The Musical Box

Until recently I had given the so-called Tribute Bands a very wide and slightly suspicious berth, yet there is no denying that they are becoming big business in some quarters of the industry.  I blame the Elvis impersonators, who started the ball rolling after the King’s demise and now most of the big bands from the 60s and 70s are represented by interlopers – Bjorn Again, The Australian Pink Floyd, The Bootleg Beatles, Dread Zeppelin and so on and on.  So, in the spirit of adventure, I went to see French Canadian Genesis Tribute Band, The Musical Box, perform the legendary ‘Lamb Lies Down on Broadway’ show, allegedly perfect in every detail from costumes to back projection and lighting.

I never saw the original Gabriel line up play live, so this had a touch of the ‘never meet your heroes’ about it and having owned the studio album since the 70s and the live version on the later archive box set, I have always had a picture in my head of what the live show was like.  Actually seeing it performed was a strange experience as it both punctured my imagining and opened up a new view all at the same time.  In some respects it rather grounded my impression of it in reality, but in others it revealed its beauty in a live environment.  I actually got the shivers during ‘Hairless Heart’ and the achingly melancholic ‘Lamia’ where guitarist François Gagnon’s guitar replicated the soul of Steve Hackett in all its glory.

There is no doubt that members of The Musical Box have done their homework and the musical exposition was mightily impressive, to the point of virtually reproducing the studio album in all respects.  The tone of the instruments, including the 70s keyboard sounds, was spot on and the playing immaculate.  But it was Denis Gagné’s impersonation of Peter Gabriel that was key to the act.  Frankly, without his uncannily accurate Gabriel impersonation (including his flute playing), the whole illusion would’ve collapsed like a pack of cards.  If there was a weak link, it was ‘Tony Banks’ who didn’t quite nail some of his solos and rather glossed over some of my favourite bits, but this is nit-picking as playing a piece from such a well known band to their fans who know every nuance is probably a no-win situation.

Interestingly, they finished with a rendition of ‘The Musical Box’ from Nursery Cryme (complete with Old Man mask) and then ‘The Knife’ from Trespass as an encore and in many respects these were better, having a real atmosphere to them.  It left me feeling that I would’ve quite liked to have seen some of their other sets from around the ‘Foxtrot’ period, but perhaps another time.

As the rock genre moves across the generations, the great bands of the past are now lost to newcomers, so to reproduce live acts in this way may be viewed as a service to those who missed out, yet the average age of the audience was not reduced by curious youngsters, but remained solidly around the 50-something range.  It seems that as long as we original fans can still get out of a night, the future is secure for the Tributes, but beyond that?  Who knows.

Storm Thorgerson 1943 - 2013

It is with sadness that I take up my metaphorical pen to write yet again about the passing of another music business personality.  Only this time the subject is not an international rock star nor even a little known fringe artist, but a designer; Storm Thorgerson, who died on 18 April of cancer, aged 69.

He, of course, will be best remembered for being the ‘fifth member’ of Pink Floyd who, through his design company Hipgnosis, created a series of unforgettable album sleeve designs through the 70s and 80s – the ‘Dark Side of the Moon’ prism, the mournful cow of ‘Atom Heart Mother’, the Pig flying over Battersea power station of ‘Animals’ and the burning man of ‘Wish You Were Here’ being just a few of his creations that are welded to the Pink Floyd brand.

His unique style can also be seen on a whole host of sleeves from Led Zeppelin, Peter Gabriel and The Scorpions to Muse and Biffy Clyro and I can’t help but think that with his passing the final nail has been well and truly driven home into the coffin of the album sleeve.  Whilst the CD still held out as the premier conveyor of music, the sleeve, in its reduced form remained a fixture but with the increasing move towards download files and music streaming through the likes of Spotify, the requirement for an iconic sleeve design has all but gone.

Which is a shame.  I still have all my old albums, hundreds of them, stored in cupboards and whilst I only play them very occasionally, I shall never give them away because they represent a repository of Art.  These days I seem to spend more time taking out covers and just looking at them rather than playing the disc they contain.  In many respects, the covers hold more memories than the music - times and places, purchases and parading.  Let’s face it; you can’t walk around school exhibiting your immaculate musical taste with an MP3 file, now can you?

Many of my old albums now spend their declining years in frames on my wall, being rotated every now and again so that their beauty can be admired by all.  In remembrance of Storm Thorgerson, I think I shall have a small exhibition of Hipgnosis sleeves up for a week or two.  They are going to be these four:

'Sheet Music' - 10cc

Peter Gabriel II

'In Deep' - Argent

'Atom Heart Mother' - Pink Floyd

Stereolab

When you are a child, you tend to accept things for what they are.  Your own circumstances have no benchmark and it is generally only much later that you have the data to be able to compare and contrast (as test papers would have it) your position in life.  My own hideously middle class upbringing did not come into focus until I met fellow students at university that lived either in a house the size of a small park or a matchbox depending on circumstance.

So it can be with music.  In the early 1990s I was introduced to the band, Stereolab and in particular their ’94 album ‘Mars Audiac Quintet’ and whilst it hung around my CD player longer than many of its contemporaries, it has since sat neglected in my collection for at least 15 years.  Or until now.  I’m not sure what prompted me to give it another spin but it has come back into my life with a vengeance and with its second coming has materialised a new understanding of its worth.

In the lull between Shoegazing and Britpop the mid nineties was a bit of a mish-mash of styles but none more individual than Stereolab who were essentially a vehicle for songwriter Tim Gane and his girlfriend Laetitia Sadier.  Where do I start?  Imagine the relentless space-age boogie of Hawkwind and then update that sound to the age of the synth – only using ancient analogue Moogs, Vox and Farfisa machines – and add in French female vocals.  Finally douse in Kraftwerk cool detachment and Asian-style synth drones and you have Stereolab.  Simple!  At the time none of this complexity really registered, I just liked the sound, but now it is all too apparent not just how odd they really were, but how different they were from their contemporaries.  And I like both odd and different.

Just for the record, I also bought the limited edition ‘Music For the Amorphous Body Study Centre’ EP, a collection of music used to complement New York sculptor, Charles Long’s exhibit, just to up the oddity factor.  However, by 1997 and their ‘Dots and Loops’ album, enough was enough and they were consigned to the ‘not played anymore’ section of my collection.

Nevertheless, ‘Mars Audiac Quintet’ is back on my iPod and its unique mix of uplifting space-pop is quite refreshing in today’s world.  It has the same ambience of innocence and adventure that pervaded the 60s space-age music, epitomised by ‘Telstar’.

Martha Johnson (without The Muffins)

Clearly, Canadians are a sociable bunch.  It must be those wide open prairies and long cold winters that instils a sense of connection to their fellow man.  Not only that, they drive on the left right and remember to put a ‘u’ in colour.  As evidence I offer Adrian du Plessis, manager of singer Allison Crowe, and regular commentator on this blog almost since its inception many years ago.  And now I can add to the list, Martha Johnson, she of the Muffins and ‘Echo Beach’.

Long time readers will remember that I included my seeing Martha and the Muffins in a cramped, sweaty music pub back in 1980 in my top ten list of all-time favourite gigs and subsequently approved their ‘comeback’ album, ‘Delicate’ in 2010.  To bring the saga up to date, I find that Martha has left a comment on that post advising of her current project, a solo album to be entitled, well, ‘Solo One’.

Like a growing army of artists these days, she has taken the route of asking fans to ‘pledge’ money to fund the production of the album.  This effectively means that the production costs are covered by pre-selling the product.  I remember Sing-Sing doing this in a fairly low key way via social media about 10 years ago so that their 2 albums could be brought to fruition.  Today, it has become more of a business and there are specific websites set up for artists to try their luck.  This is true democracy at work as supply of the eventual product depends entirely on demand and the buying public’s willingness to fund the project.

From a fan’s viewpoint, an up-front payment guarantees you a copy of the album at the very least and a whole host of extras ranging from signed CDs to skype sessions with the artist depending on the level of your pledge.  Comfortingly, you stand to get your money back if insufficient funds are raised and a proportion of any ‘profit’ goes to charity.  The downside being that you are never quite sure what you’re going to get, but then that is the risk with all investment.

In true ‘Dragon’s Den’ style, I’m in for a small investment of 10 Canadian Dollars  (about £6.50) which gets me a download of the album assuming the project goes ahead.  If you, too, wish to invest in ‘Solo One’ or any of its associated pledge packages, follow the link below.

http://www.pledgemusic.com/projects/marthajohnson

Side 4 - Was it Really Necessary?

How exciting!  In April, I am going to meet up with some old friends to see the Genesis tribute band, ‘The Musical Box’ play the whole of the ‘Lamb Lies Down on Broadway’ show, complete with costumes and back projection, at the Shepherds Bush Empire. Our little band of gig-goers first met up in the mid-1970s during the Genesis prog years but never saw them in their original line-up with Peter Gabriel, so this should be an interesting exercise in nostalgia.  Watch this space.

In fact, the anticipation prompted me to dig out my Genesis Archive 1967-1975 Box Set and listen to the live version of the Lamb recorded at the Shrine Auditorium, LA on their ’75 tour of the USA.  I say ‘Live’ but many of the vocal and some guitar parts were re-recorded to replace indistinct or error-strewn originals.  Egos eh?  As a double studio LP, I always felt that ‘The Lamb…’ was a bit front loaded, with all the good stuff on the first 2 sides and the remainder waning towards side 4 where it ends on the less-than-impressive ‘It’.  Which got me thinking about other studio double LPs – those much maligned products of the vinyl age.

Elton John’s ‘Goodbye Yellow Brick Road’ suffers from the same malaise whereby each of the first three sides has an ambience and continuity all their own but the fourth is a bit of a dumping ground for a rag-bag of left-overs.  And don’t get me started on Pink Floyd’s ‘The Wall’ which is great for three sides then after ‘Run Like Hell’ descends into pseudo-operatic boredom on side 4.  Some doubles are a little short of material, full stop.  Joni Mitchell’s ‘Don Juan’s Reckless Daughter’ is barely 16 minutes a side and those Dutch instrumentalists’ magnum opus, ‘Focus 3’ runs out of steam on side 4 with just the drum solo and reprise continuing from the previous track on side 3 and an old unrelated song (left off the CD reissue!) bolted on to make up the running time to about 14 minutes.  Hmm.

Even The Beatles weren’t immune from the falling off side 4 syndrome as the inclusion of ‘Revolution 9’ on side 4 of the White Album shows.  In fact, barring ‘best of’s’, I can’t think of a single double album where side 4 is the best.  It may be a deliberate ploy by the record companies, knowing that no-one ever gets as far as side 4 so why put all your best stuff there?  It begs the question: is the natural length of an extended musical work is nearer to three sides than four?  Since the advent of the CD this assertion has legs, as many albums issued since the mid-80s have a running time of 50-55 minutes, approximately equivalent to three sides of vinyl.  Q.E.D.

A Cherished Moment

Today is my 'sort of'' birthday.  When there is no 29th of February, I usually opt for 1st March as a substitute.  It is a time for getting a bit misty eyed and nostalgic for the ‘old days’.  Actually most of the old days were rubbish but with my newly acquired age-related rose tinted eyesight that matters not and amongst the wealth of good times one or two fond memories sit above the rest.  Most of my best moments have a music based foundation but not the one I am about to relate.  This has to do with football and no rose tinted sight is necessary here.

I am about 10 years old and it is roughly 2 o’clock in the afternoon.  I am sitting on the cold parquet flooring of my junior school classroom by the shoe racks putting on my football boots.  Why?  Because it is a school match day and I am captain of the rabble we call our school football team, about to take on another rabble from the local school a mile or so away.

My heartbeat is quickening and my breathing getting shorter as adrenalin floods through my body.  The anticipation is almost unbearable and I love it.  If I was to pick the best feeling in the world it would be this moment.  Not only am I about to miss French/English/Maths on offer that afternoon (strike out those that do not apply), I am about to do the one thing I love most in the world – play football for my school.

Outside, it is late autumn and a watery sun tries in vain to penetrate the mist that hangs around the football pitch, now carpeted with autumnal leaves from the towering Elms that line the school field.  The morning dew still clings to the grass and sends up a halo of wetness as the sodden leather ball zips across it.  I am proudly wearing a school football shirt (with real cuffs and collars – that dates me) of pillar-box red with white sleeves, the same as the Arsenal in those days and feel a million dollars.  We line up and the match starts…

We probably won that day – we normally did, having a half decent team which finished top of Division 3 that year and won promotion to Division 2.  It was a time of youthful exuberance and a certain naivety about life to come.  No baggage, no regrets.  Whilst I can still feel the heady exhilaration of those times, I know that I will never recapture them.  It was a time that only the young can experience.  When I look at the 10 year old me now, I see an enthusiasm that I no longer have and a head full of dreams of playing forever.

The dream ended abruptly the following September when I transferred to secondary school.  A rugby playing school.