let me embed the moving picture version so this static one will have to do. After all, it's all about the music!

I haven’t even scratched the surface here. Morse, The Sweeney, Batman, The Avengers, The X files…the list goes on and on. Which goes to show how we have taken these small, yet perfectly formed tunes to our hearts.

The Worst of Times

2010-11-05T06:53:00.004Z

Sometimes, when I’m sitting here thinking about what the hell am I going to write next, if I am very lucky, someone comes along and gives me an idea. And in this instance it is just as well that they did or my next post would’ve been a blank screen - very artistic, I’m sure, but not really in the true spirit of a blog. So I am deeply indebted to Luminous Muse whose post ‘Guilty Pleasures: 70s Songs I Hate to Love’ has set in train a series of thoughts about pants music generally rather than specifically.

I’ve already covered my Guilty Pleasures in a series of posts some time back, so I thought rather than wheel out my list of Hate-to-Love songs yet again, I’d nominate my contender for the worst period in rock’s history and spookily it, too, comes from the 1970s – the decade that fashion forgot. My nomination for ‘Worst Period of Rock…Ever’ is the five year period 1973 – 1978.

The reasons why can be summed up in three words: Glam, Disco and Smart-Arses. It should be remembered that up to about 1973 everything had been going swimmingly from the Rock ‘n’ Roll explosion of the 1950s through the 1960s Beat Boom to Psychedelia and the beginnings of Progressive.

But by 1974 it had all gone wrong. Glam had ousted my beloved Prog and got it firmly on the run. Of course, Prog really only had itself to blame as it had disintegrated into self-indulgent noodling and we were drowning in pixies, but if only it knew what it was letting in... Whilst Glam had its upside, just, in Bowie and Roxy, the remainder was just the worst 1950s pastiche claptrap imaginable. Mud, Rubettes, Showaddywaddy, Sweet, Wizzard (Roy Wood what WERE you thinking?) were all as guilty as hell. Aged 18, music to me was a serious business and this lot were just taking the p…

Disco was almost as bad (with the possible exception of Chic). By the mid 1970s the likes of KC and the Sunshine Band, Sylvester, Heatwave, Donna Summer and Odyssey, were gearing up to batter our ears with stuff that only clubbers understood but the worst offender in this category was the person who invented the 12-inch single. If I ever get my hands on them…well, don’t worry, I’ll think of something. If Disco wasn’t bad enough over 3 minutes it was indescribably tedious over 10 long minutes of melody-free monotonous rhythm.

So for people like me, there was only one area left and unfortunately it was inhabited by the Smart-Arses as represented by the unholy trinity of Steely Dan, Supertramp and 10CC. I will put my hand up and admit to liking the first three 10CC albums but I never really took to either Supertramp or Steely Dan who were just far too clever by half. Thank God for Abba!

Never has one music lover been so relieved than when the Punk revolution swept away all this dross and replaced it with badly played, raucous yet passionate short sharp songs. Luckily this racket didn’t outstay its welcome but its lasting legacy was to open the door to a whole New Wave of artists from Blondie to XTC and by the end of the 1970s music was back on track. Phew!

Money Money Money

2010-10-29T06:40:00.005+01:00

When I bought my first vinyl LP as spotty youth back in 1970, it cost me the princely sum of £2 and at the time, I didn’t really stop to consider whether it was priced correctly – I just wanted it and bought it. So it comes as quite a shock to realise that £2 in 1970 is the inflation adjusted equivalent figure of £23 today. These days I wouldn’t even countenance paying that sort of money for a CD or download album despite being more affluent. In fact I would probably baulk at paying half that price…and possibly even a quarter.

It just goes to show how we have unconsciously absorbed the reduction in price for the music we buy yet still feel we are hard done by and will turn our collective noses up at product that in real terms has at least halved in price over the last 40 years. In fact, these days file sharing for free seems to be touted as a ‘right’ amongst some parts of the consumer market.

So I note with some amusement that ex-Warner Music UK boss, Rob Dickins, has decreed that albums should be sold at £1 each in an effort to combat piracy and encourage waning sales. Whoo-Hoo! Predictably, this has caused howls of outrage amongst the music industry who are still trying to keep a firm hold on their diminishing profits, but to me it seems eminently sensible. His argument is that file-sharers would be happy to pay a legal £1 per download rather than an illegal nothing and that the remainder of us would buy substantially more albums, thus recouping revenue for the industry and generating demand in other areas such as live concerts and merchandise. He may be right, but I suspect not. The sense that media should be ‘free’ is pretty ingrained in some parts of society.

Nevertheless, I see no defence to those companies still charging full price for albums produced in the 1960s, 1970s and even 1980s whose production costs have long been recovered. I’ve never understood why it is virtually impossible to buy Beatles albums, for example, for less than £10, a staggering 45 years after they were first released. It smacks of greed. I for one would undoubtedly buy more if prices were reduced considerably. It takes away the risk that you are about to spend good money on something that turns out to be the worse album ever produced – something that I’ve had enough of in the past.

Record producers say that they must charge to cover their risks, but what about the consumer? They shoulder risk every time they buy today’s ‘product’ as most of it is sub-standard. Reducing the price would alleviate buyers' risk and I’m all in favour of that.

The Dangling Conversation

2010-10-22T06:10:00.004+01:00

‘Aha! I knew I’d find it somewhere. It was stuck in amongst the kinks in that old bit of carpet. Can’t really remember when I lost it, it’s all a bit of a blur now. It must’ve been one of those Sundays I was making a wedding present for the family up the road.’

‘What are you wittering about, woman?’

‘My sewing needle! I lost it months ago. You know, I told you just after him next door had his massive attack. How that doctor and the medics got him out past his caravan, I’ll never know. What a squeeze and him with a dickey heart. Mind you, his wife’s not much better. She had to go to Lourdes for the cure last year after her primal scream therapy failed. Anyway, I must get on. The cleaning all needs doing.’

‘What? Again? Anyone’d think the Queen was coming.’

‘And another thing. I need a proper washing machine. That toploader has just about had it. Do you know it leaks so badly the kitchen looks like an oasis half the time? All it needs is a camel.

‘It’s no good you screaming. Trees don’t yield money you know. Anyway, I can’t listen to you all day. What’s on the wireless?’

‘Dunno. But you’d better turn it on now. It takes so long to warm up, you’d think it was human…’

‘…League Division Two. Stockport County one, Barnet nil…’

‘It’s the bloody football results, oh joy…’

‘…Division One. Portishead Town six…’

‘I can’t listen to this. Who’s interested in a minor south-western league clash? What’s for tea?’

‘Scones, cranberries and cream.’

‘Again? You’d never get that garbage at my Holly’s.’

‘Yes, but then you’d have to put up with that grandson of yours.’

‘Kevin’s not such bad company. What’s he been up to now?’

‘Well, there was a bit of an incident at the pet shop. Boys will be boys, you know, but they should never have called the police. I know eagles don’t come free but I’m sure the wings will grow back in time. Of course, Kevin’s been a bit sensitive after his dad spilt tea on that igloo he made out of sugar cubes. All of a pulp, it was. And that girl of his, you know, blondie, gave him the elbow. Poor boy!’

‘Huh! Can’t imagine what the youth of today think they’re up to. Walking around like zombies on ecstasy and nattering about pop music. Complete madness! Wouldn’t have happened in my day…’

Generation Gap

2010-10-15T06:22:00.006+01:00

It is a well known fact that we all grow up to be our parents no matter how hard we try to avoid it. But growing up to be someone else’s parents is even more worrying. This nightmare scenario slowly dawned on me the other day whilst helping my daughter to download a couple of songs from iTunes.

But let’s back up a bit. In the early 1970s I spent a large proportion of my life hanging around in St Albans record shops, either the traditional specialist venues like The Record Room or the new pretender, Cloud 7 or even the less obvious places like Tesco, Boots or a furniture store whose name I’ve forgotten, who all sold chart singles.

Oh, the arrogance of youth! This was a time when I felt entirely at ease in such places and, like the owners, knew most of the stock by sight. As a frequent visitor and dedicated browser, not to mention compulsive buyer, I felt that slight superiority that an expert feels when confronted with an amateur. So when anyone came into the shop with that furtive and marginally panicked look on their face you just knew that some fun would ensue.

These were the people, usually elderly, who didn’t really know what they had come into buy, either because they’d heard something on the wireless and didn’t know what it was, or because they were buying for someone else. In the first instance they would try and describe what it was they were after, usually going to extraordinary lengths to avoid actually having to sing the thing to the bemused shop assistant. Alternatively, if they were buying for someone else (usually much younger), and Christmas was always a good time for this, they would clutch a scrap of paper and whisper the contents to the assistant who would be drowning in a sea of mispronunciation and misunderstanding. Their delivery would be akin to a police officer recalling a slang filled conversation with a villain in a court of law.

All this was huge fun to people like me, safe in the knowledge that I would always, always know what it all meant. Until now.

So there I was, navigating through iTunes to download my daughter’s choice, when suddenly, oh no, I was that someone’s elderly parent in the record store who hasn’t a clue what they are asking for and all those years of arrogance have come back to bite me.

‘No, Daddy. It’s THAT one. Don’t you know?’

Aaaargghhh!

Neneh Cherry - Manchild

2010-10-08T06:40:00.017+01:00

Quite out of the blue, I have been drawn to thinking about the song ‘Manchild’ from two differing sources. One; a review of Neneh Cherry’s 1989 debut, ‘Raw Like Sushi’ by Aussie commentators YourZenMine and two; a comment made by the compiler of the chords to ‘Manchild’ on a well known music tabs website which asks, ‘Is this the most discordant song ever written?’

I’ve always liked ‘Manchild’ and it is still, for me, one of the stand-out tracks on the ‘Raw Like Sushi’ album. One of its major features is its unusual chord progression which flits across keys like a butterfly in a flower shop. In theory a musical key comprises a set of chords based on the notes of its scale, a bit like a paint palette using set colours of a chosen theme (say, browns and oranges for an autumnal setting). Normally, a song would move between these related chords giving a smooth comfortable ride. ‘Manchild’ is the equivalent of introducing splashes of primary blue or red from an unrelated palette where it is least expected and upsetting the normal order of things.

For example, the song is nominally in the key of C♯ major, but even in the first line of the verse we are wrenched onto a chord of E major – a chord having no business at all squatting in the home key of C♯ major - before lurching drunkenly onto the dominant chord of G♯ major. Then it gets worse as the next phrase starts on F major (not the ‘correct’ F minor), briefly redeems itself by rising to F♯ major before rushing off recklessly to C and then E major again prior to ending the verse on a chord of D major – an agonising half-tone from where it started on C♯.

And so it goes on whilst the melody struggles manfully to hang on during the rollercoaster twists and turns of the quirky harmony. It’s thrilling stuff, but it is not discordant in that the chords themselves have no internal dissonance, but it is unusual in the way that it dives in and out of unrelated keys yet manages to hold itself together without alienating the listener.

The overall effect of all this is to make the ambience of the song a little ‘unsafe’ and challenging for the listener who has to constantly readjust their assessment of where the melody is going as it is buffeted away from its safe harbour notes by the underlying harmony. This is what music should do, in my opinion, it should surprise and reassure in equal quantities and this song does just that.

But then Neneh Cherry has always been a pusher of envelopes. She famously appeared on TOTP to perform ‘Buffalo Stance’ whilst 8 months pregnant and in the video for 'Manchild' she holds a teeny tiny baby, presumably her own. Is this baby the youngest person ever to appear in a pop video? I think we should be told.

What we already know is that ‘Manchild’ could well be one of the most ‘discordant’ songs ever written and it’s all the better for it. Whether it is Rock ‘n’ Roll is another question altogether.

YouTube won't let me embed the video here so you'll have to go here to see it and just listen to how those chords lurch around like a ship in a storm.

Download Problems (Part 2)

2010-10-01T06:39:00.026+01:00

Last post I told the tale of why half my downloaded songs have gone to the great gig in the sky. I also mentioned that I had been forced to buy a selected few again and I’ll bet you were wondering what they were? No? Tough, ‘cause I’m going to tell you anyway. I mean, what are blogs for? In no particular order:

‘It’s My Life’ – No Doubt

Despite liking the classic Talk Talk version the first time around, this is such a great interpretation that I couldn’t resist it. Gwen Stefani’s vocal is spot on and the arrangement, although not much different from the original, just brims with energy. I seem to remember that the video was good too, with Gwen hamming it up as a knife wielding murderess.

‘Light Flight’ – Pentangle

This was the theme to the late 60s TV drama, ‘Take Three Girls’ and is typical of the high profile folk music had around that period. The melody is quite extraordinarily complicated (in a similar vein to Joni Mitchell’s work at that time) and beautifully sung by the hugely under-rated Jacqui McShee. All this against some fine acoustic instrumental backing by Messrs Renbourn, Jansch, Cox and Thompson. Real musicians made music back then. Beards optional.

‘Sail on Sailor’ – The Beach Boys

I’m a Beach Boys fan, but not of their later efforts. This comes from their 1973 album ‘Holland’ and is one of Brian Wilson’s last great songs. Not his best but so simple yet so endearing. I wouldn’t give ‘Holland’ houseroom but can’t live without this one. Those effortless harmonies on the bridge get me every time.

‘The Fear’ – Lily Allen

Buying this song saves me from having to buy yet another unwanted album, which all told, is what downloading is all about. I do rate this song with its knowing lyric and soaring chorus but would hate to have to buy the entire (and almost inevitably disappointing) album just to get it. Technology has some benefits after all.

‘Wild Horses’ – The Sundays

The Sundays’ somewhat bleak guitar, bass & drums style suits this Jagger/Richards song perfectly. Harriet Wheeler’s vocal is a little stained but somehow this only adds to the yearning quality. I still can’t separate it from its use in the emotionally charged final moments of the ‘The Prom’ (BtVS Ep20, Season 3)…sniff.

‘Everything I Wanted’ – The Bangles

In a move not seen since the 1960s, this single release was not included on a Bangles album, but only collected on their ‘Greatest Hits’ release – hence this purchase. Another adrenaline fuelled 4 minutes punctuated by a stunning a Capella middle section. Love them.

So that’s it. These are the thoughts that led to my paying another 89 pence each for the downloads. Last of the big spenders, eh?

Download Problems

2010-09-24T06:50:00.003+01:00

After 7 years of (almost) faultless service, my old computer has finally given up the ghost. In the last few weeks the mouse has formed the incredibly irritating habit of freezing on me and the hard drive has sounded like a chainsaw negotiating a slab of concrete, so I thought it time to treat myself to a new model. Ergo, I am now the proud owner of a shiny new black box. Never did like laptops.

I hate setting up new hardware; it is such a pain in the butt getting printers to work, re-installing software and transferring data. Having said that, Windows7 does a reasonably good job of setting up peripherals so all was going swimmingly until I moved all my music files over. It was only then that I found most of my downloaded songs either required re-licensing or just expired on the spot. Great! Luckily I had burned all the purchased albums to disc but I never bothered with the odd songs so they are now lost and I can’t be bothered to clutter up my brand new machine with a whole load of old applications from sites I don’t visit anymore (or just don’t exist now) just to re-licence a few songs (Interestingly those bought from Amazon and the dreaded iTunes work perfectly).

So having sat down with a list of about 30 songs I’d accumulated over the years in order to decide what to do, it became apparent that my download file has taken over from my old cassette tapes back at the dawn of time. In my taping days, I’d copy everything that sounded interesting and this inexorably became a sort of ‘buffer zone’ between the real world and my ‘proper collection’ (i.e. LPs). After a period of assimilation, I’d either buy the LP or just delete the tape. And so it came to pass that this is what has now happened to my downloads.

Many of the songs on the list have already been superseded by the album from whence they came and are thus redundant. And frankly, the majority of the rest I can live without so at the end of the day I decided to re-purchase about half a dozen of them (from Amazon) and just ignore the rest - this on the basis that if I’d liked them enough, I would’ve upgraded them to full album status by now.

Seems my weeding out process has just moved with the times.

Music Buddies

2010-09-17T06:45:00.003+01:00

Throughout the history of rock ‘n’ pop there have been partnerships. Simon & Garfunkel, Hall & Oates, Peter & Gordon…and er, Zager & Evans being but a few of the performing artists that understood the benefit of being a duo. Songwriters, in particular, like to team up and so we have Lennon & McCartney, Jagger & Richards and so on. The advantage of having a mate around is that ideas can be bounced backwards and forwards before setting them in stone and a degree of quality control can be introduced into the process via the good old fashioned argument.

This is all very well on the performing and creative side of the fence but what about us consumers? Are we not allowed the benefits of the collaborative partnership? I believe we are. When I was a young music fan back in the 1960s I had a ‘music buddy’ myself. His name was Terry and we went to the same primary school. In those days, being fiscally challenged, we did little more than discuss the most recent singles chart and agree or otherwise on what was any good. But as time went on and the 1960s turned inexorably into the 1970s, our partnership became more productive.

By this time we were both buying singles regularly and just beginning to venture into the world of albums. Some of my favourite bands of that period were chanced upon by the direct action of out musical buyers co-operative. The chain of events would often go something like this. One of us would buy a single we liked by an unknown band which would prompt the other to buy the album from which it came (usually on the cheap from St Albans market). Having then borrowed the LP and listened to it the other would become hooked and consequently buy subsequent albums by that band. My love of early Chicago and Curved Air were fostered by this method.

Also, providing your tastes did not overlap significantly, having a ‘music buddy’ effectively doubled not only your own knowledge but also your music collection by way of illegal taping. The trouble with this is that all my old tapes have disintegrated and over the years I’ve been forced to buy all the albums for myself so the record companies get you in the end. I have Terry to thank for introducing me to many cherished artists, Lesley Duncan of whom I posted recently, being one of them.

I look back now on those years of collaborative exploration as some of the happiest I spent. Music is a bit like life. If you can’t share it, it doesn’t really mean quite so much.

Raquel Welch Season

2010-09-10T05:52:00.013+01:00

Jo Tejada

For a period in the very early 70s, Jo Raquel Tejada had pride of place on my bedroom wall, lording it over the Gallic Brigitte Bardot and the cool Norwegian Julie Ege. During that time I tried to see as many of her films as possible but cinemas in my neck of the woods very rarely showed them and it seemed only old black and white films were shown on TV at that time so the list was depressingly short.

‘Fathom’ came and went and , I think ‘100 Rifles’ (both ‘B’ movies to the main event) and I even sneaked in, years under age, to see the worst film of all time; ‘Myra Breckinridge’. After that, interest waned so it has been fun recently to see a whole raft of them, some for the very first time, after so many years in my very own Raquel Welch season at chez MusicObsessive.

60s Spy Spoof -'Fathom'

The advantage of following a so-so actress is that all her old films can be found in the bargain bin at next-to-nothing prices, so I’ve been able to pick up the sci-fi ‘Fantastic Voyage’ (1966), the spy-spoof ‘Fathom’ (1967), the western ‘Bandolero!’, the private eye detecting ‘Lady in Cement’ (both 1968), another western ‘100 Rifles’ (1969) and yet another western ‘Hannie Caulder’ (1971) for very little outlay at all.

The one thing that that becomes obvious having watched this lot is that no-one really knew what to do with her. At the time, she was married to film producer, Patrick Curtis, who was hell-bent on promoting his easy-on-the-eye wife, a young mother with two children in tow incidentally, on a journey that one cinema website describes as from ‘Cocktail Waitress to 60s Sexpot’ and effectively succeeding. The problem was that the films designed as vehicles to promote this image were run of the mill and didn’t really make the most of her middling talent.

Another Western Wench - 'Hannie Caulder'

Making use of her South American looks (courtesy of her Bolivian father), she was endlessly cast as the feisty Mexican wench in westerns or as the exotic neighbour in a bikini (natch) drawn into the unlikely circumstances of the main protagonists. Neither of which really showed us what she could do but only showed us her - which, presumably, was the plan. As an aside, one thing you notice, well one of the things, is she has a waist, which few young women seem to have these days. Is it not fashionable any more or has it gone the same way as the real hourglass?

It isn’t until ‘Kansas City Bomber’ (1972) and ‘The Three Musketeers’ (1973) and the post-Curtis era that we begin to see what she was good at; the ‘everywoman’ role and especially, comedy (she won a Golden Globe for ‘Musketeers’), a glimpse of which was evident as far back as ‘Fathom’ in 1967. But all this was too little too late and with no recognition and the inevitable aging process diminishing her sex symbol roles, she left the film set in 1977 to appear in TV, sell wigs and fitness videos like most other 80s celebs. In retrospect it is a shame that her looks worked against her by obscuring her real natural talents but I dare say it was ever thus.

Record Labels

2010-09-03T06:35:00.005+01:00

Whatever happened to the record label? I don’t mean the companies themselves but the circular paper thing that used to sit in the middle of a vinyl disc. Labels were half the enjoyment of owning a record. They were colourful, artful, recognisable, informative and well, fascinating. In the 30 odd years that vinyl ruled, record labels were an instant source of information both explicit and implicit and with the advent of CD and now downloads this source has dried up completely.

International Note: All design descriptions that follow relate to records released in the UK and yes, I know they are often different in other countries.

In the days when I was an impoverished singles buyer, the combination of record label and sleeve was part of the fun of music collecting. My first 7-inch single was on the RCA label, a black and silver affair with a stunning pinky-red and white sleeve. All RCA releases were the same and thus were instantly recognisable. Then there was the deep blue and silver of Decca, the bright orange of CBS, the cool green of Columbia and the maroon of London, each a joy to behold. In the 70s I owned a complete set of Abba singles with their mesmerizingly vivid yellow Epic labels and sleeves – such a shame when Epic changed to orange with a spiral pattern.

Once I’d graduated to buying albums, a whole new set of labels beckoned and each label ‘stable’ held a clue to its contents. The vomit-yellow and green of the Harvest label told of underground progressive bands – the ones you’d want to be seen carrying. The shocking pink and white Island label promised a touch of the exotic whilst the yellowy-orange riverboat of Reprise said ‘classic’.

Labels eventually became artier like the Apple ‘skin and core’ graphics of the Beatles’ releases and the beautiful butterfly motif on the Elektra label or the Asylum ‘barred door’ on a white background but they always had a ‘house’ design that said ‘these are my acts and if you like one you might like the others’.

These days I have not a clue which label releases what as a) there are about 32 trillion different labels which come and go at will, b) they are all owned by about three companies anyway and c) they have no graphic representation by which to identify them. A file download won’t tell you the label identity and even CD inserts fight shy of this fact. Somehow the individuality and fun has gone out of this aspect of music collecting and will probably never return. It’s like the great labels of the past like Stax and Atlantic, Parlophone and HMV never existed. But just give me a black labelled Tamla Motown single in its shit-brown sleeve and I’ll be happy.

Free - Wishing Well

2010-08-27T06:12:00.003+01:00

Bloody TV advertising! It’s done it again and you just can’t seem to escape from it. Sadly, I saw an advert for the new Free/Bad Company compilation CD recently and it immediately reminded me of ‘Wishing Well’, a song that was once a great favourite but about which I have not really thought about for many many years.

‘Wishing Well’, with its chiming descending riff takes me right back to a time when I could only afford to buy 45 rpm singles very infrequently and so was forced into the dark world of taping stuff off the radio onto my brand new WH Smith cassette recorder – at the time, the height of new tech. One of my early compilation tapes from 1972/3 contained the aforementioned Free track which, as time went on, shone like a beacon in amongst a whole load of other admittedly banal chart material. But that’s the trouble with tape – you can never easily edit out the banal at a later date.

In those days, I used to take my tiny cassette player with me on outdoor excursions so that I could have music wherever I went (in compliance with the ‘Ride-a-Cock-Horse’ convention) and I cringe to remember what a fool I must’ve looked wandering around Verulamium Park nursing a small grey box with chart hits of the day blasting from a tinny speaker. I wonder what the Romans would’ve made of it?

Despite many of my friends being devotees, I’ve not really been a Free or a Bad Company fan and other than the odd single here and there own nothing by either of them so I tentatively checked out the Free/Bad Company compilation. Unfortunately even now it doesn’t do much for me. As well as being bored with ‘All Right Now’, I find that the Bad Co contingent just reminds me of dreadful mid-70s college discos (the clumping ‘Can’t Get Enough of Your Love’, being a prime example) so I’ve chickened out and downloaded ‘Wishing Well’ for old times sake and it still sounds as good now as it did then.

Actually on further listening, there are one or two others that could qualify for my collection - ‘My Brother Jake’ comes a close second - but for the time being I’m going to stick with ‘Wishing Well’ as my Free representative. Sometimes you just have to trust your judgement and not let golden nostalgia cloud the issue.

How's Your Musical Health?

2010-08-20T06:52:00.018+01:00

How are you feeling today? On top of the world, or a bit peaky? Me? Well, my back’s still a bit stiff after surgery a few years back and I seem to have developed a stabbing pain through my left shoulder and…oh, yes, music.

Rather than not taking my vitamins, engaging in vigorous exercise or taking particular note of what my doctor tells me, it seems that the real problem is that I have not been listening to enough music. This is according to Dr Maoshing Ni (thanks to Alan for the link) who claims that music has therapeutic effects which affect longevity. Judging by the comments in his blog on the subject, Dr Mao would probably prescribe me a course of early Kinks singles for my back and perhaps an album or two of Britpop compilations for the shoulder. Actually probably not, as his main recommendation is for large doses of classical music as the real secret to a long life and produces as exhibit A the fact that all orchestral conductors live to a grand old age despite having to get to grips with the dissonance and shifting time signatures of the likes of Stravinsky and Shostakovich.

I have to say that I have a certain amount of sympathy with his view, having been a music listener for some considerable time. There is no doubt that much mental and spiritual well-being can be derived from music, unless you count ‘Tie A Yellow Ribbon’ and the world would undoubtedly be a poorer place without it. But as to whether it can cure all ills and lead to a longer life, well, let’s say that is open to debate.

The difficulty with all this is that there appears to be a difference in effect between those that create and those that consume music. As I have pointed out on numerous occasions in this blog, those who enter the world of music to produce art of the highest calibre often have a shortened lifespan themselves so it seems a little unfair that those that listen to the product of their creativity benefit from enhanced longevity. I’m not sure that the likes of Hendrix, Morrison, Lennon and all the others who died young would be overly enamoured of the fact that the rest of us are living it up for decade after decade on the back of their musical therapy but then who said life was fair?

Strange Days at Café Chouette

2010-08-13T06:07:00.004+01:00

After a period of rather scary unemployment, I am now working on a contract basis for a property company in the west end of London which now means that I can now eat without worrying about what I need to sell first. Across the road from my office in what has become over the years, the Lebanese quarter of London, sits a small café run by a delightful posse of girls who supply my mid-morning Latte. I sheltered there whilst waiting for my interview for the job I now have so it has become a bit of a sanctuary.

Usually, I enter at around 10.30 to be greeted with a smile and a rush of piped music, sometimes western pop, other times of ethnic origin and all this seems to fit the ambience perfectly. But last time I tripped up the steps I was met by ‘Love me Two Times’ by the Doors from their second album, ‘Strange Days’ and somehow, it felt very incongruous. I’m not sure why this should be so but Jim and the Boys were stood out like the proverbial sore digit.

Actually, I like ‘Strange days’ a lot despite the fact that it sold poorly on release in 1967. It has all the usual hallmarks of a classic second album – it came too soon after their debut and comprised mainly of material left over from the sessions for the first album. Despite all this and the fact that everybody else’s second album turned out to a bit of a re-heated meal as a consequence, I prefer it to the more celebrated ‘The Doors’. The material has a more psychedelic feel and its 12 minute centre piece ‘When the Music’s Over’ is better realised than the similarly lengthy ‘The End’ from their debut. All in all, a good listen and an album I would put in my top three Doors’ albums along with ‘Morrison Hotel’ and ‘LA Woman’.

So getting back to my café, why did The Doors sound so out of place? Perhaps it was my own preconceptions of what should fit? Certainly, the staff had no problems and the customers weren’t making an undignified dash for the door, which just goes to show how universal music can be and how it can cut across cultural boundaries if given the chance. Or perhaps the pastries are too good to leave?

I think I may be guilty of allowing myself to be brainwashed by the media who insist on compartmentalising music to the extent that you feel some square pegs should not be played in round holes. I should return to my mantra: there are only two types of music, good and bad.

Dan Dare

2010-08-06T06:16:00.001+01:00

In the mid sixties, when I was a young lad of some eight summers, I was struck down with Rheumatic Fever, a disease that attacks the heart valves, and was carted off to the children’s ward of St Albans hospital for 3 months. During my stay, my mother was obliged to traipse across town nearly every afternoon to see me. Of course, I was always glad to see her but it was her Thursday visit that I really looked forward to as it was on Thursday that she arrived brandishing my weekly comic, ‘The Eagle’.

And ‘The Eagle’ meant only one thing: Dan Dare. There are two abiding memories of those hospital days; Dan Dare and the ominous rattle of the blood-testing trolley. But blood aside, I’d been introduced to the delights of Frank Hampson’s iconic pilot by a school friend who had been following his adventures for some years and I’d badgered my parents to buy me ‘The Eagle’ on regular order – my first comic. Unfortunately I entered the fray too late to witness Hampson’s own celebrated artwork as he had left the strip in 1960 having completed a 10 year run on the characters he had created in 1950 but with artists Frank Bellamy and then Keith Watson doing a sterling job recreating the futuristic world of Dare and Digby, I was hooked.

In retrospect, the original Dan Dare stories come across now as a sort of WWII RAF squadron in space complete with pipe and banter, but they are still hugely imaginative and combine story telling with eye-boggling artwork in a way only comics can manage. It is why I still enjoy comics to this day, although in the face of the virtual demise of the British comic industry, I have now shifted my allegiance to the American comic-book.

But going back to Dan, I remember a story called ‘The Mushroom’ in which the green dome-headed Mekon attempts to invade earth via a mushroom structure built on the earth’s surface. It is the story that I read and re-read during those long hours in hospital and as the memory fades, I would love to see it again in print.

Luckily, Titan Books are reprinting the collected Dan Dare stories in hardback at the rate of about 40 weeks worth of comics per issue and two hardback releases a year. So far they have published 10 volumes with a further two promised for 2010 which takes Dan up to about the end of 1959. I have calculated that it will take them about another three to four years before ‘The Mushroom’ appears, assuming Titan have not stopped publishing. I can wait. After 45 years, a few more won’t make much difference.

But if they could see their way clear to speeding up the process, I wouldn’t object.

Marina and the Diamonds

2010-07-30T06:26:00.002+01:00

There is clearly something in the water that trickles down those Welsh valleys that produces more singers than I’ve had hot dinners. Dame Shirley Bassey and Thomas the Jones became international stars eons ago and even now the well, to stretch an analogy, has not dried up. Since then we have marvelled at ‘Voice of an Angel’ Charlotte Church, had fragile chanteuse Duffy (retired?) grace us with her presence and now we have Marina Diamandis.

Born to a Greek father and Welsh mother in Abergavenny in the decade of big hair and shoulder pads, she is the latest in a line of Welsh musicians to entertain us with those Celtic vowels. Under the stage name of Marina and the Diamonds, she and her band played an entrancing set on the John Peel Stage at Glastonbury this year and as a consequence, I have been listening to her debut album, ‘The Family Jewels’.

From what I gather, the ‘The Diamonds’ bit of her name is not her backing band but represents her fans, so says she, presumably in the same manner as Lady Gaga’s ‘Little Monsters’. Accordingly, the musicians she plays with form a somewhat fluid community but certainly the guys who played at Glasto were an exceptionally tight little keyboard-led ensemble who underpinned her rather quirky songs with real panache. I’d keep hold of them, if I were you, Marina.

Those of you who read these missives will, no doubt, be pleased to see the return of the Music Obsessive Influences Pie-Chart from which you will gather that Marina’s vocal style is towards the idiosyncratic end of the spectrum being possessed of a pleasingly rich contralto (or possibly mezzo-soprano, what do I know?) with an indefinable touch of the Greek about it which can soar into the heights and back quite effortlessly.

The songs on the album are probably best described as hook-laden pop tunes with overtones of Sparks and Lene Lovitch. In fact, with all this quirkiness going on it is all too easy to believe that it is all a front to catch the media eye and this may be so especially as her songs are designed to give a feelgood vibe. Nevertheless, there is a darker side lurking in the lyrics which gives a glimpse into a potential depth of talent that is not so apparent at first hearing. Certainly, I found the studio versions of the songs slightly less immediate than the live versions I had witnessed on stage and that bodes well. She is clearly an artist that thrives in a live environment where the performance and relationship with the audience allows her to add nuances to the content and add value to the experience.

I shall be intrigued to see where her career takes her. Take a look at her Glastonbury set-closer, ‘Guilty’, a song that seems innocuous enough, but then goes on growing in the mind until you are completely hooked and see what you think. Now, where did I put that bottled Welsh spring water?

Allison Crowe - Spiral

2010-07-23T06:20:00.001+01:00

As I have already reported, Allison Crowe’s new album, ‘Spiral’ plonked through my letterbox all the way from Canada a while back. I’ve had a week or two to assimilate it so it’s time to post a few comments.

My first impression on opening the package was of the unusual nature of the digipak that contains the CD. It is one of the best I’ve ever seen. The design of the pak, which opens out to reveal the disc, is beautifully conceived and contains a montage of part embossed and wonderfully colourful images around the main disc holder. Unusually, and so much better is the way that the user does not need to drag the disc out of a tight cardboard sleeve, thus scratching it forever, but can merely remove it from a slotted base after all the flaps have been folded back.

So, full marks for packaging but what about the content? Allison is known for the largely piano based output of her previous albums like the acoustic ‘Little Light’ released in 1998, but this time she has gathered her small but select touring band around her and the effect is to fill out her sound in quite a delicate way.

As has become standard for Allison’s albums there is a majority of original material with one or two covers of others’ songs. In this instance, she has covered Leonard Cohen’s ‘Chelsea Hotel No 2’ and Annie Lennox’s ‘Why’ and for me these are the highlights. It takes a certain type of artist to take another’s song and have the insight to reinterpret it in a way that makes you see another side to the song. There has been a good amount of discussion about the subject of covers in this blog in recent months and commentators have contributed a whole list of cover versions from a variety of artists where they feel that this object has been achieved. Certainly it is a subject that seems to provoke a lot of debate amongst musicians and listeners alike. In the case of Allison Crowe I do not need to make a case as her record of covering songs by Joni Mitchell, Leonard Cohen and other big hitters in the song writing fraternity proves.

This album shows yet again what a sensitive interpreter she is. ‘Why’ in particular is a tour de force performance giving the song a spine tingling sheen. And this is where I find myself wondering what direction her career might take. Left to me, I’d say that in view of her special talent, she should reorganise the content of her albums and increase the number of covers. This sounds like her own material is sub-standard, but that is not true, it is just that she may find playing to her obvious strengths may benefit her in the longer term, but that’s just my opinion.

In any event, this is another fine album and comes with an unconditional recommendation.

Glastonbury Festival 2010 - Part 2

2010-07-16T06:38:00.012+01:00

Viewing Glastonbury on the TV is a bit like looking at it through the wrong end of a telescope. Despite the hours of footage broadcast by the BBC with all its digital channels you really only get to see someone else’s edited highlights. Nevertheless, a TV viewer probably still gets to see more acts than a person actually on site, so I suppose it’s not for me to complain.

As I opined in part 1, I felt a little underwhelmed this year. The headline bands were OK but I never did understand the attraction of Gorillaz and as a stand in for U2 (and I’m not a fan of U2 at all), they were mildly disappointing. Muse was the best of the bunch bringing a sense of bravado to Saturday night and then there was Stevie Wonder. To me, Wonder falls into the same category as Paul McCartney and The Rolling Stones in that their best work was done in the late 60s and early 70s and they’ve spent the last 40-odd years trying hard not to tarnish that work and largely failing. As the years have passed, I’ve tried to watch as many of the older generation of musicians as possible because you always get the feeling that it might be your last chance and this year I tried to like Stevie Wonder. Admittedly, his set was an endless and impressive list of hit songs but it wasn’t until he did ‘For Once in my Life’ that I really connected with him. There is just something compelling about his early Motown singles that still touch me where much of his later output doesn’t. The musical arrangement was pure Motown and the spirit of the Funk Brothers hovered over the performance like an old long lost friend. A gem of a moment in a workmanlike set.

So who were my personal favourites? This year I have tried to pick three acts that I don’t really know much about. So no accolades for Florence and the Machine, Rodrigo Y Gabriela or Scissor Sisters (despite Kylie turning up for a brief few minutes) – all of whom were excellent, but have been applauded in past years.

Instead, in third place comes Shakira who, according to rumour, is the best selling female singer in the world after…Susan Boyle. Dressed in surprisingly demure attire, she wiggled her way through a largely enjoyable set which not only pleased her audience but seemed to fill her to overflowing with the spirit of Glastonbury. For such a major star to appear so humbled and grateful was quite heart-warming. Sometimes this world can be a wonderful place; you just need to know where to look.

In second place is a band that I know next to nothing about and they are Editors. I found singer Tom Smith, who appends a memorably cavernous voice to the tortured style of a Morrissey/Ian Curtis hybrid, a fascinating front man. Whilst being a standard Indie band at their core they embellish the template with sparkling synthesisers and a variety of song styles which move them into an area that is more gothic and less jangly. An interesting set and a band I may well research a bit further.

My winner this year is another band of which I know next to nothing and they are Faithless which has quite surprised me. As a rule, I am not a fan of Rap finding it a bit ‘lazy’ technically but the sheer musicality of their performance won me over. The combination of dance grooves and pop/rock dynamics was riveting. Whether I follow this up, I don’t know but for an hour or so on a sunny Sunday afternoon it was perfect.

So that’s it for another year. Special mentions must also go to Ellie Goulding, Pet Shop Boys, Marina and the Diamonds and Corinne Bailey Rae who all entertained but just missed out on the prizes. Will next year be another classic? Only Star Trek knows.

Glastonbury Festival 2010 - Part 1

2010-07-09T06:37:00.003+01:00

Isn’t it the Star Trek movies that people always assert are better if they are even numbered, starting with Star Trek 2: The Wrath of Khan and pants if odd numbered? I only ask because I’m beginning to think that the Glastonbury Festivals are following a similar alternating path. The 2007 shindig was great, the 2008 event disappointing and last year’s 2009 festival probably one of my all time favourites.

So you can see where I’m going with this. Despite the fact that the weather was completely alien to your average Glastonbury goer – sun and clear blue skies the whole three days – this year’s Glastonbury just didn’t really do it for me. None of the headliners, which included Gorillaz, Muse and Stevie Wonder, held me spellbound despite their obvious credentials and a few high spots and compared to last year, I felt the line-ups generally were a bit lacking.

Not that there was anything wrong with the composition of the artists’ roster. As usual, the Eavis family did a great job in mixing up genres and generations so that we had the likes of Willie Nelson and Ray Davies rubbing shoulders with Groove Armada, Snoop Dog and Dizzee Rascal, but frankly it was always going to be difficult trying to match last year’s headlining trio of Neil Young, Blur and The Boss, especially after U2 had to pull out.

Nevertheless, there is one aspect that remains a constant and it is the reason why I tune in year after year. It is that the Glastonbury Festival seems to have a direct link to its hippy roots of the late 60s and early 70s and the abiding spirit of peace love and good-natured openness never fails to infiltrate performers and public alike. Every act, irrespective of their age, style or, let’s be honest, ability, plays to a huge and appreciative audience and everybody appears to have a good time. The cynic may say that the audience should, after all they’re paying for it, but what about the artists? There is more to this than meets the eye.

Even hardened big name performers who are no stranger to playing in front of gargantuan crowds seem to succumb to the Glastonbury spirit and come over all emotional. I saw it in Bruce Springsteen’s eyes last year and it was Shakira’s turn this year. Somehow, the atmosphere seems to take them by surprise and it is this powerful emotional feeling that still pervades, even in these days of rampant commercialism, that makes the Glastonbury Festival the best in the world. In a nutshell, it is always Glastonbury itself that is the star of the show and this acts as a great leveller between artist and audience.

But enough of this new age musing, what you are all waiting for is this year’s Music Obsessive Top Three Acts but I have to say that I am struggling here and may plead for additional time in front of the BBC iPlayer before I make my decision. But never fear - it will appear here soon.

England Lose World Cup...Again

2010-07-02T06:33:00.005+01:00

So England exits yet another World Cup at the hands of the Germans and on the back of the poorest showing since 1958. I can’t see us winning a major tournament ever again. But it wasn’t always like this.

When I was at junior school a lifetime ago, I was already a convert to our national sport, football, or soccer as the Yanks insist on calling it (correctly, I might add) and played it every spare minute of every day, but nothing had prepared me for the sort of playground politics that come with being a fan.

‘So what team do you support then?’ was the question that threw me, as giving the wrong answer could be fatal and the truth was, I didn’t support anyone. Luckily, the following Saturday saw the staging of the 1963 FA Cup Final when Manchester United stuffed Leicester City 3-1. I’d actually heard of Man U and as they were clearly winners, they would do for me. Thus it came to pass that a home counties boy who’d never travelled north past Luton let alone to the far north-west of the country became a Man U supporter for no other reason that they were there and I’ve followed them ever since.

So by 1966 when I would sit goggle eyed in front of our flickering black & white TV watching the World Cup games, it was United’s Bobby Charlton and Nobby Styles that I cheered on (in lieu of my true hero at United, Dennis Law, but he was Scottish). One of my fondest memories is Bobby’s thunderbolt goal against Mexico in the Group stage, a goal that still looks amazing today. Just have a look at that mazy run and catapult shot that bulges the net before the goalkeeper has time to reach it.

There was much comment at the time about Alf Ramsey’s assertion that Martin Peters was a player ten years ahead of his time. Actually if he had truly been ten years ahead of his time, he would’ve sported long greasy hair and wide lapels, but we’ll let that pass. In truth, Alf had picked the wrong man. Hindsight shows that it was Nobby Styles that was genuinely ahead of his time by his relentless harassing of the opposition and his willingness to stick the boot in. Watching those games from the 1960s, it is obvious that players had slightly more time and space to play. These days, the opposition close you down relentlessly, but not so then – except for Nobby who gained a reputation for doing just that with terrier-like tenacity.

Alf’s theory about Peters was that he had the ability to ‘ghost’ into shooting positions so late that he was never picked up – a trait that few possessed. But actually Geoff Hurst could do that as well, as his goal against Argentina in the bad-tempered quarter-final shows. This is actually my goal of the ’66 tournament and a memory that will never fade. It made me gasp at the time and still looks good today. The skill with which, Hurst glides in at the near post, unmarked, and just lets the ball skim over his head with enough purchase to guide it into the far corner of the goal is just awe-inspiring. Such delicacy in what was an ugly and spiteful game.

Lesley Duncan (slight return)

2010-06-25T06:32:00.001+01:00

‘Nostalgia ain’t what it used to be’, so say a host of waggish graffiti artists and they could be right as nostalgia only really works in certain circumstances. Music has long been known to be the conduit by which we can revisit the past and relive past glories (or not). Songs that we remember from specific events can sometimes trigger memories buried for decades but the effect isn’t very consistent.

My theory has always been that in order for this effect to work with any certainty, the song in question must be linked directly to a specific point in time and then forgotten until rediscovered long after the event. This must be so otherwise all my favourite songs, and there are many, would all transport me back to their point of origin – but they don’t. And they don’t because they are not fixed to a specific point in time but many points in time, that is, all the times I’ve played them since. The only real memory joggers tend to be those songs that either I don’t own or don’t play much.

Which is why I’ve been wallowing in a warm pool of nostalgia over Lesley Duncan’s ‘Sing Children Sing’. You will recall that I posted about her a few days after her death in April this year and subsequently dug out my tatty copy of her debut album which, in all honesty, I have not played since about 1973. But that’s the point. Because it has not been a regular on ye olde turntable, it is still firmly fixed to the person I was and the circumstances that applied nearly 40 years ago.

In 1971, my music collection only numbered about 6 LPs so this was a time when I was starting out in the music buying business and every purchase held huge meaning. It reminds me of a time when the somewhat earnest young me still lived at home and spent too much time in my room listening to records and trying to learn the guitar. Playing this album now has a strange effect on me as it tries its best to reconfigure my brain into the way it was during that time with all the thoughts, images and sounds that are associated with it. For some reason it is summer and the sound of my Dad mowing the lawn is infiltrating my window. I can see the sun drenched street from my window and wonder why my own room is so cold.

The album itself is very sparsely arranged with just guitar or piano on most tracks and a basic band on others in a way that music is not recorded today. Its simple nature harks back to simpler times but has a sort of honest truth about it that today’s sophisticated recording techniques don’t really convey. It is both a little sad and very uplifting at the same time and to me that is what nostalgia is all about.

Doris Brendel - 'Sorry'

2010-06-18T06:37:00.015+01:00

It’s been one of those weeks. Just when you think that music has lost its interest and nothing has happened to pique your jaded palette, three interesting things come along at once.

First, a mysterious package arrives from Canada and rather than placing it carefully in a bucket of water and calling the bomb squad which was probably the safest thing to do, I decided to open it and lo and behold, it contained a CD entitled ‘Spiral’, the latest release from Allison Crowe kindly sent by Allison’s personable manager Adrian! So, thank you Adrian – I shall be listening to this over the next few weeks and you can expect some comments in a future post.

Second, I have been rather bowled over by another artist previously mentioned in this blog, Doris Brendel, ex-singer with The Violet Hour and now a solo artist. Well, not her personally, but a song of hers called ‘Sorry’. I haven’t been emotionally connected to a song like this for…ooh…at least a few weeks, but this is magical. Taken from her album, ‘Driving’, it is a classic torch song just crying out for waving lighters and last song of the night status. The melody is beautifully structured with a stunning chorus, the lyrics are intelligent, the singing is gut-wrenchingly soulful (see ‘third’ below) and the whole thing is packaged up by a classically simple arrangement for guitar, drums and bass with just a soupcon of keyboards in a way that you rarely hear these days when computers fill every microsecond of available space.

Why don’t people make music like this anymore? Perhaps they do, but it’s a bugger to find it amongst the sheer dross splurging out of every record company after a quick buck. There is nothing quite like listening to an arrangement where you can hear exactly what the bass player, drummer and guitarist are doing at any point and it adds so much to the listening pleasure.

Third, is one of those odd connections that occur to me every now and then which make me feel that perhaps there is a divine purpose in rock. Listening to Doris’s vocal on ‘Sorry’ makes me think, and this is the oddest of links, about the young Rod Stewart, around the time of Python Lee Jackson and his early solo career, a time when I feel his singing was at its emotional best. There is an eerie similarity between their abrasive vocal quality and in the way they phrase their vocals which binds them together across the years. I can’t help thinking that Rod, around 1969, could’ve made a fabulous cover of this song.

There is a cute video to go with the song which I present below. If you love music give yourself a treat and invest 4 minutes of your life in listening to ‘Sorry’. I don’t think you’ll regret it.

Covers and the Amateur Musician

2010-06-11T06:20:00.002+01:00

In a previous post (Enjoy the Silence), I asked the question: why do musicians like to cover this song? Having re-read the text, it appears that I didn’t really answer the question! A career in politics beckons, clearly.

So what is the answer? Well…I can’t really give a definitive answer but I can give you my own experience of choosing cover versions, such as it is. As an amateur musician, it’s fun to play songs written by others and shelf-loads of music books and bits of paper with chord progressions jotted on them attest to this assumption. I have many favourite songs but not all of them are fun to sing/play – and that’s the nub of this question.

For some reason not all songs lend themselves to being played by others, especially if you are not a particularly proficient musician. Whilst I have played the guitar for 35 years I’m not Eric Clapton, or anything like. Anyone who plays the guitar will know that chords in some keys are easier to play than those in other keys. Generally the ‘sharp’ keys are easier (C, G, D, A & E). In fact much guitar music in written in the key of E major as the open strings are tuned to notes that fit well.

So it is a bit of a bugger to have to play songs that have been written in ‘flat’ keys and especially those with loads of flats (ARE YOU LISTENING, KATE BUSH? D♭ MAJOR, INDEED!). Of course, you can transpose songs into easier keys but then somehow the original voicing is lost and it never quite sounds the same. So for a song to be fun to play it has to be written in a key that suits the player’s ability and feels comfortable.

The next point is all to do with vocal range. Assuming that no-one else is in the house and the windows are shut, I’ll have a go at singing my song of choice and here we encounter further possible pitfalls. Is the melody suited to your (usually limited) range? Is it too low/high, or does the melody have awkward intervals? (KATE BUSH AGAIN –EXHIBIT B ‘DECEMBER WILL BE MAGIC’). Don’t even attempt ‘December will be magic’ as in the very first phrase there is an interval jump of 12 whole tones, that is, an octave plus 4 tones. There can only be about 4 people in the entire world who can manage this leap and I’m not one of them.

Having dispensed with the technicalities, there are other parameters to consider. Is it boring? Playing one chord for 16 bars is not going to get you interested. On the other hand, a magical chord progression that sets off the melody can make the hairs on your neck stand up. Are the lyrics easy to sing? You’d be surprised how many aren’t. Too many syllables per note, tongue twister sentences and sheer nonsense ‘street-speak’ can ruin the enjoyment.

So my guess is that ‘Enjoy The Silence’ has an easy to sing melody with comfortable lyrics, a harmonic progression which is technically interesting yet easy to play and a general feeling of artistic creation. Am I getting close?

Eurovision - Another Dismal Display

2010-06-04T06:29:00.002+01:00

So another year, another Eurovision Song Competition…and another humiliation for the UK as they trail in last…again. We scored a measly 10 points against Germany’s winning 246 points despite the best efforts of 80s hit-makers, Mike Stock and Pete Waterman, all voted for by the great European public.

It’s the third time the UK have come bottom of the competition in the last eight years, a place usually reserved for Norway and I think it is now abundantly clear that we have no business entering this competition. Italy, another great musical nation, realised this years ago and has steadfastly refused to participate ever since.

The fact is that this event has not been a ‘Song Contest’, as advertised by its title, for some time and has become a gruesome parody of its former self where national interests prevail over any appreciation of musical prowess. The fact that we have been churning out substandard songs performed by inexperienced singers doesn’t help, but there is more at work here.

Since the fall of the Berlin Wall, the old Communist Bloc has splintered into numerous independent countries, all of whom now claim the right to enter the competition in their own right. This has moved the centre of gravity of Eurovision culture eastwards and it has become clear that the cultural divide between the UK and the rest of the ‘new’ Europe has widened significantly. Not that it wasn’t wide to start with, after all Britain has been at war with France on and off for centuries, has crossed swords with Germany twice in the last hundred years and spent the cold war eyeing Russia and the Eastern Bloc warily – rivalries that continue into the various sports arenas to this day.

Traditionally, the UK has tended to align itself culturally not with Europe, but with the USA and North America generally both in lifestyle and music. We have more in common with US popular music than Romanian folk tunes so it is inevitable that our style does not always go down well with a European audience, even if we could come up with a half decent tune.

So, we have two choices. Either we adopt the Italian solution and drop out of the contest completely or we go for bust and devise songs based around eastern European folk tunes with a bit of grafted on hip-hop and silly costumes. Even then, as the UK has few political allies in continental Europe, there really is no hope so I guess the former is the best option. It seems we have more in common with the Italians than I thought.

Nerina Pallot - The Graduate

2010-05-28T06:28:00.010+01:00

The problem with the market for female singer-songwriters is that it is fit to busting at the moment and with offerings from Lady Gaga to Taylor Swift and every flavour in between, consumers are getting a bit choiced out. So to get your head above the parapet today requires an unusual talent. In my Top 12 albums of the Noughties, I singled out ‘Fires’ by UK singer Nerina Pallot as it is a work of real, if yet unsung, talent. As a consequence, I have been living with its follow up, ‘The Graduate’ for a few weeks now and feel I am in a position to judge whether it is worthy of its predecessor.

‘The Graduate’ has not had an easy birth. Nerina was guided towards collaborating with other big name songwriters for this album but none of that material appears on this album which she has released on her own 14th Floor record label. This all speaks volumes about the music industry and its machinations. Aimee Mann was also forced down this route and ended up writing and issuing her own stuff through her own label. Why can’t people recognise that talent needs to be nurtured not interfered with?

So what of ‘The Graduate’ – named in honour of Nerina passing her Degree in English Literature? Whereas ‘Fires’ has a pervading atmosphere of worthiness and endeavour, ‘The Graduate’ sounds much looser and almost playful in a way that allows her personality and humour to come through. She has widened her horizons and included material that is at one extreme, pure pop and which may have the Scissor Sisters wondering whether to take her on as songwriter, and at the other, more experimental.

In the former camp is the wonderful ‘Real Late Starter’, a peon to slackers everywhere, the knowing ‘I Don’t Want To Go Out’ and the self deprecating ‘When Did I Become Such a Bitch?’ All these show her kooky character to its best advantage. But she can be serious, as the touching ‘Coming Home’ about her father shows and she can be quite breathtaking as in ‘It Starts’ where she tries on Kate Bush’s shoes and finds that not only do they fit, they allow her to run for miles and be earnest without mawkishness.

The key track in the experimental category is ‘Cigarette’ which at a languid 5 plus minutes is a maelstrom of influences from early Bowie and Pink Floyd through to psychedelia period Beatles. I feel this may be the divider for her fans to date and already it is prompting much comment amongst reviewers. Personally, I love it but more importantly, I think it points the way for her as an artist so that her USP is pushed as far away from the pack as possible. In summary, this is another fine album from a great talent who is refusing to stand still and has brushed off the doubters and ploughed her own furrow. Long may it continue.

Like Little Boots, Nerina is a great one for posting informal 'at home' videos on YouTube. Here's her stunning version of 'Love Will Tear Us Apart'. Its rawness and honesty in performance touches me deeply...and I still love to hear the piano played properly.

Elastica

2010-05-21T06:10:00.003+01:00

In life there are a number of unwritten rules, like toast falling jam side down. Another is that when a music collection grows to a certain point, there is an ‘event horizon’ effect where some parts of it drop off the radar, never to be seen again. Generally those items hidden behind the horizon comprise a whole bunch of only-played-once miscalculations and stuff that was OK at the time but has since palled. Often, it is a bit of a shock to rediscover lost albums that you had forgotten about. and the latest chapter in this continuing saga of ‘lost’ albums involves the self-titled debut from Elastica.

At the time of purchase in 1995, I was very excited by Elastica and thought this was the bees’ knees. It had energy, great spiky tunes and impeccable credibility. Fronted by Justine Frischmann, who at the time was in the midst of a Posh ‘n Becks style romance with Blur’s Damon Albarn, the band also comprised Justin Welch (drums), Annie Holland (Bass) and Donna Matthews (Guitar) and they were the darlings of the indie-press. The album sold exceedingly well – one of the best selling debuts ever - but then it all went wrong for Justine and crew and after a lack-lustre follow up four years later the band folded.

Listening to ‘Elastica’ now is a curiously disappointing experience. Although the energy and spikes remain, aside from a couple of tracks, the overall effect is one of datedness and not really knowing who they were. In fact the band suffered badly from accusations of plagiarism, initially from masters of the short sharp song, Wire and later from The Stranglers over the riff contained in ‘Waking Up’. Both claims were eventually settled but the damage was done. I’m surprised that New Order didn’t get in on the act over ‘Never Here’ which is very much in the style of something off ‘Technique’ but I think they were having their own crisis of confidence at the time and so let it pass.

The real problem with ‘Elastica’ is that the combination of Justine’s post punk sneer, twenty years too late, and the Britpop meets punk style rather puts the whole enterprise into a displaced time-loop from which it will never escape. And the further we distance ourselves in the time continuum, the worse it will sound.

I hear that Justine Frischmann is now a successful abstract artist. Good career change! But I still like 'Waking Up'.

Eskimo Joe and the 200 Posts

2010-05-14T06:29:00.003+01:00

Contemplating my Blogger Dashboard the other day brought to my attention the following astounding fact: this is my 200th Post! I can’t let this milestone pass without marking it in some way so I thought I’d have a think about what has happened since that long off day in May 2007 when I posted my first thoughts.

The impetus for starting my own blog came from my oldest internet buddy and cartoonist extraordinaire, TR1-guy, who became a blogger soon after I first encountered him via his ‘Fanny’ internet site (now FannyRocks) to which I contributed some content. Having just published my book, I needed an outlet for my writing without the commitment of another huge tome and so chose to start my own blog, ‘Music Obsessive’ and here we are 200 posts later.

The one thing that has surprised me about blogging is how much fun it has been to make ‘internet friends’ and how widespread geographically they are and how loyal they can be. One of the very first blogs I encountered and decided that I liked enough to go back to regularly was Jayne’s ‘A Novice Novelist’. We have been commenting back and forth ever since and she is a Top Commentator on this blog (see widget in right hand side bar). In fact, Jayne, you have two entries in the list so if you hadn’t changed your name, you’d be number one!

Others that I would like to thank for their support over the years include Charlie, Barbara (Layla), Jeff, Jennifer K, Perplexio and Alan, my one ‘freelance’ commentator.

I have also been lucky enough to connect with people who actually work in the music industry which has added a new insight into my chosen subject, people like Adrian du Plessis, manager of Canadian singer Allison Crowe, who is another regular commentator at this blog (check out Adrian’s own blog to hear tracks from Allison’s new CD, ‘Spiral’). Others in this category would be Doris Brendel, ex-singer with The Velvet Hour and now a solo artist, whose new album I intend to review as soon as it is available, and the two remaining members of Martha and the Muffins.

New friends continue to arrive. A new blog that I have found very entertaining is the Oz husband and wife team, YourZenMine who write great reviews of favourite albums in their collection and indulge in a bit of marital bickering on the side. Great fun! I’ve been a regular visitor to their blog and left one or two comments when the urge took me. In return and quite unprompted, I have been presented with a CD from their native land, ‘A Song Is A City’ by Eskimo Joe. And just to prove what impeccable taste they have, it is really very good. Whilst it has that slightly indefinable antipodean feel of a Crowded House/Savage Garden with added INXS, it is packed with great songs and rolls along with real gusto. So much so that my wife has purloined it to play in the car on the school run. Recommended.

So to everyone who has read this blog or commented or both, thank you very much for being around. I’ll try and make it worth your while for another 200 posts.

The 'Difficult' 3rd Album

2010-05-07T06:47:00.001+01:00

Ok, new round, no conferring. What is it that links Siouxsie and the Banshees to Kate Bush?

No, not a shock of black hair, nor the fact that their best years were in the mid-1980s. In fact, you couldn’t pick a more diverse duo. The one, a classically trained Home Counties singer-songwriter given to strangely melodic ballads about Victorian heroines and the other, a band forged in the maelstrom of punk who eschewed virtuosity and created metallic anthems of isolation and horror.

But despite their obvious differences their career path was spookily similar, at least over their first 4 albums. Siouxsie and the Banshees initially produced a stunning debut, ‘The Scream’ largely in the punk tradition of pounding drums and sheets of angular guitar and followed it up with undue haste with a second album, ‘Join Hands’ in a similar style but containing inferior material. By the time the third album was in the melting pot, half the band had left and it was left to Siouxsie and Steve Severin to cobble something together on their own. The resultant release, ‘Kaleidoscope’ was a strange mixture of ambient music and pop songs under the guise of new wave experimentation. Having recruited a new guitarist and drummer who were more than competent players (what punk ethic?) their fourth album, ‘JuJu’ was a monster hit which showcased a newly forged Siouxsie style which would become the norm from then on.

Kate Bush’s first four albums followed a similar pattern. Her first, ‘The Kick Inside’ was a stunning debut of simple yet highly inventive songs. Her second, ‘Lionheart’ followed too close on its heels by order of her record label and was disappointing in as much as the material was a bit underdeveloped and the arrangements too conventional. By her third effort, ‘Never Forever’, Kate had won some hard fought control over her own artistic process and had acquired a state of the art Fairlight sampler. The result is a curious mixture of the type of songs she had written for the first two albums, but arranged in a far more interesting way and the type of songs that she would write later in her career but without the adventurous production. This change of direction culminated in her fourth album, the uncompromisingly left field ‘The Dreaming’ and the rest is well documented.

So the real link is the third and notoriously ‘difficult’ third album. Each of them, and for different reasons, produced an unexpectedly different, slightly hit-and-miss album which is clearly a transitional stage that links the boundaries of a vast chasm between what they were and what they were to become. Not many artists have a massive change in style so early in their trajectory and it is fascinating to have such a clear record of where their two styles clash warily.