2013

Inspiration Information

I first heard 'Strawberry Letter 23' by Shuggie Otis back in May this year, on Jamie Cullum's Radio 2 jazz programme, and it's been haunting me ever since. Soon after that first exposure I read a great piece about Otis on Richard Williams' wonderful music blog The Blue Moment and again made a mental note to explore some of his work. One thing led to another and I never did get around to it.

Last weekend, as I wrapped Christmas presents on a gloriously sunny Sunday morning, the song turned up on Cerys Matthews' 6 Music show. It sounded so good I was forced to down sellotape and listen. It wasn't back-announced, or referenced on the iPlayer tracklisting after broadcast, but I knew I had been revisited by an old friend.

It's a song that reinforces my long-held opinion that 1971 may well have been the greatest year in pop history. The dusting of jingle bells lends the song an unobtrusively festive air, but it's far more than that. Musically it's perfectly executed, as though Emitt Rhodes and the Isley Brothers had double-booked studio time and thought, what the heck, let's make a record.

The first 2 minutes 20 seconds may sound like unremarkable, if high-quality, singer-songwriter fare, but appearances are deceptive, as the ensuing maelstrom of phased harmonies and guitar picking proves. If there's a more intoxicating second half to a song I'd like to hear it.

Thanks to a friend with impeccable taste, I now have a borrowed reissue of Inspiration Information, from 1974, with appended extras (including 'Strawberry Letter 23') to wrestle with over the Christmas break.

Result.

What if...

John at 73 (by Paul Myers)

While the critics are waxing poetic
'Bout his album with T Bone Burnett
John is racking his mind for a memory
That he swore he could never forget
Of a time on the banks of the Mersey
When the world hadn’t heard of him yet
When he practically did this for free
This is John turning 73

On the red eye with Yoko to London
He looks up and says “That’s fucking great!”
As he reads the front page of The Guardian,
Seems they’ve stirred up another debate
Some Conservative MP wants to shut down
Their new gallery show at the Tate
But the Queen even said, “Let it be”

This is John turning 73

Just for kicks he starts trolling on Twitter
As the pseudonym “@BedInForTweets”
And he fucks with the Westboro Baptists
And deflates the prevailing elites.
He composes a comeback so nasty
That he posts and then quickly deletes.
Then he turns and stares down the sea.
This is John turning 73

In the studio, Sean and Mark Ronson
Run a song with their guest David Byrne
Until John hits the talk back to greet them
And says “Lads, here’s a new one to learn”
So they listen to roughs in Garageband
As they wait for Questlove to return
And he nurses his chamomile tea
This is John turning 73

Mirage

Spotted yesterday in Ikea Milton Keynes. Their room dressers have taste.

London Conversation

Simultaneously inspiring and exhausting, it was well worth braving the gale force winds (actually, London didn't fare too badly, though the rail shutdown at 11pm meant we made it home by the skin of our teeth) to attend Day 2 of The Rest Is Noise at the Southbank Centre. A little like convention day at Beatleweek, there was barely time to eat or catch our breath, as competing allegiances made planning our day a difficult task (a 'good' downside, if there was one, to a very packed schedule).

For a change, our usual tendencies were set aside, and a conversation with Gail Zappa in the QEH won out over a Beatles-centric panel discussion on the 6th floor. A strident and formidable presence, we learned much about Gail's London-based past pre-Frank, how she came to arrive in LA via New York and her battles with sycophant fans of her late husband. The closing Q&A prompted Gail to recommend Hot Rats as a primer for Zappa pre-schoolers. We took note.

Childhood / 1

The Wedding Album

With shelves heaving under the weight of dozens of Beatles-related books, many of them compendia of photos once deemed rare, I thought I'd seen it all. Now well into the internet age, and with the abundance of free blog space available to anyone with a collection and a scanner, I'm constantly amazed at the 'new' discoveries that turn up with impressive regularity.



These photos of Magic Alex's July '68 wedding (some of which apparently emanate from an October '68 edition of Motion Picture magazine) would, only 20 years or so ago, have been the stuff of once-glimpsed-in-a-scrapbook myth. Now these, and countless other similarly dazzling finds, are common currency at the click of a mouse.

Take Five

The Stones in the Park

As we seem to be on a brief 'summer of '69' theme here, it's fitting to mention that the Rolling Stones are once again playing Hyde Park, 44 years on from their legendary free concert.

Given the glorious weather we've been having of late, a friend and I decided on a last-minute outing to the park this time last week, sans ticket (hmm, £95?), to soak up the amtosphere and, maybe hear and see something of the occasion. My pal decided it would be nice to watch Stones in the Park for old times' sake, before setting off; I left her to it, as I've seen the film so many times its every utterance and sun-dappled image is imprinted on my brain. (Unlikely, but if that woman with the 'harp' in speakers corner walked past me today I swear I'd recognise her.) Funny, I remember when it was something of a rarity for the film to be shown on British TV (certainly once or twice during the 1980s). Now it's a Sky Arts staple.

Summer of '69

Summer earworm

When it comes to Status Quo, a band I grew up with and love, my critical faculties seem to desert me. This Rossi/Young-composed track, from their upcoming 'caper' film, is classic Quo, topped and tailed with catchy jungle intro and uplifting choir invocation that could have graced any Apple release circa 1971.

Anticipate heavy media coverage for 'Bula Quo' during the coming weeks. If you're not a fan, you have been warned...

Something about the Beatles

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"There was a spiral staircase in the middle of the room and I will never forget what happened next. A pair of feet appeared at the top of the stairs, then another pair, and another. The first face came into view. It was John, in T shirt and jeans, smiling broadly. He was closely followed by Yoko, dressed in white and looking incredibly beautiful. Lastly came an expressionless Phil Spector who didn't remove his shades the whole time I was there."

- Andy Davis

April 27th 2013: a Saturday night at the Stables, Wavendon, at what's fast becoming an annual outing to see the wonderful Stackridge. On the merch table the usual tour fare: t-shirts, back catalogue CDs, posters, plectrums (or 'plectra', as suggested later during the show by 'Let It Be' tee-sporting James Warren). But there's an unorthodox addition: Stackridge rock. Somehow it's totally in keeping with the quirky nature of the band, though my friend and I resist its teeth-attacking charms.

One might be unsurprised to find the word 'Beatles' instead of 'Stackridge' bleeding its way through each stick, such is their influence (distilled essence of 1967 onward, that is) on the band's musical DNA. Guitarist Andy Davis' Lennonesque vocals remind me of a conversation recorded with Johnnie Walker for Radio Two a few weeks ago, in which he recalled being asked to Tittenhurst Park to take part in a session for the Imagine album in lieu of the guys from Badfinger, who were otherwise engaged.

For those who missed the interview, the tale is told in detail here. Although unable to secure photographic evidence of his brief brush with rock royalty, the fruits of Andy's labours can be heard on 'How', 'Gimme Some Truth' and perhaps my all-time favourite Lennon solo recording, 'Oh Yoko!'

Magic moments, there were many...

Those who know me well know I can be quite annoyingly evangelistic about the Scottish foursome whose brief chart heyday was almost 40 years ago. Pilot seemed quite out-of-time, even at their height, adept at writing literate, finely crafted pop tunes which, while often borrowing from some lofty sources (The Beatles, Queen, The Beach Boys), managed to sound unique.

There are few examples of the band playing live, but hearing this BBC version of 'You're Devotion' (from Second Flight) many years ago (via some pre-internet fan CD swapping) only served to further fuel my frustration at having been but a toddler at the time the band were tearing it up on stage. In keeping with the sly lyrical change from 'come creep with me' to 'sleep with me', this rendition has quite the indecent swagger to it. And has Ian Bairnson ever been behind a bad solo?

Luckily for us, a tremendous performance was preserved. Over to Alan Black...

Mazes: Skulking

London boys

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Plus one

My first two gigs of 2013 turn out to be corkers.

First up, Richard Thompson at the Barbican, one of my favourite venues. Undaunted by the grim weather and the slightly disconcerting labyrinthine walk to reach the complex, I manage to link up with my gig companion, despite the flimsiest of pre-gig arrangements. We catch up on news (having last seen one another in 2008, on the rather momentous occasion of Pentangle's reunion at the South Bank). The intervening years evaporate as we chat Spanish life, passports, the pros and cons of Later with Jools, Tame Impala (in which I find myself alone in my fandom) and the previous evening's RT gig at Shepherd's Bush Empire. Would there be familial participation tonight?

It's a wonderful show (I discover that RT electric gigs are scarce these days - amazingly it's my first - and no less enjoyable for the lack of 'special guests'), marked by humble and prodigious musicianship from Thompson, Michael Jerome (drums) and Taras Prodaniuk (bass). Happily, the highlights (of which there are many) are recorded for posterity for Australian magazine Rhythms by the person seated to my right...

Driven

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1971 ♥ / 5

Fab Friday / 5

The first volume of Mark Lewisohn's Beatles biography is officially on its way in October. I shouldn't be excited but... I am.

The book has its own twitter account here. Let the build-up begin.

Goodbye to Rosemary Lane

Maybe I'm just imagining a poetic reference to Bert Jansch there in the lyric. Certainly sounds like it. As much as I was partial to the twisted folk of Richard Olson's previous outfit, Eighteenth Day of May (fortunately being able to catch them live twice prior to their demise), The See See seemed even further up my musical alley, with their sonic allusions to the best West Coast '60s pop/psych.

Up The Hill, a little-heard limited edition 45 released in 2008, floored me from a single airing on the sadly-missed evening incarnation of the Radcliffe and Maconie show. If the shimmering first two and a half minutes aren't great enough (had this been on the turntable one wonders?), what follows for the remainder - a heads-down orgy of acoustics, echoey multi-layered "ah"s and some decidedly Richard Thompson-esque lead work - is even better...

Play loud.

1971 ♥ / 3

One of the beautiful people

More than a decade after George's passing, Klaus Voormann talks about their last meeting... 

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In the middle of a cloud

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What became of the people we used to be...

Well, they kept it very quiet, but I'm beyond pleased to learn there will be a third chapter in the story of Celine and Jessie, the strangers who met on a train and fell in love over the course of 24 hours in Vienna. I loved Before Sunrise, and its follow-up set in Paris, Before Sunset, its intriguing final scenes in Celine's bohemian apartment leaving a giant 'What now for these two?' hanging Graduate-like over the closing credits. So now (well, later this year), we find out.

In much the same way I look forward to regular catch ups with the lives of Seven Up's Neil, Bruce, et al, these films have managed to resonate deeply. Perhaps its due to being of a broadly similar age as the protagonists; more importantly, it's the evident chemistry between Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke, as they linger over conversations veering from pretentious to tender, often over the course of a (long) single take. That takes a special partnership.

Fab Friday / 4

My new favourite band...

I was blissfully unaware of Unknown Mortal Orchestra until last week. Catching three songs from their new album, II, on 6 Music in as many days, I was sold. Happily, II is streaming online in advance of release:



The band have announced a UK tour for May (dates here) and are in session with Lauren Laverne on 6 Music this coming Monday.

1971 ♥ / 2

Fab Friday / 3

Credit

The O

"A mutant blend of Beatle-esque pop, hip-hop and punk that's fucked up in a pretty cool way"

For some inexplicable reason I thought of this song today. A perennial fixture on mixtapes/CDs I'd made for friends in the years since its release in 1998, it would invariably be greeted with the response: 'Wow, this is great... know anymore about them?'

No, I didn't. I tracked the CD single down after it was championed on GLR - probably by Gary Crowley, possibly someone else.

A recent bit of digging reveals the band - two guys from New Jersey and a Brit - were briefly signed to Polydor and dropped before they could release their first album, Nightmerica. Alas, the download links to the band's other material here are now out of date, but Nightmerica is now available via CD Baby.

Having listened to the samples, possibly I'm on safer ground where the hip-hop gives way to 'Beatles-on-weed-with-synths'. But Now, to these ears, was and remains a standalone, if unfairly obscure, classic.

Fab Friday / 2

    Henry Grossman via Shooting Film

Happy Memories. Very.

It was a love affair of diminishing returns: consummated with frequent expeditions to Oxford Street throughout the ‘80s and ‘90s, ending with cursory circuits around my rather sad looking local branch in recent years. The separation from HMV, and high street record shopping in general, though inevitable, is tinged with sadness, if only for the memories conjured up upon the announcement of its going into administration.

HMV Oxford Circus, along with Tower Records Piccadilly and Virgin at the other end of the street, were magical destinations, the locus around which all my teenage journeys to the capital were hinged. Hours, hours were spent flipping through the racks of vinyl, marvelling at obscure film soundtracks, perusing glossy fanzines (who knew you could actually buy magazines devoted to a single artist?), inspecting the spines of obscure biographies that would have taken weeks to arrive by order in the suburbs. The shops were buzzing with life and the smell of ‘new’. You didn’t quite know what you might happen upon next.

Later, with the internet encroaching, my product-hunting outings diminished, but there was still the odd in-store to enjoy (it might not be legible to anyone looking at it, and the man himself may or may not have been totally aware of his surroundings at the time, but yes, that really is Brian Wilson’s scribble on ‘Gettin' In Over My Head’…). The megastores in particular still had their pull.

If the shutters do come down on 150 Oxford Street, it’s perhaps fitting that my final fling involved a bunch of men in costume and a brief encounter with their producer, a long-time hero. (And very nice he was too.) A child of the ‘70s, but just that bit too young to remember it, gets to step into 1974, if only for a day...

Thesis, antithesis, synthesis, causes of causal causation

Okay, we are in Genesis Publications territory here (out of my price range, sadly), but this limited edition box of screen prints, plus book, entitled Yellow Subversion looks rather lovely.

More info via 50by70 here.

1971 ♥ / 1

Sticky Living

How evocative is music. Immediately the riff kicks in I'm instantly transported back 20-something years: a gaggle of girls, a nightclub get-together somewhere in Birmingham, a Christmas exchange of gifts. Sadly I've long lost touch with the pal who gave me the Decal re-issue of BB Blunder's 1970 album Workers' Playtime that night. Even with its cheap-looking Union Jack sleeve (reissues have come a long way), I was intrigued as I pored over what details were visible. 

I'm guessing it was a random pick up from one of Brum's local vinyl emporia, despite being an unusually musically curious lot barely out of our teens, with a shared love of all things '60s and early '70s. But it landed in the right hands and was listened to obsessively - particularly the opener (above) and the track it segued into You're So Young (below). The former's thrilling intro built into an irresistibly funky jazz-rock cacophany, the wailing backing vocals of Julie Driscoll featuring heavily, alongside some punchy horns. The latter lapped in on its heals, swelling to a truly memorable fade.

As far as I'm aware, we all remained musically opened-minded in the ensuing years. For myself, anyway, receiving that album, as strange and exotic as it seemed at the time (and still does), was particularly formative.

Fab Friday / 1

An occasional weekend rummage around the long boxed-up scrapbooks.

They'll never be able to copy this?  Ah, hindsight...

It will soon be your tomorrow...

So... 2012. From unpromising beginnings it turned out to be pretty spectacular, both musically and otherwise.

Musical highlights?

• Finally getting to see a bona fide genius and his band in the flesh. Despite the trench-like conditions, my gig of the year.
• Two trips to Shepherd’s Bush Empire: one eagerly-anticipated and memorable - a stage crammed with fans and former associates of Marc Bolan, anchored by the dependably ace T.Rextasy. The other, unexpected – a stage heavy with the weight of immense musicianship and a set that turned out to be mostly unfamiliar. Both shows experienced from the Gods, but no less enjoyable for it.
• My first trip to Dublin and a 70th birthday show to remember.
• Catching up with Pugwash, a decade after encountering them for the first time.
• Hearing this performed live. Goosebump-inducing.
• Seeing my favourite Monkee. Both a highlight and a lowlight – sadly the overbearing synths and click-tracks tainted what could have been a wonderful night. The show cried out for real instruments, a point driven home when a Red Rhodes sample was ‘flown in’ at the end. Ah, what could have been...
• A chance to hear the guys behind this book expound upon the history of Abbey Road, in Studio Two no less. Surrounded by banks of vintage recording gear and instruments used on so many Beatles’ recordings. Beatlefan heaven.
• Enjoying the Magical Mystery Tour Arena documentary (followed by the film itself) with friends at the National Film Theatre. Unexpectedly encountering a Beatle earlier the same day...

Non-musical highlights
In Olympic year, spending ‘Super Saturday’ soaking up the atmosphere in Hyde Park.

Lowlights
RIP Robin Gibb, Davy Jones, Dave Brubeck, Ravi Shankar...

2013...?
Continued new adventures. Perhaps another summer trip or two to the South Bank?