tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35790714220668472262024-03-06T11:07:17.929+00:00Your Heart Out… your heart outYr Heartouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13069476478838746714noreply@blogger.comBlogger368125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3579071422066847226.post-90236903525434865602022-10-31T11:48:00.000+00:002022-10-31T11:48:39.610+00:00Out of the Darkness (Part Five)<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkZnfkJjpDaZarQawHhiasYATkHODwokTfMAARgKABAzSqUNmn0VP5mz7qAJek90ni4QWKwfkvl1Xn2rRxwNatV-PLBqwECodTYMt5HDZOPx3XYI3wuCeDNwewTWgr5wR3yW7SMHX2t06XccDC3IMWun8sODsKEG-a_73CwmKV4PXTzjb4wIQHgpw_/s435/Chico%20Em%20Cy%20(2).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="435" data-original-width="434" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkZnfkJjpDaZarQawHhiasYATkHODwokTfMAARgKABAzSqUNmn0VP5mz7qAJek90ni4QWKwfkvl1Xn2rRxwNatV-PLBqwECodTYMt5HDZOPx3XYI3wuCeDNwewTWgr5wR3yW7SMHX2t06XccDC3IMWun8sODsKEG-a_73CwmKV4PXTzjb4wIQHgpw_/s320/Chico%20Em%20Cy%20(2).jpg" width="319" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">One of the saving
graces in this new dark age is an eternal awareness that whatever happens there
is still <i>so much</i> inspiration to discover in our world of music and
books. Sometimes the fun is in the hunting. Sometimes we simply do not even realise
what’s right under our noses. I need to plead guilty to the latter, with an old
CD from 1991 called <i>Chico Em Cy</i> which is quite simply the brilliant Brazilian
close harmony vocal group Quarteto Em Cy singing selections from the Chico
Buarque songbook. And it is ridiculously beautiful. At times, yes, there is
magic to be found in the pending pile, among all those records and books we
haven’t quite got round to yet.<span></span></span></span></p><a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">I know some people
claim that they can remember where they bought every one of the records they
own or that they know where they were when they first heard a particular song.
Lucky them. I genuinely do not remember buying this Quarteto Em Cy CD, and I have
no recollection of hearing it until recently, but my god I have been making up
for lost time. It has been a lifeline.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Ever since my
fascination with Brazilian music was piqued by the likes of Weekend, Pale
Fountains, ACR, and so on, way back when, I have felt like I am putting
together a giant jigsaw without even having a picture to follow. Even as recently
as 20-odd years ago (which seems like yesterday to me) it was difficult to get
information let alone records. The DJ Joe Sixpack and his<i> Slipcue</i> guide
to Brazilian music was, back then, one of the few sources where you could
readily obtain a sense of who released what, when, and where, though early on
it was clear our tastes would be rather different. I seem to recall he was not
a fan of Quarteto Em Cy at all, which I found hard to handle.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">I also remember with
fondness that the Brazilian record shop and label Bizarre Music had an online illustrated
discography of the Elenco label, which coincided with a wave of CD reissues. Thankfully
I printed off a copy at work, which I still have, as the website no longer
seems to exist. Does the record shop? Anyway, I suspect that might be where I
fell in love with Quarteto Em Cy, in the pages of that discography with the
photos of César Villela’s beautiful (mainly) monochrome sleeve designs. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">It was fortuitous
that in the early years of the new millennium, via eBay and Amazon Marketplace
dealers, it was easy to get cheap CDs from the States and Brazil, due to the very
favourable exchange rates (nearly two US dollars to the pound back in 2004!)
and lovely low postage costs. It was also easy to get carried away. I am
guessing that’s how and when I got the <i>Chico Em Cy</i> CD, and somehow it
just got filed away for future use. There was, after all, so much Brazilian
music from the 1960s and 1970s to explore and try to make sense of before
worrying about the 1990s.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Maybe the <i>Chico Em
Cy</i> CD didn’t look very promising, and there were probably fears about
1980s/90s production values. It was released by CID Digital Laser, and doesn’t
feel special in terms of presentation. Were they a budget label? I don’t know. On
the cover the quartet pose with Chico Buarque wearing the strip of Politheama,
which is a football club I think Chico owns. It’s funny, and this maybe another
reason why the CD was overlooked, how I have not yet given as much time to
Chico’s work as I have other Brazilian greats like Milton, Edu Lobo, Joyce,
Marcos Valle, and so on. And yet Chico’s <i>Construção</i> LP from 1971 is one
I rate particularly highly. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">The <i>Chico Em Cy</i>
set, it turns out, works wonderfully because the arrangements are so very
low-key, leaving just the blend of beautiful voices with softly strummed acoustic
guitars and, on occasions, a particularly pleasing rhythm section you hardly
notice. This, I believe, is a lot to do with the vision of Célia Vaz who was
musical director for Quarteto Em Cy at the time. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For me the highlight of the set is the
performance of the Chico Buarque and Milton Nascimento song ‘O Cio da Terra’ which
closes the record. I think it is astonishing. Every time I listen to it, I am
just left speechless and spellbound. And I have listened to it a lot recently.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">It is probably fair
to say that generally Quarteto Em Cy’s recordings were very pop, pretty perky,
and extremely easy listening, which is fine. But just occasionally they could
tap into something more spiritual. The version of Edu Lobo’s ‘Incelensa’ on
their eponymous 1972 LP is a brilliant example. And this beautifully stark
recording of ‘O Cio da Terra’ is an even better example, as its celestial
harmonies become something sacred, something incredibly moving, belonging to a
world where motets, masses, antiphons and anthems become part of MPB.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Oh my, ‘O Cia da
Terra’ is such an incredible composition. It has a real hymn-like quality.
There is an exceptionally beautiful Jaime & Nair version on their Milton
Nascimento tribute LP, recorded in the late 1970s for the Talento Brasileiro
series, an incredibly wonderful record. Somehow ‘O Cia’ is one of those songs
where you have a sense of knowing it forever while, more prosaically, I
probably first heard it, Milton and Chico together, as a bonus track on a CD
reissue of Milton’s 1976 LP <i>Geraes</i>, which I tracked down after Georgia
Anne Muldrow mentioned it was one of her mum’s favourites. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">So, Célia Vaz: you
may know more than me. She has had close links with Joe Davis’ Far Out label,
which is just one reason why it seems so odd that her debut LP, 1981’s <i>Mutação,
</i>is not available, unless you have a lot more money than I do. It’s such a
great record, shooting off in several directions, with some elaborate and
inventive arrangements. It would appeal to fans of Joyce’s contemporaneous
recordings and to those who love ECM releases from that time. It even features Pat
Metheny on the title track. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Apparently Pat and
Célia were friends in Boston. She went to the Berklee College of Music, and he
taught there. They got on, and would play shows together, and learn from one
another, which is cool. And, yeah, this record by Célia needs to be more
readily available, and not just as an expensive vinyl affair. Perhaps
predictably my favourite track on the LP is her ridiculously gorgeous choral
work ‘Ave Marina’ featuring the large-scale vocal ensemble Céu da Boca, who
from the very little I know seem to have been quite something.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Quite probably I
first came across Célia’s name via the 1994 Soul Jazz CD <i>Brasil</i>, one of
those early releases on the label that has such a great cover. Rather than simply
reissuing one of the classic Brazilian LPs, Stuart Baker & co. went out to
record some of the greats for a new project. Joyce was among those taking part,
and a couple of tracks feature Célia Vaz and Wanda Sá singing and playing
together beautifully. I think this would have been one of the first times Wanda
had recorded since she appeared on Paul Desmond’s <i>From the Hot Afternoon</i>
and Edu Lobo’s <i>Cantiga de Longe. </i>Life got in the way, and from what I
can gather she had no regrets about this extended sabbatical.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Being spectacularly
slow on the uptake it wasn’t until this year that I realised Célia and Wanda’s
wonderful rendition of Dori Caymmi’s ‘Amazon River’ for Soul Jazz acts as the
perfect scene setter for a CD they made together in 1994 (now sadly not in
general circulation, physically) called <i>Brasileiras</i>. It is a beautiful
stark record, mostly just Célia and Wanda singing together and playing acoustic
guitars, with just an occasional pinch of percussion for flavour. It is just
gorgeous, and for once the presence of special guests and friends (Gal Costa,
Nana Caymmi, Quarteto Em Cy, and best of all Joyce joining in on her own ‘Tardes
Cariocas’, the title track of what is many days my favourite record of hers) does
not seem intrusive and doesn’t break the spell.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">So, yeah, if you get
a chance, have a listen. Will it change your life? Possibly. Probably not. But
it is a beautiful collection. I am reminded of this quote: “This is not heaven.
This is not perfection. But it is a small moment of pleasure in a world more
commonly disposed to pain, and is to be treasured.” That’s something the
retired spy Solomon Dortmund says in Mick Herron’s novella <i>The Drop. </i>It’s
a little passage I copied out and stuck up on the wall in the hall here where
the telephone used to be. It is a little thing that helps. Like Mick Herron’s
books help. His Slough House series has been such a vital and subversive source
of enjoyment. And yet I can’t help recalling that, when the local library had
the first couple of titles in the series, I thought they wouldn’t be for me.</span><span face="Century Gothic, sans-serif"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">Ah well. Feelings
will change. We’re helpless. They must. Like once I would have been writing
hundreds of words here about the incredible charm of a Quarteto Em Cy clip from
1967 where they perform Sidney Miller’s ‘O Circo’ with mod gamine crops,
looking and sounding divine. Now I only have time for </span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6RldEsh9AVM"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">1991 footage of the
group performing ‘O Cia da Terra’</span></a></span><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;"> which, come to think
of it, is the perfect thing to love you and leave you with. </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Yr Heartouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13069476478838746714noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3579071422066847226.post-61798410523737909902022-10-16T13:37:00.000+01:002022-10-16T13:37:00.619+01:00Out of the Darkness (Part Four)<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9RLlRhfM05Jt2e5GEjx3nmauSStOTR_2NIxO_-nurQWNW9lxlqDsn3agrhTMvNlDfOc4bm7MOFLnj9GDZxZglf40WPIefyT40FWBnPDvwmm79l0QC59nvLY1nVasF8_mDThC7MO_0QEoi_PR6t-Zm_j36TUVisbHoNjAwtCrw3xX46wjxUGNb4l7n/s304/Rachel%20Elliott%20(3).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="304" data-original-width="303" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9RLlRhfM05Jt2e5GEjx3nmauSStOTR_2NIxO_-nurQWNW9lxlqDsn3agrhTMvNlDfOc4bm7MOFLnj9GDZxZglf40WPIefyT40FWBnPDvwmm79l0QC59nvLY1nVasF8_mDThC7MO_0QEoi_PR6t-Zm_j36TUVisbHoNjAwtCrw3xX46wjxUGNb4l7n/s1600/Rachel%20Elliott%20(3).jpg" width="303" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">In these new dark
times we chase our pleasures here and dig for treasures there, but sometimes
they find us. <i>That’s</i> what happened with Rachel Elliott’s <i>Flamingo</i>
which is very much my favourite book of recent times. It is a quiet, revelatory
novel, which is like a warm hug. Reading it will leave you with a glorious inner
glow, though the tears will surely flow.<span></span></span></span></p><a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;"> <o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;"><i><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">Flamingo</span></i><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">
is pretty fantastic, a rather special book which found me at just the right
time. She is now one of my favourite writers, but I didn’t know of Rachel’s work
before. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have since found out that all
three of her novels are great, and the first, <i>Whispers Through a Megaphone</i>,
mentions in passing Violent Femmes’ ‘Good Feeling’. I don’t want to read too
much into it, but that reference made me very happy, as I love that song so
much, and indeed that whole <i>Violent Femmes</i> LP from 1983.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mind you, it did make me feel rather guilty
as I’d not listened to that record much since the mid-1980s, by which time I’d played
it to death. But I have a lingering fondness for it. It was, after all, probably
the first LP I ever wrote about.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">The Violent Femmes’
debut seemed to come out of nowhere, didn’t seem to be part of anything, and
was like a blast of fresh air on a stultifying muggy day. Over here it was
released on Rough Trade, who were at their peak in 1983, and the LP seemed like
nothing else at the time. Brattish as hell, sure, but great fun. There were
lots of little things to love, like the “third verse same as the first”
Herman’s Hermits via the Ramones reference. And I can remember making a lot out
of perceived connections to Jonathan Richman, the Velvets, Voidoids and rickety-rackety
rockabilly, those yellow Sun records from Nashville, which was very much going
against the grain. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">The 1980s eh? From
Gordon Gano to Gordon Gekko in the space of a few years. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I genuinely don’t know anything much about
Violent Femmes or what they did next. I don’t recall hearing any other records
by them. I have no idea what happened to them, and refuse to look it up. I do recall
a story about Chrissie Hynde finding them busking outside a Milwaukee drugstore.
I might have made that up though. I seem to remember them doing a busking tour
of London which I missed. Beyond that, I don’t know. I really don’t. Probably
it’s better not knowing. I like it that way. I now aspire to know less about other
bands and labels I loved back then. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">To be honest, I don’t
know much about Rachel Elliott either. I know her <i>Flamingo</i> came out this
year. I am aware it made the longlist for the Women’s Prize for Fiction. I know
I found it on display in the ‘new releases’ section of our local library. The
flamingos on the cover seemed to be waving at me, trying to attract my
attention. Who am I to resist a pretty flamingo? When I read the book (Read?
Devoured more like!) I realised that chancing upon it in a library on a bad day
was incredibly appropriate and, actually, it couldn’t be more fitting. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">It's a lovely book,
truly “medicine for the soul”, which starts in a library with a man called Daniel
who is broken. That’s Rachel’s word, not just mine. Oddly this book found me
just when I was constantly playing Michael Head’s ‘Broken Beauty’. Rachel is
fantastic at writing about broken people, how they came to be broken, how they
can be mended, how to help us understand why they came undone. She is great at writing
about the wounded, the lost, those awkward misfits, and all the mistakes, misunderstandings,
misinterpretations, misapprehensions, and the inevitable consequences.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;"><i><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">Flamingo</span></i><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">
is very me, with its charity shops and libraries, and think what you like but I
am reclaiming the word ‘lovely’ for it. There are some lovely people in
Rachel’s books, and some unusually lovely men. My favourite is Leslie in <i>Flamingo</i>
who is quiet, gentle, kind, considerate, placatory, diffident, but a survivor
and a man of mystery, if only to himself and his family. I also like Lesley’s
daughter Rae with her Leonard Cohen songs and her wet wipes and Tunnock’s
teacakes. I like her internal monologues, and I like it where the story replies
to her and says: “Yes to your slow boats, your middle of nowhere, your refusal
to keep up with the times.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">At one point Rachel
writes that Daniel is a boy in water being thrown a rope. I might add that not
everyone is as lucky. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the book Daniel
leaves the library and returns to Norfolk, to his sanctuary, his safe place, to
some good people from the fearless years. I am trying not to give the story
away. Rachel is a great storyteller. To steal her words, this story is “easy
and fun and poignant and sad.” It’s inventive too. As Rachel says: “All
sentences are a kind of music. They can be sung and heard in boundless ways.” So,
at times, we head into the abstract, where we can be playful, with words,
syntax, structure. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">One of my favourite
parts is where Leslie puts on an Ella LP “which he always does when he is in a
good mood.” And, it’s “as though Ella Fitzgerald has nothing to do with old
times, as if she’s modern and alive and relevant as ever, which in so many ways
she is.” I like that. I’m pleased it’s there as not everyone has been kind
about Ella of late. I also like this passage, about Daniel as a boy: “Someone
in the distance is playing a trumpet. To Daniel it sounds old-fashioned, like a
moment of great importance, a time to stand up straight, something to do with
honour and nostalgia, surely to do with respect. All this from a solitary
trumpet.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">I guess, inevitably,
that makes me think of Miles. <i>Sketches of Spain</i> or something. And while
we’re on the corner of Miles and Gil, I have to mention ‘Where Flamingos Fly’.
The ones in Rachel’s book are ornamental, symbolic, so probably won’t fly
anywhere, but there is a tenuous link to Gil’s flamboyance of flamingos (I
learnt that collective noun from Rachel). Gil seems to have had a thing about
that composition, ‘Where Flamingos Fly’, and would keep returning to it. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Back in 1961 Gil leads
his orchestra through the fantastic version of ‘Where Flamingos Fly’ that’s at
the heart of his early Impulse! classic <i>Out of the Cool</i>, and he returned
to it again a decade later when it became the title track of a set that wasn’t
mixed and released until 1981, when it was completed in Blank Tapes Recording
Studio, which would have been at the peak of the ZE ‘mutant disco’ activity with
Bob Blank in there. Talk about joining the dots. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">It is only recently I
have got a CD of Gil’s <i>Where Flamingos Fly</i> set, and I have become
totally wrapped up in it. Everything about it is great. There are some
wonderfully enlightening liner notes taken from an interview with Gil. I love
where he talks about the adaptation of Moacir Santos’ ‘Naña’ and says he first
heard it on “an album by a Brazilian girl named Nara” and liked the tune. I
know what he means. It’s one of the great Brazilian wordless vocal classics. I
am guessing it is Nara Leão’s 1964 Elenco LP <i>Nara</i> he is referring to. I
have it on a CD. Oh for the days in the early 2000s when you could get Elenco
CDs like this for next-to-nothing from Brazil and not have to take out a bank
loan to cover the postage costs. Anyway, I love the idea of Gil listening to
this record. To steal one of Rachel Elliott’s lines: it’s nothing big or
remarkable. But it touches my weary heart, deeply.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">And the version of
‘Where Flamingos Fly’ on here is gorgeous. It is such a beautiful song. Gil
first recorded it, elegantly, back in 1956 with Helen Merrill for their impeccable
<i>Dream of You</i> set. They would return to it in 1987 for their <i>Collaboration</i>.
It’s taken me a long time to realise, but I think this later version is even
more exquisite, being slower, sadder, deeper, wiser. I think you need to be
older to understand. And it is a strange song, really. It’s very much a torch
song, but there is a twist. A lover is leaving, but not in the usual way. This
one is being deported, as an illegal immigrant, and sent back to the islands
where flamingos fly. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">I am thinking he’s
bound for Haiti, being sent back to where he desperately wanted to escape from.
I don’t know why. The song, ‘Where Flamingos Fly’, was composed by the jazz
musician John Benson Brooks with (I think his wife) Elthea Peale and with Harold
Courlander. Courlander was quite a guy. A writer, anthropologist, folklorist, and
many more things, who had a particular passion for Haiti and made many field
recordings there. In the early 1950s Folkways released a series of LPs
featuring these, including <i>Haitian Piano with Fabre Duroseau</i> and, as Gil
acknowledged, it is on there that the roots of ‘Where Flamingos Fly’ lie. That’s
<i>probably</i> why I think of Haiti when I hear the song.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">I was just thinking
it was through Weekend and their <i>Live at Ronnie Scott’s</i> set that I first
became aware of ‘Where Flamingos Fly’. It’s a song that’s perfect for Alison
Statton to sing, and there are some beautiful guitar figures, sort of like icy
raindrops on your neck, from Simon Booth, and special guest Keith Tippett
excels on piano, finding all sorts of wonderful tributaries to go off and
explore. Another Rough Trade recording from 1983, no less, though I confess I
was blithely unaware of it at the time. I was probably too busy dancing to my Violent
Femmes LP. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, as the great Barbara
Lewis sang, I still remember the feeling. It was a good one. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><br /><p></p>Yr Heartouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13069476478838746714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3579071422066847226.post-31255288657766708112022-10-07T18:18:00.000+01:002022-10-07T18:18:38.454+01:00Out of the Darkness (Part Three)<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXqgncXyspdMmTpyghblsNuJteaMt0h6iAz6e8kYgAcSUQOMcjE0_kktqKWyC3hJaBDRCgXqmlUO2T7z8milrXxWoqnb6a1he_gdJ2KzKaxg9-Cb9ZABx-GSWBiEjNoygrt9C22EtAbSb7_C8m1ikn47bbFA5_UXTO111Z46qaLQrG5e_MpMY8J9J8/s738/Esther%20Ofarim.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="738" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXqgncXyspdMmTpyghblsNuJteaMt0h6iAz6e8kYgAcSUQOMcjE0_kktqKWyC3hJaBDRCgXqmlUO2T7z8milrXxWoqnb6a1he_gdJ2KzKaxg9-Cb9ZABx-GSWBiEjNoygrt9C22EtAbSb7_C8m1ikn47bbFA5_UXTO111Z46qaLQrG5e_MpMY8J9J8/s320/Esther%20Ofarim.png" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">If this is to be a
series celebrating what gets us through these new dark times then it would be
wrong to avoid mentioning the ridiculous number of novels that I have read over
the past year by Dorothy B. Hughes and Geoffrey Household. Books I would have
had no idea even existed a year or so ago, but which have been the source of
incredible pleasure, and which have left me feeling a huge amount of admiration
for their writers’ use of imagination and words, and their ability to entertain
and inspire. Generalising wildly, these two authors are probably best-known for
one title each, and arguably the film versions of these are better known than
the books, and yet I have enjoyed many other works by them far more. I don’t
know what that says about me.<span></span></span></span></p><a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Nowadays many of Dorothy
B. Hughes’ less well-known books can be easily or affordably read on Kindle. There
are, I think, ten Dorothy B. Hughes titles available through the
under-appreciated and slightly misleadingly named The Murder Room, an Orion
digital imprint, all at below £4 a go. For a long while all I had read by her
was the now celebrated novel, <i>In A Lonely Place</i>, which I got to while working
back via the New Order song, and then the Nicholas Ray film starring Bogart and
Gloria Grahame the suicide blonde, the subject of Peter Turner’s brilliant <i>Film
Stars Don’t Die in Liverpool</i>. Back then <i>In a Lonely Place</i> was only
available as an import paperback via The Feminist Press’ Femmes Fatales ‘Women
Write Pulp’ series which I strongly suspect I got my copy of one lunch-hour in Judd
Books near Euston, a remarkable shop, which makes me think of happy times
inside my mind: “Music and writing, words, memories, memories way back.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Dorothy B. Hughes’
writing is incredible, I think. Sure, her work could be classed as suspense or
mystery or crime fiction. Maybe she wrote thrillers, maybe her books were noir
or pulp, but so much of the hard-boiled stuff makes you wince whereas Hughes wrote
what is enduringly classic literature, and she could take the reader to places
psychologically and emotionally other writers wouldn’t be able to even imagine,
for she went deeper, was more poetic, and she could really write. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">I have become rather
obsessed with her New York-centric wartime titles, which The Murder Room has
made available, a remarkable run of books that were patriotic perhaps, but
there’s something more, something deeply personal in her vehement anti-fascism.
There are the fifth columnists and enemy spies in 1941’s <i>The Bamboo Blonde</i>,
and then there’s <i>The Fallen Sparrow</i>, whose avenging hero is a veteran of
the International Brigade, who’d been fighting in the Spanish Civil War, and
was captured and handed over to the Gestapo. And that’s just the background
story. <i>The Fallen Sparrow</i> is, incidentally, dedicated to Eric Ambler, “2<sup>nd</sup>
Lieutenant Royal Artillery, somewhere in England, because he has no book this
year”. Hughes’ writing is often likened to Ambler’s, so it’s nice to see there
was a real-time bond, and hopefully mutual appreciation.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Her novel <i>The
Delicate Ape</i> deals with post-war politics, and the fear of a resurgence of
fascism in a defeated Germany, in the shadows of Allied complacency. That makes
sense, until you remember this book was published in 1944, considerably before
the war was over. The ending is quite striking, and I don’t think it’s giving
too much away in quoting it here: “He knew the fight must be fought over and
again, each year, each day, each minute. The beast would snarl anew, the
delicate ape would scheme. Man must fight on until peace was as fixed on the
earth as the stars were fixed in the cosmos.” Amen! And then, just when you
think you have Hughes worked out, you find her other 1944 anti-fascist book <i>Johnnie,
</i>which turns out to be pure farce, and as funny as any P.G. Wodehouse New
York novel, which is not something I remember reading about Dorothy B. Hughes
before. Incidentally, in <i>Johnnie</i> she writes about the New Order in a way
which is a reminder of the old brouhaha over the poor choice of group name.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">And then, yes, Geoffrey
Household, who also has many of his books available now digitally via Orion and
The Murder Room. I assume that if he<i> is</i> a household name it is for <i>Rogue
Male</i>, the story which begins with a very-English sportsman trying to
assassinate a fascist dictator (who is clearly Hitler). It’s a book written
pre-WW2, but after the war was over Household would go on to write many, many
more novels. While it is <i>Rogue Male</i>, with its celebrated depictions of
the hero being pursued through the Dorset countryside by Nazis, which endures,
Household would write plenty of other wonderfully entertaining adventures that
I like more. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Geoffrey Household
said that he considered his war against the Nazis to be a personal vendetta.
And, credit to him, he was almost 40 when he enlisted in 1939 before war broke
out. He spent WW2 in intelligence and security work and seems to have had a colourful
and lively time of it. He did much of his service in the Middle East, which
will have provided plenty of background for his excellent novel <i>Doom’s
Caravan</i> and some of his superb short stories which are set in that region. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">He could certainly
create a cracking yarn. Among his best are <i>A Rough Shoot</i>, which features
oddly UKIP-like Establishment neo-fascists, and <i>Watcher in the Shadows</i> which
has as its background the impact of undercover work in WW2 and its
ramifications. Both books also feature glorious pursuits through the English countryside
for those that love such things. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">I guess it would be
fair to describe Household as being an old-school English Gentleman: cultured,
privileged perhaps, maybe an enlightened patrician, certainly a wilful non-conformist
and bon vivant, cultured and confident, but also a true internationalist (his
choice of word, not just mine) who was passionate about a Europe without
frontiers, something he focuses on in his excellent short story collection <i>Europe
As It Was</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">As a young man,
between the wars, he was an adventurer and travelled extensively, working
abroad in various exotic locations where he absorbed the local colour and
customs with gusto. In another age he might have been a Captain Oates or a Roger
Eagle type figure. He would certainly be appalled today by the global growth of
populism and the alarming rise of the Right in Hungary, Sweden, Italy and
indeed here in post-Brexit Britain. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Among the Household
titles you can currently buy for less than a pound on Kindle are <i>The Three
Sentinels </i>and <i>The Last Seven Days of Georges Rivac</i>. Both are
wonderful and wise, and perhaps can be cited as prime examples of his schtick,
which was to write entertaining adventures featuring unsuspecting, decent,
principled (and on the face of it, at least) ordinary chaps who get inadvertently
caught up in absurdly awkward and occasionally preposterous dangerous
situations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Quite probably my
personal favourite Household book is his <i>Rogue Justice</i>. It is not
universally loved. Who cares? It is quixotic, yes, absurdly romantic,
certainly. And far-fetched? Oh yes. Fine. I guess not everyone wanted a sequel (to
<i>Rogue Male</i>) forty years on, written when Geoffrey was 80-odd, but it
serves as a moving full-stop or coda to his life and beliefs. And I am a sucker
for stories of the people’s unofficial resistance to the Nazis. As Household’s
hero wages his personal war against fascism, we come across a colourful
international cast of partisans, who are sometimes aristocratic “resisters of
rank” horrified by the vulgarity and evil of the Nazis. And our hero certainly
gets about, travelling through (if I remember rightly) Poland, Slovakia,
Rumania, Turkey, Greece, Albania, and Palestine, before the end is in sight. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">While reading the
book, and while writing this, I have been haunted by Esther Ofarim singing ‘The
Partisan’, which is I think one of the most moving things in existence. It’s an
extraordinary song, and its provenance is as intriguing, from its origins in
Russian, written and sung by a French woman, Anna Marly, in exile in London
during WW2, through its English adaptation by American tin pan alley cat Hy
Zaret to Leonard Cohen giving it a new lease of life in 1969. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Esther Ofarim first
recorded ‘The Partisan’ with Wally Stott (one of several connections between
Esther and Scott Walker) for a 1969 LP, simply called <i>Esther Ofarim</i>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If the album was recorded to capitalise on the
success of Esther’s big hit with Abi (yeah, that one!) then it was a
wonderfully strange way to do so, featuring a truly international set of songs,
from Lassus to Ringo, via Hebrew ballads, Brecht and John Jacob Niles. She can
also be seen singing ‘The Partisan’ in a mesmerising German TV clip with a
gamine crop, performing in front of a collage of revolutionaries’ names.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Esther returned to
the song, as ‘The Song of the French Partisan’, for her 1972 LP, which was
recorded in London with the producer Bob Johnston, another Leonard Cohen
connection. Actually, I yearn for a collection of Esther sings Cohen as much as
I do for a Billy Fury sings Jimmy Campbell one. She seems to have really been
able to get inside Leonard’s songs.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">The 1972 version of
‘The Partisan’ contains a wonderfully subtle change of lyrics: from “I have lost
my wife and children” to “I have given up my children.” This changes the song’s
dynamic entirely, as Esther herself becomes part of the narrative. She sings as
one of the hunted female Jewish members of the Resistance who so bravely and clandestinely
fought the Nazis and their appeasers. It is quite incredibly poignant that way
around. I think this is the version she has continued </span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HulUY7i9CBU"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">to sing down the years</span></a><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">.
Please excuse my tears.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">The chilling,
spinetingling arrangement was by Nick Harrison, about whom I know very little.
I presume this is the same man that created wonderful arrangements, of strings
and things, for cult favourites like Julie Covington’s <i>The Beautiful Changes
</i>and Mandy More’s <i>But That Is Me</i>, and I strongly suspect Jimmy
Campbell’s <i>Half Baked</i>, not to mention the Stones’ ‘Angie’ and the Real
Thing’s ‘Children of the Ghetto’. I could be wrong. I could be right. And,
yeah, it is hardly surprising his work with Esther is so beautiful. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Robert Gildea, in his
excellent history of the French Resistance, <i>Fighters in the Shadows</i> (and
that sounds like a line from ‘The Partisan’ doesn’t it?), wrote that “extraordinary
circumstances created possibilities for extraordinary deeds.” How would we have
acted in those circumstances? I guess, or rather hope, we will never know,
though we may face personal adversity that tests us. But I suspect it is the
kind of question that lies at the heart of some of those wonderful books by
Dorothy B. Hughes and Geoffrey Household, which is part of their appeal for me.
<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><br /><p></p>Yr Heartouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13069476478838746714noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3579071422066847226.post-74628515841263113282022-09-19T18:27:00.000+01:002022-09-19T18:27:08.759+01:00Out of the Darkness (Part Two)<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIFnG32n4BkwaMeiW_7Yzu52ifhApqHf3y0lTQRNaM9lkrF3EjbhNeNfu4MvTgADLq6_PoxHpZszB8S6M6QL_Lqz5SCEoNecIdLsR16UfKI66OCulDNJpDcnbs7mtoXNmdLt9Bkz8UImrNe98OvNLep2oBnznVAI1ikdCC89qXmeK0NvyfLWY4Grdl/s365/Revelation%20(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="166" data-original-width="365" height="146" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIFnG32n4BkwaMeiW_7Yzu52ifhApqHf3y0lTQRNaM9lkrF3EjbhNeNfu4MvTgADLq6_PoxHpZszB8S6M6QL_Lqz5SCEoNecIdLsR16UfKI66OCulDNJpDcnbs7mtoXNmdLt9Bkz8UImrNe98OvNLep2oBnznVAI1ikdCC89qXmeK0NvyfLWY4Grdl/s320/Revelation%20(2).jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">In these new dark
times my favourite therapeutic thing is a song called ‘Never Shun Dem’ from
1979 by Revelation, a London reggae outfit about whom I can tell you very little.
But this track is phenomenal, with its awkward rhythmic patterns, a sort of
twist on ‘Take Five’, and heavenly female choir. It really is glorious. Healing
sounds, indeed.</span></span></p><a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">The recording can be
found on an LP by Revelation called <i>Book of Revelation</i>, which was
released by the UK label Burning Sounds (and that always makes me think of the
Rich Kids song) which I believe had connections to former Trojan personnel.
It’s a great LP, with a pretty straight split between lovers rock and the more
militant conscious themes. What makes that LP special is the selection of tracks
that feature a female vocal trio, like ‘Never Shun Dem’ does.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">The trio are credited
as being Carol (Sleepy) Grey, Valerie Shakes and Iris (Menace) Cirwan. Valerie
co-wrote a few of the tracks on <i>Book of Revelation</i> too, including ‘Never
Shun Dem’. Seeing the names Valerie and Iris I can’t help thinking of Valerie Skeete
and Vyris Edghill of Akabu, the female reggae group with long-standing On-U
Sound links. It may be absurd to make such connections, and no amount of
Googling, squinting at old Singers and Players photos, and close listening help
the cause, but there you go. That’s the sort of thing that helps time pass by.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">A new iteration of
Burning Sounds has reissued the Revelation LP on a CD. It is great value as it
comes with another CD, featuring the complementary dub set <i>Variation on a
Theme</i>, which isn’t a strict dub set as it features additional
instrumentation. The set was released, again in 1979, by Burning Vibration, a
subsidiary of Burning Sounds. Both of these Revelation sets, incidentally, were
brilliantly engineered and mixed by the great Mark Angelo Lusardi, who has a
wealth of wonderful connections to keep us amused, from Subway Sect and PiL to Creation
Rebel and Black Slate, from Killing Joke to Carroll Thompson, and many, many
more. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">The version of ‘Never
Shun Dem’ shorn of the singing is eerie with the keyboards shimmering like Bill
Evans has waltzed into the studio and is in deep concentration at the electric
keyboard. The additional instrumentation on the dub set includes some brilliant
performances by saxophonist Ray Carless, whose playing provides a sort of a
ghost dance that tracks memories of the stripped-away vocal lines. Or, to put
it another way, he continues the tradition of jazz musicians reinventing torch
songs without the words. I assume there was an East London connection between
Ray and the group, and that there was a fairly fluid relationship between the
young jazz players and the reggae outfits in the area at that time.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">The world lost Ray
very recently, but his name you’ll know, from Incognito to Carroll Thompson, or
The Redskins to the Jazz Warriors, and many more. He even had his own minor hit
in 1981 with the gorgeous ‘Tarantula Walk’ which came out at the height of the
jazz-funk thing and appears on the second of Beggars Banquet’s highly
successful Brit Funk compilations. One blast of the track and you are back in
the world of wedges, Flicks, Robbie Vincent, Greg Edwards, Chris Hill, and Ford
Capris with Maze window stickers. Strange times, which you were well-aware of
even if you were too busy listening to Dexys and The Sound of Young Scotland. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">I like the
meandering, the reflective, the sort of singing approach Ray has to playing the
sax on the Revelation dub set. Coming from a starting point of an idea of jazz
being a wild blast it is now far more appealing and healing to listen to the
subtler, softer, silkier sounds. For example, among my very favourite things
right now is a mid-1960s quartet of LPs the saxophonist Paul Desmond made for
RCA Victor as part of a quartet featuring Jim Hall on guitar and Connie Kay on
drums, and that is a beautiful combination. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">There’s a great Gene
Lees essay on Paul Desmond where Paul jokes about this series of LPs being
“disastrous” as far as the record company was concerned. Presumably they
thought he could replicate the success of his composition ‘Take Five’. I have
no idea how well these LPs sold, but discovering them recently has been a
timely revelation. They are unimpeachably beautiful, and perfect for getting
lost inside. They also seem to hint at a better, more enlightened world, which
probably never existed, but nevertheless they embody a cool elegance,
sophistication, courteousness, and class that is at odds with so much around
us. Neither Paul Desmond or Jim Hall at this time looked like I once imagined
jazz musicians should look, but now it’s easy to see this was far more
revolutionary and subversive, just like their meditative music. The interplay
between the two is remarkable, and some of Connie’s sticks work sounds
incredibly like it was paving the way for some of the great reggae drummers.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">It is so serendipitous
that, listening to that era’s Paul Desmond recordings so much, I find he gets a
mention in one of John MacDonald’s excellent Travis McGee novels, <i>Pale Grey
for Guilt</i>, where our hero moans about the dismal state of FM radio: “As I
was about to give up I found some pleasant eccentric, or somebody who’d grabbed
the wrong record, playing Brubeck doing Cole Porter, and I caught it just as he
opened up ‘Love for Sale’ in a fine and gentle manner, and then handed it
delicately over to Desmond, who set up a witty dialogue with Joe Morello.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">It's a good book for
musical mentions, actually. Elsewhere in it his lady love browses his LPs and
picks out George Van Eps’<i> On Guitar</i>, and the Modern Jazz Quartet’s <i>Blues
at Carnegie Hall</i>, while later he plays a tape of Julian Bream’s classical
guitar recordings, which is nice. I like Travis McGee an awful lot. I’ve been
reading one a month this year, partly because I wanted to see how far life
would let me get in the series, starting at the beginning, and mostly because I
am addicted. I read <i>The Deep Blue Goodbye</i>, the first one, at the start
of the year, and I loved it. It was not at all what I expected. And I really
did not want to endure any more hard-bitten, depressed, drunk detectives, which
is kind of what I imagined. Travis McGee may be many things but a downbeat
sleuth he certainly is not. In fact, I can’t think of anyone who was like
Travis before John MacDonald invented him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">There are, I think,
21 books in the series, published over a period of 21 years, so 1964 to 1985. They
seem to be forming a remarkable document of those times, from the death of JFK
to Reagan, which surely must have been MacDonald’s intention. Okay, they are
essentially fanciful pulp fiction, but they seem to say an awful lot about the
world through which Travis moves. And, while I am sure there will be plenty for
people to take offence at today, McGee seems a pretty cool cat and an
enlightened and truly subversive soul. He has opted out, and is happy to be a
beach bum. He occasionally takes on commissions to right wrongs and avenge evil
actions. He is anti-materialistic, against corruption, and cares about the
environment. He hates Hugh Hefner, and loathes racist and sexist attitudes. And
he is very much the kind of guy you want on your side: tough as nails and good
company to boot. He likes good music, good books, and the novels in which he
lives are great entertainment.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">One trait of the
series is the McGee philosophical aside, which I love, and imagine being said aloud
as a monologue, like one of those Rod McKuen records with Anita Kerr
accompaniment. The people he seems to have it in for are ones who deserve it,
and it’s easy to trace the origins of the age of Trump in these books. Generalising
wildly the villains in the series seem to be big city corporate monsters and
small-town lone dogs who are damaged and wired all wrong. In <i>Pale Grey for
Guilt </i>there is a lovely passage where Travis and his girlfriend (Trav loves
the ladies and the ladies seem to love him) laugh at a small-time solicitor who
is “steeped in all that radical right wing hoke about conspiracies and a
bankrupt America and Chinese bombs … standing up for right and purity.” That
all sounds pretty familiar. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">One thing I like
about the Travis McGee books is that you get some great descriptions of clothes
when needs must and he has to dress to impress. The impression is of a mature
Ivy look. That maybe something to do with just having read how MacDonald
thought Steve McQueen would have been a good choice to play Travis on-screen,
and it may be a lot to do with having just read <i>Ametora</i>, by the
wonderfully-named W. David Marx, which is the entertaining story of how “Japan
saved American style”. Kindle kindly recommended this book and sold it to me
nice and cheaply, which was very welcome.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">The bulk of the book
details Japan’s enduring obsession with the Ivy Look, and it would be worth buying
just for an early 1961 photo of three pioneering young Japanese kids in their
Ivy gear. They look fantastic, and would certainly have attracted admiring
looks if they had turned up at The Scene Club in the same schmutter a couple of
years later. Incidentally, as a book with American academic origins, mods
hardly get a mention, which prompts me to ask: when did the term Ivy Look
become widely used in the UK? I don’t remember hearing it much when I was young.
Preppy, yeah, certainly in relation to early Talking Heads and Feelies, but Ivy
League? Hmm. I don’t even remember it being used in relation to Dexys when <i>Don’t
Stand Me Down</i> came out and there were some great photos in circulation of
Kevin, Billy and Helen in what we now refer to as classic Ivy clothing. In
fact, some of their looks from that time fit brilliantly with the beautiful <i>Take
Ivy</i> photo book (the title being a pun on ‘Take Five’, so we’re back to Paul
Desmond!) which became sacred to members of the Ivy cult in Japan. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">I am aware of a
recent <i>Black Ivy</i> book, and that makes me want very much a book that
focuses on the style (I really mean knitwear) of Jamaican singers and players
and British Rastas in the 1970s. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We tend
to use Gabicci as shorthand for the cardigans and suede-trimmed tops the guys
loved to wear, but <i>were</i> they all Gabicci? What about other brands, like
Roberto Carlo, and so on? And, where were they bought? How did they stop the
collars taking off? Did the DJs come over here specially to raid the men’s
outfitters? Someone surely is even sadder than me and has put together a
collection of photos of reggae performers and fans in their excellent knitwear.
Could you sneak Vic Godard in? He liked his reggae, and I have some ace photos
of him from 1978 in his Gabicci-style cardigan.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">And then you could do
a follow-up volume of the mod revival kids who got heavily into their Gabiccis
and Roberto Carlo tops. The charity shops were full of those tops in the 1980s
and I had a fantastic collection, right through to when the Duffer crew started
to sell really expensive variations on a theme, which put us all off. Which
reminds me, on the back of the Revelation LP <i>Variation on a Theme</i> there
is a fantastic shot of the group performing live at the 100 Club, with the female
vocal trio out front in their gowns and hair wraps, looking magnificent. And I
bet there was some pretty fine knitwear in the crowd that night. Oh, to see the
photos.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><br /><p></p>Yr Heartouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13069476478838746714noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3579071422066847226.post-36271014222438357042022-09-08T13:37:00.002+01:002022-09-08T13:37:48.152+01:00Out of the Darkness<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiExDZqKk-WyU5coxLaIpozaWBx8D66sLixqjer3jOHYdl5Ma_kF4T2xqrGG69vlsSXaguGe0KZbfabAiLqXTUoB2y6lHjYqzzTlDGGrDmplm8vpg-BY0DHY2-Ur5jx0Ed2gjrrOb72cIb0pjIBqlUcQrphXPgGTjhfiqjEXYFKeGf7Dhv71cpxHVwH/s1007/Emel%20Heavy%20Love%20Affair%20(2).jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="845" data-original-width="1007" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiExDZqKk-WyU5coxLaIpozaWBx8D66sLixqjer3jOHYdl5Ma_kF4T2xqrGG69vlsSXaguGe0KZbfabAiLqXTUoB2y6lHjYqzzTlDGGrDmplm8vpg-BY0DHY2-Ur5jx0Ed2gjrrOb72cIb0pjIBqlUcQrphXPgGTjhfiqjEXYFKeGf7Dhv71cpxHVwH/s320/Emel%20Heavy%20Love%20Affair%20(2).jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">We need in the new
dark times to celebrate the things that are helping us through. For me, NTS
Radio has been heaven sent. My conversion is relatively recent, but this year
the station has been a real bright spot. Many of us find routine helps, and it
has become part of my day’s structure to have NTS on while preparing or eating
meals, which has been great.<span><a name='more'></a></span></span><span style="font-family: Century Gothic, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Opportunities to
search the station’s archive, using the ‘Latest’ link, open up all sorts of
glorious possibilities. There will always be shows to run a million miles from,
but regular contributors, especially DJs Martha, Michelle, and Danielle, have
become trusted sources of often superb new music, and it’s a delight to listen to
their latest ego-free broadcasts when they appear. Indeed, the anticipation of
waiting for new shows is a lovely experience in itself.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The station also is a
treasure trove of old (though, often, new to me) music, and there is a welcome wealth
of, for example, terrific dub, jazz, library music and psychedelic gems
available. The station’s specials are often a bewildering treat, and shows that
made a deep impression here include ones on Armenian sacred sounds and on
outsider country 45s from 1968. There are also regular ‘specialists’, and for
those of us who like their old soul music broadcasts like Dr Kruger’s <i>House
Call</i> and Emel Ilfer’s <i>Heavy Love Affair</i> are ones to keep an eye or
ear out for. The <a href="https://www.nts.live/shows/emel/episodes/emel-4th-september-2022">latest
show by Emel</a> is a particular treat, and her inclusion of ‘And the Rains
Came’ by The Millionaires was one of those moments to cherish. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It's a song that
immediately seemed naggingly familiar. It certainly wouldn’t be as an original
45 (as they go for £100-plus). Finally, I tracked it back to an old Kent
compilation, the first in their <i>Northern Soul’s Classiest Rarities</i>
series, from 2001. And, really who gives a damn about an old single when you
can have such a great song on a CD where it eases into Karmello Brooks’ exquisite
‘Tell Me Baby’ and shares space with Charlie Rich’s ‘Don’t Tear Me Down’? What
the CD doesn’t tell you is that ‘And the Rains Came’ was produced by one Pancho
Villa. A direct descendant of the Mexican revolutionary? Who knows? It’s a nice
link though to the superb Chicano soul shows on NTS by Los Hitters, a DJ team
from Oakland. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">One of the things
that is <i>so</i> arresting about The Millionaires’ single is a sense of literary
despair. It’s one of the things about Northern Soul that is always odd: here is
a form of music immediately associated with the dancefloor and a sense of
community, yet so often the lyrics are about despair and desolation, heartbreak
and hopelessness. Oh well, what can you expect when one of the scene’s anthems,
Tobi Legend’s immortal ‘Time Will Pass You By’ (Nick Lowe’s favourite song from
when he was the Jesus of Cool, no less) was co-written by one J. Rhys. The
Millionaires could indeed be singing a passage from one of the great Jean Rhys
books, from when she would be eking out time, penniless, in a small café out of
the way, or in a cheap hotel room all ready to buck up when someone says she is
incredibly beautiful. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Talking of cafés,
that Millionaires single had as its b-side ‘Coffee and Donuts’, though I have never
heard it. Is there much of a café or coffee shop connection with Northern Soul songs?
I heard John Edwards’ ‘Tin Man’ in the local Morrison’s recently, which
impressed me no end, and there is a café in there, but that’s not quite what I
meant. So, serious question: are there many Northern Soul songs set in cafés?
There must be some, surely? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Well, there is certainly
Eddie Wilson’s ‘A Toast to the Lady’, from 1964, which is a particular
favourite here, partly because it is set in a dimly lit café, and is a real
Graham Greene <i>The End of the Affair</i> drama with a slightly elusive
storyline, which makes it even better. It’s such a great song, and we now know
it’s our old friend Frank Wilson the “whenever I lay me down to sleep I pray
the Lord your soul to keep” man singing. I first heard ‘A Toast to the Lady’ on
the <i>Up All Night! </i>double CD on Charly which is distantly related to the
double LP of the same name which I have fond memories of from 1990. And if,
like me, you have a weakness for cheap Northern Soul CD compilations this one is
a real treat. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As for literature,
well, there is no shortage of books that feature cafés. I could probably sail
through a <i>Mastermind</i> round on the role of cafés in Shena Mackay’s
novels. And in terms of Shena’s precursors, one of the delights of the past
year has been discovering some of Stella Gibbons’ later novels, partly due to
the diligence of the often-excellent Furrowed Middlebrow imprint. And many more
of Stella’s novels are available now via Vintage. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Her 1956 book <i>Here
Be Dragons</i> was a particular revelation, and cafés, tea shops and coffee
bars feature heavily in what is one of the great London novels, and I presume
now that it was one of the first books to feature London’s youth culture, pre-rock
’n’ roll, pre-anything, with an intermittent theme of posh kids slumming it as
proto-beatniks, wasting their days in coffee bars talking about art and
literature, spending as little as possible, and dancing to trad. jazz at Humphrey
Lyttelton’s club on Oxford Street.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There is in the book a
passage about going to see Humph’s band that is a perfect narrative
accompaniment to <i>Momma Don’t Allow,</i> the Karel Reisz and Tony Richardson
short film, and this was before the Angry Young Men were really a thing, a
couple of years before <i>Absolute Beginners</i> and <i>Expresso Bongo</i>. Incidentally,
Stella was in her mid-50s when she wrote <i>Here Be Dragons</i>. A slightly later
title of hers, <i>The Weather at Tregulla</i>, returns to the sub-theme of
bohemians-at-play and features a young girl growing up in Cornwall who is rather
obsessed with the new playwrights, especially Shelagh Delaney, which is a nice
contemporary touch. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Any modern studies of
cafés in literature would surely include the enchanting <i>Before the Coffee
Gets Cold</i> by Toshikazu Kawaguchi, part of a wave of Japanese novels that
have quietly become firm favourites in the West. This novel or collection of
tales is set in a pretty unique Tokyo café, very much a small and out of the
way place, where in pretty exacting circumstances, on rare occasions, a customer
could return to the past briefly. It is often desperately moving, and there is
a sharpness beneath the stories’ sweetness, a serious side to the endearing
eccentricity, which seems a feature of some of the wonderful Japanese books
which have attracted attention here, like Durian Sukegawa’s <i>Sweet Bean Paste</i>
and <i>Convenience Store Woman</i> by Sayaka Murata.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I was inspired to
reread <i>Before the Coffee Gets Cold</i> by Patti Smith’s <i>M Train</i> which
I recently devoured after feeling rather restless and finding it difficult to
concentrate on novels, which is exceptionally unusual. In Toshikazu’s tales
customers wanting to travel back in time must be seated at a specific table, in
a particular seat, while <i>M Train</i> has Patti going out first thing to the
local café for her black coffee, and needing to sit in the same seat at the
same table, amusingly getting into a panic when this is not possible. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">While I have never
been a fan of Patti’s music, something I have often felt guilty about, her memoirs
are wonderful. I know she is gloriously serious about her art, but I think she
is self-aware enough to send herself up in <i>M Train</i>, portraying herself
as an eccentric old lady with her cats, her watchman’s cap, her notebooks, and her
passion for TV crime dramas. And although our obsessions may be very different
at times, I found <i>M Train</i> religious in a sense, the way Patti has her
holy relics and rituals, which is something I can really identify with. Holy?
Yeah, as in wholly necessary, as a way of getting through the day.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And one of my
rituals, as I mentioned, is to tune into NTS on my little Fire tablet in the
kitchen while I am getting my lunch ready or while I’m having my tea. There is
always some intriguing show to investigate, or a particular resident DJ to keep
an eye out for. One favourite here of late is YL Hooi’s monthly show, which in
turn led me (and will hopefully now lead you) to her gorgeous reinvention of ‘Stranger’,
Love Joys’ Wackie’s lovers rock classic. And, funnily enough, one of the
highlights of this summer, was finding unexpectedly an hour-long Wackie’s mix going
out live on NTS. We have to seize our pleasures where we can in these darkest
of days, don’t we?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; text-align: justify;"> </span></p>Yr Heartouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13069476478838746714noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3579071422066847226.post-59916503723292141622021-12-19T12:06:00.000+00:002021-12-19T12:06:44.388+00:00The Shoebox Files #9: Bobby Darin<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEglGu0VCNrfBzs2DQQmsbs_LutizpCecYbbfa9IBr5RCUGicXqmHtAjd5mViYUofpvOzkLvQd6srslcnA7ecXXtaTHvMG_xOjYT2aasXylqgTlj6YNFVBmDuedizLB1XvFu1Uqmi5S-In_7I1PeUaISFWNHwdTvH3d9P4XLIyHFptBDZPEVoIL5_B4g=s868" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="558" data-original-width="868" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEglGu0VCNrfBzs2DQQmsbs_LutizpCecYbbfa9IBr5RCUGicXqmHtAjd5mViYUofpvOzkLvQd6srslcnA7ecXXtaTHvMG_xOjYT2aasXylqgTlj6YNFVBmDuedizLB1XvFu1Uqmi5S-In_7I1PeUaISFWNHwdTvH3d9P4XLIyHFptBDZPEVoIL5_B4g=s320" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">If you are feeling
low, can I point you in the direction of </span><a href="https://www.mixcloud.com/yrheartout/the-shoebox-selections-vol-7/"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The
Shoebox Selections Vol. 7</span></i></a><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> and ‘My Baby Needs
Me’, Bobby Darin’s burst of 1960s soul which just might get you dancing around
like you haven’t a care in the world. Yeah, yeah, we all think we know Bobby
Darin, but trust me, this is wonderful. ‘My Baby Needs Me’ is actually a bit of
a mystery, and I like that. I can tell you hardly anything about its origins, except
that it was recorded for Atlantic in 1967. It seems to be an anomaly, the only
out-and-out soul number Bobby made in the 1960s, as far as I can tell. I do
know it’s a Van McCoy composition, quite possibly the original recording, and I
like it even more than the Yvonne Baker version, though I realise I risk having
my aged Kent enamel badge confiscated.<span></span></span></p><a name='more'></a> <o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Appropriately I first
heard Yvonne’s recording of ‘My Baby Needs Me’ on Kent’s <i>For Dancers Forever
</i>CD from 1992 (Mary Love! Jackie Day!! Brilliant Korners!!!) which
celebrated the 10th anniversary of the label. Who’d have guessed 30 years on
Ady Croasdell & co. would <i>still</i> be finding hidden treasures and presenting
them beautifully? On the other side of Yvonne’s 1968 single is another Van
McCoy song, ‘A Woman Needs a Man’, which appears on another of the great Kent
CDs, <i>Slow ’n’ Moody Black & Bluesy</i> from 1994. I guess Yvonne is best
known for her ‘You Didn’t Say a Word’ which is one of the real wonders of this
rotten old world.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So, how did Bobby
Darin get there first? Well, he would know Van McCoy from his publishing and
production company, T.M. Music (which it’s tempting to assume was named after
Bobby’s partner Terry Melcher, but I think it goes back to an earlier set-up
called Trinity Music), where Van was for a time a staff writer alongside others
like Bobby Scott, Rudy Clark, Artie Resnick, and Kenny Young, which is not a
bad little team is it? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Think of all the
places you’ve subconsciously seen T.M. Music among the credits, like Maxine
Brown’s ‘One in a Million’, another true wonder of this troubled old world, to
choose just one Rudy Clark song.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Anyway, Bobby Darin was
hardly a stranger to soul. One of his T.M. proteges was the former footballer Roosevelt
‘Rosey’ Grier whose 1964 recording of the Bobby Scott & Artie Resnick song
‘In My Tenement’ was to become a highlight of the immortal <i>Big City Soul Sound
</i>Kent compilation. On the b-side of that gem was the bluesy ‘Down So Long’, one
of Bobby Darin’s own songs. Another composition of Darin’s, ‘Soul City’, gave
its name to the Rosey LP which the producer Bobby got Jack Nitzsche in to do
the arrangements for. Good name for a shop or record label that, Soul City. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I guess ‘In My
Tenement’ struck quite a chord with Bobby, given the extreme poverty of his background,
growing up in the Bronx with less than nothing. Coincidentally, Steve Karmen of
‘Breakaway’ Northern Soul fame grew up with Bobby, and has written a book about
that time. Furthermore, it is quite well-documented Bobby was a big supporter
of the civil rights movement, and was in Washington to hear Dr King’s ‘I Have A
Dream’ speech and was among the stars performing in a special concert at the end
of Martin Luther King’s freedom march from Selma to Montgomery in 1965. I
mention that because of what Bobby wrote in the sleevenotes for <i>Soul City: </i><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“Naturally the songs
in this album have a deep, soul-searching impact on Rosey, but I am equally
moved by them. Their message isn't only applicable to the plight of the
minorities. This is an album for everyone who ever felt oppressed! It's about a
hunger of soul - a plea for understanding and self respect. It's about the
inequities of being poor and the sweet, compensatory power of love to enrich
even the most miserable existence. Most of all, it's a universal identifiable
expression of hope and compassion for anyone who was ever down and needed
desperately to get up.”<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Roosevelt Grier would
later have another loose link to Bobby. In June 1968 Rosey was acting as a
minder for Robert Kennedy’s family while out on the campaign trail. He was at
the Ambassador Hotel in Los Angeles protecting the senator when the fatal shots
were fired. So, in that strange way these things work, I was reminded of his
role when recently re-reading Edward Wilson’s <i>The Midnight Swimmer</i>, part
of the superb series starring the maverick inside-outsider British spy Catesby:
“A heaving rush of people, including a scrum of photographers, were surging
into the kitchen and causing a crush that carried Catesby forward. Two huge
black athletes, who were Kennedy’s volunteer bodyguards, had pinned down a
small wiry young man with frizzy hair. At first, Catesby didn’t understand why
they were thumping the thin young man. Then he saw the pistol.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Bobby Darin was
there, too, that night at The Ambassador. He had been out campaigning with
Robert Kennedy, who he was a big supporter of, and really believed in. There’s
a story about them being on a plane together, and Kennedy asked Darin to sing ‘Blowin’
in the Wind’ which was his favourite song. It is also one Bobby recorded back
in 1962 for his <i>Golden Folk Hits</i> LP. It may be an urban myth, but
apparently Phil Ochs hung out in the studio at the recording sessions for this
album. That makes me think of the story about Phil singing ‘Crucifixion’ for
Robert Kennedy in a private audience, and it dawning on RFK that this was about
his brother. Just imagine what was in those silent looks between the two men.
And what would Phil have thought when he heard about what had happened in The
Ambassador Hotel?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The assassination had
a dramatic effect on Bobby Darin. You get a real sense of just how painful this
must have been for him when listening to the remarkably beautiful ‘In Memoriam’
which closes his 1968 LP <i>Born Walden Robert Cassotto.</i> It’s a song about Robert
Kennedy’s death and what Bobby experienced at the funeral. It’s a haunting
ending to an incredible LP. If you have the Ace CD <i>State of the Union: The
American Dream in Crisis</i> etc. (which is right up there among the top
two-or-three of the 374-to-date ‘Bob Stanley and Pete Wiggs’ brand associated
compilations) you’ll know ‘Questions’ which opens that Bobby Darin LP. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It is an odd record,
sure. They are all Bobby’s own compositions, and there’s a bit of politics, a bit
of social commentary, some satire, some poking fun at consumerism and
capitalism. The humour is, I think, a little Phil Ochs-like. There’s something
in that. Both guys had reached rock bottom by the time 1968 was done with them,
what with the assassinations of Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy, the
Democratic Convention in Chicago, not to mention their own personal demons.
They responded to all this by making two very moving LPs, <i>Rehearsals for</i>
<i>Retirement</i> and <i>Born Walden Robert Cassotto.</i><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The ‘Bobby Darin as
protest singer’ angle can be a little distracting, making it all seem a bit
pious, a little prissy, as <i>Born Walden Robert Cassotto</i> contains some
beautiful and incredibly subtle sounds. ‘Questions’ could easily be one of
those left-field Northern Soul choices like The Crow’s ‘Your Autumn of
Tomorrow’ or The World Column’s ‘So Is The Sun’. And ‘Long Line Rider’ with its
controversial theme about Arkansas prison farm brutality is seriously funky: check
out a clip from a Dean Martin TV show where Bobby (complete with his David
Crosby ‘tache: life’s not perfect!) and his group whip up a storm. There are some
gorgeous songs too, very gentle and moving ones, and the second side of the
original LP, ‘Change’, ‘I Can See The Wind’, ‘Sunday’, and ‘In Memoriam’, forms
a beautiful suite of songs. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I love the line in ‘Sunday’:
“You say keep the faith, but there’s no faith to keep”. Obviously, that has
different connotations now, with the language of the Northern Soul scene, which
brings us back to ‘My Baby Needs Me’. The recording languished in the Atlantic
vaults for 30 odd years. I can find out nothing much about it. Who arranged it?
How did it come about? Were there other songs recorded at the same sessions? Who
knows? Someone must. I first heard it on a very strange Bobby Darin CD
compilation called <i>Songs from Big Sur</i> on Varèse Sarabande, which had
tracks from Bobby’s late 1960s works, the <i>Born Walden Robert Cassotto</i>
and <i>Commitment</i> LPs, plus a really rather random mix of rarities. Mind
you, it certainly did not have the best tracks from <i>Commitment</i>, an album
which at times ventures into tightly-wound folk-funk and loose Creedence down-on-the-corner
fun.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The compilation’s title
is an allusion to the time Bobby spent getting away from it all in Big Sur,
which makes me think inevitably of Jack Kerouac spending time in a cabin in the
woods there. Bobby got himself a trailer, but there are similarities. I wonder
if Alf the Sacred Burro was still around? It didn’t help Ti Jean much if I
remember rightly, but for Bobby it was a necessary respite from Hollywood and showbiz
hollowness. Judging by the quality of the songs he came up with, the retreat
did him good.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Before that, on his <i>If
I Were a Carpenter</i> and <i>Inside Out </i>LPs from 1966 and 1967, Bobby
demonstrated an obsession with the songs and sounds of Tim Hardin and the Lovin’
Spoonful. That seems reasonable. I can understand all that. Add in 1960s soul
sounds courtesy of Kent, and you have my mid-1980s right there. Oh well, you
should add in The Byrds, but there’s a Bobby Darin connection-or-two there, also,
with The Byrds being managed by Terry Melcher, who left his role at T.M. Music
to concentrate on the group, and then there’s the Jim McGuinn thing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">McGuinn has written
and spoken movingly about how, pre-flyte, when he was starting out Bobby Darin
was a hero and mentor to him. The story goes that Bobby poached the fledgling
McGuinn from his post backing the Chad Mitchell Trio to become part of a new folk
spot during Darin’s nightclub shows. This was around 1962 into 1963. McGuinn
speaks very highly about how Bobby taught him the basics of showbusiness and
the importance of professionalism. When Darin had to take a break from touring
due to ill-health, he steered McGuinn towards the New York office of his
publishing organisation where he became a staff writer, and followed his boss’
advice to pay attention to what was happening in the world of rock ’n’ roll. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I didn’t know all
that when I was discovering The Byrds. I probably wouldn’t have cared back
then, anyhow. I only really got interested in Bobby Darin, beyond ‘Mack the
Knife’ and ‘Beyond the Sea’, when I got a great Ace CD, <i>The Jack Nitzsche
Story: Hearing is Believing 1962 – 1979, </i>which came out in 2005 and
included ‘Not for Me’, one of Bobby’s own, from 1963. Sure, it morphs into the Gershwins’
‘But Not for Me’ which in turn makes me think of Chet Baker on an <i>NME</i>
cassette, <i>Low Lights and Trick Mirrors, </i>the true sound of 1986 on tape, compiled
by<i> </i>Fred Dellar and Roy Carr. Yet Chet sounds lost and forlorn while
Bobby has a nasty, punky sneer. He sounds so mean and defiant that it’s
glorious. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Again, it shows how
shrewd Darin could be, getting hold of the much in-demand Nitzsche. Bobby
worked with quite an impressive selection of top arrangers, including Jimmy
Haskell, Billy May, Torrie Zito, Bobby Scott, Ernie Freeman, Shorty Rogers, and
Gerald Wilson. Roger Kellaway, a jazz pianist, was not exactly an established
arranger but Bobby recognised something special and got him in to do the
arrangements for an LP based on the Leslie Bricuse songs from the musical
comedy <i>Doctor Dolittle, </i>and this was 1967, slap bang in the middle of
Darin’s folk rock phase. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">With this LP Bobby even
manages to trump Anthony Newley, partly because he had the nous to sequence a side
of ballads to open the LP, and his singing and the arrangements here are as
good as anything. This is even more remarkable given the context of the songs’
origins. In the film they may seem unlikely raw material, but something connected
with Bobby. The delicacy of Roger Kellaway’s arrangements on this suite of
ballads is incredible. I love the way the LP starts with ‘At The Crossroads’: “Here
I stand at the crossroads of life / Childhood behind me / The future to come / And
alone …” which in my mind mutates into Frank Sinatra’s later ‘A Man Alone’ and
those memories of midnight that fell apart at dawn, or sometimes the ‘Watertown’
and “If I knew then, what I know now”. Ha! My signature tune right there! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Is it too far-fetched
to suggest Bobby Darin was like The Clash in the sense of being an appealing
and occasionally bewildering mass of contradictions and inconsistencies? He
certainly had the spirit of <i>Sandinista!</i>, being enthusiastic about all
sorts of music (like us, yeah?) and keen to have a go at whatever took his
fancy. Why not? Why stick to one thing? I recall reading a quote from an old
friend of his who said that to Bobby it was all just music. And yet that
approach was daring for a mainstream artist. I wouldn’t begin to claim to know everything
Bobby recorded in the 1960s. I am a fan, sure, but I certainly don’t love all
he did. I, however, love the fact that his sudden swerves must surely have
disorientated and unsettled some of his fans, some of whom I imagine being in a
Richard Yates book: don’t ask me why. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
approve of Bobby being gloriously illogical, like in 1963 making a country
& western LP with swingin’ bluesy big band arrangements and Merry Clayton
making her debut as a kid duetting with Bobby: just think of all the singers
who would have paid to get to appear on one of his records.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Then there’s his <i>Sings
Ray Charles</i> album from the previous year where Bobby is revealed as a roots
enthusiast, and kicks off the LP with four minutes of ‘What’d I Say’, then
six-and-a-half of ‘I Got A Woman’, plus the bonus of a duet with Darlene Love
on ‘The Right Time’. So, yeah, the connections were certainly there to soul and
the dancefloor: just listen to him getting deep into a Mose thing on his piano-led
instrumental ‘Beachcomber’, mod jazz in excelsis, as is his Bobby
Scott-arranged take on ‘Minnie the Moocher’ from the same year. And speaking of
which, I have to mention the 1960 Christmas LP the two Bobbies came up with, <i>The
25<sup>th</sup> Day of December</i>, partly to confront my own personal demons
and memories.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It’s one hell of a
record: a wild and weird mix of sacred choral settings and untamed gospel
rave-ups. That works for me, as ancient celestial harmonies and 1960s soul form
such a large part of my life. And, as for Bobby Darin, to paraphrase Ol’ Blue Eyes,
he sang it with so much feeling, and he sure could sing. In my mind’s eye I see
him now at the session for ‘My Baby Needs Me’, clicking his fingers, doing that
sideways shuffle thing, his head and neck darting back and forth, really
feeling it, biting his lip, eyes closed tight, ready to step up to the
microphone, and … <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Yr Heartouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13069476478838746714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3579071422066847226.post-13118280348465357362021-12-03T11:55:00.000+00:002021-12-03T11:55:45.301+00:00The Shoebox Files #8: Oscar Peña <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjP_8yzjhKhq3_0bKQy_z4f9GcJ9yhqUWycAsdTDznclQRxEYbCr3of0GOALOIGrv_hFQKTzcRSxzhWVXwQPMCRShZYbolAdevY_ODgzPUuD1gTgqPcgELOHJFaVtXAeU9pa2Qry9zem6xGwoI17Vo6bRHFiUzCIgyOQDZScCXZ7_tkk4UqO2duvLD6=s292" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="292" data-original-width="292" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjP_8yzjhKhq3_0bKQy_z4f9GcJ9yhqUWycAsdTDznclQRxEYbCr3of0GOALOIGrv_hFQKTzcRSxzhWVXwQPMCRShZYbolAdevY_ODgzPUuD1gTgqPcgELOHJFaVtXAeU9pa2Qry9zem6xGwoI17Vo6bRHFiUzCIgyOQDZScCXZ7_tkk4UqO2duvLD6" width="292" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This is about a
singer called Oscar Peña and his astonishingly addictive and supremely funky
track ‘La Inflación de Ofelia’ about which I can tell you pretty much nothing
at all, except that it is one of the most glorious and life-affirming recordings
ever made and it appears on </span><a href="https://www.mixcloud.com/yrheartout/the-shoebox-selections-vol-9/"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Vol.
9 of The Shoebox Selections series of mixes</span></a><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">. I feel a bit
of a fraud even talking about this track, but I guess you can’t know everything.
We all have areas of expertise and we all have areas of occasional and casual
interest. There’s not enough time, and not enough money, so you end up being a
dabbler, a dilettante, feeling guilty for bingeing on certain sorts of music only
when the mood takes you. But then, I guess, many of us go through such phases
and stages.<span></span></span></p><a name='more'></a><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I have to give a
massive thank you to John Armstrong for including ‘La Inflación de Ofelia’ on the
superb 2009 Nascente CD <i>¡Cuban Funk Experience! </i>The subtitle of the set
is ‘Funky Sounds from Cuba & Miami 1973–1988’. This track is from the Miami
end of things, though uncharacteristically John didn’t seem to know anything
much about the singer or the song. Again, I feel slightly guilty in that I
don’t know too much about John, which is odd as his name has been cropping up on
compilations for an awful long time. I am slightly relieved to be able to say
that, at least, John has been mentioned in the <i>Your Heart Out</i> archives, in
the context of pioneering London DJs and writers who opened ears and filled
dancefloors (and occasionally the metropolis’ airwaves) with Latin and African
sounds, like Dave Hucker, Sue Steward, Max Reinhardt, Gerry Lyseight, and Rita
Ray. Beyond that, I confess I haven’t given John sufficient credit.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Anyway, back to ‘La
Inflación de Ofelia’ (and what does the song title <i>mean</i>, beyond the
literal translation?). It is possible that Oscar Peña was a singer who left
Cuba for Miami and worked there with the Charinga ensemble Orquesta Típica
Tropical under its director Arnaldo Valiente. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not even sure if the remarkable ‘La
Inflación de Ofelia’ was ever a single. It certainly appears on the Miami-based
Sound Triangle label’s compilation <i>15 Exitos Bailables Verdes Pintones Y
Maduros</i>, from 1981<i>, </i>which looks suspiciously like one of those 1970s
<i>Top of the Pops</i> sets we used to get here. The LP is on Spotify in case
you’re curious, and the Willy Chirino tracks on it are exceptional. Apart from
that, who knows?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">At the risk of being
repetitive, I feel guilty about that <i>¡Cuban Funk Experience! </i>CD also, as
I have no real memory of even buying it, but there it was, stowed away in a
shoebox, languishing in a cupboard, waiting for its day in the sun. The irony
is that among the few bright spots of 2021, this horrible soul-destroying seemingly-endless
nightmare of a year, are both volumes of the Soul Jazz <i>Cuba: Music and
Revolution </i>sets, compiled by folk heroes Gilles Peterson and Stuart Baker,
which in the 2CD editions are beautiful and inspiring, the best thing the label
has done in a long time, with a glorious mass of information which is manna
from heaven. And, oh yes, there is a wealth of overlap between the Soul Jazz
collections and John Armstrong’s <i>¡Cuban Funk Experience! </i>CD in terms of artists
and sounds. But that’s fine.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Just about the only
part of mathematics that has stayed with me from schooldays is the idea of Venn
diagrams. I do love identifying where areas of activity overlap. So, you could
draw a circle for the Soul Jazz <i>Cuba</i> sets and one for the John Armstrong
set, and see where the intersection is. Thus, to pick a fairly random track, actually
a particular favourite on <i>¡Cuban Funk Experience!, </i>Los Van Van’s ‘Llegué
Llegué’, well, that recurs<i> </i>on the second Soul Jazz <i>Cuba</i> set where
it again steals the show. It has one of the greatest intros in the history of
pop music. That bassline eh? Pure Liquid Liquid or ESG! And the organ when it
comes in! I love it. Though, it still seems oddly reminiscent of something else,
that organ bit. I dunno. It could be my imagination.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">For us Venn diagram
brothers and sisters, there is also a degree of overlap between <i>¡Cuban Funk
Experience! </i>and the wonderful <i>Florida Funk</i> collection on Jazzman
from way back when. The two tracks concerned were, rather neatly, previously
mentioned here at <i>YHO</i> and I quote: “There is Luis Santi y su Conjunto’s
‘Los Feligreses’ which mocks religious hypocrites, and there is the fantastic
‘Na Na’ by Coke which is absurdly addictive squelchy humid funk.” So, there you
go. There is also Ray & his Court’s ‘Da Eso Nada Monado’, which John
Armstrong describes as having an “overtly Latin sound that combines <i>son
montuno</i> and funk sensibilities perfectly”. Another Ray & his Court
track, ‘Soul Freedom’, gave its name to one of the beloved Jazzman Sevens compilations.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It’s funny: Soul Jazz
and Jazzman are both labels for which there is a huge reservoir of goodwill,
but it seems less likely that Nascente would have ever generated a similar
amount of affection. And yet they’ve released some cracking compilations. I
have to confess that I don’t even know much about Nascente, and trying to work
out where it fits in corporately is bamboozling: from Music Collection
International to Demon, though I’m not at all sure how a label that sort of
started with Glen Matlock’s Spectres, TV21 and Department S, plus the Edsel
subsidiary (The Action! The Creation!) somehow ended up as a conglomerate
apparently owned by the BBC indirectly. Or have I got that wrong? Nevertheless,
Nascente have had plenty of very fine moments among the label’s prolific output,
including the <i>Funk Experience</i> series which this Cuban CD forms part of.
And, yeah, I feel guilty that I don’t have more in the series. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Also in that series
is another excellent John Armstrong-compiled collection from 2011, <i>NuYorican
Funk Experience</i>, which draws on the output of the Seeco and Coco labels. Nascente
must have liked the title as John had previously compiled and annotated an
essential Fania-fuelled CD for Nascente back in 2000 called <i>The NuYorican
Funk Experience</i>, with a follow-up set of the same name in 2002, subtitled
‘Further Adventures in Latin Soul’. Before that John and Nascente had given us a
scintillating Salsoul set, <i>The NuYorican Salsa Experience</i>. The chances
are you can still pick up these CDs relatively cheaply, which is handy for those
among us not solvent enough to commit to multi-disc Fania box sets. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">All those Nascente
titles, I think it is fair to say, tip their hats to the immortal Soul Jazz <i>NuYorica!</i>
collections from the 1990s, which are among my favourite things ever and were quite
radical at the time in their elaborate presentation and packaging. There is, oh
yes, a bit of overlap, in terms of singers and players rather than actual
tracks, with names recurring like Joe Bataan, Eddie Palmieri (there is,
incidentally, an incredibly good if inauspicious-looking Nascente Eddie
Palmieri compilation, put together by John Armstrong, which has over time
become one of my most-played things), Machito Orchestra, Tempo 70, Fania All
Stars, and the wonderfully named Grupo Folklorico y Experimental Nuevayorquino.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There is also a
lovely link between the Soul Jazz <i>NuYorica!</i> and <i>Cuba</i> sets with
the presence of Irakere who also appear on <i>¡Cuban Funk Experience. </i>Different
tracks each time too. Is it sad to love that kind of connection? Who cares! I
make no apologies. I am that person who applauds because Soul Jazz played with
the <i>NuYorica! </i>strapline (‘Culture Clash in New York City: Experiments in
Latin Music’) for the<i> Cuba</i> sets. These details matter.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I can’t resist also mentioning
the early Honest Jon’s titles <i>Son Cubano NYC</i> and <i>Boogaloo Pow Wow</i>
from early in the new millennium. For one thing, they look so great, with the
stark and supremely cool Bruce Davidson cover shots and the minimal design work
by Will Bankhead of Mo’Wax fame. For another, they sound so irresistibly good. And,
as a bonus, there is a degree of overlap with some of the Nascente and Soul
Jazz titles mentioned here, with tracks by Chocolate, Los Jimaguas, Machito,
Rene Grand, Rey Roig, Ray Barretto, and Bobby Paunetto. Plus, the gloriously
daft ‘Pow Wow’ by Manny Corchado gave its name to the final volume in the
series of Jazzman Sevens compilations. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I hadn’t realised until
recently that there was an <i>Africa Boogaloo</i> collection on Honest Jon’s, complete
with Will Bankhead artwork. The title is a little misleading, and the subtitle
is rather more pertinent: ‘The Latinization of West Africa’. Nevertheless, it
is one of my most-played CDs at present. I like the way Gary Stewart’s liner
notes begin by stating: “African musicians seem to have an unquenchable
fascination for the music of Latin America, especially Cuba. And why not?”. I
guess finding Orchestra Baobab on there has been a bit like rediscovering an
old friend, prompting me to dig out the beautifully-packaged (by Intro, so was
that the work of Ghost Boxer Julian House?) <i>Pirates Choice</i> 2CD World
Circuit set from 2001, with Charlie Gillett’s spot-on opening lines: “By turns
inspiring and soothing, spellbinding and exhilarating”.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Perhaps I can be
excused because in recent years there has been such a steady stream of compilations
connected to the sound of ‘Funky Africa Then’, wonderful titles from Strut, Soundway,
Vampisoul, Analog Africa, Soul Jazz, BBE, etc. as well as the whole mp3 blog
phenomenon which in turn evolved into labels like Comb & Razor Sound, Voodoo
Funk, and Awesome Tapes from Africa. Well, you get the idea. It has been
impossible to keep up, which can make you feel guilty, but then we’re back to
time and money again. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Perhaps for many of
us it was the Strut collection <i>Nigeria 70</i> which marked a massive turning
point in 2001 and opened up many new doors, sharing a past which was until then
largely unexplored. Sure, people knew of King Sunny Adé, and many knew Fela
Kuti’s name, but beyond that not too much. It helped, naturally, that Strut
presented the whole thing in an elaborate and beautiful way, with detailed
notes by John Armstrong (oh yes!) and Quinton Scott. It really was a glorious
revelation that CD set, and it still sounds incredibly good, even when we know
or have access to so much more. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Interestingly the
last time the name John Armstrong registered with me was in connection with a
BBE release he had put together, <i>Afrobeat / Brazil</i>, which explored the
influence of African musical traditions on new Brazilian music. And, again, I
feel guilty about my own ignorance and in awe of John’s obvious enthusiasm for
and knowledge of current musical activity around the world. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">While thinking about
all this I am ashamed to admit that I resorted to looking up John Armstrong on
the Internet. And, my word, he has an epic story to tell about his activities
over a long period of time DJing, writing, and compiling. His CV, amusingly, is
like a living embodiment of the old Weekend thing about how their LP <i>La
Varieté</i> took its name from “the French term for popular radio, everything
that's not heavy rock; music drawing on diversity and depth”. In fact, much of
the musical ground covered on that LP seems <i>very</i> John Armstrong. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As far as I know I
have never seen or met John Armstrong, but from what I can tell he seems like a
very cool cat, so appropriately hidden away in the notes for the second volume of
Nascente’s <i>The NuYorican Funk Experience</i>, with reference to Ricardo
Ray’s adaptation of ‘Nitty Gritty’ and I am guessing his own university days,
John mentions: “My old friend Chris Salewicz is now a leading author and
scriptwriter specialising in reggae and Jamaica, but when we were both humble
Leeds mods, a club DJ’s set wasn’t complete without ‘Nitty Gritty’ being
dropped somewhere between James Carr’s ‘Pouring Water on a Drowning Man’ and
Roy C’s ‘Shotgun Wedding’. Ah, happy days …”. There you go. I would suggest that
explains everything.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Yr Heartouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13069476478838746714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3579071422066847226.post-70806998000754514702021-11-14T14:03:00.001+00:002021-11-14T14:03:50.980+00:00The Shoebox Files #7: Irene Kral<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0I4VmI2jzdjOuEfIUW-npXeG48NBYliGw1yOqmZY7T47gjkYWV40ZRUdvPfn3s8n4_YrBEtkzgIe1SBwydDj1ok-sLJ3H5BlsSmud_VdMU-_WmZifgcTXgNBYrvdmc4mIn9JDTYPfMqs/s611/Irene+Kral.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="611" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0I4VmI2jzdjOuEfIUW-npXeG48NBYliGw1yOqmZY7T47gjkYWV40ZRUdvPfn3s8n4_YrBEtkzgIe1SBwydDj1ok-sLJ3H5BlsSmud_VdMU-_WmZifgcTXgNBYrvdmc4mIn9JDTYPfMqs/s320/Irene+Kral.jpg" width="314" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://www.mixcloud.com/yrheartout/the-shoebox-selections-vol-11/"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The
very final mix in <i>The Shoebox Selections</i> series</span></a><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
starts with the jazz singer Irene Kral and her revivifying 1965 recording of ‘Is
it Over Baby?’. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is one of <i>those</i>
songs guaranteed to put a smile on my face and get these tired old feet doing stylish
little sidesteps and spins. I have no idea if this song has ever been played at
a Northern Soul event. I don’t know if it would fit in. I’m not even sure I
care. It makes <i>me</i> dance, and it’s a song I want to share, for all sorts
of therapeutic reasons.<span></span></span></p><a name='more'></a> <o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Irene’s adorable ‘Is
It Over Baby?’ comes from her atypical <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>LP for Mainstream, <i>Wonderful Life</i>. It
is an unusual record for her in the sense that most of it is very much jazz, what
you could call her own personal space, while the rest is an unexpected
diversion into contemporary pop which one senses she was not that comfortable
with. It doesn’t show, though, as you can hear with the glorious ‘Is It Over
Baby?’. And the sheer wonder of the way she sings: “Come on! Come on!”. The
world of meaning in those four little words.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She has such a pure
way of singing, one which commands attention, without any hollering, without
being strident or gimmicky. It’s something to do with pacing and phrasing. Maybe
some people think of a jazz singer scatting and improvising madly, but that
wasn’t her way. She played it straight, without frills, respected the stories
the lyrics told, but goodness, she could really convey emotion. I remember
reading somewhere she was a big Bill Evans fan, which makes perfect sense.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">On <i>Wonderful Life</i>
she is backed by a fairly small outfit, occasionally augmented by strings, and
among the players are her husband Joe Burnette on flugelhorn, Hal Blaine on
drums, and Al De Lory on piano, and I guess at times we are in similar
territory to Al’s immortal ‘Right On’, a recording which I fell in love with in
the early 1980s when I heard it on the cherished <i>Capitol Soul Casino</i> compilation.
By the way, the LP cover of <i>Wonderful Life</i> features a Jack Lonshein
portrait of Irene, which fits in with other treasured titles of the time, like Bobby
Cole’s <i>A Point of View</i> and <i>The Artistry of Helen Merrill</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Irene was a committed jazz singer, one who started
to record in the late 1950s, so was rather overtaken and overshadowed by other
forms of music, which was the premise of Bob Stanley’s <i>Mid Century Minx</i>
set for Croydon Municipal, a CD Irene opens stylishly with ‘Lazy Afternoon’. Irene’s
pop diversion may have been only momentary, but I have been trying to think of
other jazz singers who did the pop end of the soul spectrum so well. The Lewis
Sisters, yup, and there’s Nina, plus Nancy Wilson, who’d recorded with
Cannonball Adderley, and so on, but also sang ‘The End of Our Love’ with H.B.
Barnum which became a perennial Northern Soul favourite and also appears on the
glorious <i>Capitol Soul Casino</i>. But others? You may be able to name
plenty. I must mention Ernie Andrews who made an LP with Cannonball Adderley,
and then with that record’s producer ,David Axelrod, and his partner H.B.
Barnum he made a couple of fantastic soul 45s for Capitol in the mid-1960s,
including ‘A Fine Young Girl’ which appears on one of the great <i>Talcum Soul</i>
CDs.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I suppose one could
include Mel Tormé and ‘Comin’ Home Baby’. This Ben Tucker and Bob Dorough song has,
rightly, been a dancefloor favourite since its release in 1962, but you could
argue that takes us into the realms of mod jazz as defined or invented by that
fantastic series of Kent compilations, and so onto things like Mark Murphy’s
‘Why Don’t You Do Right?’. Generally, though, the jazz singers who were active
in the mid-1960s would make contact with contemporary pop via The Beatles,
Bacharach and bossa rather than out-and-out pop like ‘Is It Over Baby?’.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This may all be a bit
misleading as, at heart, <i>Wonderful Life</i> is, as I mentioned, definitely a
jazz LP. There are a handful of songs with Tommy Wolf credits, who was very
much a favourite of Irene’s. She sang a couple of the songs he wrote with Fran
Landesman on her debut <i>The Band And I</i>, recorded with Herb Pomeroy’s
orchestra in 1958, though not ‘Spring Can Really Hang You Up the Most’ which
her brother Roy had recorded so wonderfully as half of Jackie and Roy. Irene
put a marker down early that she wanted to sing songs with witty, clever,
offbeat lyrics, something that is very much in evidence on <i>Wonderful Life</i>,
which includes the Fran Landesman and Bob Dorough track ‘Nothing Like You’,
which is familiar from Miles’<i> Sorcerer</i>. There is also the Fran Landesman,
Tommy Wolf, and Nelson Algren number ‘This Life We’ve Led’ from the ill-fated
musical adaptation of <i>A Walk on the Wild Side</i> which Bob Dorough appeared
in. Incidentally Ernie Andrews recorded ‘I’m A Born World Shaker’ from that doomed
show on his <i>Live Session! </i>with Cannonball Adderley.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Anyone who has come
across the Gilles Peterson collection <i>Gilles Digs America 2</i> will know
Irene’s ‘Goin’ to California’, which is on <i>Wonderful Life</i> and was
written by the team of Bill Loughborough and David ‘Buck’ Wheat. The only other
song of theirs I know is the superb ‘Better Than Anything’ which was the title
track of Irene Kral’s 1963 LP with the Junior Mance Trio, featuring the great Bob
Cranshaw on bass and Mickey Roker on drums, with enthusiastic sleevenotes by
Tommy Wolf. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">‘Better Than
Anything’ is, I guess, a list song, detailing all the things being in love
beats, with lots of cultural references, including many jazz ones, like Bill Evans,
which to a large extent echoes Mark Murphy’s extemporising on ‘My Favourite
Things’ for <i>Rah!</i> with mentions of John Coltrane, Miles and Gil, Monk, the
Hi-Los, Anita and Peggy, Cannonball Adderly, Ray Charles, and so on. Mark ran
into trouble for this, and later editions of the record dropped this segment.
He kind of reprised it later on ‘This Train’ for his Immediate pleasure <i>Who
Can I Turn To?</i> where he has a bit of a dig at The Beatles, guitar twangers
and Motown, for whom there is no room on Mark’s train, which is solely for the
swingers rather than the phonies. Although I seem to recall Dave Godin used the
term swingers frequently back then for members of the Tamla Motown Appreciation
Society. For a list of who’s on someone else’s train there’s Jackie Paine’s
great ‘Go-Go Train’ which has one hell of a passenger list.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I confess I have a
fondness for list songs, and a list of which would include Ian Dury’s ‘England’s
Glory’ and ‘Reasons to Be Cheerful Pt. 3’, even Billy Joel’s ‘We Didn’t Start the
Fire’, Dexys’ ‘Dance Stance’ (I still call it that), Denim’s ‘The Osmonds’ and
the Ballistic Bros.’ ‘London Hooligan Soul’, Skids’ ‘TV Stars’, plus the Wild
Swans’ ‘English Electric Lightning’. My favourite example has to be Dave
Frishberg’s ‘Van Lingle Mungo’ which is made up entirely of the names of major
league baseball players of yore, a trick he repeats on ‘Dodger Blue’ with a
roll call of Los Angeles Dodgers players. And can we include his delightful ‘I’m
Hip’, with music by his pal Bob Dorough? I think we can.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Incidentally, Irene’s
‘Is It Over Baby?’ was written by Virginia Fitting, which I believe was a
pseudonym for Claude Demetruis whose credits include ‘Mean Woman Blues’ which
Elvis et al sang, and similarly ‘Hard Headed Woman’, though nothing beats the
wonder of Wanda. He also co-wrote ‘My Boy Elvis’ for rockabilly star Janis
Martin who came from Virginia, fittingly. From around the same time as ‘Is It
Over Baby?’ all I know of is a Tony Middleton b-side, ‘If I Could Write a Song’,
which was arranged and produced by Johnny Pate. Coincidentally, or not, Johnny
also arranged The Kittens’ 1966 recording of ‘Is It Over Baby?’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another cover of it was the David Axelrod
production for Cindy Malone, again from 1966. There is a fantastic clip of Cindy
singing it on a TV show if you can track it down. I like Irene’s version best though.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Wonderful Life</span></i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
closes with Irene’s cover of ‘Hold Your Head High’, the Jackie DeShannon and Randy
Newman song. She sings it deeper at the start than Jackie did and that,
combined with her very precise diction, makes it seem more like a solicitous older
sister or some wise and kind advice from a sympathetic school teacher. It’s
great, but it seems slightly incongruous hearing Irene belting it out, soaring
operatically at the end, complete with femme backing singers, when intimacy was
her strength. Still, it’s always good to step outside your comfort zone, and I
can’t imagine Irene doing anything she really didn’t want to do. She seems to
have been a tough lady.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">After all that, it
would be a long break for Irene in terms of recording; another ten years before
a new LP came out. It was the wrong climate for jazz singers. But the LP she
came back with, one which I am a huge fan of, is quite remarkable. She was
adamant, in the face of corporate opposition, that it should be just her and
the pianist Alan Broadbent, and that is what the small Choice label eventually
released in 1975 as <i>Where is Love?</i> It is such a warm, rich, yet uncompromisingly
naked LP. It predates the first of the Tony Bennett and Bill Evans sets, and I
wonder if it was an influence on what they did. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Irene writes in her
original sleevenotes for <i>Where Is Love? </i>that “it was meant to be heard
only during that quiet time of the day, preferably with someone you love, when
you can sink into your favourite chair, close your eyes, and let in no outside
thoughts to detract.” That sounds rather like a piece of advice, or
prescription, the lovely Frank would deal out to his troubled customers in Rachel
Joyce’s wonderful novel <i>The Music Shop</i> which I recently read and loved so
very much. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The Music Shop</span></i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
is a love story, but it’s really a celebration of the healing power of music.
It really connected with something deep inside me. Maybe I just read it when I
needed to. Some might say it’s sentimental tosh and naïve politically. I bet
some people still say that about <i>It’s a Wonderful Life</i> and <i>Amelie</i>,
but then I used to love <i>Highway to Heaven</i> on TV, and I’d happily defend Rachel’s
book to the bitter end, not least because she mentions Bill Evans and Hildegard
of Bingen in the same sentence. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There are also
mentions of Postcard and Pérotin, <i>Veedon Fleece</i> and <i>Vespers</i> by
Rachmaninov, Chopin and Shalamar, The Ruts and João Gilberto. I know, I know. Oh,
don’t we love having our own taste reflected back at us? But then also it got
me seeking out Icelandic choral music, for which I shall be forever grateful.
And when a DJ plays Curtis Mayfield’s ‘Keep on Keeping On’ for a lost (in every
sense) friend, oh boy I wept for so many reasons. Mind you, I think I sobbed
nearly all the time reading it, except when I was spluttering with laughter or
cheering like an idiot.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Irene and Alan
recorded a follow-up set, <i>The Gentle Rain</i>, in August 1977, which is as
beautiful and as moving as its predecessor. Sadly, Irene died a year later. We
will never know where she would have gone next in terms of making music. I like
the fact that she was making such stark and unsettlingly intimate records,
though interestingly she shied away from the all too obvious torch ballads.
Instead, she favoured the smart, eccentric songs, and yes, thankfully, she did
get around to singing ‘Spring Can Really Hang You Up the Most’, so beautifully.
My personal favourite, a real obsession, is the Leslie Bricuse song from <i>Dr
Dolittle</i>, the beautiful ‘When I Look in Your Eyes’ which Irene and Alan
take somewhere incredibly tender and spiritual. And for recordings that are
notably non-demonstrative, there is such a great deal of emotion swirling
around on these two LPs.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I mentioned the
intimacy of these records. I am wary in case that suggests an after-hours jazz
club, or even someone whispering in your ear, but it’s not really like that. I
mean more the intimacy between them, and how when she sings and he plays they
seem hermetically sealed off from everything else in the world. They are
completely absorbed in what they are creating. The sense of apartness is quite
extraordinary. It is heart-warming somehow. And it feels a privilege to be
allowed to listen in.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Irene’s fondness for her
contemporaries, the composers Dave Frishberg, Bob Dorough, Johnny Mandel, can also
be heard wonderfully on the Audiophile CD <i>You Are There</i> which is
probably the record of hers I play the most, which doesn’t mean it’s
necessarily my favourite. It consists of Irene singing with Loonis McGlohon’s trio
in 1977 for Alec Wilder’s National Public Radio series on American Popular
Song. There’s a wonderful companion volume, <i>Mark Murphy Sings Mostly Dorothy
Fields and Cy Coleman</i>, and both come with helpful James Gavin liner notes.
The <i>You Are There</i> CD is made up of two shows Irene took part in. One
features the songs of Michel Legrand and Noel Coward, while the other celebrates
jazz songs of the 1960s and into the 1970s. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So, among some of the
highlights for me are Irene singing Dave Frishberg’s gently subversive, quietly
political songs ‘Wheelers and Dealers’ and ‘The Underdog’, with words which are
eternally topical. Then there are the Bob Dorough and Fran Landesman songs, ‘The
Winds of Heaven’ and ‘Unlit Room’. Irene’s version here of ‘Winds’ forms a holy
trinity with those of Jackie & Roy and the 5<sup>th</sup> Dimension. ‘Unlit
Room’ is another lovely song for all us ne’er-do-wells and losers who have
fallen by the wayside. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Then there’re the
Johnny Mandel songs. Irene was clearly a big fan of his compositions. And, yes,
we get ‘The Shadow of Your Smile’. We also get the beautiful ‘Emily’, which was
a big favourite of Bill Evans. I have just been watching an old clip of Bill’s
trio from 1970 playing this tune in Ilkka Kuusisto's home, in Helsinki, and it
is just about perfect in every way. And, so to Irene and the title track, ‘You
Are There’, which also appears on <i>The Gentle Rain. </i>Well, what can I say?
I should say Dave Frishberg wrote the words for Johnny Mandel’s melody. And I’m
going to pretend I’m Frank in <i>The Music Shop</i> and I will suggest this is
a song to help if you have, as Irene says, “ever missed someone very, very
badly”. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">That’s how she
introduced the song at the wonderfully named Bach Dancing and Dynamite Club, at
Half Moon Bay in California, one night in September 1977. We are now blessed by
being able to watch Irene and Alan </span><a href="https://youtu.be/uXVfnYkMRMc"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">perform
‘You Are There’</span></a><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> from that show: “In the evening when
the kettle’s on for tea / An old familiar feeling settles over me / And it’s
your face I see and I believe that you are there”. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Yr Heartouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13069476478838746714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3579071422066847226.post-7516826940847610352021-10-28T18:51:00.000+01:002021-10-28T18:51:03.020+01:00The Shoebox Files #6: Billy Fury<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE5HwJDIXLaZS8PvDSXUd3Df_XKh9p5F_qozEZdVb-cfkcDSo0IclAi2yunEMZ0wJ48arNU56pKPG9-RrSD9f283yDfJ-o-_mNk7rV1pb_fLPz-JdWq73XcLDhG1XC1BMo3X4G-wHUjsA/s606/Billy+Fury+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="606" data-original-width="599" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE5HwJDIXLaZS8PvDSXUd3Df_XKh9p5F_qozEZdVb-cfkcDSo0IclAi2yunEMZ0wJ48arNU56pKPG9-RrSD9f283yDfJ-o-_mNk7rV1pb_fLPz-JdWq73XcLDhG1XC1BMo3X4G-wHUjsA/s320/Billy+Fury+2.jpg" width="316" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">‘Things Are Changing’
by Billy Fury is a highlight of </span><a href="https://www.mixcloud.com/yrheartout/the-shoebox-selections-vol-7/"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">the
seventh mix in the series of Shoebox Selections</span></a><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">.
It’s so good, with a lovely off-kilter Northern Soul feel, punchy horns, and
the great man himself in fantastic moody form, especially where his voice drops
down and he warns: “You’ll be lonely and you’ll cry”. This, here, however, is
more a celebration of the decidedly dodgy compilation I first heard the track
on. For, let’s face it, we all have a few desperately wrong cash-in collections
we are ridiculously fond of despite what logic tells us.<span></span></span></p><a name='more'></a><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This particular one, <i>…
At His Best</i>, is a Billy Fury double-CD from the start of the new
millennium, which I remember buying locally for 50p ages ago in a now long-gone
Salvation Army charity shop called The Booth. You used to be able to get some
great stuff in there from time to time. Anyway, the first CD in the set was
pretty much what you would expect, albeit the reworked late-1970s K-Tel
variations, which reminds me of an elderly couple I heard arguing in the Cancer
Research one day. The chap was saying that you see loads of different Matt
Monro compilations but they all have the same tracks on. His wife told him to
stop moaning, to which he replied: “It would just be nice to hear some of the
other things he did rather than the same ones all the time”. She walked off
saying: “Yeah, but they’re the ones people like. You just want to be different
all the time”. The poor chap was left muttering to himself, shaking his head in
despair. Life, eh?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He was talking about
Matt though he could have been talking about Billy. <i>But</i> life is full of
surprises, and the second CD of that Billy <i>… At His Best </i>set certainly
took me unawares. There were no clues, no explanatory notes, no context
setting, just a whole load of disorientating tracks mostly from the singer’s
fascinatingly lean years in the dogdays of the 1960s, drawing heavily on his
Parlophone singles, post-fickle fatal fame. The track that tickled us at home
was Billy’s own song ‘Phone Box’ (a Vic Coppersmith-Heaven production!) which
is hilarious in a surreal nursery rhyme way with its absurdly catchy “the monkey’s
in the jam jar” refrain. I mean, what’s that all about? Is it rhyming slang or
Edward Lear nonsense? Or simply of its time? It’s glorious nevertheless. And
there are many more wonders on that unprepossessing CD from the singer’s
wilderness years.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">To put it mildly,
Billy’s back catalogue seems to be in a right old state, far messier than The
Fall’s even. Over the years, intermittently, I have had great fun piecing
together the provenance of <i>that</i> CD’s contents, which has been an
occasional obsession. And it seems that, amid all the scrappy posthumous
cash-ins, that second CD has forebears. The same track listing was issued
earlier as a Magnum Force budget CD release called aptly <i>Rough Diamonds and
Pure Gems</i>. This in turn collects tracks from two LPs released after Billy’s
death in 1983, <i>Loving You</i> and <i>Sticks ’n’ Stones.</i> <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">These collections
each contain illogical but often wonderful selections, including a number of
superb recordings that didn’t come out in Billy’s lifetime. They really are a mess,
though, in terms of the songwriting credits, which doesn’t really help. So, for
example, the fantastic ‘Day by Day’ is credited to Stephen Schwartz on <i>this</i>
CD, but it’s not that one from <i>Godspell</i>. It’s got great Latin percussion,
and a real Gospel meets boogaloo feel to it. It’s quite incredible, and could
easily have been a Jazzman 7”. It should be a dancefloor favourite, but I have
no idea if it is. I still don’t know who wrote it, but I have a feeling I
should.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As for the gloriously
soulful ‘Things Are Changing’ (and Billy always seemed more instinctively in
touch with the sound of young Black America than his r’n’r contemporaries in
the UK), it is credited to Singleton on <i>this</i> CD, but as it was a Parlophone
b-side in 1967 it’s easy enough now to ascertain that it was composed by the
team of Waller & Sheeley. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And that
is Gordon Waller as in Peter & Gordon and Sheeley as in Sharon Sheeley of ‘Somethin’
Else’ by Eddie Cochran fame. Eddie and Sharon were very much in love, and
that’s them in that glorious immortal photo, the one of a blonde Sharon sitting
on the park bench with a gorgeous big semi-acoustic guitar as Eddie leans over
and shows her the chords.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There are all sorts
of connections between Sharon and Billy via Eddie Cochran. When Sharon joined
Eddie towards the end of that fateful English tour in 1960, Billy Fury was part
of the same package, and was apparently in awe of Eddie and seriously smitten with
Sharon. Well, why wouldn’t you be? After that dreadful car crash in which Eddie
died, Sharon spent a long time in hospital with a devoted Billy being
incredibly kind and supportive, both then and later. These things matter in
life, don’t they? And, my goodness, how all that must have affected Billy
deeply.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As part of her
rehabilitation back in the States Sharon started writing songs with the godlike
and then very young Jackie DeShannon, and theirs was a pioneering partnership
in the emerging pop context. There is a fantastic Ace CD of ‘The Songs of
Jackie DeShannon 1961-1967’ which features many compositions by Jackie and
Sharon, and includes a striking 1963 photo of them both, with Sharon looking
particularly cool in a striped top. That CD is named after ‘Break-A-Way’, the
song they wrote and which Irma Thomas recorded so wonderfully, and which much
later Tracey Ullman had a big hit with. There are so many gems included in this
collection. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In an age where you
have streaming at one end of a spectrum and overpriced vinyl releases at the
other there is something so wonderful about the continuing presence in our
lives of CDs released by the Ace organisation (including our beloved Kent label)
with their informative liner notes written by experts like Mick Patrick and
Tony Rounce, people who are heroes here. There’s another Ace CD, <i>You Won’t
Forget Me</i>, the first in a series of collections of Jackie DeShannon’s
Liberty singles. This features several of the songs she wrote with Sharon
Sheeley, some of which are excellent, like the title track and the irresistible
‘The Prince’ which is a great example of how Jackie had that grrr in her voice,
a bit of an edge, an unusual rawness for the time she and Sharon were writing
together, what Nik Cohn called the Highschool era. Indeed, Jackie is a good
barometer for where the action was in the 1960s, from rock ’n’ roll to soul,
from folk to Bacharach & David, from folk rock to the dawning of the Laurel
Canyon age.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">If you read the
booklets accompanying these Ace CDs Jackie refers to the sheer quantity of
songs she and Sharon wrote and the high quality of the demos made for these,
featuring several musicians and singers who would become revered names, like
Glen Campbell, David Gates, Leon Russell, and Hal Blaine. Some of these demos
of Jackie and Sharon’s songs feature on an odd CD called <i>In Search of the
American Dream</i>, which was released by Magnum Force (again), and what little
information there is raises more questions than it answers. It’s billed as ‘Unreleased
Masters from the Early 1960s’ but certainly features tracks by Sharon and
songwriting partners from later in the decade.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The interesting thing
is, and this may well be pure coincidence, that with featured vocalists like
P.J. Proby (whom Sharon named) and Mac Davis, and with a focus on moody,
dramatic ballads, it is tempting to imagine that if Eddie Cochran had lived, he
would have recorded these songs. They would certainly suit him. They would
certainly have suited Billy Fury too, though the only Sharon Sheeley and Jackie
DeShannon song I know he recorded was ‘I Must Be Dreaming’. There may be
others. That CD of Sharon Sheeley songs would later be reissued in a slightly
expanded form by RPM. They presumably did a far better job of presentation and annotation.
They certainly did with the wonderful swathe of Jackie DeShannon CDs they
released early in the new millennium. I wish there were RPM or Ace editions of
the later 1960s Billy Fury recordings. Maybe there are. It’s difficult to keep
up, sometimes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There is, at least, a
Peaksoft CD of Billy Fury’s complete Parlophone singles, which I find
fascinating. It is so easy to lose track of time in the sense that Billy was only
six months older than John Lennon, but he almost seems to be from a different
era, having been a star so young. On this CD you get a sense of an artist being
pulled in several different directions at once, unsure where to turn, who to
be. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a natural propensity for
change, an ability for adapting. I was going to mention paisley pop but
remembered him in a Ready Steady Go! clip from 1964 with a fantastic paisley
button-down shirt, so he was ahead of his time there.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">While with
Parlophone, Billy’s adventurous stuff was offset by a pragmatic, perhaps even
desperate, pressure (presumably from management or record company sources) to
be commercially successful again. I certainly won’t pretend all the recordings
from that era are fantastic: they’re not, by any stretch of the imagination.
But there is some really great stuff and some genuinely surprising stuff, like
the cover of David Bowie’s ‘Little Boy Blue’ and three tracks from the Carole
King / The City <i>Now That Everything’s Been Said </i>set. Now how cool is <i>that</i>?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There must have been
also a desire not to alienate Billy’s old audience, and another feature of the Parlophone-years
was a certain forlorn harking back to the golden age of rock ’n’ roll, which
actually was an ever-present feature of the 1960s if you read the excellent Norman
Jopling book. So, Billy ended the decade recording a number of Buddy Holly and
Elvis classics, plus a cracking cover of Tommy Roe’s ‘Sheila’ which has an opening
which is pure-Orange Juice c.1980.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">One particular
highlight of the Parlophone years is the born-again roots rocker ‘All the Way
to the USA’ which is pure proto-1970s Status Quo pop: time to put your thumbs
in your belt and drop that shoulder. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
sound of a pre-teen youth club disco, with not a guitar solo in sight, thank
Christ: glorious stuff. The song itself was composed by Jimmy Campbell, and is
one of several written by him that Billy recorded. Another of his Parlophone
singles was Jimmy’s ‘I Call for My Rose’, which is quite beautiful.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Among the ‘lost’
recordings on <i>this</i> beloved messy CD are a few more Jimmy Campbell songs which
Billy sang, though the credits give no indication of this. There is a beautiful
sequence where the singer’s own ‘I Love You’, gentle psychedelia which could
almost be another lost demo from The Action in <i>their</i> final days, is
bookended by Jimmy’s ‘In My Room’ and ‘Lyanna’, forming a trio of recordings as
good as anyone has ever done, and yet these were never heard until Billy was
long gone. What a world! <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Both ‘In My Room’ and
‘Lyanna’ are so incredibly sad and moving, and Billy’s performance seems to add
layers of strangeness, despair and pain. I don’t know. I could be biased
because I heard Billy’s versions first, and for me they fit Billy, with his
reclusive tendencies, his innate shyness, his modesty, his gentleness, his
persistent ill-health, his latter-day bad luck. So, oddly, <i>this</i> funny
old CD was also my ‘way in’ to the world of Jimmy Campbell, an incredibly
talented singer and songwriter who nevertheless initially made me think of George
Formby at times. Jimmy, for me, was an acquired taste, but so often acquired
tastes prove to have more durability than instant passions.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There is a clip of
Jimmy performing on a BBC TV show, Disco 2, promoting his <i>Half Baked</i> LP,
which I find so incredibly affecting and addictive, with just Jimmy sitting
there with his guitar, lost in his own world, performing ‘In My Room’, ‘Closing
Down The Shop’, and ‘Forever Grateful’, seemingly so self-deprecating, slightly
sardonic, secretly amused. Of late I have been listening to <i>Half Baked</i>
and <i>Jimmy Campbell’s Album</i> (and I adore that record’s cover) such a lot,
partly thanks to rediscovering <i>this</i> Billy Fury set. Jimmy wrote such incredibly
vivid first-person narratives, which could be short stories, or even monologues,
bringing us back to the tradition of Music Hall, vaudeville and variety, rather
like Ray Davies in that sense, though The Kinks’ songs were more often observational
third-person tales. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Sure, there may have
been practical reasons why Billy Fury recorded Jimmy Campbell songs. They both
were from Liverpool, and they shared a manager, but you’d like to think it goes
far deeper than that, and that Billy felt some emotional and creative
connection. It is also tempting to imagine a record made up entirely of Billy
singing Jimmy’s songs. Would there be enough? Probably, yes, if you include
alternative versions. I don’t know, really. On <i>this</i> shoddy but precious
CD there is also the gloriously frazzled ‘Going Back to Germany’, and on
another Peaksoft release (<i>The Lost Album</i>) there’s Billy singing a few
more Campbell compositions, including the superb ‘That’s Right, That’s Me’ (which
seems to invent Shaun Ryder’s Happy Mondays persona) and ‘Green-Eyed American
Actress’. It’s easy to talk about Jimmy Campbell’s misfortune, but the crazy
thing is there wasn’t<i> really</i> a new Billy Fury LP after 1963 and yet
there are so many great recordings he made after that time. Now <i>that’s</i>
misfortune.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Speaking of which, among
the gems on Billy’s <i>Lost Album</i> is ‘Reach Out for Your Loving Touch’, a
lovely beat ballad (with a bizarre hint of ‘Femme Fatale’ to these cloth ears),
which is a Macaulay and Paul composition, so presumably that’s Tony Macaulay
and Don Paul. Is this the Don Paul who produced Jimmy Campbell’s <i>Half Baked</i>?
And also produced Julie Covington’s lovely <i>The Beautiful Changes</i> around
the same time? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With that gorgeous
arrangement by Nick Harrison on Julie’s ‘The Magic Wasn’t There’. Yeah? So, in
which case, is it safe to assume that’s the same Nick who did the arrangements
on some of the <i>Half Baked</i> tracks, like ‘In My Room’? I mean, these
things matter, don’t they? These connections count. To some of us, at least. And,
it’s always fun joining the dots, working things out for yourself, which is
something you <i>have</i> to do when the information is not there, like on <i>this</i>
treasured mess of a CD which I keep on about.<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Yr Heartouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13069476478838746714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3579071422066847226.post-41155168832881187582021-10-08T11:59:00.000+01:002021-10-08T11:59:07.854+01:00The Shoebox Files #5: The Zombies<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYDTtYniHHWHUyGsjK1WgnIfZWOvCKTgCQzd1-F7d6W2FA3Ijz4GCBGqzA49-I5v_7ZP0Vp4LOUZjuvouLIHlZ5xiE6YQS8AWIHXVXJ8P-MZU1zt4IAV_0-fNo7DhxJd-l8uR1Jv8gbB8/s600/Zombies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="597" data-original-width="600" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYDTtYniHHWHUyGsjK1WgnIfZWOvCKTgCQzd1-F7d6W2FA3Ijz4GCBGqzA49-I5v_7ZP0Vp4LOUZjuvouLIHlZ5xiE6YQS8AWIHXVXJ8P-MZU1zt4IAV_0-fNo7DhxJd-l8uR1Jv8gbB8/s320/Zombies.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This is about The Zombies’
‘Leave Me Be’, and about how memories won’t leave us be. The song itself appears
towards the end of </span><a href="https://www.mixcloud.com/yrheartout/the-shoebox-selections-vol-5/"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">the
fifth mix in the <i>The Shoebox Selections</i> series</span></a><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">,
bookended by The Sea and Cake’s ‘The Ravine’ and Jimmy Holiday’s ‘Would You
Like to Love Me’, which is about as good as it can get. It is a quite
impossibly beautiful sequence, and if anyone ever asks what I achieved in life
or what good I did in the darkest days of 2021, then it would be more than reasonable
to point to this holy trinity of softness, yearning and melodic bliss.<span></span></span></p><a name='more'></a><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Do I <i>need</i> to
spell out how exceptional a song ‘Leave Me Be’ is? It speaks for itself,
surely? What has bothered me is why I had the CD this appears on stowed away in
a shoebox at the back of a cupboard. I don’t know. I suspect it’s because it is
one of an absurd 17 bonus tracks on a Repertoire digipak CD reissue of The
Zombies’ first American LP, and as such it has always seemed wrong. There is
something about context informing how we hear things, and there is a big thing
about how we first consume something feeling like the right way forever more.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I first heard ‘Leave
Me Be’ as the third track on a compilation of The Zombies’ Decca singles, which
came out in 1976 as part of a series called <i>Rock Roots</i>. It is an absolutely
incredible collection, from ‘She’s Not There’ through to the gorgeous cover of
Little Anthony & the Imperials’ ‘Goin’ Out of My Head’. The sleevenotes are
by Jonh Ingham who was writing for <i>Sounds</i> at the time, and he mentions
how The Zombies left Decca to record <i>Odessey & Oracle</i>, “one of the
finest statements to emerge from the late sixties”. This was the first
reference I would have seen to this treasure, which I bought many years later, on
another Repertoire CD, with only 16 bonus tracks this time. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Jonh, and this was
also when he was documenting the early punk scene, talks of The Zombies’ Colin
Blunstone having one of the “most subliminal, haunting voices”. I guess I first
fell in love with his singing as a kid, back when one of the familiar Radio 2 staples
was Colin’s gorgeous hit, ‘Say You Don’t Mind’. Many years later that was the
reason I bought a CD of his 1971 solo set <i>One Year</i> which is one of the truly
great LPs for me, and I think Chris Gunning’s arrangements are exquisite,
particularly on the adventurous interpretation of ‘Misty Roses’, very definitely
comparable with Nick Drake and Robert Kirby, or Claus Ogerman with Sinatra and
Jobim. The wistful softness of Colin’s singing on that Zombies collection
certainly connected when hearing Love and the Pale Fountains a little later.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I feel pretty sure I bought
The Zombies’ <i>Rock Roots</i> in the branch of OK Records along Bexleyheath
Broadway. That long-gone shop has been on my mind because of the absurdity of
Jonny Trunk selling a t-shirt with the OK Records logo on, though he admits he
knows nothing about the store. <i>If</i> it is our OK Records then the shirt
should be orange which is what their plastic bags memorably were. In the
interests of fairness, I should add that apparently there were also branches in
nearby Welling and Dartford, but I do not recall ever going to either, and have
no recollection they were even there.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My local OK was,
well, okay. The cool place was Cloud 9, which was more or less directly opposite,
and which I have </span><a href="https://www.loverecordstores.com/post/kevin-pearce"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">written
about before</span></a><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">. That was the place I had an
emotional link with. OK, for me, was just another shop. I can’t remember the
staff or anything much about the window displays. I can recall going in there
regularly in my teens, after school when I popped out for a bit of shopping, so
I guess we’re speaking 1978-ish through to 1982 when I would have gone in
there. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The chief attraction for me was
its discount section, made up of what I now realise was old stock from
elsewhere, surplus stock a few years old, vinyl and cassettes, remaindered or cut-out
or whatever. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I developed the habit
of taking a chance on a title in OK for one or two pounds, often filling in
gaps in my musical knowledge. So, the sort of thing I bought there, dead cheap,
ones which I recall, were the first Dr Buzzard’s Original ‘Savannah’ Band LP, and
a Billie Holiday compilation, which had ‘Until the Real Thing Comes Along’ on which
I loved, and I was delighted when a little later Tracey Thorn picked it for her
<i>NME</i> ‘Portrait of the Artist as a Consumer’ thing, and wondered if she
had bought the same cheap collection. Here, I should add, you can sense the
influence of Ian Penman writing about Torch Songs in the summer of 1980. What
else? Oh, things I still have, like James Brown’s <i>Soul Classics Vol. III</i>,
and War’s <i>Greatest Hits</i>. Haircut 100 were always talking about War in
their early interviews, if I remember rightly. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Another OK purchase,
early on, was a Small Faces’ <i>Rock Roots</i> LP. Each title in the series
featured an old Decca record player prominently on the front, and I would have
played The Zombies and Small Faces sets on something similar, though mine was a
Ferguson model, a Christmas present one year from my mum, the best gift ever.
God, I played that Zombies LP so much, though I suspect I played the
accompanying Small Faces title even more. This was also a collection of their
Decca singles, and, as with The Zombies, this is what I, ahem, immediately
think of when someone mentions the Small Faces. There wasn’t a lot else easily
accessible for the young mod without means in 1979.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The Small Faces’ liner
notes were written by Rosalind Russell, and I have a sneakin’ suspicion I read
somewhere that the Purple Hearts got their name from her opening paragraph,
which was about the original mod era. I could be making that up. Rosalind, at
that time, wrote for <i>Record Mirror</i>, and she has the dubious honour of
being the first music writer that I ‘followed’, as in looking out for her
byline on a feature or her name on the reviews. I read <i>Record Mirror</i> a
lot as a kid, and I guess from the summer of 1976 through to early 1978 it
formed the perfect bridge from <i>Look-In</i> in my pre-teens to the more
mature world of <i>Sounds</i> and the <i>NME</i> but never <i>Melody Maker</i>,
except when they had a free Orange Juice flexi or Marine Girls on the cover.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Record Mirror</span></i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
was strange, really, back then, in the sense that it covered the pop spectrum.
I like the fact that one week they would have Alessi on the front cover, and
The Clash the next. Until very recently I didn’t realise that scans of the
paper are available online. Over the years certain things have stuck in the mind
about what I read back then, but I have always been terrified of having those memories
shattered. Sometimes I have strongly suspected I made certain things up. Other
times I have been almost alarmed at the way some curious piece of trivia has
haunted me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Let me give an
example: I was a huge XTC fan when I was in my early teens, and I can recall
Andy Partridge having a Top 10 of his favourites printed in <i>Record Mirror</i>
about the time <i>White Music</i> came out in early 1978. For some reason I
found it intoxicating because I didn’t have a clue who a number of choices even
were, with the exception of The Ramones, and Can who I knew only through the
hit ‘I Want More’. I have always had at the back of my mind that it was Andy I
first saw mention Sergio Mendes, and rather worryingly it turns out I was
right. Among his other choices were Judee Sill, U Roy, and Tony Williams’
Lifetime. And, trust me, most musicians’ ‘star choices’ were as dull as
dishwater, although credit to Nick Lowe who chose Tobi Legend’s ‘Time Will Pass
You By’ as his number one.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Another Rosalind Russell
feature that stuck in my impressionable mind was a piece on ‘superfans’, which
ran in the 4 March 1978 (my 14<sup>th</sup> birthday) edition, which had XTC on
the cover. Part of the piece was about a group of kids who followed The Jam
around. These were the Southend and Stratford Mods, and there was a great photo
of them, as well as quotes from Grant Fleming, 17, who had just got a 50p mod
three-button suit from a jumble sale. So, apart from Rosalind being light years
ahead of Fred Vermorel, here was a mention of the mod revival a good year
before it really took off. I am sure I am not alone in being smitten. I
desperately wanted to be a mod too, even if I didn’t have a clue what it was
all about then. So, yeah, that really stuck in the mind.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And, here is a nice
postscript: early in the new millennium, when I was writing for the Tangents
site regularly, I enthused about a new Small Hours anthology, and got a lovely
response from their old bass player Kym Bradshaw, who had also been in The
Saints. Interestingly, his email address was in the name of Rosalind Russell,
which tickled me no end. I was tempted to reply and ask whether this was the
same Rosalind who I loved when she was writing for <i>Record Mirror</i>, but
guessed it was probably just a coincidence. It wasn’t: the Rock’s Back Pages
profile for Rosalind mentions she’s married to Kym, so there you go.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Small Hours were a
great band, actually. They very definitely provided the highlights of the <i>Mods
Mayday ’79</i> live album, and their three songs were reason enough to buy it
(and yes I think it was in OK Records, which was unusual in itself for a new
release), along with the gorgeous cover photo of Robert S. Lee on his Vespa.
Not on the original compilation, but on an expanded CD edition, is Small Hours’
cover of Doris Duke’s ‘Can’t Do Without You’, which was also going to be a
single, but characteristically they contrived not to release it. I mean, how
cool can you get? You’ve got all these groups bumbling around covering the
Velvets or Stooges, but Small Hours say: “Well, actually a bit of Doris Duke is
more us really”. It works brilliantly, too, with singer Almond Hand sounding
suitably Bobby Paris-like.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And, appropriately,
Bobby’s immortal ‘I Walked Away’ is on <i>Capitol Soul Casino</i>, one of the
great early Northern Soul compilations, which I remember getting in OK for a
couple of quid. What else? Oh, lots of old soul and disco collections, which
seemed to fit in with the new breed of eclecticism espoused by Orange Juice and
Postcard Records who changed everything at the end of the summer of 1980. I
remember getting a couple of Philadelphia Int. Records’ <i>Phillybusters</i>
LPs in OK, thinking that fitted neatly with Postcard, the OJs, the O’Jays, and
all that. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Then also dovetailing
neatly with the Postcard or Orange Juice disco populism strand were the (still
treasured) <i>It’s All Platinum</i> and <i>All Platinum Gold </i>compilations I
got in OK for next-to-nothing. I guess part of the appeal was as a kid loving
things like The Rimshots, The Moments (Laura Nyro knew!), the godlike Sylvia
(Robinson), and The Whatnauts, who were all present on these collections. But
it was some of the less familiar tracks that really got me, like Linda Jones’
astonishing ‘Your Precious Love’, which was a big John Peel favourite, Chuck
Jackson’s ‘Love Lights’ (where I first heard the great man), Retta Young’s
‘(Sending Out An) S.O.S.’, Larry Saunders’ ‘On The Real Side’, Brother To
Brother’s ‘In The Bottle’, and Calender’s incredible ‘Hypertension’ which I
have a strong suspicion Edwyn Collins, appropriately enough, included in his
‘Portrait of the Artist as a Consumer’ for the <i>NME</i> in 1981-ish. I could
be wrong. All I remember is that there was this, or something similar All
Platinum-related, plus a George McCrae song which was not ‘Rock Your Baby’, and
Jack Kerouac’s <i>The Town and The City.</i> I am surely not clever enough to
have made all that up?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Talking of having
memories verified, while also on the theme of a punk and disco interface and
that Postcard and mod revival ethos of “can’t dismiss what’s gone before,
there’s foundations for us to explore”, then this is for the idiots who still
write about punk in 1977 being at the opposite end of the spectrum to disco
apart from Moroder/Space. You know what I’m talking about. All those books, all
the documentaries. Well, in July 1977, when The Jam released ‘All Around The
World’, it was raved about by the singles reviewer in <i>Record Mirror</i>, one
Geoff Travis. I mean, there may be many people called Geoff Travis who were
into cool music in 1977. I only know of one, but I have no idea if it is this
one. It is where I first came across the name Geoff Travis. Why it should have stuck
in my mind I have no idea, but whenever anyone mentioned Rough Trade I always
wondered if Geoff did reviews for <i>Record Mirror</i> in 1977. I was too
embarrassed to ever mention it or ask anyone, wondering if my memory was
playing tricks. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It stuck in my mind
because of that rave review of ‘All Around The World’, a record which changed
my life. I first learned about it through this review, and the photo and
Geoff’s words seized my imagination. Shortly afterwards I heard it on Noel
Edmonds’ Radio 1 Breakfast Show, saw the group on Top of the Pops and, best of
all, on the first of Marc Bolan’s TV shows. Oh boy, I read that singles review
page over and over and over ’til I memorised it: “Paul Weller’s guitar
explosion in the middle is like a quick journey to the centre of the earth”. It
was Geoff’s single of the week and he insisted it would be a number one. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Another thing that stuck
in the mind was Geoff’s enthusiasm for both punk and disco. So, in addition to
The Jam, he froths about The Sylvers, Emotions, Isleys (“Ernie’s guitar
streaking like a seagull into the sunset”), Silver Convention and Johnnie
Taylor. He had kind words for Showaddywaddy’s take on Marv Johnson’s ‘You’ve
Got What It Takes’ (a big favourite here at the time, I am not ashamed to say).
He also raved about Snatch’s ‘Stanley’ / ‘I.R.T.’ Bomp import (“this pair are
going to be stars”) and ‘This Perfect Day’ by The Saints who would in a few
weeks also be on Top of the Pops, upstaging the Pistols, with Kym Bradshaw on
bass and the studied boredom of the Harrington-clad Ed Kuepper. Geoff wrote
about ‘This Perfect Day’ that “as the world’s most committed new wave soul
fanatic I can only say it’s a shame this won’t ever get played in a US disco.” That
all kind of destroys a whole host of enduring narratives, doesn’t it, whoever
this Geoff Travis was? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe, just
occasionally, it’s a good thing that memories <i>don’t</i> leave us be.<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Yr Heartouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13069476478838746714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3579071422066847226.post-54675613872373433302021-09-27T12:07:00.001+01:002021-09-27T12:07:38.224+01:00The Shoebox Files #4: Carleen Anderson<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy0yZpXVc7xYFF79J8TbTDh_Uz793yrIvW7VlHOpt9uSO-knjuSBG6t7PIxT93Evucxdw-ahhNdZxRST-CuZatyL0yYT4MhQ35aGLQ-526LiMpsGJjNBYl4lDCKTlqUenG2NmA0_pPR5E/s459/Carleen+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="412" data-original-width="459" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy0yZpXVc7xYFF79J8TbTDh_Uz793yrIvW7VlHOpt9uSO-knjuSBG6t7PIxT93Evucxdw-ahhNdZxRST-CuZatyL0yYT4MhQ35aGLQ-526LiMpsGJjNBYl4lDCKTlqUenG2NmA0_pPR5E/s320/Carleen+%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">Carleen Anderson’s soul
soothing ‘Peace in the Valley’ opens </span><a href="https://www.mixcloud.com/yrheartout/the-shoebox-selections-vol-8/"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">the
eighth mix in the <i>Shoebox Selections </i>series</span></a><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">.
Do you, by any chance, believe in fate, in the sense that you hear something at
precisely the right time? For this was a song (well, let’s call it a prayer!)
which I had <i>completely</i> forgotten about until sorting through some old
CDs, but it was so very much meant for me at that moment. There’s something in Carleen’s
composition, and the way she sings it, that really connects deep inside, and I
am not ashamed to say that it got me through a (to put it mildly) difficult
time. Even now I cannot listen to this song all the way through without clenching
my teeth and fists, digging my nails into my palms, while looking up to the
heavens and, through tears, asking: “Why?”.<span></span></span></span></p><a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Listening back to the
start of that mix I think it’s pretty evident I was not in a good place.
Carleen’s spiritual, The Bees, then that astonishing Charlie Rich recording,
his ‘No Home’, with intimations of The Beatles and Rachmaninov, and those devastating
opening lines: “And when I needed you to help me, really needed you, you left
me … all alone”. Oh boy. Then Blue Orchids’ ‘Conscience’ and I can’t even go
there. Just listen. No words needed. And I can recall, a few days after the mix
was posted up, sitting on a bench outside a hospital, listening to those songs,
weeping, praying for something, for strength from somewhere. And listening to
Carlene, to Charlie Rich, to Martin Bramah, I knew they were there, for me,
that they’d been <i>there</i> too. What is it Carlene sings? “Hope when there’s
sadness. Peace in the valley. Beyond all this madness”.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">This song, this
incantation, appears on Carlene’s 1998 CD <i>Blessed Burden</i>, on which she
is at the top of her game. It feels like it would have been a happy time making
that record. It seems to have been a close circle of friends involved: Carleen
with Paul Weller, Brendan Lynch, and all the gang. At times, yeah, it strays
into ‘heavy soul’ territory, and you can imagine a bit of a Doris Troy or Merry
Clayton start-of-the-’70s vibe being aimed for, but at other times Carleen taps
into something else, something uniquely spiritual, particularly on ‘Peace in
the Valley’.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">On this track Carleen
is backed by the guys from Push, namely Ernie McKone on bass, Mark Vandergucht
on guitar, Crispin Taylor on drums, and Mick Talbot on the Hammond. And, on
‘Peace in the Valley’, what is so remarkable is the restraint, in both the
singing and the playing. No guitar solos (thank Christ!). No histrionics. Just
layers and loops of rhythm and melody. Maybe taking the group back to their
roots (wasn’t there a Weather Prophets connection early on? You might think
they were, ahem, oceans apart!) with a metronomic Meters thing going on? It is
the lightness of touch that is so striking, just so very beautiful and right.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">The other track of
Carleen’s which really stands out is the incredible ‘Leopards in the Temple’
which closes proceedings. It’s just Carleen at the piano, accompanied by a
string quartet, playing with themes from a Kafka parable, one which is even
more relevant post-Trump, Farage, Johnson and the grossly offensive behaviour
they have normalised. In a way it perfectly complements Carleen’s words from
‘Apparently Nothin’’, sentiments which seem truer than ever. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Another highlight
from the LP is Carleen’s cover of Van’s ‘Who Was That Masked Man?’ It’s lovely,
very stripped down, basically just Paul Weller accompanying her on guitar and
piano. Come on, I love <i>Veedon Fleece</i> so much, so I may be biased, but I
can’t be the only person reading the news over the past 18 months who has had
that song on the mind? Interestingly, I don’t remember anyone else, other than Carleen,
covering it. I don’t even recall any other versions of tracks from Van’s <i>Veedon
Fleece</i>, which is intriguing. May be the songs are too personal. Maybe no
one is brave enough. Who knows?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Actually, cover
versions of songs from that early part of Van’s solo career are not plentiful.
The great exception is Dexys having a hit with ‘Jackie Wilson Said’, but in a
way that was later. If you look for contemporaneous-ish cover versions from,
say, <i>Astral Weeks</i> through to <i>Veedon Fleece </i>you are not spoiled
for choice, not compared to the thousands of covers of ‘Gloria’ there were around
the world. Jackie DeShannon springs to mind, recording ‘I Wanna Roo You’ and ‘And
It Stoned Me’ (not <i>my</i> favourite Van Morrison songs!), but then there
were connections, a kinship, and she also sang backing vocals on <i>Hard Nose the
Highway.</i> <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Of those early LPs <i>Moondance</i>
was the one that seemed to connect with performers in the States. Aptly Merry
Clayton did a great version of ‘Glad Tidings’, and Nolan Porter recorded a
beautiful ‘Crazy Love’. Actually, there were plenty of recordings, relatively,
of ‘Crazy Love’, but there don’t seem to have been too many of ‘Moondance’ itself
early on. Grady Tate did a gorgeous take on it, and a few years earlier Irene
Reid with Horace Ott had recorded a fantabulous jazz version which is something
else, so sensuous. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">If you want to while
away the wee small hours, disappearing down this particular rabbit hole, there
are a few gems to seek out. One is the great Roy Head (yup Mr ‘Treat Her
Right’) and his cover of ‘You Got the Power’, a lost b-side of Van’s, on the
flip of ‘Jackie Wilson Said’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then
there’s Buddy Rich and his instrumental of ‘Domino’ which surely somewhere is a
Northern Soul favourite played religiously as the sun comes up over the piers
of the years. Then there’s Los Dínamicos Exciters, from Panama (and I believe
they have cropped up on a Soundway compilation), who took Van’s ‘Gypsy Queen’
and made the spiritual connection with The Impressions and that campfire which
has always been at the back of our minds.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Special mention must
be made of Johnny Rivers and his 1970 set <i>Slim Slo Slider</i> which may well
have been the first LP to be named after a Van song, except Johnny’s version of
the title track is more of an adaptation really: the flute follows the script, beautifully,
but there’s no Ladbroke Grove, no dying, rather it’s about being born again,
with a hint of ‘Astral Weeks’. Ironically, it was Dylan’s <i>Chronicles</i>
with its praise for Johnny’s take on ‘Positively 4<sup>th</sup> Street’ that
got me interested in his work, and <i>Slim Slo Slider</i> is a beautiful
record. Johnny never does too much, and he has such an ache, a hurt, a
yearning, in his voice at times, which is why his ‘Brass Buttons’ works so
well. Anyway, according to John Tobler’s liner notes to the BGO CD, Van some
years earlier was just as enthusiastic about Johnny’s interpretations, and
these guys are hard to please.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Johnny also recorded
a beautiful version of Van’s ‘Into the Mystic’ but my favourite is the one by
Ben E. King which I am completely obsessed by. It comes from his 1972 LP <i>The
Beginning of It All </i>which came out on the independent Mandala label, and he
sings it straight, the arrangement is beautiful, there are no surprises, but
because Ben E. could bring a certain maturity to proceedings there seems a
weariness and a sadness in the homecoming that even Van doesn’t quite reach. Oh
boy, this recording is quite something.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Apparently, Julie
Felix also recorded ‘Into the Mystic’ in 1974, but I have to confess I haven’t
heard it. So, the only Van cover from the UK in the early 1970s I know is by
another exceptional emigree, the remarkable and truly internationalist Shusha,
who covered ‘Young Lovers Do’ beautifully, as a decorous echo, on her 1974
United Artists LP <i>This is the Day</i>, which is another record I am
currently obsessed with, having recently dug out my old BGO CD. It forms part
of a series of albums she made in the 1970s with Gerald T. Moore after he left
the wonderful Heron, whose spiritual ‘Lord and Master’, with its beat(ific)
group balladry and harmonics, is a particular favourite here. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Shusha’s work seems
to be off the radar at present, which is a shame. Ironically, the only record of
hers readily available to buy or stream is a collection of Persian love songs
and mystic chants. Her <i>This is the Day</i> is a strange old record, though.
The presence of Gerry Conway and Pat Donaldson may be a coincidence, but Sandy
Denny would be a close comparison at times. <i>Like an Old Fashioned</i> <i>Waltz</i>
(my own favourite Sandy record) must have been a recent release and a possible
inspiration, and that impression is strengthened by Harry Robinson doing string
arrangements for Shusha. It may be blasphemy but this Shusha LP is an easier
listen than some of Sandy’s records, less rocky which just might have something
to do with G.T. Moore’s own reggae related activities which give a suggestion
of weightlessness.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">While there are a
couple of compositions by Shusha, G.T., and his former Heron colleague Roy
Apps, most of the material is covers, and what an intoxicating, bewildering
mixture: the opening quartet alone is Captain Beefheart, Chuck Berry, Bob Dylan
and Jacques Brel, which ain’t bad going. And has anyone else ever named an LP
after a Captain Beefheart song? I doubt it. Certainly not in the same year the
title track was released, I’m sure. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">It’s funny: that
song, ‘This is the Day’, the Captain B. LP it comes from, <i>Unconditionally
Guaranteed</i>, is one I was a bit dismissive of as a young man, but that’s the
way things are: my loss. It sort of feels like Shusha and co. turn the song
into a beautiful folk ballad. It is, along with Jimmy James’ ‘I’m Glad’, my
favourite Beefheart cover. And the Captain’s own recording of ‘This is the Day’
is so, so very lovely. And the song itself: it’s a lost Richard Brautigan
fragment of a story, isn’t it?<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Looking, out of
curiosity, to see what Shusha there is on YouTube (and there’s not much), I
came upon a couple of clips of TV appearances from the late 1970s by Shusha and
G.T. Moore and colleagues. For a brief moment, as they perform ‘Too Many Rivers’,
there are hints of Jonathan Richman around the same time, when he was doing his
<i>Rock ’n’ Roll with the Modern Lovers</i> thing. The other clip is a cover of
the old standard ‘Love is the Sweetest Thing’: a song which always makes me
think of Peter Skellern, and I guess it makes sense as this was the era of <i>Pennies
from Heaven</i> when a TV series by Dennis Potter was a big thing. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Anyway, most of the
line-up there, with G.T. Moore on guitar, Kuma Harada playing bass, and Darryl
Lee Que on percussion, would also play together a short while later on Poly
Styrene’s gorgeous <i>Translucence</i>, one of my favourite records. And in the
same timeframe G.T. would also be out at the Black Ark studios to participate
in the recording of <i>The Return of Pipecock Jackxon</i>, all of which makes a
strange kind of perfect sense.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">And talking of
old-fashioned waltzes, quite probably my favourite part of Shusha’s <i>This is
the Day</i> is the cover of Cole Porter’s immortal ‘Ev’ry Time We Say Goodbye’,
and if you know and love Kenny Carter’s gloriously anguished recording, then
the Shusha recording of ‘Ev’ry Time’ may come as a bit of a shock, albeit a pleasant
one. At heart the Shusha interpretation is a plaintive folk ballad or torch
song, but halfway through the proceedings it’s like members of the Early Music
Consort burst into the studio and have a bit of a cavort, spectacularly
misjudging the mood, before being shepherded out, leaving Shusha to carry on
calmly. They do, however, return for another brief burst of Renaissance dance
music at the end, and presumably everyone then joined in for a jig and reel. It
is gloriously absurd and addictive.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Listening to it the
other night I suddenly realised that I was dancing around the living room.
Well, okay, it was more an old codger galumphing about rather than a rebel
waltzing on air, but that’s not the point. It had been a long, long time since
I had danced spontaneously, which is where we came in, with Carlene’s ‘Peace in
the Valley’ and all that went with it. It felt good, and at the end I couldn’t
stop laughing. Maybe, one day, some sweet day, when all ‘this’ is over, if we
ever get out of these blues alive, we can all get together and someone will put
the Shusha track on over the soundsystem and you’ll join me in one last, well,
you know. Meanwhile, <i>I’m</i> going to sail magnificently into the mystic
with Ben E. King once more.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;"> </span></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Yr Heartouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13069476478838746714noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3579071422066847226.post-41672442487858742632021-09-09T13:24:00.001+01:002021-09-09T13:26:42.780+01:00The Shoebox Files #3: Kenny Carter<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCsbbLyPCoLMeX9QvAcliJG1lGhp5VRqFZ7P9TU2AD8MeEU-mYgEdOHee4F6TQVELFQw0bNWQp3Sq0Za2zPlf3xxCSP_-r_VF5zl2kDF3C1GyMuZmUf26wXq39dc44bcNc8I7dfWhaAiA/s750/Kenny+Carter.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCsbbLyPCoLMeX9QvAcliJG1lGhp5VRqFZ7P9TU2AD8MeEU-mYgEdOHee4F6TQVELFQw0bNWQp3Sq0Za2zPlf3xxCSP_-r_VF5zl2kDF3C1GyMuZmUf26wXq39dc44bcNc8I7dfWhaAiA/s320/Kenny+Carter.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">Remarkably, <i>Showdown</i>,
the Kent CD of Kenny Carter’s complete recordings for RCA in 1966, is the
label’s finest moment, which is an incredible achievement after almost 40 years
in business. During that time Ady Croasdell and his colleagues have made so
much wonderful music available, and have consistently released records in such
an aesthetically pleasing way, but it seems like they were simply preparing us
for this Kenny Carter collection.<span></span></span></p><a name='more'></a><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">One pleasant
by-product of putting together mixes as part of the </span><a href="https://www.mixcloud.com/yrheartout/"><i><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">Shoebox Selections</span></i></a><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">
project was sorting through dozens of old Kent CDs and getting reacquainted
with so many wonderful tracks. The label is strongly represented in the series
of mixes, and among the singers featured are Dori Grayson and Jimmy Holiday,
both of whom are featured on Vol. 1 of <i>Dave Godin’s Deep Soul Treasures</i>
which is almost certainly where many of us first came across the name of Kenny
Carter. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">I guess it’s no
exaggeration to say that I have read Dave’s liner notes for that CD hundreds of
times, and it is part of the appeal of the format that labels like Kent have
been able to share so much information in bulky booklets which (just about) fit
inside a jewel case. He didn’t give much away about Kenny, though there was a
received impression of the singer being temperamental and very much part of a
mid-’60s burst of creative energy focused around Larry Banks. Also on that
collection were other inspiring recordings from Larry’s extended family: Jaibi’s
‘You Got Me’, Larry’s own version of ‘I’m Not the One’, and ‘Lights Out’ by
Zerben R Hicks & the Dynamics. <i><o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">Considerably more
would be revealed about Kenny Carter in the booklet that came with the CD <i>Larry
Banks’</i> <i>Soul Family Album </i>in 2007, and there are a few of the
singer’s lost recordings included on this superb set, but it would be more than
a dozen years before Kent were finally able to present Kenny’s complete RCA
work. So, presumably, off and on during all that time Ady Croasdell had been
diligently and quietly working on putting together what is one of the most
wonderful collections of music ever released. Ady’s own notes for the set come over
as a cross between investigative research and a gripping thriller, while at the
end of it all we are not really much closer to understanding Kenny Carter,
which appeals enormously.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">During that nasty,
soul-destroying, unforgiving lockdown-winter at the start of 2021 this CD of
Kenny Carter seemed an ever-present part of my life, along with Bobby Cole’s <i>A
Point of View</i> and José Mauro’s <i>A Viagem das Horas</i>, at various times
in that dark age, so much so that when things finally unravelled it became
impossible for a while to even contemplate listening to these recordings again.
Hopefully, the slow process of healing has now begun, but it does raise
interesting questions about what we are able to listen to when we’ve reached
rock bottom and are trying to find a way out of the darkness. Here, it was The
Byrds and a lot of choral work and a load of old dub, but not anything where
the pain was really exposed. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">For <i>Showdown</i>
is a remarkably intense recording, and is not really recommended for when you
are feeling raw. Kenny could imbue any lyrics he sang with incredible amounts
of emotion and drama, going way beyond what’s generally considered as polite
and pleasant, which may be a strength for many of us listening now but, quite
possibly, it was Kenny’s downfall commercially, giving the record company a
real struggle about where to place him in the market.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">Back in the 1960s, in
theory, he would have been perfect for the hip, mature easy-listening crowd,
except that his music is too intrusive for leaving on in the background. And
then, at the other end of the spectrum, there were the cool kids who just might
not be ready to hear a batch of old standards and songs from musicals, no
matter how transformed they were. Thus, RCA had a bit of a dilemma, one which
was best solved by quietly burying the incredible tapes which bear witness to
the tormented soul of Kenny Carter.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">I am intrigued: was
the singing of standards and show tunes Kenny’s metier, his milieu? Did he
perform live, in supper clubs or bistros where that sort of material would be
expected? Or was it something he was encouraged to take on by the production
team or record label? Who knows! Interestingly Kenny could take something which
on paper seems unprepossessing or unremarkable, and reinvent it as something
exceptional. The Frank Loesser number ‘I Believe in You’ in other hands seems lightweight,
even when performed by the heavyweights, but Kenny revolutionises it, turning
it into a meditative, deep soul prayer of thanks, and his delivery of the
opening lines (“You have the cool clear eyes of a seeker of wisdom and truth”!)
makes it seem incredibly profound. I think it’s my favourite track on the
record. I’m not sure why. And there’re times listening to Kenny singing this
number that I am reminded of Tim Rose and that incredible debut LP of his. I
don’t know if that would bear too close scrutiny but that’s the impression I’m
left with.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">Kenny’s cover of the
standard ‘Time After Time’ is great, too, partly because he plays it straight,
without any showing off. Maybe there’s the shadow of Sinatra looming large, as
he often would do, as he was certainly haunting that trio of records I was
playing over and over during the dark times: Kenny, Bobby Cole, José Mauro. I
have had a fondness for ‘Time After Time’ ever since, as a kid, hearing The
Peddlers perform it, having found it on an old compilation in mum’s LP case. The
importance of such things can’t be under-estimated. More recently I have been
obsessed with the version on the 1963 set <i>The Intimate Miss Christy</i> on
which the very great June is left very naked, accompanied only by Al Viola on
guitar, Bud Shank on flute, and bassist Don Bagley hardly there at all. It’s
just such a beautiful record. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">At the centre of Ady
Croasdell’s liner notes is the presence of Garry Sherman, the arranger for
these <i>Showdown</i> sessions. In a way that is only right, as the Larry Banks
story has been told elsewhere and Garry is at least still with us to let us in
on his memories. I have to confess that while Garry’s name was familiar, I
hadn’t hitherto really collected all the clues together so didn’t fully appreciate
what a magic touch he had. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">Kenny’s RCA sessions
are a wonderful tribute to Garry’s artistry, but they didn’t happen in
isolation. And you may know more about all this, but if Garry’s name is
familiar, it may have something to do with Lorraine Ellison’s ‘Stay with Me’,
with Garnet Mimms’ ‘Cry Baby’, Bessie Banks’ ‘Go Now’, Solomon Burke’s ‘If You
Need Me’, Erma Frankin’s ‘Piece of my Heart’. And when you think of those spellbinding
songs, quite simply remarkable recordings, is it any surprise that as an
arranger he managed to get Kenny to be so emotive? For Garry certainly specialised
in, shall we say, extreme ballads. That seems to have been his forte. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">Fans of the <i>Dave
Godin’s Deep Soul Treasures</i> series will be familiar with the name of Garry
Sherman if they have scrutinised the small print. Another Kent CD he features
on as an arranger is the 1997 title, <i>New York Soul Serenade</i>, which is a
particular favourite, and the beautiful blessed-by-Teddy Randazzo ‘If It’s for
Real’ by Porgy & the Monarchs features in <i>The Shoebox Selections</i>. This
CD is related to an earlier Kent LP, <i>Big City Soul Sounds</i>, which came
out in 1986 and was played to death by the ghost of a young man. I know it’s
not an either/or situation, but I am very much a Big City Soul man rather than
a Southern Soul guy when it comes to ballads. I blame it on early exposure to
Jimmy Radcliffe’s ‘Long After Tonight is All Over’ and Ray Pollard’s ‘The
Drifter’.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">What I like about
that New York balladry is the unique situation that existed and helped form the
sound. There was a melting pot, with all these classically trained musicians earning
their daily bread with endless session work, with the jazz being performed in
smoky cellars, with performers uptown singing in supper clubs and bistros, with
the rapid turnover of Broadway musicals, the music in churches of whatever
denomination, the hectic world of the Brill Building. And you imagine people
like Garry Sherman, not necessarily rooted in the rhythm & blues or soul tradition,
getting away with using elements of symphonic swells, dramatic operatic arias, celestial
choral works in and among these new sounds. Listen to those cellos he uses to
such great effect in the Kenny Carter sessions. There surely was a man who had
spent meditative time alone with cello sonatas or cello suites and relished the
opportunity to use elements of what he’d heard.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">Anyway, Garry
arranged the two wonderful Judy Clay tracks that are on the <i>New York Soul
Serenade </i>CD, and the should-have-been enormous single ‘My Arms Aren’t
Strong Enough’ is one of the greatest things ever. Garry also was behind Judy’s
incredible performance on ‘Lonely People Do Foolish Things’ which appears on
Kent’s <i>Sweet Sound of Success</i> CD. Is it wishful thinking to suggest Garry
was also responsible for the arrangement on Judy’s monumental ‘Turn Back the
Time’ which was on that <i>Big City Soul Sounds</i>? Maybe, I pray, one day Ady
will be able to put together a beautiful and comprehensive collection of Judy’s
Scepter recordings. That would be quite something, and would mean so much to me.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">Garry also worked
extensively with Bert Berns and Jerry Ragovoy in their heyday. He has several
credits on the Ace CD <i>Mr Success</i>, volume 2 of the Bert Berns Story,
including the perennial radio favourite ‘Brown Eyed Girl’ and the incredible
Freddie Scott recording of ‘No One Could Ever Love You’ which has all the trademark
Sherman favourite features: the reflective opening, the gradual swell of impassioned
vocals, the gospel choir, the sense of drama, the surging orchestra doing
battle: wonderful, life-affirming stuff.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">I am wary of reading
too much into all this. I accept that many of the people taking part in the Kenny
Carter sessions would have been just doing their job. But, come on, it’s not
quite as cold as all that. One way or another there were some pretty special
people involved. People like Paul Griffin, the piano player, who had played
with Bacharach and Dylan. I mean, for a relatively unknown singer, somehow
Kenny’s sessions attracted some top personnel over several dates. That, surely,
was meant to be?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">And, actually, connections
are fun, which is why I mentioned Paul Griffin. It’s like the chorus was led by
Anne Phillips who I assume is the same lady who made a fantastic one-off 1959
LP <i>Born to Be Blue</i> which has one of the best covers ever, with the young
singer adrift in the Big City, dressed in a trench coat, like a heartbroken heroine
from a lost film noir, which is also what the record sounds like. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">I first heard Anne on
Bob Stanley’s excellent Croydon Municipal compilation <i>Mid Century Minx</i>,
a terrific collection of female jazz singers from the dogdays of the artform’s
popularity. Anne disappeared from the scene to work incognito in studios, and
she certainly sang with Carole King. Garry Sherman, during his time working for
Leiber & Stoller, did the arrangements on the immortal Carole King composition
‘Up on The Roof’ for The Drifters. So, there you go. Another wonderful
connection is that the backing vocalists for Kenny Carter included Barbara
Massey who would some years later join forces with Ernie Calabria to make the <i>Prelude
To</i> record, the highlight of which, the gorgeous, the spiritual ‘Listen to
Your Heart’, is included in the second <i>Shoebox Selections</i> mix.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">Anyway, that batch of
Larry Banks songs which made the first <i>Deep Soul Treasures </i>so wonderful
- ‘Showdown’, ‘Lights Out’, and ‘I’m Not the One’, plus Jaibi’s oh so special ‘You
Got Me’ – brilliantly illustrates how the elusive creative energy can be concentrated
in one place momentarily in a seemingly miraculous way that cannot be easily
explained and cannot be repeated. At the time these songs hardly made a splash,
but now, over half-a-century on, well they are revered. And that would not have
happened without Ady Croasdell and Kent. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">I have never met Ady
as far as I know. I would be too tongue-tied to speak to him anyway. I could
easily pass Ady on the street without knowing him. But, my god, so many of us
owe him so much. I don’t know if he realises. And I’ll tell you what I loved in
his booklet that came with the Kenny Carter CD: I loved the fact that people
said what a nice guy Kenny was. Maybe <i>that</i> was his downfall: the world’s
not kind to nice guys and they can often get overlooked and occasionally they
get very much hurt along the way without anyone really noticing until it’s too
late.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Yr Heartouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13069476478838746714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3579071422066847226.post-4173856563546476512021-06-04T06:45:00.000+01:002021-06-04T06:45:18.343+01:00The Shoebox Files #2: Wah! Heat<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQTyqkn9sQGWcGzAyiEUSSf3I2SO5hMT9tYk1NCKI_wADiKGfr0RzgtAqWTTvjhtmgPxUib8QQuOIWuLBM9fM3Hf00245Ek2GkN2VQNhKPzpLVO8Tvnl_9kw1hm-njnuGSMLr2AI9ItLk/s500/Better+Scream.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQTyqkn9sQGWcGzAyiEUSSf3I2SO5hMT9tYk1NCKI_wADiKGfr0RzgtAqWTTvjhtmgPxUib8QQuOIWuLBM9fM3Hf00245Ek2GkN2VQNhKPzpLVO8Tvnl_9kw1hm-njnuGSMLr2AI9ItLk/s320/Better+Scream.jpg" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Perhaps a little
unexpectedly Wah! Heat’s ‘Better Scream’ is one of the songs that has had the
most emotional impact on me while selecting lost treasures for <i>The Shoebox
Selections</i> series of mixes. Originally the band’s debut 45, it now opens <i>The
Handy Wah! Whole</i>, a 2CD collection issued on Castle in 2000, and it still sounds
wonderful, from the opening chiming guitars, as captivating as those on Love’s
1<sup>st</sup> LP, waiting for the bass to come in with all the majesty of Joy
Division’s menace and melody, and then Wylie singing over the bank of guitars, crooning
here. It is really a one-off in the Wah! canon, and a rare example of anyone getting
balances so right between darkness and light.<span></span></span></span></p><a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Prior to picking it
for a mix the track had not been played here in a long while, but somehow it
has never been far from my mind. It is also a song associated with a particular
image. There’s been a lot of things written and said about the links between music
and memory. In this case the connection is to a particular picture, or to be
more precise a 1980 photo of Pete Wylie, dressed in an old army raincoat, one
of the famous long macs of yore, and he’s holding up an umbrella, a golfing one
possibly, and brandishing a copy of Jack Kerouac’s <i>On The Road</i> with a
Clash Police badge in his lapel, pretty much the perfect imagery then for a kid
of 16 going on 17. I wish I still had the cutting, but it’s long gone. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Thinking of that
photo, a few questions arise, daft ones really. Where did I see it? Which
edition of <i>On The Road</i> was Wylie brandishing? Did he have a beard back then?
Maybe, more fundamentally, did the photo even exist? Oh, yeah, definitely, it
did. I think. That Clash badge is the giveaway, a pretty unattractive thing,
but a regular in the Better Badges chart the <i>NME </i>used to run in its classifieds
section. I’ve still got my badge, over 40 years on. It’s a bit tarnished, a bit
rusty, but aren’t we all? <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">I can remember
wearing it in the lapel of a jacket after seeing that Wylie photo, and on one
occasion must have had it on at a bazaar or a fete because the local Tory MP,
one Cyril Townshend, came up and asked about it. He seemed a decent man as a
constituency MP, an officer and a gentleman. Certainly, his politics were not
mine, but then his politics were not Thatcher’s either and she was his boss. He
was genuinely inquisitive about the badge, and even when I explained about The
Clash being a punk rock group he was still curious and attentive and, above all,
polite to a kid.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">The image seems to be
very definitely from the summer of 1980, from one of the music press interviews
of the time, possibly Dave McCullough in <i>Sounds</i> who gave a rave review
of ‘Better Scream’ and he must surely have done a follow-up article. For some
reason, I have another idea it may have (also) appeared in <i>New Music News</i>,
a short-lived music weekly, capitalising on the <i>NME</i> being on strike for
several weeks. There is one copy in the files here, a reminder it did really
exist, from June 1980 which contains the Bill Lee review of Vic Godard’s <i>What’s
The Matter Boy?</i> Many years later I realised this was a moonlighting from
Manicured Noise Steve Walsh who in 1977 did the incredible <i>Zigzag</i> ‘wiping
out rock ’n’ roll’ feature on Subway Sect.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">That same issue
features Inevitable label boss Pete Fulwell (who was part of the Eric’s gang) fulminating
against fake independent record companies. It was his label that put out
‘Better Scream’ with a wrap-round sleeve in a plastic bag, a little like the
early Creation singles would be packaged. ‘Better Scream’ was still in that
week’s indies chart (from Revolver in Bristol), just, having been
knocking-around for a few months or so. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Well, that’s my story
and I’m sticking to that. It all gets jumbled up, and memories and fragments of
songs go round and round when there seems nothing else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway, allow me to reminisce, about the summer
of 1980. Doubtless, I’ve said all of this before, but it’s about getting things
straight in my mind, working out how everything fits in together, so permit me
to repeat it one more time before it’s all lost or we’re all lost.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">The summer of 1980: Dexys’
<i>Searching for the Young Soul Rebels</i> and Vic Godard’s <i>What’s The
Matter Boy?</i> were the records of that summer, and it was a great time to be
16. Bernard Rhodes knew, didn’t he? Then there was the shadow of Joy Division,
the sadness of Ian’s death. That spring though Liverpool had been in the
ascendancy. They were League 1 champions too, even though West Ham won the cup.
The Teardrop Explodes released ‘Treason’on Zoo, Echo & the Bunnymen put out
‘Rescue’, a three-track budget-price 12” on Korova, with a great cover photo,
almost as good as the one on the inner sleeve of <i>Crocodiles</i> (‘play it in
the dark’ the adverts said at the height of summer!) and Pink Military a little
later with their ‘Did You See Her?’ on Eric’s, one of the great torch songs,
and those photos of Jayne Casey in her coolie hat. Add to that the mythology of
the Armadillo Tea Rooms. Wah! Heat were part of that circle, and ‘Better
Scream’ the best of the lot, and you imagine Wylie as the loudest voice in the
crowd in those days, making plans and drawing up manifestos.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">So, there he was in
that lost photo holding up his battered copy of <i>On The Road</i>, an early
edition probably, and a couple of years later recalling Sal Paradise’s words
about the city intellectuals of the world being divorced from
the folk body blood-of-the-land and just rootless fools, which forms
part of the spoken part of ‘Story of the Blues’, that incredible song which
forms a huge reason why there is such a reservoir of goodwill for Pete even
today. That song, the Mike Hedges production, the bridge between <i>Sulk</i>
and <i>Sin of Pride</i>, is special. And it really doesn’t matter what else you
do in life, for just to know you have composed that song, something that has
given so much solace down the years, particularly of late, as we get older, for
what else can you turn to when desperation takes hold and you are down on your
knees, sobbing, praying, in private.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Funnily enough, forcing
myself 40-odd years to read <i>On The Road</i> again, it is the ragged sadness that
seems so striking, the hollowness and the loneliness at the core of all that
rushing around getting nowhere fast, all the wearying wanting to fit in, trying
too hard to have fun, the hard work of simply kicking for kicks, and that’s
where the poetry can be found, especially the heart-breaking ending which it is
impossible now not to hear Mark Murphy reciting.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Wylie was our amalgam
of Dean Moriarty and Sal Paradise, a hurricane of energy, in perpetual motion, it
seemed, yakking away nineteen to the dozen, haring from one end of the country
to another, on the road with The Clash, impetuously jumping in someone’s car to
go and see Dexys, rushing to catch a train up to London to catch a Blue Orchids
show. And he was always good for a memorable quote or anecdote, on the radio
talking about signing to a major for 10s 6d and a year’s supply of fish and
chips, or getting down on his knees meeting Geoffrey Hughes in the corridor of
some TV studios, as in Eddie Yeats who gets a mention in Vic Godard’s ‘No Style’.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Vic and Subway Sect
and their “we oppose all rock ’n’ roll” stance surely fed into Wylie’s rockism
position, as in ‘out with the tired old ways of doing things’, which prompted a
Ray Lowry mickey-take in The Face, a badge of honour coming from the man who
drew for The Clash who themselves incidentally came up with the best rockism
pun in <i>Combat Rock</i>. Oddly, by that time, into 1981, Wylie was wearing a
quiff, leathers and a beard, and back then facial hair was as problematical as
a rocky riff. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Beards? Well, we’ll
let Wylie off, and Beardy Pegley, yeah, and Peter Hook, Robert Quine, John
Peel, even Rick Buckler can be excused perhaps, and a beard’s better than a
moustache, he says, remembering the sniggers over photos of Northern scooter
boys and disquiet over Alan Gill of Dalek I Love You joining the Teardrops
after Mick Finkler was ousted, being very much in the camp of Finkler as secret
hero ousted, like Rob Symmons and James Kirk, and nothing’s quite the same
again. But, having said all that, there was Dexys and those taches which
worked, so there you go. And Roger Eagle, too.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">Back in the day
‘Better Scream’ seemed biblical, with visions of Wylie as a sort of Old Testament-quoting
Robert Mitchum </span><i style="font-size: 10pt;">Night of the Hunter</i><span style="font-size: 10pt;"> figure.</span><span style="font-size: 10pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 10pt;">It was much later that I realised it was about
the CIA and Cuba, but then that ties in anyway with the “evangelist American
right” to borrow a phrase from </span><i style="font-size: 10pt;">The Midnight Swimmer</i><span style="font-size: 10pt;">, the excellent Edward
Wilson novel which has the Bay of Pigs failed invasion and the Cuban Missile
Crisis among its themes, and which listening to ‘Better Scream’ made me want to
revisit.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Wilson’s series of
books featuring the appealing British spy Catesby forms an incredible body of
work, complementing John Lawton’s historical entertainments featuring Troy and
Joe Wilderness, wonderful tales of anti-disestablishmentarianism, inside
outsiders, and insightful snapshots of 20<sup>th</sup> century political history
from WW2 onwards, which form a revealing and refreshing montage of perspectives
on the Cold War era, incredibly moving at times, rich in detail with lots of
neat cultural references and plenty of poetry, aptly as Wilson’s prose is often
beautifully poetic.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">One great thing about
<i>The Midnight Swimmer</i> is the glimpses of Che as a person, memorably
having fun car surfing in a hurricane shouting “Hasta la Victoria siempre” into
the waves and wind. And there’s a great passage at a baseball match in Havana
featuring Fidel’s Los Barbudos, the bearded ones. With reference to Wilson’s
most appealing espionage characters, in the book he writes about WW2 as “a
tragedy that deepened wells of compassion and wisdom – and fine-tuned their
benign intelligence. Suffering didn’t turn their hearts into stone but made
them more generous and warm.” Clearly that is a dig at the CIA’s paranoia about
anyone with humanitarian or socialist leanings, which brings us back to the
words of ‘Better Scream’ really.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Throughout <i>The
Midnight Swimmer </i>there is the ever-present threat of nuclear Armageddon,
which kinds of links to ‘Better Scream’ and the second Wah! Heat single,
released on Inevitable at the end of 1980, ‘Seven Minutes to Midnight’ and the
very real fear at the time of impending doom: even Del Boy and Rodney (in his
UK Decay t-shirt) were building a nuclear shelter. ‘Seven Minutes’ is almost as
magnificent as ‘Better Scream’, and few people have come up with such a great
pair of opening salvos. That second single was just the right side of bombast and
bluster and it remains one hell of a wild careering ride, matched only by The
Visitors’ ‘Compatibility’ on Rational which came in a plastic bag like ‘Better
Scream’. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">After that, I
confess, I lost interest for a while, though it certainly registered that Wah!
Heat also seemed to come in for stick from The Fall on <i>Slates</i>, and I
suppose one would be a little proud to be dissed by M.E.S., though it always
seemed less said with spite and more as though Mark simply liked the sound of
the words Wah! Heat, as in it’s all about the phonetics, phonaesthetics,
whatevers, like a lot of Fall stuff, and Kerouac too. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Academic male slags ream off names of books
and bands” he opined, which always seemed to link to Dexys’ ‘There There My
Dear’, and Mark was a fan wasn’t he? <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Dexys used the
classic shot of Jack Kerouac, with the Brahman’s Manual in his jacket pocket,
smoking on a fire escape, as captured in 1953 by Allen Ginsberg, in music press
adverts for ‘There There My Dear’, though the cover used a still of Montgomery
Clift (honey) as Prewitt in <i>From Here To Eternity</i>, where his (only) pal was
Frank Sinatra as Maggio, which brings us back to Dexys again: “I don’t believe
you really like Frank Sinatra”. There are still worlds of meaning and untold
nuances in that line, and while Kevin was singing it Clash compadre Robin Banks
was writing in <i>Zigzag</i> about Vic Godard having the sleeve of <i>Songs for
Swingin’ Lovers</i> on his bedroom wall, and Frank himself was asking ‘What
Time Does the Next Miracle Leave?’ and urging us to avoid another world war.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">Where Wylie became
interesting again was with the Shambeko! Say Wah! incarnation, and the release
of ‘Remember’ as a single in 1982, a mod racket coming on like the great lost last
Chords single we dreamed about (in defiance of all the academic male slags!),
and fitting in with tales heard about Pete wandering around the ’Pool in a
parka etc. The name Shambeko, Pete told us, was a tribute to a gang of German
kids who defied the Nazis and were in to Sinatra, swing and dressing up in zoot
suits rather than being part of the Hitler Youth. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">‘Shambeko’, the song
itself, emerged on the mock-bootleg <i>The Maverick Years 80-81</i> which was musically
more me. It featured the opening line of ‘It Was A Very Good Year’ which at the
time seemed synchronicity as it was the first Sinatra performance that really
connected with me, being the standout track in the parental record collection,
and one hopes it was the same with Pete. Odd, now, thinking back because there
is no recollection of Sinatra’s <i>September of My Years</i> from my youth,
even though parts of ‘Hello Young Lovers’ and ‘September Song’ were always
being sung around the home, and oh I’d give anything to hear them sung again
now, but that’s not going to happen. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;">No, for some reason,
‘It Was A Very Good Year’ I associate with a cassette (and what a perfect
connection, too, to Tracey Thorn’s ‘Small Town Girl’ on her <i>A Distant Shore </i>tape),
which for some reason in my mind’s eye has Sinatra in a yachting cap, again
perhaps not coincidentally like Wylie singing ‘Story of the Blues’ on the
Oxford Road Show with Colin of Black on backing vocals. Look up Sinatra and
yachting cap, and you’ll find stills from the film <i>Assault on a Queen</i> which
came out around the same time as <i>September of My Years</i>, and it’s just as
likely you’ll see a shot of Frank in a Baracuta Harrington jacket, which for men
in their 50s with a touch of silver in what’s left of their hair is something
of a vindication. But you are unlikely to see the cassette cover which I can
picture to this day. Perhaps that’s because it never existed, except perhaps in
a parallel universe alongside that shot of Pete Wylie I may have mentioned.
Ain’t it the truth!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Yr Heartouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13069476478838746714noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3579071422066847226.post-16674320757073425122021-05-22T18:58:00.002+01:002021-05-25T14:09:12.406+01:00The Shoebox Files #1: Bobby Cole<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZU-F60Z4W6mSYKczw-MbxNXLLKIb9iLCSMf_GE6YA9YkFs4sk2BbW_X3kTeuDFKCDVZyyx7J23J1ellh_p6jZCtuRFkz1ipM8WwxdGlHkwpeFIKFl-LSL7ANXDpO7KsBLH9fqTYAy6bQ/s500/Bobby+Cole+A+Point+of+View.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZU-F60Z4W6mSYKczw-MbxNXLLKIb9iLCSMf_GE6YA9YkFs4sk2BbW_X3kTeuDFKCDVZyyx7J23J1ellh_p6jZCtuRFkz1ipM8WwxdGlHkwpeFIKFl-LSL7ANXDpO7KsBLH9fqTYAy6bQ/s320/Bobby+Cole+A+Point+of+View.jpg" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">The Shoebox
Selections is a series of mixes available at </span><a href="http://www.mixcloud.com/yrheartout/"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">www.mixcloud.com/yrheartout/</span></a><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">,
each around the length of one side of a C90 cassette. That was the idea really:
to try and capture the feeling of when you would fill up a blank tape with a
selection of your favourite things, tracks that you thought a friend or loved
one needed to hear.<span></span></span></span></p><a name='more'></a> <span style="font-family: Century Gothic;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">The plan for the
series was to share sounds rediscovered while sorting through old boxes of CDs,
all stowed away in cupboards and dusty corners (because not everyone has one of
those handsome shelving systems you see in photos people oh so casually post on
social media). This, perhaps not surprisingly, all took place during the
lockdown that began late in 2020, when charity shops were closed, the postal
service was rather awry, Brexit complicated things, and words wouldn’t come, so
some other distraction was needed. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">It was fun working methodically
through the haphazard collections of CDs, and the process was packed with
surprises. Some of the discs hadn’t been played in a long, long time, for
generally what’s played here are new purchases and fresh discoveries (these
days via Spotify, Bandcamp or wherever) or music related to something being
worked on. Hence, on one of the mixes, you get Johnny Rotten pointing out that
music’s for listening to, not for storing away in a bloody cupboard. Yeah, but
Johnny, and anyway there’s only so many hours in a day … <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">Oddly, some tracks,
ones I was delighted to be reunited with, simply left me cold, while others
that, well, there was little if any recollection of, sounded unexpectedly fantastic.
Things change. Tastes change. The world changes, so why shouldn’t we? There
were also some interesting by-products of putting the mixes together. One was a
reignited passion for electronic sounds, which is currently being met by
catching up with the often truly excellent back catalogue of Peverelist’s
Livity Sound label and the tributaries it leads one down, via the work of the
incredible Azu Tiwaline, Forest Drive West, Walton, and so on. Another
by-product was an obsession with Bobby Cole’s <i>A Point of View</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">Bobby Cole’s
recording of ‘A Perfect Day’ is a highlight of </span><a href="https://www.mixcloud.com/yrheartout/the-shoebox-selections-vol-7/"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">Volume
7 in The Shoebox Selections</span></a><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">. It comes from the compilation <i>Gilles
Peterson Digs America</i>, released on Luv N’ Haight in 2005, which really was
one of the CDs that seemed to well and truly disappear soon after finding it in
a charity shop. Well, it was a promo copy in a cardboard sleeve, so it could
easily lie buried somewhere. It features Jon Lucien’s wonderful ‘Search for the
Inner Self’ which was one reason why there would be occasional fruitless searches
for the disc. Then Bobby Cole’s ‘A Perfect Day’ follows on from Jon’s exquisite
song, and wow! It’s something else, and of late I have found myself playing it
over and over again, wondering how the hell had I missed this treasure before
now!<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">It’s got that
propulsive bluesy piano thing going on, with some suave jazz vocals, perhaps
suggestions of Latin or Brazilian rhythms, and it is exactly the sort of thing
that you might have expected to turn up on one of those beloved Jazzman 7s
compilations, very much in the vein of Fred Johnson’s ‘A Child Runs Free’ or
Freddy Cole’s ‘Brother, Where Are You?’. Indeed, being pretty dumb, possibly
there was a bit of confusion going on between Bobby and Freddy Cole. Maybe. Mark
Murphy sprang to mind, too, but Bobby sounds meaner and nastier, with more of a
rasp and an edge in his voice.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">There’s a distant and
maybe false memory of reading an Andrew Weatherall piece where he’s talking
about buying a rare rockabilly 45 for a few hundred pounds and knowing nothing
about the singer and wanting to keep it that way. Good for him, I admire that, but
it’s never been how things work here. So, inevitably, there was a desire
(belatedly) to find out more about Bobby Cole, which is easy enough these days.
Anyway, it turned out ‘A Perfect Day’ appears on a 1967 LP of Bobby’s, his only
solo LP, which was a collection of his own compositions. It is not on Spotify,
but it has been posted in its entirety on YouTube, and again it’s incredible.
Indeed, it is very much the kind of record I might well dream about being made.
I had to have it. Had to. But it’s only been available, almost inevitably, as a
Japanese reissue. Fortunately, there was a reasonably-priced secondhand copy on
Discogs, complete with its OBI strip, and it’s not been off the CD player since
it arrived.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">Ironically, at pretty
much exactly the same time I was finding out about Bobby Cole, Sir Tom Jones
was releasing his new chart-topping album, a highlight of which is a very
moving performance of ‘I’m Growing Old’, a Bobby Cole song, indeed the track
that poignantly closes <i>A Point of View</i>. In interviews Tom has spoken of
how he was given the song by Bobby backstage in Las Vegas in the early 1970s
and had kept it until it seemed the right time to sing it. So, with that,
perhaps many other inquisitive souls have been seeking out the late great Mr
Cole. Maybe they have been, and maybe they haven’t. Who knows?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">If you look up Bobby
on the Internet you will surely see that he was a favourite of Sinatra’s and
was for a long while the resident performer at Jilly’s, the bistro or
restaurant Frank frequented, and there will also be plenty of mentions of Bobby
working with Judy Garland in the 1960s, and sure enough on YouTube there are
clips of them together from her TV show, and the chemistry there between them
is quite something. And yet Bobby’s only solo LP came out on a tiny independent
label, Concentric, which was set up for that purpose by the illustrator Jack
Lonshein. So much for connections.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">Jack’s striking
portrait of Bobby adorns the cover of <i>A Point of View</i>. It is one of many
great sleeve illustrations Jack produced in the 1960s. He often did LP designs for
Mainstream, where his work includes covers for some of my favourites like <i>The
Artistry of Helen Merrill</i> and Irene Kral’s <i>Wonderful Life. </i>Coincidentally,
Irene’s ‘Going To California’, a highlight of the LP, appears on the second
volume of <i>Gilles Peterson Digs America</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">By the mid-to-late
1960s sketched or painted portraits were nothing new on LP sleeves, and there
was a bit of a tradition with illustrations for Frank Sinatra’s records. The
Jim Jonson portrait of him on the cover of <i>Where Are You?</i> is a
particular favourite. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyway, Jack
Lonshein’s artwork for <i>A Point of View</i> captures Bobby in action, with a
sort of mod Caesar crew cut, and the few photos I have seen of a young Bobby
are very much in the cool casual Ivy league style, except where he is appropriately
dressed for saloon singing in best bow-tie and dinner jacket.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">Sinatra once said on
his <i>Trilogy</i> triple that he sang love songs, mostly after dark, mostly in
saloons. It seems that certainly was the case for Bobby Cole, and presumably
this LP captures the feel of a small club performance. As an LP released in
1967-or-so it is odd, and in the jazz world a real rarity, featuring just Bobby’s
own songs, recorded starkly in a trio format, with no embellishment except, on
a handful of tracks, where Kathy Kelly provides a vocal counterpoint, adding
some light and shade, as on ‘A Perfect Day’. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">Bobby sings and is on
piano, Arnie Wise on drums with Ralf Rost on bass, and I am particularly fond
of Arnie’s contributions, which are discreet and inventive. Appropriately,
around the same time Arnie was playing with Chuck Israels in Bill Evans’ trio,
and can be heard (just) on the terrific <i>Bill Evans at Town Hall</i> set. In
the same timeframe Arnie also appears on Helen Merrill’s incredible <i>The
Feeling is Mutual</i> LP, replacing Pete LaRoca on ‘Baltimore Oriole’ and ‘The
Winter of My Discontent’, all of which fits perfectly.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">The Bobby Cole LP has
a very intimate feel, a bonus for those of us who are very much in favour of
small jazz ensembles rather than big band blare, while with classical music
very much preferring chamber pieces to large orchestral settings. <i>A Point of
View</i> is very exposed, a mix of menace and tenderness, which feels at once
both an anachronism and very forward looking, with the singer-songwriter era on
the horizon, with Laura Nyro, David Ackles, Randy Newman, Joni Mitchell,
Leonard Cohen and so on. And Bobby’s spoken word introduction to ‘Lover Boy’ feels
ahead of its time.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">Mose Allison was
another who liked the piano trio form, though that great songwriter had a fondness
for recording instrumentals and covers. Are there similarities between Mose and
Bobby? Mose was renowned for his sardonic, sly wit, but there was a softness
there, but Bobby was hardboiled. On his LP he demonstrates a great way with
words, with flashes of mordant humour. The songs are often cynical and cutting,
with a mix of driving piano-led propulsive tracks and torch ballads. It is very
much adult entertainment, lyrically often in the tradition of Cole Porter’s
withering wit. Interestingly though it is the simple sadness Bobby captures on
‘You Could Hear A Pindrop’ where he sounds most moving. And in a nice twist of
fate Freddy Cole recorded this song many years later, remembering it from
hearing Bobby sing it at Jilly’s.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">Maybe partly it’s the
appeal of a lost record and an ignored singer, but such a magnificently moody record
is a gift for those of us who love the work of David Goodis, the existentialists,
nouveau vague and film noir, and all those damaged hardboiled tough guys, down
on their luck, drinking too much, smoking too much, taking refuge in wisecracks
while perversely quoting poets and philosophers: contrary cats with their own
moral code, and a soft-centre. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">Judging by the stray YouTube
comments and info elsewhere (with a tip of the hat to the Ill Folks blog, which
incidentally has lots on Phil Ochs too) Bobby could be an awkward sod, a funny
guy, but complex, difficult, self-destructive, and possibly a snob and a perfectionist.
He was no fool either, with a classical musical background and a literary bent,
hence the W.H. Davies quote on the back of <i>A Point of View</i> in lieu of
any biographical information and publicity puff.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">Davies’ <i>Autobiography
of a Supertramp</i> is largely about his life as a hobo in the States, so seems
to fit perfectly with Bobby’s next move, which was to record Jerry Jeff
Walker’s ‘Mr Bojangles’, the lyrics of which could easily be a tale from the
book. So, the story goes, Bobby heard the young troubadour singing ‘Mr
Bojangles’ in a New York club and recognised its potential.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s a story in that, too, surely? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did Bobby make a habit of checking out the
young singers in the Greenwich Village folk clubs? Was that his way of
relaxing? I must confess that would be more me than a night at Jilly’s, despite
an enduring fascination with Sinatra’s milieu and the saloon singing tradition.
It was a smart move picking up on that song early, and it is surely the case
that the saddest folk songs are closely related to the best torch ballads. Just
have a listen to <i>The Artistry of Helen Merrill</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">Bobby’s world-weary
grrravel-voiced delivery perfectly suits ‘Mr Bojangles’, and his inventive
arrangement with hints of carnival hurdy gurdy music and ghostly echoes of the
medicine shows, fits the song’s sentimental mood perfectly. Bobby recorded it
for Concentric again, and it got taken up by Columbia who put it out as a
single on their Date subsidiary. It did okay, but it probably would have been a
bigger hit if Jerry’s own recording hadn’t been released simultaneously. When
you hear Bobby’s version, you realise you’ve been hearing it in your head all your
life, and that so few other interpretations really have the requisite sadness. Bob
Dylan’s version is great, though, and maybe he took his lead from Bobby Cole
who just might have been better in the dark than either Guy Clark or Townes Van
Zandt. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">The single’s B-side was
one of Bobby’s own songs, ‘Bus 22 to Bethlehem’, a lovely folk rock number, a
wry satire on crass commercialisation, which fans of Phil Ochs’ humour will
appreciate. It is also easy to imagine Bobby Darin doing it during his own folk
rock period. The follow-up for Columbia, in late 1968, was ‘Holly’, a gorgeous
piece of sweet paisley pop with a lovely arrangement by Bobby which has almost
a gentle Northern Soul thing going on. It’s got a bit more bite to it than the one
Andy Williams had a minor hit with it. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">‘Holly’ was a Craig
Smith composition (now there’s a man with a story) while on the flipside is one
of Bobby’s own songs, ‘The Omen’, which is incredible. A haunting composition,
given a jazzy folk rock arrangement, with lovely flute embellishments and abstract
poetics, which begs the question: “Why the hell isn’t it better known?” As
b-sides go, it has to be up there with Scott Walker’s ‘The Plague’, and indeed
the two songs seem as if they belong together. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">Would Scott have been
aware of Bobby? Quite possibly. Who else would have been listening back in the
day? Tom Waits, Ben Sidran, that sort of a character? Possibly. Larry Jon
Wilson? You never know. And perhaps Lou Reed? Well, he had his ‘Perfect Day’ and
both singers very much had a New York state of mind. It would also fit a pet
theory of Lou as a frustrated saloon singer, what with those beautiful Velvets’
torch ballads of his, and those titles which come straight from the Great
American Song Book: ‘Beginning To See The Light’, ‘Wrap Your Troubles in Dreams’.
And, of course, ‘After Hours’. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-family: Century Gothic; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">After ‘Holly’ / ‘The
Omen’ Bobby Cole somehow kept on going, one way or another, performing in bars,
saloons, restaurants, in and around New York, by all accounts singing other
people’s songs but not making new records. Did opportunities come his way?
After all, Audiophile made records with most of the old jazz singers still in
circulation, even the elusive Jackie Paris, but maybe that wasn’t for Bobby.
Perhaps on one of his latterday recordings (which feature as bonus tracks on the
Japanese CD of <i>A Point of View)</i> Bobby explains it all. His ‘Hole in the
Corner Man’ seems autobiographical and starts off with the line: “Spent my life
resisting irresistible forces”. I don’t know. I just wish I had discovered him
sooner, which will teach me to file CDs away unplayed! You see, Johnny Rotten
was right, after all!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Yr Heartouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13069476478838746714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3579071422066847226.post-33498221334528661302020-10-24T04:25:00.006+01:002020-10-24T07:03:13.324+01:00Bless The Day ... Intro/Encore!: She Moved Through The Fair<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLqcWGb2THE88ip583AtdKZdfq4-t-65MYClZTR5CkGAcTxRRNBn7iA-ZvtT6ZqS_dGK8yz9IOFJayUPZ7qmHHHzdmWynLLwSueOX8bCr_SWnJ0AKU6d1pGClHPWbKZv0FhrEoIS9gq-I/s600/My+Name+is+Jean+Hart.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLqcWGb2THE88ip583AtdKZdfq4-t-65MYClZTR5CkGAcTxRRNBn7iA-ZvtT6ZqS_dGK8yz9IOFJayUPZ7qmHHHzdmWynLLwSueOX8bCr_SWnJ0AKU6d1pGClHPWbKZv0FhrEoIS9gq-I/s320/My+Name+is+Jean+Hart.jpg" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">There was an intention to provide an introduction to this <i>Bless
The Day</i> series, but somehow there is a reluctance to reveal too much just
now. Why not, instead of reading a preamble, enjoy a bonus chapter? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, let’s consider ‘She Moved Through the Fair’
as sung by Jean Hart. It is just Jean and her voice, the singer unaccompanied,
and it’s enchanting, without the folk form’s familiar quiver and instead with a
warm torch ballad Chris Connor-style huskiness which is incredibly appealing.</span></p><a name='more'></a><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;"> <o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">It is a very familiar song, an Irish folk song which has
ricocheted back and forth across the Atlantic, but of all the versions out
there <i>this</i> is the one that really casts a magic spell and sends shivers
down the spine, leaving this listener desperately holding his breath for fear
of intruding upon an incredibly intimate performance and breaking the spell.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">This is a recording that can be found on the <i>Transatlantic
Folk Box Set</i>, an excellent 3CD collection of tracks from the label’s long
and distinguished history. Originally it appeared on the LP <i>My Name is Jean
Hart and I Sing</i>, an early Transatlantic release from 1963, though it is a
record rarely seen or heard, and certainly doesn’t seem to be in general
circulation in <i>any</i> form, which is very odd. But there is a particular attraction
in something being so unobtainable in an age of instant access, and being so elusive
the album becomes incredibly desirable. It sets the imagination racing, and you
play with ideas of what it sounds like.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">We are, at least, able to read the original sleeve notes by
squinting at Discogs or 45world and can admire Brian Shuel’s fantastic cover
photo of Jean, arms folded alluringly in a black leather jacket with maybe more
than a touch of Honor Blackman in <i>The Avengers</i>. And then there’s those
eyes. Ah. While it is seemingly impossible to hear the whole of the LP the
liner notes give a glimpse of what was a remarkable life, even at that stage.
Reading them we are plunged into the world of coffee bar revolutionaries and proto-beatniks,
but how much do we know about this remarkable free spirit? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">It would be great to read a book about Jean’s colourful life.
The trouble is, in saying that, you’ll get some smart arse piping up and
saying: “Go on, write it then!” But that’s rather missing the point, and
confuses the pleasures of reading and writing. Luckily, we can learn a fair
amount about Jean through her first husband Malcolm Hart, the writer and film
producer (<i>Vanishing Point</i>, <i>What Happened to Kerouac?</i> and so on).
He’s the guitar playing art student mentioned on the back of the LP. Anyway, Malcolm
recorded a riveting interview with Jean in 2004, which can be seen on YouTube,
and his autobiography <i>A Life of Unintended Consequences </i>gives some
wonderful glimpses of what Jean got up to before recording her LP for
Transatlantic. And at the start of the film you can hear a tantalising segment
of Jean singing ‘Sometimes I Feel Like A Motherless Child’, presumably from the
record.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Looking at the song selections for Jean’s album, the choice
of material consists of old folk ballads and blues, jazz numbers, spirituals, some
standards, some left-field, generally leaning more towards Odetta and Nina than
the English folk song canon of Anne Briggs or Shirley Collins. It, for example,
may be just coincidence Odetta sang ‘She Moved Through The Fair’ on her great
1963 Vanguard LP <i>A Grain of Sand</i>. And seeing as the LP features ‘He’s A
Friend of Mine’ it is tempting to consider the record a sort of British
equivalent of Judy Roderick’s contemporaneous classic <i>Aint Nothin’ But The
Blues</i>, the record she made with Bobby Scott. Who else as a singer over here
was working in the interstices of folk, blues, jazz and beyond? But then Jean’s
background was very different to most of the finger-in-the-ear purists on the
circuit.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">For she was a city girl, a native Cockney, one of the Blitz
kids shaped by air raids, evacuation, and the return to a derelict London, a
generation with incredible fortitude who had seen too much by the time they
were in their teens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some of the
brighter ones were lucky, like Jean, and got a good education and escaped. Jean
became part of the East End working class radical tradition, with the Young
Communist League as surrogate family and a way of discovering new
internationalist horizons. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Transatlantic as a label back when the Jean Hart LP came out was
one that had yet to find its niche and was arguably far more intriguing as a
consequence. Among the albums it put out around that time was <i>Putting Out
The Dustbin</i> by Sydney Carter, with Sheila Hancock, a lovely collection of
his topical, satirical, funny, wise, and tender songs from just before he let ‘Lord
of the Dance’ loose on the world, a set somewhere between folk songs and music
hall numbers, including ‘My Father Was A Cupid’, a celebration of the Cockney
tradition of miscegenation. Then there was Cy Grant’s <i>Folk Songs and Cool
Songs</i>, the title of which speaks for itself, and Cy certainly was one of
the cooler characters of the time active on the music scene, with his blend of
calypso and jazz and just about everything else. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">There was also Alexis Korner’s Blues Incorporated’s <i>Red
Hot from Alex</i>, another sharp Brian Shuel cover, with Herbie Goins on vocals
and a young Danny Thompson on bass. Apparently, it was Danny’s first recording
session, but he excels, especially on the album finale, a pop distillation of
Charlie Mingus’ ‘Haitian Fight Song, which is just about the perfect mod jazz
dance treat. Did that ever happen? Were young mods dancing to this track at The
Scene or wherever? Guy Stevens in full flow, or maybe another of the club’s
DJs, Sandra, who remains a mysterious figure which is odd because a pioneering
female DJ at the hippest club in the West End should surely be quite a story.
That’s another book this boy would love to read.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Brian Shuel’s photography and design work also featured on Annie
Ross’ <i>Loguerhythms</i>, a Transatlantic title where the great jazz singer,
who was on the run from Lambert, Hendricks & Ross, recorded some of the new
hip cabaret songs by Christopher Logue and Stanley Myers, with some great backing
by the Tony Kinsey Quintet. The LP, now helpfully reissued on CD by él, was
billed as being songs from The Establishment, the club which Frank Norman
describes neatly in his book <i>Why Fings Went West</i>, a 1975 look back at
the London theatre revolution which began with <i>Look Back in Anger</i> and Joan
Littlewood’s Theatre Workshop. He mentions how in 1961 <i>Beyond The Fringe</i>
was the “smart set’s favourite form of masochism” and how on TV <i>That Was The
Week That Was </i>became required viewing, all of which led to The
Establishment club in Greek Street, Soho. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Frank wrote: “Peter Cook and a friend named Nick Luard were
quick to realise the need of a place where like-minded people from all walks of
life could eat, drink, argue and take in a satirical cabaret. Early in 1962 The
Establishment threw open its doors to anyone who could afford the £10
membership. A princely sum in those days, but there was no shortage of takers
and within a few weeks it looked as though everyone in London had filled in a
banker’s order.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">When The Establishment opened Jean Hart was booked as the
resident singer, and she would perform some of the Christopher Logue and
Stanley Myers songs which formed the basis of the Annie Ross LP on
Transatlantic. Although they were the same sort of age, in terms of experience
Jean and Annie had moved in very different worlds. Annie was a seasoned jazz performer,
used to big audiences, while Jean had mostly sung folk and blues informally, at
parties, shebeens, and other impromptu social gatherings, which was how Peter
Cook discovered her. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">One person who apparently accompanied Jean at The
Establishment from time to time was the composer Richard Rodney Bennett who also
came up with the “modern jazz trio” arrangements for most of Jean’s LP. The
other tracks on the album, intriguingly referred to as the “swinging pop
styled” ones, were arranged by Syd Dale, a name many of us will instantly
associate with ‘The Penthouse Suite’, a highlight of the much-loved <i>Sound
Gallery</i> compilation and an early KPM classic. Syd went on to start the
Amphonic library recording resource, and a CD collection of sounds from its
archives <i>Ready Steady Boogaloo! </i>is a particular favourite here.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Richard Rodney Bennett is one of those characters in music
whose names pop up in so many places (from <i>Billy Liar</i> to choral works) that
you begin to wonder whether there are a number of people who just happen to
have the same name. On one hand he was a serious and highly respected classical
composer who as a young man studied with Pierre Boulez, while on the other he
had an abiding passion for jazz which stretched as far as performing and
recording as a singer and pianist, making records for the Audiophile label
whose catalogue includes great titles by Jackie Paris, Mark Murphy (Richard
wrote ‘This Must Be Earth’ with Fran Landesman, the title track of Mark’s 1969
LP), Jackie & Roy,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dick Haymes, Lucy
Reed and Audrey Morris. Richard’s Audiophile LPs include one dedicated to the
lyrics of John Latouche, which has a lovely slow version of ‘Lazy Afternoon’
on. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Among Richard’s early compositions is the excellent suite <i>Jazz
Calendar</i>, a 1964 work dedicated to Jean Hart, which later became the score
for a ballet and which seems firmly placed on the corner of Miles and Gil or
maybe of George Russell and Bill Evans. Another of Richard’s works is the <i>Concerto
for Stan Getz</i>, a composition that was written for the great saxophonist
though sadly he died before having a chance to perform it. And back in 1963
when Richard and Jean made their LP together for Transatlantic Stan Getz was
riding high on his bossa nova wave, even making the UK album charts with
Charlie Byrd which was quite an achievement for jazz musicians.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">In <i>Richard Rodney Bennett: The Complete Musician</i>, a
book by Paul Harris and Anthony Meredith, there are a number of great anecdotes
about when Richard and Jean were working together. Apparently, they were both
very much taken with Sheila Jordan’s wonderful debut LP <i>Portrait of Sheila</i>,
a rare Blue Note jazz vocal release (and doesn’t it make the heart sing when a
personal favourite discovery turns out to be something loved by people you
admire!), and is it possible this fed into the arrangements for Jean’s LP? Hopefully!
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Anyway, they were so impressed by Sheila’s singing that they
set off for New York to track down one of her performances in a small club. And,
while they were over there, they went to see a variety of other singers,
including Blossom Dearie, though there was a disruptive woman talking
incessantly through her set until an incensed Jean marched across to yell that
she had come all the way from London to hear Blossom sing so shut up!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Jean and Rodney appeared together as an act in various
places, at the Edinburgh Festival, at The Establishment, and on TV. Indeed,
Jean seems to have appeared on television and on the radio numerous times
during the 1960s. There is a memory here of seeing a striking clip of Jean
performing, posted on YouTube, which was quite dramatically fierce and raw,
with Jean dressed simply in a skirt and jumper, very unadorned but incredibly
commanding. It was a couple of songs, perhaps, standards almost certainly, but
it was quite something. Sadly, it seems to have disappeared from the web which
is the way these things go. It definitely wasn’t imagined as there is another
memory of sharing it on social media, and it was one of those occasions when you
post something and it disappears into the void. Actually, there was one like,
by a former member of Orange Juice which seemed ironic as if it had been a clip
of the OJs that was shared the likes would have soared in number, but there you
go.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Among Jean’s TV appearances there is one listed for the
regional ITV series <i>Hullabaloo!</i> which was a showcase for folk and blues
acts around 1963/64. There is a reference online to Jean being accompanied by
Davy Graham, and she is singing the South African kwela number ‘Hamba Lilli’.
It seems that Network are planning to release a DVD compilation of performances
from the show, so hopefully Jean will be featured. Ah, anticipation! There is
another recording of Jean singing this, which appears on a 1964 Decca collection
of performances from the previous year’s Edinburgh Folk Festival, although the
impression given is that this was an impromptu affair happening informally on
the fringes of that year’s Fringe Festival. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Kwela was the popular dance form in the South African
townships, and it is music Jean fell in love with while living out there for a
while in the 1950s. If you look up Jean and kwela you will no doubt find an old
newspaper cutting showing Jean dancing the kwela in Sophiatown. There is
another later photo from the <i>Jet</i> archives of a barefoot Jean back in
London, dancing the ‘sensuous rhythmic dance’ with the émigré jazz musician Cameron
Mokaleng, where in the wake of the surprise chart success of ‘Tom Hark’ there
was a mini-craze for kwela as record companies floundered around looking for a
successor to skiffle.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Jean had followed her husband Malcolm who moved out to
Johannesburg so as not to heed the call-up for National Service here. It is a
period he covers in-depth in his memoirs, and indeed the book opens in 1957 with
the South African security forces questioning him about the whereabouts of
Jean: “Where is my estranged wife living? In contravention of one of
Afrikanerdom’s most sacred laws Jean is actually living with her lover Can
Themba, the African deputy editor of <i>Drum</i> Magazine. Miscegenation is
regarded throughout white South Africa as a crime as heinous as treason or even
murder.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">In a 2014 Dan Rubin article on Can Themba he describes “Jean
Hart, the married white woman from working-class Whitechapel, London, who can
sing ‘Ngihamba Ngedwa Laph Egoli’ like she’d been born in Sof’town. Jean Hart,
with whom Themba is in love. She isn’t a tourist, interested in the anthropological
knowledge of how the <i>other </i>South Africans live. She just wants to be
with him.” This is a reference to the wording in Can’s short story <i>Crepescule
</i>which has as its theme the forbidden affair between him and Jean which so shocked
white and black society. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;"><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #121212; line-height: 107%;">Browse on the Internet and you will find a reference to Jean
appearing at an event put on by the </span><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%;">Anti-Apartheid
Movement, "We Sing of Freedom", at St. Pancras Town Hall in July 1963,
alongside Ewan MacColl, Peggy Seeger and Peter O'Toole. The accompanying blurb
mentions Jean was “originally from London's East End. Taught art in
Johannesburg and helped organise first All African Jazz Concerts. Now resettled
in England. Has sung on TV, at the Establishment and CND concerts.” A dozen
years later, Jean sang the theme song of <i>The Wilby Conspiracy</i>, composed
by Stanley Myers and Jeremy Taylor, a film which starred Sidney Poitier as an
anti-apartheid activist on the run with Michael Caine for company.<span style="background: white; color: #121212;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">From the short film
Malcolm Hart produced it seems Jean had more fun in the 1970s and early 1980s
when she became heavily involved in the feminist theatre movement, as part of
collectives like the Women’s Theatre Group, Belt & Braces, and the Sadista
Sisters. This was a boom time for alternative, fringe or political theatre, as
the listings pages of <i>Time Out</i> and <i>City Limits</i> in London would
attest. There is a clip at the end of Malcolm’s film of Jean singing the
Sadista Sisters song ‘Sister Amazonia’ which is taken from <span style="background: white; color: #121212;">Mike Dibb’s 1980 TV showcase <i>Fringe
Benefits</i>. Jean also appeared on TV in the Sadista Sisters’ Jude Alderson’s
play <i>Rachel and the Roarettes</i> which starred a young Josie Lawrence in
the title role. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Also, in the 1970s, Jean became involved with the Glasgow
University Media Group who produced pioneering studies into television news in
Britain, how it was put together and how it was broadcast. The results of this
research were published initially in 1976 as <i>Bad News</i>, the first of a
series of titles from the collective on this theme. This was how Jean’s name
became known here. Back in the late 1980s this boy was doing a journalism
course at the London College of Printing, in an Elephant & Castle tower,
which was about the only one you could do on a grant unless you were a
graduate, and God bless the day Jean memorably was the guest speaker at one of
our classes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Part of the course was a module in Media Studies, which was
great fun, and this was taken by a charismatic Scotsman called Jim McGrane,
whom one recalls as having a sort of Tom Selleck look and who was very
definitely immersed in left-wing politics and union activity. What really
sticks in the mind is him asking why pretty much any news bulletin on any TV channel
or radio station in the UK will have almost exactly the same items in the same
order, and it was always appealing that he didn’t pretend to know <i>exactly</i>
why this was so. That, actually, is the sort of question the Glasgow University
Media Group wanted to investigate, and why Jean was invited in to speak to us.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">It may be the memory playing tricks, but the lingering
impression is that Jean was an incredibly mesmerising speaker. She had a
certain something, and she very much had presence. There was clearly a
friendship or bond between her and Jim. You could sense that. He stood at the
back, like a proud parent, and she just sat at the front of our group, and
chatted. It was all very informal. She didn’t talk about herself, and it would
be many years before the penny dropped and the connections to Jean’s past
activities came to light. At the very least it would have been great to
interview her for the student magazine, <i>Untitled</i>, to which this boy
contributed pieces on Shena Mackay and Nik Cohn, which may not surprise some of
you. The publication was run by a couple of characters called Rankin and
Jefferson Hack, apparently. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">In its initial research the Glasgow University Media Group concentrated
on how television news broadcasts reported on industrial disputes in the first
half of 1975. And what sticks in the mind from Jean’s talk was her description
of how news was presented in relation to unofficial industrial action by HGV
drivers in Glasgow. This was widely reported as a strike by dustmen, and from
early on in the dispute broadcasts used emotive images of rubbish piled up in
the streets which projected a particularly negative perspective. Perhaps this
would be irresistible to anyone preparing bulletins, but for the team studying
news output this raised all sorts of concerns about so-called impartiality. The
irony being that 30-odd years on from Jean’s visit pretty much any documentary
touching on the 1970s, whether it be the advent of punk or the rise of
Thatcher, those same images of accumulated garbage are inevitably used.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">In the 1981 paperback edition of <i>Bad News</i>, which is on
the pile here, Jean is listed as Jean Oddie, “a freelance writer and researcher
known for her work in the feminist theatre movement.” When she came in to talk
to us there was a passing reference to her having been married to Bill Oddie,
but that barely registered as The Goodies were never favourites in this
household. But Bill and Jean met at The Establishment and fell in love, and
Jean drifted into that comedy circle, touring internationally as part of the Cambridge
Circus review with Bill, Tim Brooke-Taylor, and John Cleese, and appearing on <i>I’m
Sorry I’ll Read That Again</i>. Actually, if you look for Jean on Spotify in
the UK all you will find is a sketch by David Nobbs called ‘Internal
Combustion’ which was recorded for a 1966 LP <i>The Frost Report on Britain</i>
on which Jean is credited for her “dulcet female tones”.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">The only other time that one can recall seeing the name Jean
Oddie is among the credits on Mike Cooper’s 1971 LP <i>Places I Know</i>. She
sings backing vocals as part of the Dawn Chorus (a pun on the record label’s
name) along with Norma Winstone and Gerald T. Moore who was then part of Heron.
<i>Places I Know </i>is an oddly addictive record. Mike Cooper’s roots are in
country blues, which will never be this boy’s cup of tea, but on this LP he was
heavily influenced by the country rock sound of the Burritos, <i>Nashville
Skyline</i>, <i>All Things Must Pass</i>, and there are some gorgeous songs on
it, especially the grand sweep of ‘Time To Time’. What helps to make it
interesting are the arrangements by Mike Gibbs, which dovetail with what he did
on the contemporaneous Bill Fay debut, a perennial favourite here, but maybe
now more than ever. Mike Gibbs also worked on music for The Goodies around that
time, largely because Bill Oddie was a big jazz fan, so presumably there is an
implicit link to Jean there.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">The jazz elements on Mike Cooper’s <i>Places I Know</i> were
an extension of his 1970 recording <i>Trout Steel</i> which, as well as its
Brautigan and Pharoah Sanders references, featured, among others, Mike Osborne,
Alan Skidmore, John Taylor, Harry Miller and Ray Babbington. Backing vocals
were provided by the brilliant Heron, and it is likely that both Bill Fay and
Heron were first heard here via Andres Lokko’s wonderful Feber <i>Folk</i>
collection. The unifying factor in all this was Peter Eden, who seems
increasingly (like Denis Preston) to have been one of those special enablers
who made so much great music happen. Perhaps he wasn’t a visionary in the
Charles Stepney sense but he seems to have been a nice guy who had a special
gift for introducing a to b and making it possible for something special to
take place. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">There is an excellent booklet by Colin Irwin which
accompanies a lovely RPM 3CD box set of the releases on Peter’s short-lived
Turtle label. Included within is a list of the LPs Peter produced between 1968
and 1972 which is incredibly impressive and includes Mike Westbrook’s <i>Love
Songs</i> and <i>Marching Songs</i>. In a Colin Irwin R<i>ecord Collector</i>
article on Peter there is a quote from Chris Spedding (whose wonderful <i>Songs
Without Words</i> was produced by Eden), about working on music for The Goodies,
where he says Bill Oddie’s “first wife Jean Hart sang and Nucleus backed her
up, did a week with her at the Hampstead Theatre. Karl Jenkins wrote the
arrangements.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #121212; font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">It is exactly that sort of almost throwaway comment that can
send some of us into a kind of panic mode, with a frenzied desire to know more:
“What did Jean sing? Who was in the audience? Was anything planned in the way
of recording?” But then you come up against a brick wall, and are seemingly
unable to find anything to illuminate the issue. So, you end up <i>imagining</i>
what might have been, which is fun in a way, a welcome distraction, but then
you come back to the issue of wanting to read a first-hand account and maybe
coming across a long-lost recording or, even better, a piece of film. Who
knows? Anything is possible. Maybe it’s all out there, hiding in plain sight.
And if not, we will always have our dreams and distractions.<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Yr Heartouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13069476478838746714noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3579071422066847226.post-68477476429715537402020-09-26T04:39:00.005+01:002020-09-26T07:35:23.101+01:00Bless The Day #13: There But For Fortune<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP9_4incRd66ZwNzjnE5Cp-6s-7TEY3wTByAUmg71WzVPm4skjinhXPsWvJD07vSNROJRGELu4oE6Q_laEOuY8xNKMyuWbUd_ZU3o_ArrzCBJyI8PgRdrX-isgit4l5QzMn42E_dDjs64/s640/Phil+Ochs+2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP9_4incRd66ZwNzjnE5Cp-6s-7TEY3wTByAUmg71WzVPm4skjinhXPsWvJD07vSNROJRGELu4oE6Q_laEOuY8xNKMyuWbUd_ZU3o_ArrzCBJyI8PgRdrX-isgit4l5QzMn42E_dDjs64/w400-h225/Phil+Ochs+2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Joan Baez singing
Phil Ochs’ ‘There But For Fortune’ is an incredibly beautiful thing. It is so very
moving, and Phil somehow succeeded in striking the perfect balance between
writing a particularly compassionate song and being quietly angry. The gently reflective
way Joan sings it, well, sometimes it seems like it was meant for her: she
sounds so wise, so understanding, and the recording is so stark and haunting
that its magic lasts.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">‘There But For
Fortune’ is how many of us first unwittingly came across Phil’s work. Once it
was often on the radio, the Joan Baez recording, or at least that’s the way it
seems. Certainly, at home, it was one of those songs that would be listened to
intently whenever it came on: a warning finger raised and the head cocked on
one side to catch the words better, and woe betide anyone who interrupted. Joni’s
‘Both Sides Now’ is another one where this would happen, and lines from that
song have been pinned up on the wall here for years and years: can you guess
which ones?<span></span></span></p><a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">It is a funny thing
about songs heard around the home growing up. They form such a huge part of our
early memories. This was by no means a radical household or a musical one, but
the radio always seemed to be on in the daytime, and snatches of folk songs could
be heard sung around the home, but how did that happen? Goodness only knows.
All those songs from that time: ‘Blowin’ in the Wind’, ‘If I Had A Hammer’, ‘Little
Boxes’, ‘We Shall Overcome’, ‘Michael Row The Boat Ashore’. This was far more
Peter, Paul & Mary than Bob Dylan, but that’s fine: their subversive songs surely
sowed seeds of rebellion in our young minds, and Mary Travers was such a great
pop figure. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">And, very definitely,
there are vivid memories of hearing Peter, Paul & Mary sing ‘Where Have All
The Flowers Gone’, which partly was why it was so great Nicolette sang it with
Plaid, and why it was even better to come across the Walter Jackson version, a
recording with its own special place in Northern Soul folklore, being the last
track played at the Catacombs club in Wolverhampton early one morning in July
1974. Joan sang it too, naturally. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">And what a remarkable
figure she has been in the world of popular music, very much nonpareil, very
much her own person. It is interesting that her version of ‘There But For
Fortune’ became a huge hit in the UK in the summer of 1965, but then we are a
sentimental lot. She also had incredible success on the album charts here that
year, and she was right up there contending with The Beatles and Bobby Dylan,
the Stones and <i>The Sound of Music</i>. That seems to get lost in the
prevailing narratives of the time. Who were all these British people buying
Joan Baez records in 1965? Did they listen to Phil too? Who went to see him play
at The Marquee at the end of that year?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">There is a passionate
belief here that Phil Ochs was an incredible songwriter and performer. His strengths
include acute powers of perception and observation allied with an ability to
tell a tale. “Things are wrong, things are going wrong. Can you tell that in a
song?” asked the Bunnymen, and the answer is a cautious one: “Some can”. Phil <i>could</i>
take a newspaper story and turn it into poetry. He also had a winning way with
melodies, and when he sang there was an appealing softness, a vulnerability and
incredible sensitivity: Studs Terkel with typical pertinacity identified this
as tenderness. Phil didn’t hector or harangue. He often looks shy in old clips,
dipping his head and gazing up from under the hair falling over his brow. He
didn’t copy some obscure old rough folk or blues singer: his music was rooted
in a teenage love for Buddy Holly and the Everly Bros., and that never left
him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Phil also had a gift for
being able to use humour to make a serious point, using irony or satire (before
it became a dirty word). Who else has had that gift? Of my generation, perhaps
McCarthy’s Malcolm Eden was blessed in that way: ‘God Made the Virus’ is rather
Ochs-like. Was Malcolm listening to him back then? Many of us on the same scene
were. And, whatever one may say about McCarthy, few ever got too excited about their
aesthetics. Conversely Phil very much looked the part, and it is impossible to
separate that from his work, which must have been both a blessing and a curse,
like others found in their prime and beyond: Montgomery Clift, Jack Kerouac,
and so on. Poor old Phil: if he had looked like Tom Paxton would we care so
much? That’s not to demean Tom, for ‘Last Thing On My Mind’ is one of the greatest
songs ever.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Everything about how Phil
looks on the covers of his first two Elektra LPs is just so perfect: that pea
jacket, the way he sits on his guitar case, the shoes. And that’s how he was
first heard here, via those two albums: nice thick-cardboard-sleeve Elektra
imports, found in the megastores of the 1980s. And, with these, a pattern was
set whereby every one of Phil’s studio LPs has a small number of exceptional
songs, with occasional striking lines that stay with you always, and passages
of melodic brilliance which are so breathtakingly beautiful they haunt you down
all the days.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">His debut, <i>All The
News That’s Fit To Sing</i>, has (and this, all of this, is entirely
subjective, these are just personal favourites which mean a lot, an awful lot) two
incredibly special and moving songs. One is ‘Lou Marsh’, about the senseless
death of a youth worker on the streets of New York City, a good man who tried
to help kids caught up in gangs, and ‘Celia’ which is about Celia Mariano
Pomeroy, a freedom fighter in the Philippines, and tells the story of her enforced
separation from her husband. These are haunting ballads, topical songs which became
works of art and which stand as testaments to these people, who may otherwise
be forgotten. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Phil and his protest
songs, the newsworthy themes: not everyone can do it, and few can make great
art out of it. For example, on his second LP, <i>I Ain’t Marching Anymore</i>, there
is such simmering anger and a clear insight in his beautiful songs ‘In the Heat
of the Summer’ and ‘Here’s To The State of Mississippi’. So, yeah, they were
specifically about the civil rights struggle, social unrest and the murder of
activists but, as so many people have commented, too little has changed and the
words of ‘In the Heat of the Summer’ could apply to the here and now, the flames
of fury captured in recent Black Lives Matter protests. And, please, look up a
clip of Odetta singing it. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">In 1986 a big thing
for the pop underground here was <i>A Toast To Those That Are Gone</i>, a
compilation of unreleased Phil Ochs material. In the UK it was released by
Edsel, the label that had caused a stir a few years earlier with its
compilations of The Action and The Creation. It is the closing three songs on
this LP that have had the real lasting emotional impact. ‘I’m Tired’, perhaps
more than any other song, captures that enervating sense of despair, the black
dog, or the mean reds as Holly Golightly called the mood, and the fact Phil could
describe the state so well suggests that even in the mid-1960s he was no
stranger to bouts of depression. Is it likely that he didn’t release the song
in his lifetime because this was not something a campaigning singer was
supposed to be open about, a fear that it would be used against him?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Then ‘City Boy’, which
on one level is a simple celebration of an urban upbringing, but on another, musically,
it shows Phil stretching towards something new. His brother Michael has said
the piano part was played by Paul Harris, which is a nice connection for Nick
Drake fans. Then there’s ‘Song of My Returning’, a poetic creation with perhaps
hints of W.B. Yeats and an acknowledgement of the battle between Phil’s
wanderlust and the strong ties of home, seemingly opposing forces at work. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">The record came with
liner notes by Sean Penn, who called Phil his “favourite all-time fighter”, a
phrase that would be borrowed often by this boy. Sean also mentioned plans for
a film about Phil. Did that ever happen? There had actually been, back then, a
bio-pic called <i>Chords of Fame </i>which was a mixture of anecdotes,
renditions of Phil’s songs, and dramatized scenes from the singer’s life. Michael
Korolenko directed it, and Bill Burnett appeared as Phil without ever really
looking like him, which was odd. It would be fun to see it again, as there is only
a dim memory of it being shown once, probably on Channel Four in its early
days, on a night when there wasn’t a Jasmine Minks or June Brides show on in
town.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Around the same time
as <i>A Toast </i>came out this boy was lucky enough to discover <i>Pleasures
of the Harbor, </i>by pure chance. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A
slightly battered secondhand copy for seven pounds? Irresistible with that cover
photo of Phil in his suede coat and flat cap: such a totally cool bohemian mod
look. It really was a revelation, and for a 1967 record it was so wonderfully
un-rock ’n’ roll. Funnily enough this is a genuine Phil Ochs quote, from 1974, which
could so easily be Subway Sect speaking to Steve Walsh a few years later: “I
consider rock music basically dead, uninteresting, boring, repetitious, too
loud, ego-maniacal, ludicrous and totally beside the point.” <i><o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">There really is not
anything else like <i>Pleasures</i> is there? Ahead of recording the LP Phil
apparently was inspired by The Beatles’ lyricism and sound, particularly ‘Yesterday’,
and one imagines an affinity with ‘Eleanor Rigby’, ‘She’s Leaving Home’, the
baroque ballads, and definitely the Beach Boys’ <i>Pet Sounds. </i>Phil was giving
serious thought to the idea of an LP as a work of art, not just as a convenient
collection of songs, and was able to do so due to his growth as an artist. But
was this <i>really</i> the dramatic change some make out? It always seems his social
realism was infused with lyricism, and even Che sat in the forests of the night
reading poetry by the light of a campfire.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Pre-empting
detractors Phil wrote: “Ah but in such an ugly time the true protest is
beauty”. And this song-cycle <i>is</i> a work of extraordinary beauty. Importantly,
as the years have slipped-by, we have gained a better understanding of the key
players on this and Phil’s two subsequent A&M LPs, <i>Tape From California</i>
and <i>Rehearsals for Retirement, </i>three records which form a formidable
triptych, but oh what a mess in terms of what’s available where and how in the
present tense. It has been a gradual process of identifying who and what the
essential personnel link to, and the connections prove these records were not
flukes.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">The elaborate arrangements
on <i>Pleasures</i>, the strings and things, were realised by Ian
Freebairn-Smith. The other record readily associated here with Ian as arranger
is Tim Rose’s second LP, <i>Through Rose-Colored Glasses</i> which, while
clearly not being Tim’s first LP, is nevertheless a great record, and the arrangement
on and performance of ‘Angela’ is a wonderful thing, very much a heartbreaking
thing. The backing vocals on this track link nicely to the California Dreamers,
a vocal group Ian was part of. As an ensemble they, perhaps improbably,
appeared on a few Impulse! titles in 1967, including Gábor Szabó’s <i>Wind, Sky
& Diamonds</i> which features a fantastic, drivin’ beat-fuelled version of
the Mamas & Papas’ ‘Twelve-Thirty’, a personal favourite here.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">The California
Dreamers are also on a very young Tom Scott’s <i>The Honeysuckle Breeze</i>, a
wonderful very-much-of-its-time mix of paisley pop, sitars, sweet harmonies and
free jazz, which includes great covers of The Association’s ‘Never My Love’,
Joan Baez’s ‘North’ and a version of John Coltrane’s ‘Naima’ with wonderful
wordless singing in the background. Tom was soon playing with Sergio Mendes and
Ian later worked with Kermit on ‘Rainbow Connection’.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">The producer paired
with Phil for <i>Pleasures</i> was fortuitously Larry Marks, who really understood
what was needed or rather what was possible. There is an excellent episode of <i>Come
To The Sunshine</i>, a radio show hosted by Andrew Sandoval (who knows so much more
about these things), dedicated to Larry’s career and giving special attention
to <i>Pleasures</i>. The show opens with The Action’s recording of ‘Shadows and
Reflections’, a song Larry wrote with the enigmatic Tandyn Almer of ‘Along
Comes Mary’ fame, the song recorded by The Association (whom The Action were
fans of). Larry also wrote and recorded ‘L.A. Break Down (And Take Me In)’ with
an elaborate Ian Freebairn-Smith arrangement. Shirley Horn later sang the song
and made it very much her own on the magnificent <i>Where Are You Going</i> LP.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">The third key player
on these LPs of Phil’s was the pianist Lincoln Mayorga who had hitherto been Ed
Cobb’s right-hand man, linking him to Ketty Lester (‘Love Letters’, yes, but Lincoln
arranged the awesome ‘West Coast’ too), Brenda Holloway, Gloria Jones, Toni
Basil’s ‘Breakaway’, and Sandy Wynns’ ‘The Touch of Venus’ which appears on a
great Charly CD dedicated to Wolverhampton’s Catacombs, though there’s no
‘Where Have All The Flowers Gone’. There is also floating around an excellent instrumental
version of ‘Touch of Venus’ credited to the Lincoln Mayorga Orchestra. His work
with Ed Cobb presumably links him to The Standells and Chocolate Watchband too.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Lincoln stayed with
Phil right through to his notorious <i>Gunfight at the Carnegie Hall</i>
performance, and certainly he is very much there on ‘Cross My Heart’, the
opening track of <i>Pleasures</i>, which is thematically a wonderful mix of
‘I’m Forever Blowin’ Bubbles’ and ‘Shout To The Top’: pretty much all you need
really. It’s one of those songs, perhaps a throwaway one in a sense, with the
power to get you through some rough times. And, as a statement of intent, it
sets the scene perfectly for an LP that contains three of the most remarkable
songs ever recorded, three songs that take up more than 20-minutes of the
record, three epic songs in every sense. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">The first of these, ‘Flower
Lady’, has what are this boy’s favourite ever songwords. It is tempting to
quote some of them here, but hell, it’s easy enough these days to look them up,
and anyway it’s the cumulative effect that really seems extraordinary: image
after image, killer line after killer line, and it’s all as sad and as romantic
as hell. Phil apparently was haunted by The Byrds never getting around to
recording the song, as was once planned, but could anyone do a better version
than the one on <i>Pleasures</i>?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">The title track
itself is incredibly cinematic, which is interesting as seemingly Phil was a
big film enthusiast, and it’s often said how so-and-so a movie inspired him to
write such-and-such a song. Larry Marks has mentioned that when he first heard
Phil sing ‘Pleasures’ he thought of Jacques Brel, and you can see how, with the
flow of words, the imagery, that it might be closer to the Brel canon or the
French chanson tradition than the folk or rock norm, but Phil’s song is so sweet,
so sentimental, and with the power of the narrative you can see a link to great
literature, to <i>Moby Dick</i>, to Conrad, to Jack London, even the Jack
Kerouac of <i>Lonesome Traveller</i>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">And then there’s
‘Crucifixion’, written while travelling through England by car, and it is
almost as though Phil wrote his own epitaph with the lines: “Time takes a toll
and the memory fades, but his glory is growing in the magic that he made.” Part
of the beauty of ‘Crucifixion’ is its abstract nature, leaving meanings open, deliberately
ambiguous, but the gist of it is clear: society’s need to destroy its brightest
stars, to build them up and then perform the ritual sacrifice, to destroy. “The
way things are going they're going to crucify me,” later wrote John Lennon, a Phil Ochs fan.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">It is an astonishing,
visionary song, made more remarkable by the arrangement which brilliantly adds
elements of electronics, dissonance and discord, to signify the conflict at
work in the song. Joe Byrd was tasked with pushing things as far as possible on
this track, linking the song to the American tradition of experimental
classical composers, and, yeah, that decision to involve him: brilliant! This
would have been the period leading into the United States of America LP, and in
particular ‘The Garden of Earthly Delights’ and ‘Love Song for the Dead Che’,
two of the most loved songs here. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Imagine making a
record as great as <i>Pleasures of the Harbor</i> and being ignored by many and
sneered at by others: what would that do to you? Well, Phil and co. did, at
least, keep on keeping on, and made <i>Tape From California,</i> with less
baroque elaboration, less romanticism, for you can’t pull off such a stunt again.
But it’s a great record, and there’s a peculiar attraction in the way the title
track and ‘The War is Over’ have this odd skewed soul thing going on, which
brings us to the mystery of ‘When In Rome’, and that’s not a reference to the Ngaio
Marsh novel (and she, incidentally, was Cristina Monet’s favourite crime writer:
these details matter!) although oddly, appropriately, that does feature 1968 student
protests. No, this is all about the 1968 Clydie King recording of ‘When In Rome’.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">This remained unreleased
until it appeared on a 2007 CD covering Clydie’s Imperial & Minit years.
The compilation is a wonderful thing, and Clydie’s tracks ‘The Thrill is Gone’,
‘Missin’ My Baby’ and ‘Soft and Gentle Ways’ are up there with the highest works
of art. And her recording of ‘When In Rome’ is right up there too. It is
attributed to Phil Ochs, but it is <i>very</i> different lyrically to the ‘When
In Rome’ which is the centrepiece of <i>Tape From California</i>. So, <i>was</i>
it a Phil Ochs song? It is sort of a love-gone-wrong song, and did Phil ever
write a love song? ‘Changes’ perhaps? Maybe. Go and ask Neil Young about that
song. He knows. And, anyway, Clydie’s ‘When In Rome is really about
score-settling, revenge, and it’s a song with a feminist twist.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Musically, it <i>feels</i>
like a Phil Ochs song. There’s a lovely folk thing going on with the
arrangement and instrumentation, but that could be a red herring. It might be a
completely different song, but if so, composed by whom? If it is based on something
Phil wrote, who adapted it or arranged it? You would expect to read the story
behind it <i>somewhere</i>, for these things are so important, but no, nothing,
it seems. So, in the absence of information, what can you do?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic;"><i><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%;">Maybe</span></i><span face=""Century Gothic",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%;">
it was that Phil desperately wanted a hit record, and Clydie needed a hit, and
they knew each other out on the West Coast, met at a protest or at a benefit or
when Phil’s brother was taking some photos somewhere. So, they worked out a
plan, but nothing happened, which was just their luck really, and thankfully
this track survived. A little later Clydie sang back-up on Phil’s <i>Greatest
Hits</i>, and she was part of the ensemble on the Brothers and Sisters project,
<i>Dylan’s Gospel</i>, prompting Phil to joke about a companion volume. He
wanted to call it <i>Gospel Ochs</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Of late Phil’s ‘When
In Rome’ has been very much on this boy’s mind. What a song! In a way it
perfectly complements ‘Crucifixion’: one is about the meteoric rise and fall of
an individual, the young god’s forgotten story, and the other is about the rise
and fall of civilisations, empires, great societies destroying themselves. And,
oh my, the imagery and the absurdity. Perhaps Phil had been reading an early
edition of <i>The Master and Margarita</i> before writing this. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Anyway, recently reading
Alfred Hayes’ <i>The Girl on the Via Flaminia</i> brought Phil’s song to mind.
It certainly suggested some of the later verses in the epic ballad, with the American
soldiers in Rome at the end of the war, the arrogant conquering heroes amid the
ruins of a country brought to its knees by fascists and Nazis. Among the debris
appear these horribly healthy and wealthy Yanks, the promises of salvation
replaced by poverty and deprivation, with resentment and corruption rife:
“There was silk in the stores for the whims of the whores”. Alfred Hayes was
there in Rome and he witnessed what was happening, which makes the book so
powerful.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Oddly, until
recently, while being aware of Alfred Hayes’ name, it wasn’t until a charity
shop find of a lovely pair of Penguin Modern Classics that his work had been
read here. These were recent editions too, in mint condition: ‘In Love’ and ‘My
Face for the World to See’, rather later than <i>Via Flaminia</i> and with that
hard-boiled, terse, clipped, cynical, jaded thing going on which can be
simultaneously so appealing and unsettling. Upon reading the biographical note
it became clear why his name was familiar: he wrote the words (pre-WW2) for
‘Joe Hill’ which were set to music by Earl Robinson.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Probably ‘Joe Hill’
was first heard here via Scott Walker on <i>The Moviegoer</i> and it remains a
particular favourite, partly because it suggests Paul Quinn was paying
attention and, even better, now having heard the version The Dubliners recorded
with Phil Coulter, it suggests Scott might have listened closely, and the idea
of Scott being a Dubliners fan makes the heart leap. Obliquely Bob Dylan’s ‘St
Augustine’ and explicitly Joan Baez had given ‘Joe Hill’ a new lease of life at
the end of the 1960s, and memorably Joan sang it at Woodstock, prefacing her
performance with an update on her husband organizing a hunger strike in prison.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Joan would presumably
have been aware that Joe’s life had recently been celebrated in a new song by
Phil Ochs, a starkly beautiful highlight of <i>Tape From California</i>, with
just Ramblin’ Jack Elliott along in support. Phil’s ballad is incredibly
beautiful, and his storytelling skills are such that the listener is blissfully
unaware that the song is seven-and-a-half minutes long. Somehow it seems only
Phil would include the line about how, in his letters home, Joe said he was
always doing fine, as you do whenever anyone asks, no matter what.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Something else of
note about Alfred Hayes is that he has a connection to Vittorio Da Sica’s 1948
film <i>Bicycle Thieves, </i>another of the great works of art, one which
recalls Phil Ochs’ line about shedding a tear on poverty, tombstone of us all.
Or the line about how you looked as though you hadn't seen the Queen's face for
a while, which is how many of us became aware of the film, via the immortal Pale
Fountains song. And has anyone written a detailed essay on the film references
in the songs of Michael Head? It’s the sort of thing we want to read, not the
same old biographical rubbish. Oh boy, what a song: “But if I can get some
sleep tonight, you know it’s almost half the fight, for me”.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Studs Terkel’s
memoir, <i>Talking To Myself</i>, is rich in wonderful quotes, but there’s one
in particular, from Rome in 1962, when he met Vittorio Da Sica and the
visionary film-maker is talking about how closet fascists made life difficult
for him in the immediate post-war years. He refers to losing all his money
making his great films: “I’m glad to lose it this way. To have for a souvenir
of my life pictures like <i>Umberto D</i> and <i>The Bicycle Thief</i>.” Amen. Studs
tells him that <i>The Bicycle Thief </i>(as it’s known in the U.S.) is one of
his favourites, a film he’s seen a dozen times or more.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Studs’ <i>Talking To
Myself</i> is a favourite book here, and central to it are the events in
Chicago around the Democratic National Convention, the hippies and Yippies’
protests and pranks, and the brutal police response in late August 1968. Studs
was an eyewitness, along with the journalist James Cameron, which seems oddly
apt as James’ <i>Point of Departure</i> was a set-text for those of us studying
journalism 30-plus years ago, the prime example of how to write with concision,
elegance and a conscience.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Phil Ochs was very
much part of the events of that time in Chicago, events which affected him
greatly and which he came to see as heralding the tragic death of liberal
America’s progress. Phil is not mentioned in Studs’ account, though floating
around on the Internet are a couple of wonderful recordings of Phil and Studs
in conversation, and Chicago 1968 is one of the topics they discuss.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Immediately after the
Convention Phil did a revealing interview with Izzy Young, of New York’s
Folklore Center, for <i>Broadside</i>. Izzy starts by saying that Phil was just
about the only folk singer who was in Chicago, and Phil replies, graciously,
that Peter and Mary showed up too. Interestingly, if you read Mary Travers’ often
inspiring collection of writings, <i>A Woman’s Words</i>, it is clear she
remained politically active way after this, opposing U.S. interference in El
Salvador and Nicaragua, fighting for abortion rights, and so on. If you look up
Mary and Chicago 1968 you are likely to find a great photo of her with Julian
Bond. You may, however, be directed to another book by a different Mary Travers
which has the 1968 Chicago Convention as its backdrop.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">This will be <i>Litany:
A Novel</i>, a fantastic work which comes incredibly highly recommended. It
tells the tale of three women whose lives become entangled, by chance, and this
is three women from different generations who each in their own way are
outsiders and who all have had more than their fair share of troubles. This
lovely, inventive book shows what effect neglect can have, what happens when
lives drift, and what can happen when there is a renewed or shared sense of purpose.
It really is a wonderful story, and one that very definitely will make you laugh,
cry, cheer, jeer, and believe in life and love all over again.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Phil’s lingering feelings
about what happened in Chicago serve as the backdrop for his 1969 LP, <i>Rehearsals
for Retirement</i>, on which the beautiful ‘William Butler Yeats Visits Lincoln
Park and Escapes Unscathed’ refers, often obliquely and poetically, to what
happened. It has such a gorgeous arrangement, and very clever lyrics, with
playful winks in the direction of ‘As I Went Out One Morning’ and its
antecedents. As such it is so much more powerful and emotional than some
furious rant. Lincoln (appropriately) plays the haunting elegiac piano
accompaniment, and gradually, quietly, other musicians seem to turn up and reverentially
join in, an accordion, a fiddle, and others, and it becomes like a strange sad
Spanish Civil War ballad, slowly building and building. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">There are three other
incredibly beautiful and exquisitely sad songs on <i>Rehearsals</i>, each one almost
too painfully moving. ‘My Life’ musically has a great Roy Orbison or Charlie
Rich thing going on, and it is one of Phil’s great out-and-out pop moments. But,
oh, the content, or rather the discontent. “Take everything I own. Take your
tap from my phone. And leave my life alone” are lines that could almost come
from Studs’ <i>Talking With Myself</i> where he tells stories of enduring FBI surveillance.
He could joke about it, but not everyone has that gift. Other people may suffer
badly if they are more thin-skinned and have less support. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">The song is a kissing
cousin to The Beatles’ ‘In My Life’ and Brel’s ‘My Death’, and perhaps the line
“My life is now a myth to me, like the drifter, with his laughter in the dawn”
has echoes of Dylan, yes, but also in a tangential way the Ray Pollard song, ‘The
Drifter’, memorably first heard here via the Richard Searling compilation <i>Sold
On Soul</i> which, like love, slipped through my fingers. Interestingly, the
single of ‘My Life’ has the arrangement credited to Nick De Caro, the man who waved
his magic wand over Clydie King’s ‘The Thrill is Gone’ and ‘Missin’ My Baby’. Is
that a clue?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">The title track of <i>Rehearsals
for Retirement</i> reflects Phil’s despair and dismay, about his country and
his life: “The lights are cold again. They dance below me. I turn to old
friends. They do not know me. All but the beggar. He remembers. I put a penny down for payment, in my
rehearsals for retirement.” It must have been hard being Phil Ochs just then. Everybody
knew better than Phil what he should be doing, everybody was making demands on
his time, and he ends up shot by all sides. Phil being sensitive, someone who
felt things deeply and tried to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders,
who tried to stand tall and put a brave face on it all, well, inevitably things
took their toll, for cumulatively things can really get to you, and then something
snaps, and you tumble in despair, pull the shutters down and retreat. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">The beautiful piano playing
on ‘Rehearsals for Retirement’, presumably provided by Lincoln again, has echoes
of Chopin and Debussy and the other great solo piano works that have come to be
so loved here, and musically there are links to Phil’s song, ‘Jim Dean of
Indiana’, another incredibly moving composition. One of the highlights of his
1970 <i>Greatest </i>Hits LP, the final studio album, ‘Jim Dean’ is a sensitive
tribute to a childhood hero, and only Phil would have approached it by writing
about the actor’s home environment and the farm on which he grew up, so we see
the little kid lost in dreaming and later the young film star, destined to die too
soon: “He played a boy without a home, torn with no tomorrow, reaching out to
touch someone, a stranger in the shadow”. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">And it is at Jim
Dean’s grave, near that farm in Indiana, that Phil lays a flower: so lovely and
so simple a gesture. Thematically, and presumably not coincidentally, it
provides an odd contrast to another song on that record, ‘Boy in Ohio’, which
is about Phil’s own youth: “Soon I was grown and I had to leave, and I've been
all over the country, but I don't believe I've had more fun than when I was a
boy in Ohio”. Ah life.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Going back to <i>Rehearsals
for Retirement</i>, and the present personal favourite here, something of an
obsession in fact, is ‘Doesn't Lenny Live Here Anymore?’ which really is an
eerie song, with Phil seemingly haunted by the torch ballads of Bob Dylan and
by the death of Lenny Bruce. Larry Marks told Andrew Sandoval a great story
about Phil wearing Lenny’s jacket on the cover of <i>Pleasures</i> (so
presumably it’s that very cool pea jacket) and never wanting to leave it off.
But more than all that the song is haunted by the spectre of everyday failure
and despair, the web of loneliness and futility, and a desire to find a way out
and the hurt of those left behind to endure alone: “Now you searched the books
in vain for a better word for lonely”.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Musically, it’s
lovely, so sad, a real rebel waltz, and no, that’s not a gratuitous allusion: many
people will have come across the name of Phil Ochs first via <i>Sandinista!</i>
and the lines included at the end of ‘Up in Heaven (Not Only Here)’. What <i>was</i>
the story behind that? Later we would learn that the words were adapted from
Phil’s song ‘United Fruit’, but have we ever learnt how The Clash came to
borrow them? We read the same old biographical details, we are given the same
old stories of how the group got through the day, but this is the sort of thing
we want to know. Who was the Phil Ochs fan? Mick had that softness, but Joe
seems the likeliest suspect, doesn’t he? And this was such a cool move: it’s
not as though the song was one of Phil’s, ahem, greatest hits. It’s only been
available on a Broadside compilation, which came out in 1976 when Phil died and
when ironically The Clash were just getting going. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">So, who had the Broadside
LP? Did the publication of Marc Eliot’s <i>Death of a Rebel</i> bring Phil’s
name back onto The Clash’s radar? Did Joe sit and play Phil’s songs on his
guitar, say with Tymon Dogg and other cats? Were Joe’s ballads and blues influenced
by Phil? Would they have hit it off if they’d met? Indeed, did they meet when
Phil was in London? These things matter. Oh they, Phil and Joe, were similar: incurable
romantics, yet complex, flawed individuals, hardly saints, but great poets and
wonderful singers and showmen. And on <i>Sandinista!</i>, even with that
mention of Victor Jara, Joe would have been aware of the connection to Phil and
how they met in Chile before the military coup in 1973, which surely would have
been the final straw for Phil as he had been so excited by Allende’s
administration.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">Anyway, there are so
many great lines in ‘Doesn't Lenny Live Here Anymore?’, and the chorus is a
complete film or novel in itself: “It's the haggard ex-lover of a long-time
loser standing rejectedly by the door”. And, somehow, certain lines, like “You
sit at the desk to lose your life in a letter, but the words don't seem to
come”, maybe connect to ‘No More Songs’, another incredible recording on Phil’s
<i>Greatest Hits</i> a year later, a track which with ‘Chords of Fame’, two
songs so closely connected, works as a pair of bookends. ‘Chords’ has a
terrific country rock thing going on, with Phil revelling in being a born-again
roots enthusiast, which is ironic as Van Dyke Parks was the producer, and yet
Larry Marks had been at the controls for Gene Clark with the Gosdin Bros., the
Dillard & Clark LPs and the Flying Burrito Bros. titles. The form suits
Phil, and he always had that ache in his voice which was there with Gene and
Gram too. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">‘Chords’ deals with
the dichotomy of being a singer and a star, and how “the more that you will
find success, the more that you will fail”. Phil once sang the song for John
Lennon and told him it was about the dangers of fame, and Jack Kerouac said
something about how fame makes you stop writing, which leads us to ‘No More
Songs’ and, if you know Phil’s story, maybe this was a presentiment and maybe he
was tempting fate, for if you have writer’s block you can’t create something so
magical. Was it a self-fulfilling prophecy? Maybe he felt a horrible sense of
foreboding, but knew there was enough poetic inspiration in the tank for one
more fantastic work of art. It happens. If so, what a way to go. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">‘No More Songs’ works
so wonderfully with its inventive arrangement, and it seems to fit so brilliantly
that you almost don’t notice how strange it is, and how it almost seems like it
could be David Munrow and the Early Music Consort at work on it, which would be
about as perfect as it could get. In with the lute and flute, or is it a recorder,
or less exotically or quixotically simply a soprano sax? And, anyway, who
played on it? Tom Scott perhaps? That would be cool. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">There is a clip of
Phil miming to ‘No More Songs’ on a TV show, shot on location as he wanders
through an abandoned industrial setting with his guitar, which is so incredible
that it hurts like hell every time you watch it. “A ghost with no name stands
ragged in the rain, and it seems that there are no more songs”. Oh boy. So
beautiful and yet, like Tim Rose’s ‘You’re Slipping Away From Me’, it’s very
hard to listen to right now.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">And it wasn’t the
end, anyway. Phil had difficulties writing new material,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>sure, so instead he travelled, a restless
spirit abroad, a pilgrim ghost adrift, searching for something to inspire him
and to connect with, as he passed through South America, East Asia, and in 1973
on to Africa, spending time in Nairobi, and making a single there which he
hoped would be played on café jukeboxes. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without reading too much into it (ah, but who
else did anything similar?) the 45 Phil made with the Pan-African Ngembo Rumba
Band is a total joy, and God bless the day a copy of the ‘unofficial’ 1993
reissue turned up in the singles racks of the Tottenham Court Road Virgin
Megastore and this boy bought a copy as an indulgent treat. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Century Gothic; line-height: 107%;">It would be
ridiculous to claim to be an authority on Kenyan pop of that time, but it seems
to have been a thriving scene, and the beautifully-presented Soundway <i>Kenya
Special </i>compilations are wonderful and played a lot here. It is tempting to
wonder what Phil heard and saw there. One side of this single of his, ‘Bwatue’,
is completely irresistible with the gorgeous melody and the trebly guitars,
sharper than lightning, making intricate patterns as they soar weightless over
the rhythm. It’s just so joyous. And, oddly, it suggests Jonathan Richman <i>somehow</i>.
Oh well, you know how these things work. They don’t have to be logical. And it always
makes me smile, the idea of Phil Ochs dancing in a Kenyan bar. Now <i>there’s</i>
an image to leave you with. <o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Yr Heartouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13069476478838746714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3579071422066847226.post-57120727247162507042020-08-29T04:57:00.001+01:002020-08-29T04:57:00.417+01:00Bless The Day #12: Stephano's Dance<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZHZKdoprENsE178yS2NVcMBzllPRcVpeQsuMAxdwnLmQcVPb4ZAQ-AZEyLkx85w-iST05qFdKP-6D75m5NWSnrisLtVaAbdbg9T7TPZc4Inu5wKCtARCiepIg6QYmtzL4WBF7yGbUgj0/s362/norma+winstone+photo+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="362" data-original-width="362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZHZKdoprENsE178yS2NVcMBzllPRcVpeQsuMAxdwnLmQcVPb4ZAQ-AZEyLkx85w-iST05qFdKP-6D75m5NWSnrisLtVaAbdbg9T7TPZc4Inu5wKCtARCiepIg6QYmtzL4WBF7yGbUgj0/s0/norma+winstone+photo+%25282%2529.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">‘Stephano’s Dance’ is
an absurdly sublime spiritual jazz recording. It is credited to Joe Harriott
and Amancio D’Silva, but it is one of the most truly democratic performances in
the best possible socialist sense: everybody involved has an opportunity to
shine, and oh how they do. Opening with Dave Green’s buoyant bass, strolling
in, incredibly supple, then Bryan Spring’s percussion breaks up the flow
perfectly, and Norma Winstone comes in with her siren’s song, leading the
melody until Joe Harriott’s sax speaks so eloquently in response, and Ian
Carr’s horn eases in like a cooling breeze before Amancio D’Silva, who all the
while has been playing his guitar like part of the rhythm section, engages in a
dialogue with Norma, sharing with her an ecstatic solo that seems to contain
all the wisdom of the ages, and yes, you really do <i>have </i>to dance.<span></span></span></p><a name='more'></a><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Recorded in early
1969, ‘Stephano’s Dance’ exquisitely opens the LP <i>Hum Dono </i>which was released
as part of producer Denis Preston’s Lansdowne Series on Columbia and is now
available on CD through Vocalion. It was composed by Amancio in honour of his
young son, which is an extraordinary gift to offer up. Imagine going through
life knowing this was your song! As jazz recordings go it is as much of a
personal favourite here as its near contemporary, ‘The Phantom’ by Duke
Pearson, which similarly contains some exceptional performances, with the Duke
on piano, Bobby Hutcherson on vibes, Bob Cranshaw on bass and Mickey Roker the
disruptive influence on drums. Somehow the two tracks seem indelibly linked, with
Jerry Dodgion’s flute playing on ‘The Phantom’ sort of fulfilling the role
Norma performs on ‘Stephano’s Dance’.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It was apparently an
idea of Denis Preston’s to add Norma’s wordless vocals to a few of the tracks
on <i>Hum Dono</i>. The script says that what she was doing was inspired by
Indian traditions, but perhaps somewhere in the producer’s mind was Duke
Ellington and his fondness for using wordless female sopranos in his work, like
‘Creole Love Call’ featuring Adelaide Hall, Kay Davis on ‘Transblucency’ or ‘On
A Turquoise Cloud’, then enchantingly Alice Babs on ‘T.G.T.T.’ from the Duke’s second
sacred concert in early 1968.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It’s a wild
suggestion, perhaps, but Denis, a man of incredible importance in the story of
jazz in Britain, was a huge fan of the Duke. Indeed, a personal favourite quote
here is Denis’: “As further affirmation of my credentials as a bona fide
Ellington lover I claim to be one of the survivors of the Great Transpontine
Trek of ’33 ... to the Trocadero, Elephant & Castle, to witness Duke
Ellington's premier concert appearance in London.” This comes from the liner
notes for the Stan Tracey Big Brass’ <i>We Love You Madly</i>, an LP which
features Joe Harriott and Ian Carr among the horn players taking solos on a tribute
to Duke to mark his 70<sup>th</sup> birthday in 1969.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Perhaps even more
oblique is a suggestion that Denis and the players’ vision for <i>Hum Dono</i>
was inspired by the enchanting Stan Getz and Luiz Bonf</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">á</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
collaboration in 1963, <i>Jazz Samba Encore!</i>, a personal favourite here among
the great Getz Brazilian-themed LPs. It’s a similar format to <i>Hum Dono</i>,
with the saxophonist and guitarist given top billing in a small group setting,
with occasional wordless singing from the mesmerising and far too rarely
recorded Maria Toledo. Pure coincidence, perhaps, but you never know.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Maybe it’s to do with
thinking of wordless singing as a peculiarly Brazilian art. An early favourite
of the <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>form, here, was Astrud Gilberto with
Deodato on piano doing ‘Não Bate Coração’, from her <i>Beach Samba</i> LP,
which (as has been said before here) is a minute-and-a-half of perfection, with
Astrud scatting away delightfully, her voice used as an instrument, and absurdly
she seems on the verge of breaking into the wordless part from ‘Those Were The
Days’, a song which has a special place in this boy’s heart as it was heard
endlessly around the home growing up and way beyond, mainly just that wordless
passage which could be heard coming from the kitchen or the bathroom, and one
now realises it was a simple sign that all was well with the world. Ah life!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Then, later, into the
1990s, there was the thrill of discovering Piri’s ‘Reza Brava’ and Joyce’s
‘Aldeia de Ogum’ and a little further on her ‘London Samba’, a song that seemed
to belong to us which is presumably what she intended, and later still ‘Casa
Forte’ by Edu Lobo, or his ‘Libera Nos’ from <i>Missa Breve</i>. Also, there’s Quarteto
Em Cy’s ‘Até Londres’, an Oscar Castro-Neves composition, as is Sergio Mendes’ wordless
wonder ‘Celebration of the Sunrise’. And, yeah, wordless parts are threaded
through the great works by Marcos Valle and Milton Nascimento. Plus, a
particular favourite here is Flora Purim singing ‘L’Amore Dice Ciao’ on Walter
Wanderley’s CTI title <i>Moondreams</i>. There is, incidentally, a lovely clip
of Flora from around that time singing on French TV in 1969 with Stan Getz
playing his sax, from when they toured together. Did they play in London?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But Joe Harriott and bossa
nova? Well, why not? After all Archie Shepp recorded a great version of ‘The
Girl From Ipanema’ on <i>Fire Music</i> for Impulse!, so <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>why not Joe? Then again in <i>Doggin’ Around</i>,
the Alan Plater book which is a lovely ramble through his life, work and
musical passions, the author mentions working with Joe and how they became
friends, then tells a tale about Joe shortly before his death (“of neglect –
his own and other people’s”) scratching around for gigs and asking the great
playwright to help out, which he did, getting an acquaintance to arrange something
in the Hull suburbs.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This is what Alan
wrote about that night: “Joe played sweet music: a couple of bossa novas, as
promised, plus a few standards. He played, as always, like a fallen angel. And
he was totally ignored. The only people who applauded were the band and a small
group of us standing at the bar. Musically speaking, it was one of the bleakest
evenings of my life.” Oh boy, what can you say? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As for Norma, it is probably
the case that she was first heard here via a CD of <i>The Heart is a Lotus</i>,
a reissue on Vocalion of the 1970 LP by the Michael Garrick Sextet. It was part
of a salvage programme of British jazz by Michael Dutton’s Vocalion label early
in the new millennium, and there is a vivid memory of getting that upstairs in
the Virgin Megastore at Tottenham Court Road, in the jazz department, one
lunchtime. <i>Off Centre</i> by the John Cameron Quartet was another in the
series bought there, around the same time, possibly coinciding with one of the
tracks, ‘Troublemaker’, appearing on a Jazzman compilation. The <i>Off Centre</i>
LP, incidentally, was produced for Deram by Wayne Bickerton of The Flirtations
and Rubettes fame, which is the sort of fact that always seems so perfectly
fitting.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When it was issued as
a Jazzman Seven ‘Troublemaker’ was paired with ‘Original Peter’. Now it’s the
name of a company making bespoke ‘record hunting’ bags at a couple of hundred
pounds a go, but ‘Original Peter’ was once one of Mike Westbrook’s Love Songs,
part of the LP by the Mike Westbrook Concert Band, and released as a single on Deram
in 1970 (oddly this is the only version in ready circulation, being part of a
superb 3CD box set based around Mike’s <i>Marching Songs</i>). <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">‘Original Peter’ is
another extraordinarily wonderful track, right up there with ‘Stephano’s
Dance’, with an irresistible rhythmic flow over which Norma soars sensationally
with her wordless singing, her delightful melodic passage duetting with the
horns. Everything is gloriously funky, with a wild sax break serving as a
reminder that these are serious jazz players: the whole thing is completely addictive
and as aesthetically spot-on as one of those elegant record bags one could covet
but never justify the price of.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Mike Westbrook’s Love
Songs</span></i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> was one of those records discovered (here at
least!) via the much-missed blogsites which shared so much wonderful music
towards the end of this millennium’s first decade, as indeed was <i>Hum Dono</i>.
A <i>Record Collector</i> feature by Ian Shirley from early 2008, which was a
guide to collectable British jazz modernists, proved invaluable and became a
sort of handy checklist to use when raiding the blogs for new sounds. The
intoxicating feeling of diving into a new area of music is hard to beat: that simultaneous
sense of disorientation and exhilaration is a fantastic thing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">While<i> My Heart is
a Lotus</i> (one of the records featured in the guide) is relatively
lyrics-borne, with wordless interludes among the sung-poetry, Derek Jewell’s
sleevenotes pay special attention to Norma’s singing and the way she uses her
voice as an instrument, and he quotes Michael Garrick as saying: “I regard
Norma as part of the front line of the sextet now. She has the same technical
facility as a virtuoso sax player and she is a genuinely inspired improvisor.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Derek uses the verb
vocalise, but it is brilliantly fitting that there is no adequate word for
wordless singing, at least not one which captures the real magic of the form. There
are echoes perhaps of The Pop Group singing about not needing words in ‘Words
Disobey Me’, as heard first here on their Peel session in the summer of 1978 when
the music papers were running photos of them lounging on Chesil Beach, in
variations of evening wear, taken from the unforgettable session by Brian
Griffin. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Where did this love
of wordless singing come from? Maybe it’s to do with fond memories of Cleo
Laine scatting away on TV variety shows, or inspired by reading Jack Kerouac on
the history of bop and the part played by Lionel Hampton improvising on ‘Hey!
Ba-Ba-Re-Bop’, or perhaps <i>On The Road</i> where Ti Jean writes about Slim
Gaillard and spontaneous bop prosody. Or maybe it comes from A Certain Ratio
and their <i>Sextet</i> with Simon scatting through ‘Skipscada or Tilly riffing
on ‘Rialto’. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And possibly it’s due
to an early fondness for the Swingle Singers on TV shows, later vindicated by
their appearance on the Style Council’s ‘Story of Someone’s Shoe’, and becoming
obsessed by <i>Place Vend</i></span><i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">ô</span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">me</span></i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">,
their record with the MJQ, and definitely it’s a lot to do with Marden Hill’s
‘Curtain’, very much </span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">é</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">l’s finest moment.
And Julie Tippetts’ wonderful wordless background singing on Working Week’s
‘Stella Marina’, where she excels soaring and swooping in amid Jalal’s rap, or
a young Shara Nelson scatting on the Missing Brazilians’ ‘Savanna Prance’: On-U
Sound in excelsis.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There are so many
great examples of wordless singing, individual performances or collective ones,
in so many different areas of music, within so many different cultures. You
will have your own, presumably but, for today, personal favourites or
milestones include the Beach Boys’ ‘Passing By’ and some of Johnny Dankworth’s soundtrack
work on that Eclipse compilation. And Russ Garcia’s <i>Sounds in the Night</i>,
reissued by </span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">é</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">l, who also put out a great Edda Dell'Orso collection,
which features the fantastic theme from <i>Metti una sera a cena </i>which was
first heard on the <i>Mondo</i> <i>Morricone </i>collection.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And The Muppets’ ‘Mah
Na Mah Na’, a highlight of the summer of 1977 as much as ‘Roadrunner’ and ‘Do
Anything You Wanna Do’, turned out to be a Pierro Umiliani composition, and
there was a great Pierro Piccioni collection on </span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">é</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">l with wordless
wonders on, and closely related are Gary McFarland’s <i>The In Sound</i> and <i>Soft
Samba</i> with his unique style of humming and whistling along. And Alan
Moorhouse’s gorgeous <i>Beatles, Bach, Bacharach Go Bossa</i> on MFP, and John
Cameron’s ‘Half Forgotten Daydreams’, first heard on <i>The Sound Gallery</i>,
and Barbara Moore’s majestic ‘Hot Heels’ discovered via the Jazzman collection <i>Soul
Freedom</i>, and Kenny Graham’s <i>Moondog And Suncat Suites</i> with (a
pre-Lambert & Hendricks) Yolanda Bavan which was heard here thanks to great
work by Jonny Trunk, one of the Original Peter carrier bag men. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And oh the delight in
discovering Max Roach’s <i>It’s Time</i> with the Coleridge Perkinson choir on
Impulse! and the same singers again on Donald Byrd’s matchless ‘Cristo
Redentor’, the Duke Pearson composition which again leads back to Brazil, and Duke’s
own version later on <i>How Insensitive</i>, a record with Flora Purim on there
too. And then Andrew Hill’s ‘Hey Hey’ and Bobby Hutcherson’s ‘The Creators’: Blue
Note spiritual jazz. Then there’s Karin Krog and ‘Karin’s Mode’ from <i>Joy</i>,
with Jan Garbarek and co. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Also in the jazz
tradition there’s Jackie and Roy and their inventive vocal patterns, whether
way back in 1955 on Clifford Brown’s ‘Daahoud’ or much later on their CTI
albums, the title track of <i>A Wilder Alias</i> and before that, on <i>Time &
Love</i>, their enchanting version of ‘Bachianas Brasileiras №5’ with the Don
Sebesky arrangement, the first time Villa-Lobos’ aria was heard here.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So, yeah, the classical
tradition too, where personal wordless favourites include Puccini’s ‘Hummingbird
Chorus’ from <i>Madame Butterfly</i>, Rachmaninov’s <i>Vocalise</i>, and very
definitely Kod</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">á</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">ly’s <i>Mountain Nights</i>, a recent discovery
and a genuine example of wordless choral music, for most choral works are not
wordless but are usually Latin texts sung in such a way that they transcend
words. Choral music has, of late, become something of an unexpected obsession
here from time to time, and it’s been a real joy discovering Gregorian chants, compositions
by Hildegard of Bingham, Byrd, Tallis, Palestrina, and definitely Allegri’s <i>Miserere</i>
sung by the Tallis Scholars, with still so much more to explore.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And where on earth did
this love for ancient choral music come from? From early favourites like Steeleye
Span’s ‘Gaudete’ or ‘Requiem’ by Slik? Or maybe Fun Boy Three’s ‘Sanctuary’
with Bananarama, for so much flows from that LP. Who knows? Maybe it’s the hours
spent listening to ‘Bankrobber’ and possibly something subconsciously took root:
“I’m hearing music from another time.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It seems that motets
and masses, like dub or lovers rock, or solo piano music, or string quartets,
or beat ballads or torch songs, possess healing powers, and it’s been great fun,
diving into unknown waters, picking up odd things here and there, like a Naxos
CD of Portuguese polyphony and another Naxos set of Portuguese Requiem Masses
by Lôbo and Cardoso which irresistibly links to Edu’s <i>Missa Breve</i>. You
see how it works?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And it’s not just
early music that appeals: it’s been fun randomly acquiring ECM New Series editions
of Arvo P</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">ä</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">rt works. These are beautiful things, in terms of
content and presentation, and it has been a rewarding challenge coming to terms
with his use of space and silence, becoming able to listen to what’s not there,
the echo and resonance, rather like the idea but not necessarily the reality of
dub (which often has its, ahem, roots in deeply devotional music too, let’s not
forget), then the disconcerting sudden swells of sound and emotion and the celestial
voices let loose: “Shhh now, here comes silence, from this comes strength I
promise .. something pure and precious worth having.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Ah. Time alone. In
the daylight there’s a time for, say, dancing to old soul music in your own
space, a time for contemplating jazz, a time for having hip-hop reactivate you,
a time for listening to Van Morrison. But for the ‘Evening Meditation’, as Van called
one of his most beautiful songs, one where he didn’t need to use words, then other
things work best. Oh, this is not in the “I shall search my very soul” sense:
heaven forbid. What’s needed now are distractions, diversions: getting lost in
a good book, getting absorbed in the music, shutting the world and worries out,
and hopefully finding some sense of peace, for a while, which is as good as it
gets: a sense of wonder indeed. And it’s helped of late drawing strength from certain
choral works, including (especially!) CDs of Arvo’s <i>Kanon Pokajanen</i>, <i>Passio</i>,
and <i>Litany</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The occasional
combination of Arvo P</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">ä</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">rt’s compositions and
the voices of the Hilliard Ensemble in particular seems a wonderful thing.
Their voices weave a beautiful web of sound, and on other works too, other ECM
CDs, like Tallis’ <i>The Lamentations of Jeremiah</i>, a recording of works by Perotin,
and <i>Codex Speciálník</i>, music from a Prague manuscript c.1500 but somehow the
title makes connections to Fire Engines c.1980. And maybe most famously there’s
<i>Officium</i>, the record the ensemble made with Jan Garbarek for ECM in 1994.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The copy of <i>Officium</i>
here still has its 99p Oxfam sticker on the slip case, and was bought initially
because of a passion for recordings made by Jan as a young man, with Karin
Krog, with George Russell, with Terje Rypdal, and his own early ECM titles. But
this was something else: truly spiritual music, with the saxophone meshing
magically, mystically, with the Hilliard Ensemble’s voices on a series of
ancient compositions, notably ‘Parce mihi domine’ by Christ</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">ó</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">bal
de Morales to which they keep returning. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There is no shortage
of works where jazz meets the liturgy, like Mary Lou Williams’ <i>Black Christ
of the Andes</i> and, a current obsession, Paul Horn’s 1965 <i>Jazz Suite on
the Mass Texts</i>, a recent Spotify chance find, where the music is composed
and conducted by Lalo Schifrin. But the approach on <i>Officium</i> is
different in that it is not a straight exercise in fusing forms, but instead
Jan’s playing has an unearthly quality that seems often like a soprano secretly
shadowing the ensemble’s singing. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It started as a bold
experiment but, interestingly, <i>Officium</i> and its off-shoots have grown
incrementally in popularity as tastes have evolved. Now you are likely to hear
it played by Margherita Taylor in the wee small hours on Classic FM’s Smooth Classics
show, alongside Einaudi, <i>The Lark Ascending</i>, <i>Adagio For Strings</i> and
Arvo P</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">ä</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">rt’s
<i>Spiegel im Spiegel</i>, which surely can only be a good thing: modern day
easy listening.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Arvo P</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">ä</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">rt
has long been part of the hip canon, his name is often mentioned in many
contexts, so it was never going to be that much of a gamble exploring his work.
With James MacMillan it’s different somehow: is he considered a cool name to
drop? Who cares? Anyway, there is one composition of his which is a real
obsession here: ‘In splendoribus sanctorum’. It is 11-minutes of magic, one of
his <i>Strathclyde Motets</i>, found on a CD, <i>Miserere</i>, and God bless
the day that was bought for a pound in a charity shop, partly due to being intrigued
and partly because of the appeal of the cover painting by Willie Rodger. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The<i> Miserere</i>
CD is a selection of James’ choral works, sung exquisitely by Harry
Christophers’ The Sixteen. But this particular track is so special as it also
has Robert Farley on lone trumpet accompaniment, which suggests taps as played
by Montgomery Clift in <i>From Here To Eternity</i>, tears pouring down his (so
right) profile, with just an intimation of A Certain Ratio circa <i>Sextet</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">James has been an
incredibly prolific composer, and beyond his sacred music there is a real
liking here for the intimacy and daring of his small-scale works, particularly
his <i>Piano Sonata</i>. The first performance of this was by Rolf Hind in
1989. A year later Rolf recorded it for his second Factory Classical CD, <i>Country
Music</i>, where in an inspired sequence it is followed by Janáček’s <i>In The
Mists</i> and Bart</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">ó</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">k’s <i>Out of Doors</i>.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This CD is a
particular favourite here, even if it was discovered 25-years after the fact.
It comes with some great liner notes by Rolf, and about the <i>Piano Sonata</i>
he writes: “Here both landscape and character are captured; the music was
written during, and strongly evokes, a harsh Ayrshire winter, and is tinged
with the plaintive sorrow of Scots folk music and the pibroch”. It is, as this
suggests, an incredibly beautiful work.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There is very much a
preference here for small-scale classical works rather than large symphonic
recordings, and similarly there is a belief choral music sounds better as stark
as possible, unadorned, but a great exception is James MacMillan’s <i>Seven
Last Words from the Cross</i> as recorded by Graham Ross with the Dmitri
Ensemble for a Naxos CD, bought simply because that’s what one of the
characters does in Bernard MacLaverty’s <i>Midwinter Break</i> while wandering
around Amsterdam, and it serves as a reminder of a very moving book, one about a
long-married couple drifting apart: one searching for something, one sinking, but
is there hope? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This Naxos CD closes
with an acapella chorus rendition of James’ “… here in hiding …”, a dramatic composition
written originally for the Hilliard Ensemble and included on their 1996 ECM
double-CD songbook <i>New Music For Voices</i>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That set also contains Michael Finnissy’s
striking ‘Stabant autem iuxta crucem’, a composer first encountered when
belatedly discovering Rolf Hind play selections from Finnissy’s <i>English
Country Tunes</i>, a 1977 work that Rolf implicitly links to the Pistols’ ‘God
Save The Queen’ which no doubt pleased Tony Wilson. Also on<i> New Music For
Voices </i>is Arvo P</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">ä</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">rt’s <i>Summa </i>which
serves as a reminder that the composer was first heard here via Naxos, not ECM,
on the CD which features the Hungarian State Opera Orchestra performing <i>Summa</i>
for strings, alongside <i>Fratres</i> and the compelling <i>Cantus in Memoriam
Benjamin Britten.</i><b><o:p></o:p></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">One ECM title that is
being played a lot here in the twilight is <i>Descansado: Songs for Films</i>,
a 2018 release by Norma Winstone. Descansado is a lovely word: even in
translation. Rested or at ease seems to capture the mood of the record
perfectly. You could possibly pitch it as Norma’s equivalent to <i>The
Moviegoer</i>, a real favourite still among the Scott canon, especially the way
he sings on this record. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is not
entirely flippant a connection: there is overlap in terms of composers and
directors, such as Michel Legrand, the Bergmans, Nino Rota, Vittorio De Sica,
and Ennio Morricone. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">On <i>Descansado</i>
Norma is joined by trusted companions Glauco Venier on piano and Klaus Gesing
on saxophone or clarinet. Occasionally they are augmented very delicately by
percussion and cello, but really nothing at all obtrusive or intrusive. Norma is
also closely involved in the creativity, adding her words to several of the
compositions, and always seeming to add something special to the intimate magic.
And, for those among us who love to hear Norma singing without words, there are
a few real treats, particularly on the adaptation of Michel Legrand’s theme
from <i>Vivre Sa Vie, </i>which we also get a solo piano version of, and on Madredeus’
theme for Wenders’ <i>Lisbon Story</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There is something
very moving about the way Norma sings on this record, and she has this
incredible ability to suggest emotional depths without having to show off and start
ululating and shouting in a forced way. Perhaps the sense of sadness that the
CD suggests has something to do with the dedication to those recently lost: “In
memory of John and Kenny.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">John Taylor and Kenny
Wheeler recorded over the course of several special LPs with Norma as Azimuth
for ECM. On one title they were joined by Ralph Towner too. The first Azimuth
record, from 1977, opens with the very aptly titled ‘Siren’s Song’ which is
essentially a duet between Norma and John. The gently insistent piano
introduces a gorgeous theme which Norma takes up and they weave and dart around
one another with John gradually introducing another melody over the top while
all the while the original refrain is kept up by Norma who flows along
exquisitely, communicating beyond words. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It’s the sort of
introductory track to an LP where it is incredibly hard to move on to the rest
of what is a remarkably beautiful record. Then again, why would you want to
leave this song behind? It is truly spellbinding, it gets played over and over
here, but sometimes so much beauty can be painful and a reminder of what is
lost: “Oh my heart shies from the sorrow”. That sort of thing.<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /></div><p></p>Yr Heartouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13069476478838746714noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3579071422066847226.post-10685209321257340512020-08-01T04:29:00.000+01:002020-08-01T04:29:01.948+01:00Bless The Day #11: Footprints On The Moon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlIeLxyJsAIumtN85KBMGUSKEjPvH25ifEssLKzfgjoGmwIMUbTvRQhdqs1dJk3jV0Fd6z4YoRVDJIv3QFtuXCjd1hKAgA18l2yFHAF8jPXR12BNR9RB5xakaOdIBdBGoGNINPNVod1RU/s1600/Movements.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlIeLxyJsAIumtN85KBMGUSKEjPvH25ifEssLKzfgjoGmwIMUbTvRQhdqs1dJk3jV0Fd6z4YoRVDJIv3QFtuXCjd1hKAgA18l2yFHAF8jPXR12BNR9RB5xakaOdIBdBGoGNINPNVod1RU/s320/Movements.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">‘Footprints on the
Moon’, a Johnny Harris recording, contains a melody, delicately picked out on
the piano, that is so exquisitely poignant that it hurts like hell. There is a
sort of Satie-like simplicity to it, which is incredibly effective. Bookended
by flute flutters, and pitched against symphonic strings and a celestial choir,
while underpinned by a softly flowing rhythm, it still has the power to command
attention. The whole thing is appropriately weightless and suggests a serene state
of floating.</span></div>
<a name='more'></a><o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The track, perfect
for its Apollo 11 giant steps connections, was composed, arranged and produced
by Johnny Harris, one of the most fascinating figures in pop. His name first
really registered here via his arrangements for femme pop hopefuls of the
1960s, and in particular Tammy St. John’s always astonishing recording of the
haunting Fangette Enzel song ‘Dark Shadows and Empty Hallways’ and her stampede
through Brute Force’s ‘Nobody Knows What’s Goin’ On’ which still seems like one
of the wonders of this old world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Johnny’s arrangements
provide connections to Lorraine Silver’s ‘Lost Summer Love’, to Tawny Reed’s
‘You Can’t Take It Away’, to Nita Rossi’s ‘Untrue Unfaithful’, recordings that
decades later appeal equally to open-minded Northern Soul dancers and to
connoisseurs of the recordings by British Girls which have reappeared on CDs in
a variety of series such as <i>Here Come The Girls</i> and <i>Dream Babes</i>,
overseen by scholars such as Mick Patrick, a hero here, not least because he
once put Teenage Jesus’ ‘Orphans’ in his all-time Top 10 for the Ace website. Or
was that a dream?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Part of the appeal of
recordings Johnny Harris made with these kids in the 1960s is the sense that they
could be cast as attempts to escape from drab conformity, to defy convention, made
by smart, sussed beat girls who came from nowhere and were destined to go
straight back there, but in the meantime they gave their all. Ah! The essential
enduring appeal of a young hopeful who disappears, extinguished, after making two
or three 45s which, ironically, are worth infinitely more than many a lauded
artists’ career-spanning canon. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Another track blessed
by the Johnny Harris magic touch is the version of ‘You Baby’ by Jackie Trent, not
a hit but destined to become a big Northern Soul favourite. Johnny worked a lot
at Pye with the team of Tony Hatch and Jackie, and with Petula Clark, but even among
all that activity ‘You Baby’ is quite extraordinary, and there is an incredible
clip of Jackie performing it on the Morecambe & Wise Show in 1966 which is
quite wonderfully sexy but not in any of the obvious ways. It must have seemed
like a bomb going off when beamed into the living rooms of families back then. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">‘Footprints on the Moon’
first appeared as a single in 1969, the year of the lunar landings, and was paired
with ‘Lulu’s Theme’, the breakneck charge of a theme tune from Lulu’s TV
series. Johnny himself posted clips on YouTube in which, as the show’s resident
conductor, he got a starring role, an opportunity he seized with relish,
playing up to the manic dervish persona with panache and plenty of paisley
prints and moptop shaking. Appropriately, in one extract, he is lauding the
film soundtrack work of Lalo Schifrin, very much a kindred spirit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This was supposedly easy
listening music, the world of light entertainment and variety, a show broadcast
on early evening TV, so presumably Johnny loved stretching boundaries, pushing
his luck, sticking his neck out, while understanding when it was appropriate to
play it straight, which is partly to do with professionalism and a lot to do
with being polite, and this makes the inventive-M.O.R. concept (distant echoes,
inevitably here, of Dave McCullough interviewing Vic Godard when ‘Stop That
Girl’ came out) all the more subversive. Brilliantly, one of the clips shows Johnny’s
orchestra storming through a stunning arrangement of ‘Downtown’ which turns the
song inside out and shakes the hell out of it in a very lovely way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">That gives an indication
of the approach Johnny took on his <i>Movements</i> LP, the one with ‘Footprints’
on it as well as the stunning tracks he had composed for the film <i>Fragments
of Fear</i> which were so far ahead of their time they would have made waves on
Mo’Wax 25-years later. Most of the LP, however, was Johnny’s ultra-hip
reinventions of recent hits, aided and abetted by some (rich in sample
potential) performances from fantastic players like Herbie Flowers, Harold
Fisher, Harold McNair, Chris Spedding, and Roger Coulam. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This was an art form,
where arrangers would take popular songs and twist them into something new. Around
the same time the likes of Quincy Jones and Gary McFarland were doing this sort
of thing in the States, while over here John Schroeder was the grandmaster of
hip orchestral reinventions. Not coincidentally Schroeder was a peer of
Johnny’s at Pye, and they will have often worked together. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It seems likely the
name Schroeder first really registered here via ‘Soul For Sale’, an Alan Tew
composition, credited to the John Schroeder Orchestra, which appeared on Pye’s <i>Great
Disco Demands</i>, an early Northern Soul compilation, and an early boot sale
find for this boy, which has the guy among the Casino crowd on the cover who
looks just like Kevin Keegan, and maybe it was?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There was a big
interview with John Schroeder in issue no. 12 of the UK hip-hop magazine <i>Big
Daddy</i>, from the early part of the new millennium, carried out by the guys
from Hero No. 7., where particular attention was paid to John’s ace <i>Working
in the Soul Mine</i> (which opened with ‘Soul For Sale’) and <i>The Dolly
Catcher</i> titles. John Cameron was the arranger on the excellent (and <i>very</i>)
1967 <i>Dolly Catcher</i> set, and he also wrote the standout track, ‘Explosive
Corrosive Joseph’, which was experimental paisley pop nonsense with real heft
and groove. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The Dolly Catcher</span></i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
premise of a mix of originals and reinventions would also be the template for Johnny
Harris’ <i>Movements</i>, where the highlight is another original, ‘Footprints
on the Moon’. Another standout track from <i>Movements</i> is Johnny’s radical reworking
of ‘Light My Fire’ which would become the basis of a version he made with
Shirley Bassey, a track which immediately conjures up listening Gilles Peterson
or Patrick Forge on the radio in the 1990s as much as, say, RPM’s ‘2000’ or M</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">è</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">laaz’s
‘Non, Non, Non’. The combination of Shirley and Johnny is incredible, and the
track itself so very sensual and bluesy and dangerous. Once again, it was
nominally aimed at the easy listening, light entertainment crowd, but this was incendiary
stuff in that adult context.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Shirley and Johnny
made an LP together, <i>“Something”</i>, which is phenomenal, as well as
strikingly internationalist and cultured in its approach, with songs linked to
France, Mexico and Greece, a selection of numbers from films and shows, as well
as reinventions of recent pop choices, all of which shames the parochial
rockers of the time. A personal highlight is ‘The Sea and Sand’, an absurdly
dramatic performance of a song by (co-producer) Tony Colton and Ray Smith, who
also wrote ‘I Stand Accused’ and ‘Big Time Operator’, songs covered by Elvis
Costello and Dexys respectively in 1980. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">‘The Sea and Sand’ story
line seems to provide the cover setting which shows a visibly distressed
Shirley on the seashore, alone, and the sunrise has caught her still in evening
dress and she’s carrying her shoes, still searching for a sign of her lost love:
footprints on the beach telling their own tale. A whole book could be written
around that one photo and that single song. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">From there it seems a
small step to <i>My Boy</i>, the record where, in 1971, Johnny Harris worked
with Richard Harris, another perfect match which produced a magnificent LP, one
ignored here for years until a Zone CD reissue turned up in the local hospice
shop. It had been ignored because the Richard Harris and Jimmy Webb
collaborations, the absurd grandiloquence of <i>A Tramp Shining</i> and <i>The
Yard Went On Forever</i>, seemed sacrosanct, but you can so easily be
wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dare one say <i>My Boy</i> works
better, being less abstract and more of a defined conceptual work or song cycle?
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Why there should have
been any hesitation here is a mystery, especially as it contains a personal
favourite Jimmy Webb song, ‘Requiem’, which also appears on the 5<sup>th</sup>
Dimension’s visionary LP <i>The Magic Garden </i>and became a perfect vehicle
for Richard Harris’ theatrics. And another song, ‘My Boy’, was familiar from
the years when many of us were more aware of Elvis’ marital break-up recordings
than his early hits, and the Elvis record in most homes was, wonderfully, the
odd compilation <i>Separate Ways</i>, usually on a budget label. So, a
generation grew up knowing the story of ‘Old Shep’ before it knew about ‘Hound
Dog’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Cannily Phil Coulter
and Bill Martin had adapted ‘My Boy’ from a French original by Claude Fran</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">ç</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">ois,
in the tradition of Paul Anka and ‘My Way’ a little earlier, and perhaps
unexpectedly this boy’s favourite track on the Richard Harris LP is the
gloriously over-the-top ‘This is Our Child’, also written and produced by
Martin & Coulter. And recollections of childhood prompt the realisation
that the songwriting team of Martin & Coulter haunted my generation’s musical
youth which is not something one hears said every day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Their great successes,
‘Puppet on a String’, ‘Congratulations’, and ‘Back Home’, transcend personal
taste in the sense that they were everywhere and in the very air we breathed.
And then came the Bay City Rollers, and there are strange memories here of the group,
before they made it really big, doing the great Martin & Coulter song ‘Shang-A-Lang’
one afternoon on TV, Magpie maybe or failing that Crackerjack, wearing cool, matching
American football tops with big numbers on the front, all very much like the
young Jack Kerouac or Jackie Duluoz, the time he writes about so well in his beautifully
bittersweet book <i>Maggie Cassidy</i> (who was really Mary Carney, so oddly
close to home). And the Rollers on this occasion seemed to have quite an aggressive
presence. Was all this simply imagined? Is that possible?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Soon they were all over
the place, but the football tops had gone, and instead they dressed in tartan
and those daft shrunken jumpers, very cute and sounding so soft compared to the
beloved shaping forces of The Sweet, Mud, Suzi Q., Glitter Band and all that,
but the young girls loved it and every one of them at school seemed to have scrawled
on their arm the name of their favourite Roller. And, so began a recurring
pattern of initial euphoria and optimism turning into dreadful disappointment,
like all those later Peel sessions or live shows or early singles never ever being
matched by subsequent records, especially the ones on major labels.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Then Martin &
Coulter’s next big project was Slik, who in 1976 had such a great image with
their baseball shirts (a definite theme here), contrarily short hair, drainpipe
jeans and the relatively-new Kickers curiously. Slik appeared much younger than
most other pop groups around, and also seemed like a real band you’d want to be
in. To a kid of 11 or 12 they were, in 1976, really glamorous, and there is
still a soft spot here for ‘Requiem’, a bold move by Martin & Coulter with
its gloriously moody intro that seems to suggest a mix of Rodrigo’s <i>Concierto
de Aranjuez</i> with the Gregorian chant of the Benedictine monks of Santo
Domingo de Silos: sketches of Spain indeed. It then mutates into a sort of bubblegum
Brecht & Weill Berlin cabaret song, wonderfully like The Archies do
‘Alabama Song’ with quiffs and Harrington jackets, singing: “Oh what a wreck,
this is a requiem”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">‘Requiem’ was only a very
minor hit here, which seemed like a heinous crime at the time, and so again a
pattern began: never underestimate the ignorance of consumers. And then the
next single sank without trace, but was a source of fatal fascination here in
the endless summer of 1976 with its mention of James Dean and all that: ‘The
Kid’s A Punk’ or, as it was heard here, ‘The Kids Are Punk’. Being too young
for <i>Dirty Harry</i> and only very vaguely aware of the term punk being used
in connection with The Ramones and Sex Pistols in the weekly copy of <i>Record
Mirror</i>, this was a mystery and the dictionary didn’t help at all. And the
bass player would wear a shirt with 43<sup>rd</sup> Street Punks on the front.
What did it all mean? Remember, this was recorded before the Pistols played
Manchester’s Free Trade Hall, before the 100 Club Punk Festival, and long
before the Bill Grundy incident.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Slik’s Midge Ure
apparently hated this Martin & Coulter song, and writhed with embarrassment
singing it. The irony was, we later learnt, that Malcolm McLaren and Bernard
Rhodes had seen Midge as a possible candidate for the band they were putting
together, before John Lydon turned up with his jukebox jive. Midge’s revenge
came when he teamed up with Glen Matlock to form the Rich Kids who were
wonderful as they wound the punk purists up no end. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The Rich Kids felt
like a vindication, and even now a couple of the group’s singles sound
fantastic: Midge’s anti-fascist anthem ‘Marching Men’ and Glen’s ‘Ghosts of
Princes and Towers’: “You've either got it honey or you ain’t”. The Rich Kids,
for a brief moment, very much had it: in my mind’s eye there they are, one
Saturday evening, on the pilot show for Mickie Most’s punk TV series Revolver
with Peter Cook acting the oaf and the audience dancing like there’s no
tomorrow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Then a year later
they were gone, and the musical landscape had changed again. The mod revival
was what annoyed the snobs who didn’t have a clue. Dexys Midnight Runners were
part of what was happening, and before too long there they were at number one
with ‘Geno’ (so <i>sometimes</i> the public could be trusted to get it right!)
and there is a clear recollection here of trying to get a sense of what Kevin
Rowland might have experienced back in 1968 and listening to a jumble sale find
of Geno singing ‘Hi-Hi Hazel’, a song written for him by Martin & Coulter. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Ironically, many
years later Kevin himself would sing a Phil Coulter song, ‘The Town I Loved So
Well’, on <i>Dexys Do Irish and Country Soul</i> in 2016. This was the song
that really stood out on that set, partly because Kevin’s performance is so
dramatic and perhaps because it was the first time this boy had heard the song,
which just goes to show that however well you think you know your music, you
don’t. No matter how good Dexys’ emotional version is, nothing can really
prepare you for hearing how Luke Kelly sang it with The Dubliners back in 1973.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And it really is a
remarkable song. It seems innocuously bittersweet and sentimental at first, the
writer reminiscing about growing up in Derry, then it takes a sharp detour and
switches its attention to The Troubles, forensically, and the effect that they
had on the place, before delivering a partly defiant, partly wistful message at
the end. It is hard to think of another song that manages to even come close to
capturing everyday life in Northern Ireland, while being so successfully humanitarian
and non-sectarian. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">‘The Town I Loved So
Well’ was one of three exceptional songs Phil Coulter composed for The
Dubliners in the early 1970s. Just as hard-hitting and emotionally raw is
‘Scorn Not His Simplicity’, a song which Phil wrote in memory of his son, born
with Down’s Syndrome, whose life was painfully short. It must have been an
incredibly cathartic experience to write this and then witness Luke Kelly singing
it. If you look on YouTube there is a remarkable clip of Luke performing it on
a 1974 TV show which is so astonishingly moving that your heart stops beating.
Larry Jon Wilson’s ‘Bertrand My Son’ is heartbreakingly beautiful, and
astonishingly personal, but ‘Scorn Not His Simplicity’ is something else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The other Phil
Coulter song written for The Dubliners which is much loved here is ‘Hand Me
Down My Bible’, a blatant and successful attempt at getting the group back on
top of the charts back home. It is ridiculously joyous, like a wonderful mess
of The Byrds doing ‘You Ain’t Going Nowhere’ and Dexys’ infectious ‘Let’s Get
This Straight From The Start’. And Phil wasn’t just writing these incredible
songs: he produced a series of Dubliners LPs and, when nobody seemed
interested, the first few Planxty LPs. This was serious stuff, and one doesn’t get
the impression that the strong characters in The Dubliners or Planxty would suffer
fools gladly. So, brilliantly, Phil was in effect leading a double life, doing so
much for the new Irish music, while in the day job he was associated with (and
scorned for the simplicity of) his Eurovision and teenybop successes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Over the past 40-odd
years Phil has very effectively created his own space, with light orchestral
Celtic variations and meditative music which has proven to be enduringly
popular. Mention of a recent project involving John Field’s nocturnes piqued
interest here, as these (discovered by pure chance, coupled with some Chopin
nocturnes in a budget 2CD set) have become incredibly important, played often
when only piano music at the end of a day can offer a brief period of respite
from thinking about what tomorrow will bring. Some evenings it pays to put on
the Naxos collections of John Field’s nocturnes and piano sonatas, so that the
healing can, hopefully, begin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And speaking of Van,
that’s somewhere else that Phil Coulter’s name appeared when growing up. When
he and Van were just starting out, Phil wrote ‘I Can Only Give You Everything’ for
the angry young Them, which is an out-and-out punk classic, and a song first heard
here via Richard Hell & the Voidoids’ <i>Destiny Street</i> which came out
around the end of 1982 or early 1983, which to a kid felt like a lifetime after
<i>Blank Generation</i> but with its punky sneer and covers of Them, Dylan and
Kinks songs captured a new back-to-basics mood. And it’s a record associated
here with things like the Blue Orchids’ <i>Agents of Change</i> EP (in its
plastic bag!), <i>Violent Femmes</i>, Go-Betweens’ ‘Hammer The Hammer’, Jazzateers’
‘Show Me The Door’ and accompanying LP, which oddly are all Rough Trade
releases, so suggesting a different story than the Scritti and Smiths nonsense
usually trotted out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Over the years Van
and Phil would occasionally continue to cross paths. Phil is there on a few
tracks from <i>Days Like This</i>, for example, and oh that title track and the
wisdom of Van. It’s a song that only really makes sense as you get older and
can recognise the importance <i>of</i> days like that. Then just before that
Phil helped Van with <i>No Prima Donna</i>, a 1994 project based on Van’s
songbook, which made no impression here at the time, being too busy with 4hero,
Tortoise, DJ Shadow, Autechre, Tricky, whatever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Nevertheless, it has some
wonderful stuff on it, particularly Cassandra Wilson’s gorgeous take on ‘Crazy
Love’, Elvis Costello’s gospel acapella version of ‘Full Force Gale’, and
Marianne Faithful doing (living!) ‘Madame George’ works wonderfully well, too,
as does Lisa Stansfield doing ‘Friday’s Child’, a song loved here ever since
hearing it on a <i>Rock Roots</i> of Them compilation where, along with ‘The
Story of Them’ and ‘Mighty Like A Rose’, it became an obsession. God bless the
day that a cassette edition was found for 99p in OK Records along the Broadway
in the late 1970s. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Another highlight is
the gorgeous version of ‘Tupelo Honey’ by the Phil Coulter Orchestra. Many of
us will immediately associate the Phil Coulter Orchestra with ‘A Good Thing
Going’, a terrific piano-led instrumental that became a Northern Soul favourite.
Originally released in 1967, it was first heard here via an Inferno compilation
<i>Out On The Floor Tonight</i>, another early boot sale find in the 1980s.
Inferno was Neil Rushton’s label, whose name was familiar from his fantastic “primer
for the new soul rebels” which appeared in the Hard Times issue of <i>The Face</i>
in September 1982 and featured a great A-Z of Northern Soul playlist which was
studied here in forensic detail at the time and for a long while afterwards. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There are some real
classics on that Inferno compilation (first released in 1979) including Sandy
Wynns’ ‘A Touch of Venus’, Frankie & Johnny’s ‘I’ll Hold You’, The Crow’s
phenomenal ‘Your Autumn of Tomorrow’, The Ad-Libs’ ‘New York in the Dark’, and
indeed the Phil Coulter track which was described as “the best Northern Soul
instrumental of all-time”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">If you look at the
label on the original single or the Inferno reissue of ‘A Good Thing Going’ you
will see that it was a KPM production, for at that time the Martin &
Coulter team was tied to Keith Prowse Music. KPM is now most closely associated
with library music and the immortal green sleeves of the KPM 1000 Series. An
early entry in that catalogue was <i>The Sound of ‘Pop’, </i>and yes, those inverted
commas rightly give the impression it was all a bit arch, a bit conceptual and
maybe satirical. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Most of the tracks were
by Martin & Coulter while Alan Hawkshaw also contributes a few. A handful
of numbers from this LP appear on a recent Trunk (sadly vinyl-only) collection,
<i>Spider-Jazz</i>, which draws together library music used in the original animated
series of Spiderman. These include the excellent Martin & Coulter
instrumentals ‘Big Bass Guitar’, ‘Mods & Rockers’, and ‘L.S.D.’, which
together with the vocal ‘Pop’ tracks could easily form part of a Swinging
London film about a young group who make the big time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">If pressed for a
favourite Martin & Coulter composition it would be the pop-art themed
‘Supermarket Full of Cans’, recorded by the Welsh group Eyes of Blue which it <i>is</i>
impossible to resist calling blue-eyed soul. It was first heard here via <i>The
Mod Scene</i> CD, part of an occasionally excellent Decca series. Another great
Eyes of Blue track, ‘Heart Trouble’, appears on <i>The Northern Soul Scene</i>
where the highlight is very much The Flirtations’ ‘Nothing But A Heartache’
with its wonderfully dramatic intro. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It also opens <i>Sounds
like the Flirtations</i>, one of the great LPs of the late-1960s, which was
reissued on CD by the dependable RPM label. Featuring mainly (often excellent)
Wayne Bickerton and Tony Waddington songs, the musical director was Johnny
Harris. Various Flirtations songs find favour on the Northern Soul dancefloors,
and Johnny Harris credits are not uncommon on the scene: apart from ‘You Baby’ and
‘Lost Summer Love’ a particular favourite here is Kenny Lynch’s ‘Movin’ Away’,
which is a gorgeous beat ballad, and then there’s Frankie & Johnny’s ‘I’ll
Hold You’, or was that someone else?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Wayne Bickerton’s
concept for The Flirtations shrewdly tapped into a variety of traditions: big
band blare and Eurovision bounce, marching songs and terrace singalongs, Motown
memories and rare soul all-nighters. And yet the sound, which Johnny Harris
helped realise, was also looking forward, for this was the dawning of the Age
of Aquarius with Concorde on the horizon, so a truly Transatlantic supersonic,
symphonic, surround sound, sensory assault was just the thing, with the singers
strong enough as a unit and individually to make themselves heard. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It is so easy to imagine
Johnny going frantic, conducting in the studio, whipping the seasoned session
men into a frenzy for The Flirtations, just like you can see him doing with his
orchestra on ‘Satisfaction’ in an astonishing clip from a fin-de-sixties TV
special. It’s no wonder his LP of the time was called <i>Movements</i>. The man
knew a thing or two about music and movement.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Yr Heartouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13069476478838746714noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3579071422066847226.post-69300469482437586912020-07-04T04:06:00.000+01:002020-07-04T04:06:03.281+01:00Bless The Day #10: Irracional<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpXV7yQU_QckaNJsXRKj0ACJD2fHn4iYIoScLuM5YkEG_8hk2dHEHAVlwM7atH0gRHRVJHwxe00elS11VaXKF4c5HtTY32ydlRkTHPa9GGuFLSA7mTCK98X-0gg_SENPBVAvOyWLg_wCs/s1600/Hareton+salvanini.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpXV7yQU_QckaNJsXRKj0ACJD2fHn4iYIoScLuM5YkEG_8hk2dHEHAVlwM7atH0gRHRVJHwxe00elS11VaXKF4c5HtTY32ydlRkTHPa9GGuFLSA7mTCK98X-0gg_SENPBVAvOyWLg_wCs/s320/Hareton+salvanini.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Hareton Salvanini’s ‘Irracional’
is a magnificently tormented work of art which, with its swirling strings and rich
crooning, gets off to a gloriously dramatic start. The strings swell and soar
until, a couple of minutes in, the tempo shifts abruptly and a mad sense of release
kicks in as the velocity and intensity increases, with brass blaring out, all
guns blazing, crazy percussion beating away, before resignation and despair
seeps back in and the singer is suffocating, choking in the grey city
environment from which there seems to be no escape.</span></div>
<a name='more'></a> <o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The track comes from
Hareton’s <i>S.P/73</i>, a conceptual work depicting disquietude in S</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">ã</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">o
Paulo, which was originally released on the Continental label in Brazil, back
in 1973, and is now in circulation again thanks to Mr Bongo. It is a brooding
work, incredibly emotional and very ambitious in its scope. It is the sort of
record that it is easy to put on and lose oneself in, making up scenarios in
the mind to match the incredibly evocative music. You really feel as if you are
there. It is that vivid a production.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The name Hareton is
rarely heard outside of the context of <i>Wuthering Heights</i>, and seeing the
striking cover photo of the composer it is easy to imagine he looks a little as
Hareton Earnshaw would have done when first encountered by Lockwood. And while
the remote rural setting of Emily Bront</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">ë</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">’s novel is a world
away from Brazil’s capital city in the 20<sup>th</sup> century there seems a
shared sense of mental anguish and loss.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Apparently Hareton
had been active for a while musically, but this was his debut album, and he was
indulged immensely in terms of being allowed to experiment with orchestration
and bold arrangements which make no concession to popular taste. The music is
Hareton’s while the words, which feature on half of the songs, are by his
brother Ayrton whose world seems to have been more of a theatrical or performance
art one. And it is easy to imagine this being the score for a ballet or
interpretative dance piece. Perhaps it <i>was</i> used or intended for this
purpose? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Another favourite on <i>S.P/73</i>
is ‘Sem Nome’ which is a sleepy blues, a languid lament apparently about how a
lost love would open the door, come in and throw her bag down, run over and sit
just here, and talk all about her day, so that everything became so real, and
how she would turn the record player on loud, and oh if only all this could
happen just once more. So, yeah, we are very much in Rod McKuen and Sinatra <i>A
Man Alone</i> melancholy confession and nostalgic narrative territory, and
Hareton’s weary, resigned sigh on this track is incredibly eloquent.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Even now there does
not seem to be an abundance of information easily available about Hareton. He
and his brother (Hareton and Ayrton!) it seems came from a creative family:
their mother was an actress and their father a musician, and the two parents
ran a music school. That would perhaps explain the classical sweep of the
compositions on <i>S.P/73</i>, though it is just as easy to imagine other
influences at work. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Certainly it is a
record that can be placed in the wider context, beyond the popular music of
Brazil, of David Axelrod’s themed works, Marvin’s <i>What’s Going On</i>, Gary
McFarland’s <i>America The Beautiful,</i> Charles Stepney’s arrangements, Jimmy
Webb’s orchestrations, Claus Ogerman’s strings and things, Laura Nyro’s poetic
vision, Sinatra’s <i>Watertown</i>, and all sorts of works from Gil and Miles
to <i>Shaft</i> and <i>Superfly</i>, which is not to say it even sounds at all like
any of these.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">S.P/73</span></i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
is something one actually could get away with describing as <i>sui generis</i>.
It is, as you might have guessed, a particular favourite here, even among the abundant
brilliance of early 1970s Brazilian recordings, and a disproportionate number
of desert island disc contenders come from then and there. Perhaps only Jos</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">é</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
Mauro’s <i>Obnoxius</i> gets played more, but it would be a close-run thing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Hareton’s great work
was first heard here via the much-missed Loronix, a Brazilian music site, to
which many of us owe an enormous debt of gratitude. It is odd, but the era of
the mp3 blog seems a lifetime ago already, as we continue to live through
accelerated change in terms of how we discover and listen to music. Loronix was
one of the leading blogs for sharing “forgotten music not commercially
available”. Well, that’s in the immortal words of Loronix, though in many cases
the music posted on the site was never known outside of Brazil enough to become
forgotten.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Maybe it would be
fair (or blindingly obvious) to say these altruistic sites shared sounds which
turned our worlds inside out and introduced us to music which opened up so many
new vistas. At its peak, roughly 2007 through to 2009, these music-sharing
concerns were all-consuming, and many of us were addicted to the daily
discovery of arcane delights. Things move so quickly that many of the names
have been forgotten (at least here), lost among the lists of favourites and bookmarks
on abandoned laptops, but with a little prompting fond memories return of sites
such as Brazilian Nuggets, Never Enough Rhodes, Red Telephone 66, Snap Crackle
& Pop, A Pyrex Scholar, Time Has Told Me, Everything Starts With An A,
Quimsy’s Mumbo Jumbo, Ile Oxumar</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">é</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">, Soundological Investimigations,
Orgy in Rhythm, J Thyme … KIND, Hippy-DJ Kit, and so on. What other ones were
there? Domain names would vary depending on one’s musical tastes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Some of the old blogs
had very specific remits, like the celebration of the Milestone label at The Shad
Shack, and the MPS label at Magic Purple Sunshine. Some sites went on to other
activities which grew out of their sharing of sounds, like the lovely Bollywood
soundtrack LP guidebook that was a by-product of Music from the Third Floor, while
With Comb and Razor became a record label, starting with the essential and
beautifully presented <i>Show Me Your Backside</i> collection of Nigerian disco
tracks, and Frank Gossner’s Voodoo Funk evolved from him sharing stories and
artefacts collected from road trips through West Africa into another record company
releasing salvaged sounds.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Those blog sites
(many of which are now defunct or taken down) generated their own rituals within
their community, which involved passwords, links in comments, requests to re-up,
and online hosts including Rapidshare, Mediafire, zShare, DivShare, Megaupload,
4shared, Badongo, DepositFiles, and terms like bitrates, rar, zip, burning, and
the attendant shopping expeditions for blank CD-Rs and plastic wallets: just
try that locally now! Personally, one would steer clear of Pirate Bay,
torrents, and Soulseek, for somehow that seemed to be not playing the game.
Indeed, among all this activity, there did seem to be a prevailing gentleman’s
code, an agreed protocol, which involved removing any links which offended
record companies or artists. Mind you, the opposite could be true, and a
musician might express delight at a long-lost work resurfacing, or a family
member may pass on thanks for keeping their relative’s art alive, as actually
happened with Hareton Salvanini’s son over at Loronix.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Loronix’s host Zecalouro,
with his parrot avatar, is someone many people have fond memories of. To keep
the flame burning, a shadow site was set-up at Orfaos do Loronix and in 2011
the Global Groovers blog ran a moving tribute to Zecalouro himself. Perhaps
part of the enduring appeal of <i>S.P/73</i> is that it was one of the very
first records discovered and downloaded here via Loronix, being a little late
to arrive at the party. God bless the day that post appeared. Indeed, the entry
for 5 October 2007 is still there: “I could not believe when I found this album
at the R$1 (one Real, or US$ .50c) section of an influential vinyl store in Rio
de Janeiro. Perhaps a new employee did it by mistake because the eyes of the
shop owner went big as a golf ball and his humor changed when I claimed this
album by this price.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Zeca compares the LP
to <i>Prelude</i> which was the hook that would prove irresistible, having a
big Deodato passion at the time, and being in the habit of playing his
‘Skyscrapers’ and more many times each day, plus plenty of others among his
productions, arrangements and recordings, from Astrud Gilberto to Walter
Wanderley to Joe & Bing to <i>Clube da Esquina</i> to Sinatra and even
Kevin Rowland. A special favourite was a CD reissue of Deodato’s <i>Os
Catedraticos 73</i> which complements his CTI recordings, and was found for a
pound in the Fopp shop at Covent Garden.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">How was Deodato
viewed back in Brazil? Incomparable composers like Marcos Valle, Edu Lobo and
Milton Nascimento had flirted with the U.S. market as the 1960s drew to a
close, but they returned home to make exceptional recordings, in difficult
conditions, artistically and politically, while Deodato really made a name for
himself in the States. There are, as Zecalouro suggests, times when <i>S.P/73</i>
does contain moments, for example the visionary whirlpool of organ on
‘Salamandras’ and particularly on ‘Primitivo’, the most dancefloor-friendly
track, where amid the madness the music does sound pretty close to what Deodato
was doing, and the record even has its own ‘Prelude’ though there is so much
more going on over the course of the forty-odd minutes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The profusion of
music-sharing blogs sparked all sorts of moral panics akin to the old “home
taping is killing music” campaign that used to accompany sales of blank
cassettes and so on, and the FBI anti-piracy seal haunted the mp3 blog domain
or at least the sites that hosted files. While the sharing of unavailable
records was cited by some as a reason for record stores closing, it wasn’t the
most convincing of arguments. And, similarly, cultural commentators rushed in
to draw conclusions on the wall, which probably now look as hopelessly dated as
the cover of our old rough exercise books at school. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So, yeah, there were a
few years’ worth of gluttony until the energy had dissipated, with sites disappearing
and the quality of surprises diminishing, but this led to a long period of absorbing
and assimilating these (mutant) sounds, and indeed over a sustained passage of
time this boy has spent rather too much money buying CDs as these records
gradually appeared for sale in a salvaged form, quite often in exquisite
editions. And yet there are <i>still</i> important gaps to be filled, with
Tuca’s <i>Dr</i></span><i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">á</span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">cula I Love You</span></i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
being the example that springs immediately to mind, here at least. This was
another Loronix discovery, and a record that became a real obsession, and it’s
beyond belief that the LP has not been reissued in some form, especially given
the connection to Fran</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">ç</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">oise Hardy’s <i>La
Question </i>which is rightly rated as one of the best records ever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Mr Bongo has done a
wonderful job in releasing new editions of lost classics, and the label’s
supremo David Buttle deserves some kind of special recognition for what he has achieved
over a long period of time. His label’s early releases of compilations by
Marcos Valle and Joyce illuminated the late 1990s, and it cannot be overstated
just how important those collections were here, and what incredible pleasure
they have given over the past 20-plus years.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It is quite likely
that Mr Bongo’s highest profile CD reissue of Brazilian music will have been
the Arthur Verocai LP which came out here in 2016 in one of the smart digipak
editions the label specialises in. It is something that meets with great
approval here the way Mr Bongo puts out old titles in a manner that faithfully replicates
the original release rather than adding new liner notes and extra tracks, etc.
Soul Jazz’s Universal Sound imprint is also very good at taking this approach.
They seem to understand instinctively that there is something about too much
information interfering with the magic of a record.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Originally released
on the Continental label, like Hareton Salvanini’s <i>S.P/73</i>, the <i>Arthur
Verocai </i>LP has become one of those records which, deservedly so, become
revered, and the canonisation of its creator must have seemed like a strange
dream for a man whose great work did not set the world alight when first
released in 1972. And yet it’s easy to get a sense of the high regard, to put
it mildly, that the likes of Eothen ‘Egon’ Alapatt, Madlib and the Stones Throw
cratediggin’ circle have for Arthur’s work, and it is intriguing why this
particular record has been the one that has become a kind of holy relic. It is
fascinating how that process works, where the energy seems to focus on one
artist or artefact.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">That is not to
detract at all from the magnificence of the Arthur Verocai LP which really is
quite extraordinary, and no matter how many times it gets played the magic
never seems to diminish. It surely helps that it lasts less than half-an-hour,
so it doesn’t outstay its welcome and yet somehow manages to pack so much into
the proceedings. For a record that seems so easy and warm it is also a work
that is incredibly deep and mystical, which has a lot to do with its hallowed
status.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And it still
surprises: even now when ‘Karina’ starts there is a sense of anticipation, and
it always seems as if 4heroic or Photek-y or Moving Shadow-style drum patterns
should come easing in on the action. And a whole book could be written on that
cover photo alone, Arthur sitting on that bench: watching the world go by or
lost in a dream? Tricky to decide. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Unlike Arthur, or
Terry Callier or (brilliantly, a Pep Guardiola favourite) Bill Fay or Mulatu
Astatke or Shirley Collins, and other souls recalled to life after wilderness
years, Hareton Salvanini didn’t live long enough to benefit from a resurgence
of interest in his work. Ironically the Mr Bongo reissue of <i>S.P/73</i> came
with a claim that its composer was like a lesser-known Arthur Verocai, just
like Arthur had been described as a lost David Axelrod-type genius when his
great LP was given a new lease of life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Presumably the keen
interest in Arthur Verocai has in part been behind some of the other choices Mr
Bongo have made available again, and these include titles with tracks arranged
by the maestro, like Gal Costa’s <i>India</i>, and the 1974 <i>Burnier &
Cartier</i> set which has become a particular favourite here, having been first
discovered via Loronix, and this was another post where there was a
particularly warm reception from a family member.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">That Burnier &
Cartier record is pretty much perfect in the sense that it strikes a wonderful
balance between the Brazilian post-<i>Clube da Esquina</i> sound and the mellow
sophistication of U.S. soft rock. The presence of Roberto Quartin among the
backing vocalists is a lovely reminder that he picked up on the private press
Joe and Bing <i>Daybreak</i> LP for his great Quartin label (home of Jos</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">é</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
Mauro and Piri) partly because their exquisite harmonies fitted in with a
penchant for the Seals & Crofts sound that was rife in Brazil in the early
1970s. The debut Burnier & Cartier record seems to be the living embodiment
of this passion, in a totally gorgeous way, and they even get the look just
right. The record takes time to get its grips into you, but when it happens
there is little to do but play the album over and over and succumb to its
subtle charms.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Another
Verocai-blessed release salvaged by Mr Bongo is the 1972 C</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">é</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">lia
LP on Continental which Arthur did all the (quietly revolutionary) arrangements
for. And this boy is surely not alone in being delighted that C</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">é</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">lia
continues the fine tradition of Mr Bongo releases by mononymous singers,
following on from Joyce and Doris titles. C</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">é</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">lia will be instantly
recognisable to anyone who has fallen for her singing of ‘Seriado’ on the
Arthur Verocai LP, and indeed her 1972 set features a lovely version of ‘Na B</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">ô</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">ca
Do Sol’. Actually, she is credited as being the person who prompted and cajoled
Arthur into making a record of his own: something he never forgot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">C</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">é</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">lia
was quite a lady, with a warm, rich sonorous tone, and there is a real
enthusiasm here for the deeper female voice in Brazilian music, like hers,
Maysa’s, Tuca’s, that sort of thing. Mr Bongo have also reissued C</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">é</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">lia’s
debut LP from 1970, and in a slight break with tradition they included a small
booklet which features a wonderfully entertaining interview with the singer conducted
by Ronaldo Evangelista a few years before she died in 2017. That first LP is
remarkable in the sense that it provides so many connections in addition to
being a glorious record.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So, for example,
Arthur Verocai and Rog</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">é</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">rio Duprat are among
the arrangers, and a handful of songs were written by either Joyce or Nelson
Angelo, exceptional young talents and lovers to boot. Joyce had already had a great
couple of LPs out, though in her own words she was still trying to find her
voice. She and Nelson had then both participated in the Luiz E</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">ç</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">a
y La Familia Sagrada project, music released eventually, in Mexico only, as <i>La
Nueva Onda del Brazil</i>. This is another of those records found through the
Loronix site which seemed to be a complete revelation and has subsequently been
played to death here (having been reissued by VampiSoul on CD). The ensemble
vocals, the bold jazzy arrangements, and that beatin’ rhythm are all
irresistible: samba soul supreme!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The aptly-titled
essential Mr Bongo Joyce set opens with her 1970 EP, which she made with
colleagues from the A Tribo collective, whose ranks featured Nelson Angelo,
Novelli, Toninho Horta, and Naná Vasconcelos. After this she and Nelson made an
LP of spectral beauty together which is a very real favourite here, and the
quality of their compositions is very much in evidence on the 1970 C</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">é</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">lia
LP. These include Nelson’s ‘Z</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">ó</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">zoio – Como </span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">É </span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Que
</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">É</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">’,
the original version of the song that would become much loved as ‘Zozoi’ by
France Gall, a highlight of the Jazzman Sevens series.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Nelson Angelo seems a
fascinating figure, but even now one would have to confess to not knowing that
much about him. It, however, is no mere coincidence that he played on what can
reasonably be regarded as some of the most important Brazilian recordings of
the early 1970s, including the 1970 <i>Marcos Valle</i> set, <i>L</i></span><i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">ô</span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
Borges</span></i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">, <i>Quarteto Em Cy</i>, his record with Joyce,
Edu Lobo’s <i>Missa Breve</i>, plus <i>Clube de Esquina</i>, and following that
in 1973 Milton Nascimento’s <i>Milagre Dos Peixas</i>. That is a pretty
impressive track record at an exceptionally creative time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">C</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">é</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">lia
was close to Minas Gerais’ gifted circle of friends, and her debut LP for
Continental features ‘Durango Kid’ by Toninho Horta & Fernando Brandt and
‘Lennon – McCartney’ by L</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">ô</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> and Mario Borges,
again with Fernando Brandt. Both songs also appear on <i>Milton</i>, Milton
Nascimento’s 1970 LP recorded with Som Imagin</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">á</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">rio, which is a definite
favourite here and which feels like, ahem, the cornerstone of the incredibly
creative Cluba de Esquina activity, and incidentally has anyone written a book
about the magic inherent in that collective being part of a holy trinity with
Miles’ <i>On The Corner </i>and Creedence’s ‘Down On The Corner’. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As well as her
original of ‘Para Lennon e McCartney’ C</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">é</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">lia’s debut also
includes Joyce’s ‘Abrace Paul McCartney’ (which together with Laugh’s ‘Paul
McCartney’ forms another kind of holy trinity!) and, seeing as this was 1970,
these songs would have been recorded around the time The Beatles split. Another
great book would be about the perfect fit between Brazilian music and The
Beatles, and not just in terms of cover versions, though there are many wonderful
bossa-related interpretations of the group’s songs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So, in the literal
sense, there is the link between Lizzie Bravo hanging around outside the Abbey
Road studios (shades here of William Shaw’s excellent <i>A Song From Dead Lips</i>,
the first in his highly recommended Breen & Tozer series of novels) and
being whisked inside to sing on ‘Across The Universe’ through to her later
links with the music of Joyce, Milton Nascimento and so on. And there’s the way
all these musicians blended the new pop sounds of The Beatles with folkloric
elements and other Brazilian musical forms to create something so special.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Another young
composer whose material C</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">é</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">lia sang on her debut
was Ivan Lins: his ‘No Clar</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">ã</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">o da Lua Cheia’ is
the track arranged by Arthur Verocai, and Ivan’s first couple of LPs would also
be arranged by Arthur, though these are, unhelpfully, unavailable to buy in any
reasonable physical form. Arthur’s songwriting partner on his 1972 LP was Vitor
Martins, who would later team up with Ivan Lins, and their name would have almost
certainly first entered this boy’s life via the credits for Kalima’s ‘The
Smiling Hour’ which the group recorded after Ann Quigley and co. heard Sarah
Vaughan singing it on one of her Brazilian LPs, and Kalima’s version still
often seems like the most gloriously uplifting of Factory recordings,
especially when one takes into account the accompanying video which captures a
moment in time perfectly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Talking of films, if
Hareton Salvanini’s <i>S.P/73</i> had a very strong cinematic feel to it then
it was logical that someone should commission him to do some actual soundtrack
work, which is what happened. The score for the Polish film maker Zygmunt
Sulistrowski’s 1974 <i>A Virgem de Saint Tropez </i>was pretty much all composed
and arranged by Hareton, and if the movie was (presumably) exploitative
nonsense then the soundtrack conversely remains a work of art. And, yes, once
again it was the Loronix site that helped spread the word about this gem, and
in recent years it has twice been reissued, solely in expensive vinyl editions,
so the old Verbatim CD-R will have to suffice for now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It is a soundtrack
that, in terms of repeated listens, sounds as appealing as any of the old
Italian masters working in the same erotica sphere, or any of the composers
active in the UK library music milieu like Barbara Moore, Roger Webb, John
Cameron, and so on. It is also easy to imagine selections appearing on a
Jazzman or Crippled Dick Hot Wax! compilation, especially the gorgeous use of
wordless vocals on a couple of the compositions.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There is rather more
in the way of beats and breaks on this soundtrack, plus the occasional use of Fender
Rhodes and funky wah-wah guitar, all tailor-made to appeal to DJs and producers,
more so than the largely-orchestral <i>S.P/73</i>, but there are equally some
simply gorgeous snippets of sonata or fantasia-like interludes featuring
woodwind and strings and some terrific jazzy trombone work for those among us
who love such things. It would, however, have been nice to hear Hareton singing,
but life’s not perfect.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In Hareton’s
soundtrack work (he would compose and arrange much of the score for another of
Zygmunt Sulistrowski’s erotic extravaganzas, 1981’s <i>Xavana, Uma Ilha do Amor,
</i>featuring the exceptional ‘Growing’), and on the actual <i>S.P/73</i> set, there
seem to be musical motifs that flit in and out of the music: maybe in reality
they are nothing at all alike, but it feels like ideas and melodic passages are
reprised and referred to and refined, which is not unusual in the work of
classical composers, themes and variations perhaps, or leitmotifs, so maybe
that is what it is all about: nevertheless it kind of appeals.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And talking of what
appeals, if the cover photo of <i>S.P/73</i> had not been so magnificently
eye-catching and attractive it is quite possible that the name of Hareton
Salvanini would still mean very little here, and that old Loronix post might
have been ignored. This is, admittedly, a rather shallow way of looking at
things, perhaps, but ignore aesthetics at your peril. The lingering impact of a
striking image cannot be underestimated.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />Yr Heartouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13069476478838746714noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3579071422066847226.post-85287532030259380222020-06-06T04:20:00.000+01:002020-06-06T04:20:02.171+01:00Bless The Day #9: Don't Know Why You Bother Child<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP65YiHVxeZOwz_1QoHE7PEbF4LfZQ3yTCtUjpErJtr1EUanUMIpN_74zex1-J5UJjy2b_wspFDiQH43Z9fAilh5ggDkezi7s4jjZcrwqwvjbOW6LJd0H2WO0ZwPUFjhJwWmRYvNRULr8/s1600/Gary+Farr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="596" data-original-width="599" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP65YiHVxeZOwz_1QoHE7PEbF4LfZQ3yTCtUjpErJtr1EUanUMIpN_74zex1-J5UJjy2b_wspFDiQH43Z9fAilh5ggDkezi7s4jjZcrwqwvjbOW6LJd0H2WO0ZwPUFjhJwWmRYvNRULr8/s320/Gary+Farr.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Gary Farr’s ‘Don’t
Know Why You Bother Child’ is one of the most seductively melancholy of
recordings. Its sentiments seem cynical yet it comes on like a welcoming
embrace full of unsaid things. It is magical, from the opening acoustic
12-string ringing out, with Ian Whiteman’s flute joining in delicately,
followed by Roger Powell’s drums, like menacing thunder just for an instant, then
Gary’s exquisite crooning sounds so wonderfully jaded as he sings about how this
old world won’t change because you’re trying, over and over, at times accompanied
by a divine soul choir.</span></div>
<a name='more'></a> <o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A long time ago now, oh
probably back in the late 1980s, Reggie King was asked whom he really rated
from when The Action were around, and his immediate response was “Gary Farr”,
followed by a pensive pause and then: “Yeah, Gary Farr, definitely”. It was
neither an answer that was expected nor wanted. There have, however, been moments
since, after happy times spent listening to Gary singing ‘Don’t Know Why You
Bother Child’, when it would be very easy to agree with Reggie’s assertion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Originally recorded
back in 1969, ‘Don’t Know Why You Bother Child’ wasn’t heard here until the excellent
Andres Lokko <i>Folk</i> 2CD compilation, an overview of British folk rock, came
out in 2005, and God bless the day that turned up in the post. Do you know it?
It’s part of a Swedish series of Feber collections which includes a couple put
together by Andres, who is one of the good guys with an amazing appetite and
genuine enthusiasm for all sorts of great sounds. He possesses an incredible
amount of knowledge about so much musical activity without ever being an
irritating specialist, which is how it should be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The <i>Folk</i> set
followed Andres’ <i>Northern and Modern Soul</i> 2CD selection, which came with
a great if gloriously illogical cover photo of the Crewkerne Freezer Centre that,
if you were seeing it for the first time now, you might think was going to be
the next B. Stanley & P. Wiggs compilation on Ace. This <i>Soul</i> set is
terrific stuff and has been one of the most consistently played collections
here for many years now, featuring beloved things like Bettye Swann’s ‘Kiss My
Love Goodbye’, Nolan Porter’s ‘If I Could Only Be Sure’, the Soul Brothers
Six’s ‘I’ll Be Loving You’, Eddy Giles’ ‘Losin’ Boy’, and best of all ‘Crystal
Blue Persuasion’ by the Kelly Brothers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The similarly superb <i>Folk</i>
set works as an accompaniment to Rob Young’s <i>Electric Eden</i>, though it’s
easy to forget that was published half-a-dozen years later, and Andres’ compilation
came out before a lot of this stuff was reissued on CD, so the excitement, the
intoxicating sense of hearing so many new things, was quite something. Immediately,
though, the Gary Farr track stood out, for it seemed to be coming from a
different place: it had at least a sense of danger and dissent about it, and sounded
more alive somehow, which was welcome among so many minstrel boys with
sensitive souls.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In a way the Gary
Farr track seemed to be in thrall to Tim Buckley, and it is easy to imagine
that at the time he was listening to <i>Goodbye and Hello</i> and <i>Happy Sad</i>,
alongside Tim Hardin, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>David Ackles, Richie
Havens, and Fred Neil’s Capitol LP with ‘Dolphins’ on: “This old world may
never change the way it’s been”. Ah, that similarity can’t be just coincidence
can it? And Tim Buckley sang ‘Dolphins’ during that <i>Dream Letter</i>
concert, at the Queen Elizabeth Hall in October 1968, and it’s lovely to
imagine Gary spellbound, sitting there on the edge of his seat, taking it all
in. Why wouldn’t you?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Norman Jopling’s entertaining
music press memoir <i>Shake It Up Baby!</i> has so many enchanting moments, understandably
as he’s uniquely placed to document as an eyewitness, and it’s wonderful how it
gives more space to Goldie & the Gingerbreads and Reparata & the
Delrons than Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin. It also gives a sense of how big a deal
Tim Buckley was in 1968, and it is glorious to learn that Norman’s close friend
Peter Meaden loved ‘Morning Glory’ so much. It certainly is a great book for
finding out more about what are incredibly important figures here, like Peter,
like Dave Godin, like Guy Stevens. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It would be a few
more years before any further Gary Farr work was heard here, when Sunbeam
reissued <i>Take Something With You, </i>the LP he made for Giorgio Gomelsky’s
Marmalade label in 1969 with a small circle of friends. There is a sense he
plays his ace card right at the start with ‘Don’t Know Why You Bother Child’, but
it’s a fine record, and highlights include the title track and ‘Green’, plus
the Beefheart-clatter of ‘Dustbin’ which serves as a reminder of when Gary
acted as a roadie for the Captain and his Magic Band at Cannes back when the London
in-crowd was turned onto <i>Safe As Milk</i> by the evangelical Peter Meaden. And
the closing track ‘Goodbye’ is gloriously unsettling, in a valedictory, intense
“please go away and leave me alone, times are changing, things are ending, and
I’m able to see through you all” kind-of-blue way, with just Gary and his
booming 12-string, and rather more David Ackles than Tim Buckley this time
around.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What is instantly
striking about <i>Take Something With You</i> is its gorgeous cover, a sort of
sepia toned portrait shot of Gary scowling, with lowering brows, very moody and
magnificent. He looks a devastatingly handsome devil, stylistically a little
like Adam Faith as Budgie or a young Tony Currie at Sheffield United, or even (an
all-time hero here) Billy Bonds in his prime: maybe he and Gary would have
bonded over a mutual love of Thomas Hardy? But that was all later on. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The back-cover credits particularly thank
Reggie King who produced the LP, and he seems to have done a painstaking job.
After leaving The Action to it, as the guitar solos got longer and longer
(what’s a singer supposed to do? Sit with a glass of wine and a book of poetry
while they drone on?), he was asked by Giorgio Gomelsky to do some production
work for his Marmalade set-up, and was at the controls for Gary’s LP, as well
as the Blossom Toes’ <i>If Only for a Moment</i> and Chris Barber’s <i>Battersea
Rain Dance</i>, maybe more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There is a wonderful photo
of Reggie and Gary, with their acoustic guitars in the sunshine, somewhere on a
balcony, and they’re dressed in white sweatshirts and look like blond brothers,
a kind of odd British distortion of the cover of Marcos Valle’s <i>Mustang Côr
De Sangue. </i>It is such a beautiful snap, and is something of an obsession
here. It may appear elsewhere but pertinently it comes with the 2012 release of
Reggie’s late 1960s demos, published as <i>Looking For A Dream</i> by Circle
after diligent salvage and restoration work by the label’s Peter Wild. In many
ways these demos complement Gary’s Marmalade LP, and were presumably put
together around the same time with very similar personnel from the extended
Action and Blossom Toes community.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">These demos of
Reggie’s are ridiculously wonderful, and given where The Action were heading it
is a relief that they are largely acoustic, with Ian Whiteman’s flute playing
being a key feature, rather like Hermeto Pascoal was doing with Edu Lobo around
the same time. And then there’s <i>Astral Weeks</i>: would Reggie and Gary have
been listening to that? It seems likely. But there is a huge difference in that
Van’s record was produced almost by chance, in that the musicians were left to
do their own thing, while Reggie and Gary it seems worked diligently on
arrangements, right down to the fine details. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There is that odd
dichotomy in the way this meticulousness was married to a seeming nonchalance
about the finished material. The songs and performances that form Reggie’s
demos are of an astonishingly high quality but their creator did not seem to
have a masterplan about what to do with them. Was this arrogance, casualness,
or did it really hurt deep down inside when the world didn’t seem to take any
notice? It’s like that old Billy Vera quote in the Jackie Paris film about how
it’s hard to stay nice when everyone tells you you’re great but nobody seems to
do anything about it, so you sit there and watch lesser lights and one-time bit-part
players making it big: how do you feel? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">After his first LP
came out Gary apparently did say goodbye to London and moved down to the
relative tranquility of Caterham in the Surrey countryside working on new
songs. We know this from Meic Stevens’ notes of those times which talk about
his involvement with Gary. Meic himself bailed out, and Richard Thompson took
his place on lead guitar, recording with the dependable team of Mighty Baby’s
Roger Powell, Mike Evans and Ian Whiteman, with some subtle string arrangements
from a young Mike Batt. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As can be heard, by
this time country rock was all the rage, and Mighty Baby were big converts to
the sound. There’s a great Martin Stone quote, reproduced in <i>Electric Eden</i>,
about the impact The Byrds with Gram Parsons had when they played at Middle
Earth in May 1968 which appropriately mentions Richard Thompson wandering
around agog. That show is another milestone Norman Jopling shrewdly mentions in
his book.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Gary’s new LP,
released at the end of 1970, was <i>Strange Fruit</i>, with the title track
being a brooding and disturbingly stark folk rendition of the Billie Holiday
song which was quite a statement. The LP features a central suite of four songs
which on some days can seem as good as anything. The first two of these, the
very poetic and philosophical ‘Revolution of the Season’ and ‘About This Time
of Year’, show the Mighty Baby guys at their best, and the songs flow with the
ease and force of a crystal clear rushing mountain stream, and are not far removed
from parts of the Velvets’ contemporaneous <i>Loaded</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And this is where the
rhythm section of Mike Evans and Roger Powell had the ascendancy over their
American counterparts, many of whom came from a folk background while these
guys had played together for years, evolving out of soul and rhythm & blues
into West Coast rock and beyond. It was the hypnotic weightless groove they
could create which continues to amaze, and with Richard Thompson soaring (like
a bluebird) over it all these songs are a joy, and one doubts Richard had as
much fun again until he became one of David Thomas’ Pedestrians.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The other two numbers
of note are the strikingly sombre bruised ballads, ‘Down Among the Dead Men’
and ‘Proverbs of Heaven and Hell’, which are magnificently unsettling, and seem
to be full of dramatic biblical imagery, echoing a soul’s unrest. They are not
easy listens, but they are incredibly moving, and Ian Whiteman’s portentous
piano at the start of ‘Proverbs’ is wonderful, and a little reminiscent of the
end of ‘Knowledge of Beauty’ and a little David Ackles again, perhaps. It is
tempting to wonder if these songs haunted Richard and were there at the back of
his mind when he wrote ‘Down Where the Drunkards Roll’ and ‘Withered and Died’,
consciously or not.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Before <i>Strange
Fruit</i> was recorded, back on 27 February 1970, Gary, with his old friend and
comrade Kevin Westlake, had played at the New Day event at the Roundhouse in
London, part of a series of Implosion concerts put on by Jeff Dexter, Caroline
Coon and co. The show was the idea of Peter Swales who had been part of Giorgio
Gomelsky’s Marmalade set-up before being recruited by the Rolling Stones, a
role which provided him with resources to start his Sahara organisation. His
concept for the extravaganza was based around ‘New Day’, a rapturous Blossom
Toes song written by Brian Godding. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There is floating
around on compilations the Blossom Toes’ original recording of this song, with
Julie Driscoll and Reggie King on backing vocals. Julie herself topped the bill
that night, and the climax of the show was a rendition of ‘New Day’ featuring a
cast of thousands singing along, to symbolise the beginning of a new age. There
is an anonymous review of the concert in the online archives of <i>International
Times</i> which has become something of an obsession here and it captures the
event perfectly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A few days after the
concert a studio recording of ‘New Day’ was made with the Combined Forces
Network Choir featuring a host of friends and scenesters. This astonishing
performance closes the B.B. Blunder <i>Workers’ Playtime</i> LP in quite
remarkable fashion. This was Brian Godding and Brian Belshaw from Blossom Toes
together with old colleague Kevin Westlake, and the LP itself features a
handful of fantastic Brian Godding compositions, each with strong vocal support
from their friend Julie Driscoll who was an honorary member of the band and
appears disguised on the cover.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The B.B. Blunder songs,
‘You’re So Young’ and ‘Seed’ are, like ‘New Day’, exceptional ultra-emotional
ballads which build and build to astonishing climaxes, and on these Brian
Godding emerged belatedly, briefly, as an incredible blue-eyed soul singer who
could outdo Stevie Marriott and Stevie Winwood. <i>Workers’ Playtime</i> was
one of three 1971 LP releases on United Artists, part of a deal Peter Swales had
negotiated for his Sahara acts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">The
new name among the trio was Gypsy who had a big tough pop sound, seemingly very
much shaped by Buffalo Springfield, Byrds and The Band, with an impressive wall
of guitars ringing out and sweet harmonies singing out. Their 1971 debut LP is
a real classic, and has become very much a favourite here. The nameless
reviewer of the New Day concert was very much charmed by Gypsy, and suggested
there were similarities with The Action of old, and arguably part of Gypsy’s strength
came from their roots playing soul-inspired sets around the East Midlands. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">The
</span><i style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Gypsy</i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"> LP appropriately features a couple of really deep, very emotional
blue-eyed soul ballads, with strong West Coast folk rock colouration,
especially the exceptional ‘Keep On Trying’. And the associated single,
‘Changes Coming’, had a hard-nut footstompin’ thing going on, to give Slade a
run for their money, while echoing the new optimism / new decade feel of the
anthem of that little circle of friends, ‘New Day’.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Closely
related to the B.B. Blunder record was the </span><i style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Reg King</i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"> LP, with Reggie
being the third Sahara act signed to United Artists. Back in the late 1980s,
again, a young man was browsing in the Rock On shop next to Camden Town tube
station (or was there a chip shop in-between?), the home of Ace and Big Beat,
with lots of Cramps and Milkshakes paraphernalia, the only customer at the
time, when the older guy behind the counter asks if there’s anything in
particular he was looking for. “The solo Reggie King LP,” was the response and
the chap behind the counter looked like he’d seen a ghost. “Blimey, I haven’t
seen a copy of that in years,” he said, then went on to add that it was a
strange LP, and that it wasn’t mixed all that well, before saying: “I used to
play in a band with Reggie a long time ago, you know. Bam I used to be known as
back then”. You couldn’t make it up.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">It is a strange LP.
Bam was right. It would be the best part of 20 years later that Circle released
</span><i style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Reg King</i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"> on CD, and it continues to hold an odd and perhaps fatal
fascination. What can you say? There is a line in Sebald’s </span><i style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">The Emigrants</i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">
about Ambros Adelwarth: “He was at once saving himself, in some way, and
mercilessly destroying himself”. That sounds about right. Speaking of that
book, maybe someone will publish Sebald’s notes from when, looking for solace, he
stumbled into the Twisted Wheel one night shortly after his arrival in
Manchester, late on in 1966, and witnessed The Action onstage, back when, according
to the anonymous but clued-up</span><i style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"> IT</i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic", sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"> writer, they were “the most
compulsively together people's band (the people being the kids who filled
provincial ballrooms in their mohair suits and Levi’s, pilled out of their
heads and bopping to ‘First I Look at the Purse’ and ‘Mine Exclusively’).</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It would not be until
2004 that many of us would get to hear The Action performing ‘Mine Exclusively’
on a magical Circle CD collection of the group’s BBC recordings. On that The
Action sound so natural doing The Olympics’ Mirwood classic, so it’s unsettling
hearing Reggie on his solo LP with his voice straining, rather than his usual way
of singing, with such ease, but there he is, howling and hollering, as if fighting
his way out of the wall of noise he created, the concrete all around him, so
perhaps it’s an act of nihilism: “Excuse me while I disappear”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Even on the cover he
looks bored with the whole circus or horror show, which he probably was. But it’s
hard not to become obsessed with a song as emotionally-involving as ‘You Go
Have Yourself A Good Time’, which in many ways is the perfect partner to Gary’s
‘Don’t Know Why You Bother Child’ and ‘Goodbye’ in terms of jaded weariness, with
all that stuff about not being in a people kind of mood and his mind being in a
peculiar shape. Who hasn’t felt that way? But it’s the regal disdain with which
Reggie dismisses his companion that is most striking. You can just picture it
somehow. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Throughout the LP the
accompaniment from the extended Mighty Baby and B.B. Blunder circle of friends
(including Bam, unusually, for he rarely played on other people’s records) is
quite something, basically a right old racket at times, gloriously so, though
the personal favourite here is ‘Down The Drain’ because it comes closest to
being what one wanted or expected Reggie’s record to sound like, which is
something jazzier, closer to Mark Murphy or Terry Callier, that sort of thing. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And this is such a great track, with the ineffably
sad line: “A phone call to a loser’s just money down the drain”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Here he is backed by
former members of the band Breakthru with some great horns from Paul Nieman,
who worked with Mike Westbrook on his dramatic <i>Metropolis</i> LP around the
same time, and George Barker who was playing with J.J. Jackson’s Dilemma around
then doing much the same sort of thing. Actually that J.J. Jackson <i>Dilemma</i>
LP is pretty incredible, and in its way as bold as anything around at that
time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">J.J. had made England
his home, and he could have been forgiven for trading on his soul credentials
and playing the hits in those provincial ballrooms, especially with the advent
of the rare soul scene, at the Twisted Wheel and elsewhere. But, instead, he recruited
a group that fused wild soul, fairly free jazz and progressive underground pop
sounds in one mad mix, resulting in a couple of crazy LPs, the first of which
featured superb biting renditions of Chicago’s ‘Does Anybody Really Know What
Time It is?’ and Larry Weiss’ ‘Bow Down (to the Dollar)’. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There was overlap
between J.J. Jackson’s Dilemma and the band If, who recorded for Island, with
Dick Morrissey, Dave Quincy and (Scott Walker’s mate) Terry Smith being in both
outfits. There were similarities in sound too, understandably, and while the first
If records contain some fantastic playing the mind whirls at the possibility of
them backing Reggie King on a whole LP at the start of the 1970s. He would have
been the singer and songwriter they were crying out for. He was so good he
could just abandon all those demos he had worked on so assiduously in 1969,
though he did return to a couple of songs from the final days of The Action for
his solo LP.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">All those songs going
to waste, seemingly casually cast aside: “You didn’t want to listen then, when
I was trying to be heard, so now take this.” What we get is a 12-minute
meltdown called ‘Savannah’ and it is brutal, with the Stones’ Mick Taylor on
guitar, like The Yardbirds getting into bed with Ligeti in the smoking rubble
of Swinging London. It’s very Wilko Johnson-like at times, so it’s no wonder
Reggie had an enduring interest in Dr Feelgood. Much later, when talking about
the end of The Action, Martin Stone recalls Reggie’s antics and asks: “Where
was he when punk happened?” Well, the answer to that is that he was probably not
in a good place.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Gary Farr at least
got out before the pervading madness caught up with him. He travelled far and
wide, and had the good fortune to charm Jerry Wexler, get himself signed to
Atlantic in 1973 and taken down to Muscle Shoals Sound studios to record an LP
with Jimmy Johnson, David Hood, Barry Beckett, Roger Hawkins and the gang. This
record, <i>Addressed to the Censors of Love, </i>is one that has become a
recent obsession, with more than half of it made up of exquisite haunting songs,
recorded in a beautifully understated way with odd occasional Latin touches.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Ah, who can explain
the eternal attraction of a flawed work? Beyond the love songs (which were a
new departure for Gary), on the other tracks, there’s a bit of the ‘Sweet Surrender’-era
Tim Buckley and there’s the cast-iron talking-blues rockers that tend to the
Dylan-esque stream-of-consciousness approach with pop culture references
galore, from Kerouac and Ginsberg, to Isaac Hayes and Sugar Pie Desanto, and on
to Joe Louis the Brown Bomber whom Gary’s father fought and nearly beat (many
say he did win) back in 1937. And it is oddly endearing that at times Gary
sounds more Dylan than Dylan, though the closest reference seems to be <i>Desire</i>
which was a still a couple of years away, so work that one out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But it is on those
torch ballads that Gary really shines, and where he oddly seems to sound an
awful lot like Paul Weller would do around <i>Wildwood</i> or <i>Stanley Road</i>
on those ever-welcome slower soulful numbers: well, at least the ones you hear
in your dreams. There’s a sequence of five tracks on the first side of the LP
which is pretty unbeatable, starting with ‘Wailing Wall’ and on through to the
delightful ‘White Bird’. Best of all is Gary’s serenade ‘General’s Daughter’,
an irredeemably romantic song, almost certainly written for his great love
Carinthia West, the photographer, whose father really was a General and quite a
character, too, according to online snippets. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The song itself,
‘General’s Daughter’, is a poetic flight of fancy, a tough guy getting tender
and telling a story of star-crossed lovers fleeing from a vengeful father, which
reinforces the impression, long-held here, that Gary should have been born into
another age, a larger-than-life character belonging more to the adventurer
tradition, <i>Robin Hood</i>, <i>The Three Musketeers</i>, all those Daphne Du
Maurier novels, someone who could easily have been a pioneer, a pirate, a bandit,
a brigand, an outlaw in the prairies of the Wild West, a partisan in the forests
of the Nazi-occupied East, a dharma bum, a desolation angel, someone always
welcome as a poet and singer of sad songs around a campfire.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It seems Gary’s <i>Addressed
to the Censors of Love</i> pretty much disappeared when it was released, and it
is hard to even begin to imagine how much that must have hurt, the whole
cumulative effect of making three great LPs and finding that practically nobody
has even noticed. You really <i>must</i> wonder why you’ve bothered. Privately
it would hurt a hell of a lot but, if you’re lucky enough, most days you can
put a brave face on things and pretend that you’re doing fine and can even
forget about it … for a while.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Yr Heartouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13069476478838746714noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3579071422066847226.post-91978215205241532262020-05-09T04:40:00.000+01:002020-05-09T04:40:01.944+01:00Bless The Day #8: Just Walk In My Shoes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Gladys Knight singing
‘Just Walk in My Shoes’ is one of the most riveting examples of Motown artistry,
with such a wonderful sense of drama, especially in the way she urges her lost
love, her betrayer, to walk-ah-walk-ah-walk in her shoes, the source and origin
of that trademark tic-ah of M.E.S., and there is the way Gladys wants that
traitor to grieve like her, to try and wear a smile that isn’t real and to don that
all too familiar cloak of loneliness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Oh yes, she does hurt
so well, so convincingly, she is such a great actress, but then she’d lived the
life, and survived. Here she is the embodiment of the <i>¡No Pasarán!</i> spirit,
the fortitude possessed in abundance by the women who light up the pages of
Caroline Moorehead’s remarkable resistance quartet. Gladys seems to say: “I
suffer, so should you; you wounded me, I hope you’re hurting too”. It helps
that the song accelerates so smoothly from the off, slipping straight into a
powerful flowing movement, and oh those celestial harmonies, flung to the far
winds so sweetly, adding to the dangerous poignancy.</span></div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A Johnny Bristol and
Harvey Fuqua production, ‘Just Walk in My Shoes’ was originally released as a
single in 1966, Gladys’ first for the Motown organisation, and it made the lower
reaches of the UK Top 40 in the summer of 1972, amid a Tamla resurgence buoyed
by the burgeoning Northern Soul scene. A few months later Gladys and her Pips
would have a far bigger British hit with the ballad ‘Help Me Make It Through the
Night’, featuring one of what would be her trademark spoken introductions,
which would become so familiar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Maybe growing up with
Gladys Knight on the radio so often her music became something it was easy to
like but equally easy to take for granted. What did register, subliminally,
seeing the group on TV, was a subtle subversion of the norm, with Gladys out
front and her guys in support, loyal as hell, always avuncular, singing
harmonies, responding to her calls, and doing their immaculately choreographed
routines. Who else was doing this so successfully? And, out front, there Gladys
was: tough, matriarchal, majestic, beautiful, often hurt and angry, but wise
and wordly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Thinking of the
Buddha years, specifically her U.K. hits in the second half of the 1970s, Gladys
and her Pips had such a wonderful string of successes. Perhaps they became pop
wallpaper in a sense, but in oh such a wonderful way: ‘The Way We Were’, ‘Best
Thing That Ever Happened’ (which must have been at the back of Paul’s mind in
the early days of the Style Council, and why shouldn’t it?), ‘Midnight Train to
Georgia’, ‘Baby Don’t Change Your Mind’, ‘Come Back and Finish What You Started’,
each one such a powerful short story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Then into the 1980s,
and best of all, their cover of Ashford & Simpson’s ‘Bourgie Bourgie’, one
of the great performances from the last days of disco, and with such a special
place in the heart of Postcard aficionados because of the story, rightly or
wrongly remembered, about James Kirk suggesting it as the name of a new Jazzateers
iteration with Paul Quinn sharing all the troubles of the world, drooping at
the microphone, much to the delight of Dave McCullough in <i>Sounds</i> who
momentarily thought they were part of a new pop uprising.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Quite probably this
boy first <i>really</i> listened non-stop to ‘Just Walk in My Shoes’ around
1997, on buying <i>This is Northern Soul! The Motown Sound</i>, a D</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">é</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">butante
CD, a budget-price compilation with liner notes by Chris King, who was the resident
DJ at the Bretby Country Club All-Nighters, which suggests shades of The
Associates alive and kicking inevitably. It was a collection of rare sides from
the Motown vaults, several of which would become firm favourites for many of
us, like Brenda Holloway’s ‘Reconsider’, Frank Wilson’s ‘Do I Love You’, Linda
Griner’s ‘Goodbye Cruel World’, Kim Weston’s ‘You Hit Me’, and of particular
interest was the Marvelettes’ original of ‘I’ll Keep Holding On’, but here it
is hard to accept anything other than The Action’s recordings of Motown songs because
somehow they just don’t sound right sans Reggie King’s incredible vocal
performances. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">You can be pretty
certain that in 1997 not too many of us realised ‘Just Walk in My Shoes’ had
been written by the Lewis Sisters, Helen and Kay, as the credits say K. Miller
and H. Mastor, which was their married names. Another Lewis Sisters composition
on the CD was Marvin Gaye’s ‘This Love Starved Heart’ which was, apparently, “without
a doubt the top record of 1996-97 on all-night dance floors”. Quite probably
the name, Lewis Sisters, didn’t even mean that much back then.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It would likely have
been when Paul Nixon’s <i>A Cellarful of Motown!</i> came out in 2002 that the
Lewis Sisters were first heard here as performers, as Kay and Helen sang ‘Don’t
Make Me Live Without Your Love’, written and produced by the big boss himself. It
has become a particular favourite for many of us who have, no doubt, been busy
singing along and getting right into the drama, waving arms around all over the
place when playing this song, in private of course. The second volume in the
series, which came out in 2005, features the Lewis Sisters performing their own
composition ‘Breakaway’ which is a delight in every way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The Lewis Sisters
only released two singles for the Motown corporation, both on the V.I.P. label
in 1965, and the four tracks were collected together on a French EP. One song,
their own ‘He’s an Oddball’, is a gem it is easy to become irrationally fond of,
as was apparently Bernard Rhodes, who first heard it in May 1968, while staying
in Charlie Steiger’s atelier, and hanging out with Lawrence Ferlinghetti during
the days of rage. Bernard liked the subversive ordinariness of the sisters’ ‘singing
schoolteachers’ persona, and later borrowed Oddball as the name for his
production company. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The sisters’ second
Motown single, ‘You Need Me’, is a favourite of Sharon Davis, Motown historian
and Dusty’s biographer. Aptly Dusty did a cover of ‘Just Walk’ on her TV show,
and Billie Davis recorded a great version too. But a personal favourite is the
Bruce Cloud cover version, a more reflective rendition, where the singer sounds
genuinely broken up by all the hurt, and the arrangement by the great Phil
Wright is brilliant. The 1969 Capitol LP it comes from, <i>California Soul</i>,
links it to another Lewis Sisters song, ‘Why Can’t I Be Born Again’, which is incredibly
intense and brilliantly disturbing, very much the sound of a man falling apart.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The Lewis Sisters’
salvaged recordings are scattered hither and thither, and there are a couple of
tracks to be found on Ace’s <i>Motown Girls</i> series, ‘Many Good Times’ and ‘Honey
Don’t Leave Me’, but best of all is ‘Can’t Figure It Out’ on a CD of unreleased
Motown tracks from 1965. That same year the Lewis Sisters appeared as vocal
support on Chris Clark’s V.I.P. debut ‘Do Right Baby Do Right’ which is on her
fantastic <i>Motown Collection</i> 2CD set where there’s a great photo of the
towering CC goofing around outside the Hitsville U.S.A. HQ with Esther Edwards,
and the Lewis Sisters are there in the background, and the ladies look anything
but square.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Of the sisters’
compositions for the Motown organisation a few for Brenda Holloway are of
particular interest here, with ‘Where Were You’ and ‘I See A Rainbow’ being
first heard on her essential <i>Motown Anthology</i> 2CD set, and the excellent
‘My World is Crumbling’ which appears on the first <i>A Cellarful of Motown</i>
CD collection. Another highlight of that was little sister Patrice singing ‘The
Touch of Venus’, one of the great Ed Cobb songs, like Brenda’s signature tune,
the immortal ‘Every Little Bit Hurts’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">After a frustrating
time at Motown Patrice Holloway moved on to Capitol where her triptych of 1960s
singles can be considered extraordinary works of art. The first two releases in
this sequence were written and arranged by Gene and Billy Page, and the third
was produced by David Axelrod and features a Lewis Sisters composition, ‘Stay With
Your Own Kind’, an incredibly powerful performance, which is laceratingly
emotional and moving. The song itself is a tragic tale of star-crossed lovers,
on opposite sides of the racial divide, the treatment of which is strikingly
direct, even more so than Janis Ian’s ‘Society’s Child’ which was making waves,
not least because it was written and performed by a kid, and Patrice was only a
kid too. This was all just before Sidney Poitier lit up the silver screen in ‘Guess
Who’s Coming to Dinner’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">With Patrice singing
the Lewis Sisters’ song from the perspective of a young black girl there are
associations here, mentally, with <i>A Bronx Tale</i>, a particular favourite
film, which has a theme of doomed love across the tracks, and that sequence of
the movie uses music incredibly well, from The Impressions’ ‘I’m So Proud’ to
the life-changing inclusion of Donald Byrd’s ‘Cristo Redentor’, all of which
made such a powerful impression in a West End cinema one Sunday morning (oh
those lovely days of free preview cinema tickets from <i>Time Out</i> etc.)
back in 1993 that it seems impossible to revisit the film again somehow, just
in case.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Patrice’s ‘Stay With
Your Own Kind’ exploded into this boy’s life on one of the early Kent Soul
compilations, <i>Leapers, Sleepers and Creepers</i>, and God bless the day that
was bought in the local hipster’s store along the Broadway, Cloud 9 (sort of
appropriately), a family business run by a genuinely nice guy called Eddie, as
part of a mid-1980s ritual of buying some old soul on a Saturday afternoon,
taking it home and playing it while getting ready to go out dancing at a
Jasmine Minks or June Brides show, somewhere in town, dodging the skinheads on
the way home. What a collection that was: Clydie King’s ‘If You Were A Man’, the
O’Jays’ ‘I’ll Never Forget You’, Irma’s ‘What Are You Trying To Do’ and ‘The
Hurt’s All Gone’, Bobby Paris’ ‘I Walked Away’, Gene McDaniels’ ‘Walk With A
Winner’, and Patrice’s ‘Ecstasy’, but her ‘Stay With Your Own Kind’ was <i>the</i>
one here, for always and ever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">That wasn’t the only
Lewis Sisters song that David Axelrod produced. His close comrade H.B. Barnum
recorded the sisters’ ‘Heartbreaker’ on a 1967 Capitol single that a decade
later became a firm favourite on the Northern Soul scene. It appears on the
Stateside CD, <i>Talcum Soul 2</i>, which came out early in the new millennium
as part of a very useful if cheap-and-cheerful series overseen by Dean Rudland,
inevitably at the time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This volume was
co-compiled by Kent’s heroic Ady Croasdell, which may be why there’s some overlap
with that <i>Leapers etc</i>. set, plus some real life-savers like Timi Yuro’s
‘It’ll Never Be Over For Me’, Dean Parrish’s ‘I’m On My Way’, Jerry Williams’
‘If You Ask Me’, and a particular favourite, discovered on this compilation,
which is Shawn Robinson singing ‘My Dear Heart’, and one assumes this is the
same lady that somehow went on to sing for Piero Piccioni and is featured on
the third instalment of the <i>Beat at Cinecitt</i></span><i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">à</span></i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
series on Crippled Dick Hot Wax!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">After their time at
Tamla and the dalliance with Capitol the Lewis Sisters went on to work for the
Canterbury label which is one of those fascinating 1960s imprints, partly so
appealing as often they defied logic. This one was run by Ken Handler, scion of
the Mattel toy corporation, and seemed to split its activities between soft pop
and psychedelia on one hand and pretty deep soul on the other, with the lines
becoming blurred at times. The great Gene Page was responsible for arrangements
on the label’s early releases which include singles by Don Grady of the Yellow
Balloon, The New Wave’s incredibly beautiful ‘Where Do We Go From Here’, and
The Tempos’ ‘(Countdown) Here I Come’. Another soul classic released on
Canterbury was The Younghearts’ ‘A Little Togetherness’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">For Canterbury the Lewis
Sisters wrote and produced a 1967 single for Sandy Wynns, later better known as
Edna Wright of the Honey Cone, who had previously recorded Ed Cobb’s ‘Touch of
Venus’, first heard here (and never forgotten) via Neil Rushton’s Inferno
compilation <i>Out On The Floor Tonight</i>. Sandy’s Canterbury single was the
superb pairing of ‘Love is Like Quicksand’ and ‘How Can Something be So Wrong’,
two incredibly infectious songs which still sound fantastic and so very full of
life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The Lewis Sisters
also oversaw recordings for Kay’s daughter, Lisa Miller, who while still in her
early teens was already an industry veteran having been an aspiring child star
at Motown, recording as Little Lisa, and her ‘Choo Choo Train’, written by her
mum and aunt, was an unexpected highlight of the second <i>A Cellarful of
Motown! </i>set, and it was a song which seemed to share with ‘Just Walk in My
Shoes’ a curiously irresistible sense of motorvating rhythm, of the sort
usually associated with German groups like Neu!, and it’s great fun too, which
seems right for a kid’s song.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A little older by the
time she got to record for Canterbury, but presumably still barely into her
teens, if that, Lisa made an LP in 1967, <i>Within Myself</i>, overseen by the
Lewis Sisters, which got lost along the way until Sundazed salvaged it in 2010,
making it the ideal accompaniment to the Wendy and Bonnie CD they’d put out.
Musically, Lisa’s LP is a prime paisley pop and bubblegum soul delight, with
some terrific arrangements which came courtesy of H.B. Barnum, Gene Page, and
Jack Eskew who it seems had a lot to do with The Banana Splits, very early
favourites here.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Musically Lisa’s LP
was superb, and the settings would have suited, say, Petula Clark (didn’t Richard
Searling say H.B. Barnum wrote ‘What’ with Pet in mind before Judy Street sang
it?) or Lulu, whose ‘To Sir with Love’ Lisa covered convincingly. She also sang
a great version of ‘White Rabbit’ which kind of reclaims for kids the <i>Alice’s
Adventures in Wonderland</i> theme. The seven songs the Lewis Sisters came up
with for Lisa’s LP were on one level a little like nursery rhymes, though in
the true tradition of the form there was usually a twist and a moral to the
tale. Lisa also got to cover ‘Fool on the Hill’ and appropriately Lisa later
got to sing with Sergio Mendes’ Brasil ’77 and ’88 outfits.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Ironically for Lisa, while
her LP may have disappeared, before long the pop world would be overrun by
child stars, with the Jackson 5, the Partridge Family, and lots of little
Osmonds. Stranger still, among the Osmond family’s early recordings are ‘Let My
People Go’ and the footstomping wonder ‘He’s The Light of the World’, both of
which came from a religious-themed rock opera <i>Truth of Truths</i>, a popular
form at the time, for which Kay and Helen Lewis composed half-a-dozen numbers,
including these two. On the soundtrack LP the singers include Lisa Miller and
Patrice Holloway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Apart from Lisa’s
lost LP, probably the most concentrated gathering of Lewis Sisters songs is on
Les McCann’s 1970 Atlantic set, <i>Comment</i>, where four of the numbers are
composed by Kay and Helen. On two of these Les duets with Roberta Flack who also
wrote the sleevenotes, returning the favour for the fervent words Les supplied
for her immortal <i>First Take, </i>very much a record for troubled times. Particularly
wonderful is Les and Roberta’s performance of ‘Baby Baby’, a Lewis Sisters
number also performed by Smokey Robinson and the Miracles on their 1966 LP, <i>Away
We A Go-Go, </i>which also featured the original of ‘Save Me’ that The
Undertones much later covered so wonderfully. Les McCann’s singing on <i>Comment</i>
is so rich, deep, warm and wise that it is a total joy, a little like the Grady
Tate records of the same era. Les had the advantage of Valerie Simpson leading
a choir to support him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The name of Les
McCann first registered here, in tandem with Richard ‘Groove’ Holmes’, when
their performance of ‘That Healin’ Feelin’’ (a very Van-like title that) featured
on a 1986 <i>NME</i> cassette, <i>Low Lights and Trick Mirrors</i>, compiled by
Roy Carr and Fred Dellar, presumably to complement their illuminating book <i>The
Hip: Hipsters, Jazz and the Beat Generation</i>. That cassette got played to
death here (literally) and served as an important signpost, particularly with
the vocal jazz tracks from Chet Baker, Mark Murphy, Jeri Southern, Peggy Lee,
Lord Buckley, Lambert Hendricks & Ross, Dakota Staton and, inevitably,
Billie Holiday, which all seemed so incredibly sophisticated, cool, and
glamorous, in sharp contrast to many of the scrappy things that were on a different
tape, of new music, the <i>NME</i> released that same year.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Les recorded another
of the Lewis Sisters’ songs, ‘Universal Prisoner’, on the <i>Second Movement</i>
LP, a 1971 collaboration with Eddie Harris and an all-star cast, including Judy
Clay and Cissie Houston on backing vocals. It is such a powerful, insightful
song: “Do you share yourself and love what’s inside? Or do you run to the phony
world where most people hide?” Sarah Vaughan also recorded the song beautifully
on her 1971 LP <i>A Time in My Life</i>, a Mainstream title of the same vintage
as Alice Clark’s classic set. Sarah’s incredibly special record also included
her superb covers of John Sebastian’s ‘Magical Connection’ and Marvin’s ‘Inner
City Blues’, and intriguingly several Brian Auger songs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The bond between Les
McCann and the Lewis Sisters went back to the late 1950s when they became
friends on the Los Angeles jazz scene, and together made an LP, for Liberty in
1959, which is quite extraordinary. This title, <i>Way Out Far</i>, is one that
got a new lease of life as the file-sharing blogs took off early in the new
millennium when for a short, glorious time ridiculously rare records and all
sorts of lost sounds were shared freely, effectively changing the accepted
story of pop overnight, simply by highlighting how much had been missed along
the way. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The basic premise of <i>Way
Out Far</i> was to record a selection of jazz standards (including ‘But Not For
Me’, the song performed by Chet Baker on that <i>NME</i> tape) sung by the
sisters, accompanied by a small group led by Les. “Spiced by drifting
dissonants and subtly shifting tempi, these old songs are skilfully regenerated
by two girls with remarkable imagination and projection. This album is an
experience you will want to renew periodically. There is magic in it that
surpasses the mundane,” wrote the Pulitzer Prize-winning Gene Sherman of the <i>L.A.
Times</i> to close his sleevenotes. He was right, for what Kay and Helen did
was to create a new way of singing jazz, which was exactly what they and Les were
aiming for. Apart from anything else, were there any other pairings of female
jazz singers at that time? There were female vocal groups, sure, but duos?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And, anyway, even if
there were, did anyone else manage to combine their voices in such celestial
harmony, weaving patterns to these ears, in a way not too far from a Hildegard
Von Bingen antiphon, as the sisters float exquisitely, languidly, dreamily. The
only possible comparison would be if Gretchen Christopher and Barbara Ellis
from the fabulous Fleetwoods had ventured out on their own, with accompaniment
from the Modern Jazz Quartet and Herbie Mann. Sadly, they didn’t, and as the
Lewis Sisters sang on their own divinely fatalistic composition: “It matters
not at all”. For we have <i>Way Out Far</i>, albeit on one of those Japanese CD
replicas of the original vinyl edition, which is very lovely in every sense.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">This may not bear too
forensic an examination, but what that Lewis Sisters LP seems closest to is the
early recordings of Quarteto Em Cy for Roberto Quartin’s Forma label and
Aloysio De Oliveira’s Elenco imprint in the mid-1960s. While the Brazilian
ensemble was four sisters singing together, still somehow the effect was at
times rather like they had been inspired by <i>Way Out Far</i>. Is that
far-fetched? Perhaps, but then again there is a niggling suspicion that there
was a family connection between the blog where the LP was discovered (along
with so many other vocal jazz treasures, not least Jackie Paris, Jackie &
Roy, and so on) and Oscar Castro Neves, who certainly worked with Quarteto Em
Cy before moving to the States and joining Sergio Mendes’ Brasil ’66, so maybe
the Lewis Sisters were big in Bahia? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">That may all be ridiculously
wrong, but the fact is that the early bossa nova participants were huge fans of
American jazz and had a penchant for vocal groups and the quieter, softer
sounds, so Les McCann and the Lewis Sisters would fit perfectly, and Paul
Horn’s flute playing on the LP, where he seems to be an additional voice, has a
very strong sense of what we have come to associate with the bossa nova sound.
And there is something about Quarteto Em Cy’s way of singing in unison,
becoming one voice, without anything too flash or too emotional, that shares the
sense of delicate, unworldly ease which pervades <i>Way Out Far</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There is a completely
essential </span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">é</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">l CD that serves as the perfect introduction to
Quarteto Em Cy, which has at its core the <i>Som Definitivo</i> LP, the one
they made with the Tamba Trio, which has a few early Edu Lobo songs on and an
arresting version of the bossa standard ‘Agua de Beber’. The accompanying CD
booklet has a screenshot from a remarkable appearance the girls made with
Marcos Valle on the Andy Williams TV show, singing Oscar Castro Neves’ ‘At</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">é</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
Londres’, where the Brazilian performers look remarkably like they have escaped
from the pages of Richard Barnes’ <i>Mods!</i> book. The song itself is a
particularly joyous example of the art of wordless singing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Of the Edu Lobo songs
on <i>Som Definitivo</i> it is ‘Aleluia’ that is perhaps the closest to the
Lewis Sisters’ <i>Way Out Far</i>. It is the track that provides the title for
the </span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">é</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">l
collection, and in his liner notes Christopher Evans writes that the
performance has “passages of liturgical beauty and playful intricacy”. Arguably
it is a theme and feel Edu returned to on his magnificent <i>Missa Breve</i>
LP. Around the same time Edu and Quarteto Em Cy worked together on their
self-titled 1972 album which is, for this boy, one of the greatest albums ever,
and from it their recording of Edu’s ‘Incelensa’ is one of the most incredibly
spiritual and strangely dramatic recordings in the history of pop music, almost
like one of Monteverdi’s songs of love.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The Lewis Sisters
followed up <i>Way Out Far</i> with <i>Voices, Strings and Percussion</i>, an
LP for Verve, recorded in 1960 with the Russ Garcia Orchestra, where Kay and
Helen reinvent works by Tchaikovsky, using their voices to replicate the
orchestral parts. Russ, coincidentally or not, was a pioneer of creating wordless
soundscapes, notably on his <i>Sounds in the Night</i> set, which again </span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">é</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">l
helpfully released on CD. Presumably, with this Tchaikovsky record, the Lewis
Sisters were a year-or-two ahead of the Swingle Singers and their much-loved jazz
variations of works by Bach?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There is an element
of doubt, yes, having neither seen nor heard anything of <i>Voices, Strings and
Percussion</i>, which in itself is quite something these days, and seems oddly
appealing somehow in an age where we are frequently told everything is too
easily available. And it is a fitting twist in the Lewis Sisters’ tale, for it
is hard to think of many career trajectories in the story of pop music that are
quite as strange as that of the siblings who, memorably, were once pitched by
the Motown machine as being the epitome of ultra-normal, which should tell us
something really.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Yr Heartouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13069476478838746714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3579071422066847226.post-58748773241153365762020-04-11T05:33:00.000+01:002020-04-11T05:33:07.073+01:00Bless The Day #7: What's Wrong With Groovin'
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI0mqmzXt3CBoJtqXKU9KWhxBPBvSzKweEwn5JI-RxE3f_0DPu1exoxQuzO3gt35mBLYyfbiuC24yZj3yzUSRipQ7GeYfwYm5RFHqeuN1lkwP-JSrB2ifwdiNQHExuU5YxUkObTBq4s24/s1600/letta+mbulu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="599" data-original-width="600" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI0mqmzXt3CBoJtqXKU9KWhxBPBvSzKweEwn5JI-RxE3f_0DPu1exoxQuzO3gt35mBLYyfbiuC24yZj3yzUSRipQ7GeYfwYm5RFHqeuN1lkwP-JSrB2ifwdiNQHExuU5YxUkObTBq4s24/s320/letta+mbulu.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Letta Mbulu singing ‘What’s
Wrong with Groovin’’ is one of the most glorious, defiant performances in the
history of pop. She challenges directly, demanding to know why she can’t be
left to be free, to live her life, to sing, to dance, and why the hell should
anyone try to put her down, keep her down, follow her around, spy on her, talk
about her, and try to stop her having fun and being herself.</span></div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It is a Hugh Masakela
song, one he recorded in 1966 for his first Uni LP, <i>The Emancipation of Hugh
Masakela</i>, and soon his friend and fellow exile Letta got to sing it for the
tiny, short-lived Random label, on a single where with her fierce delivery she takes
what is already a protest and transforms it into a fiery anti-discrimination,
pro-feminist attack on controlling behaviour of every kind. Letta’s singing has
the perfect backing too, a joyous mess of jazz, soul and samba elements which
is as great as Nancy Wilson’s ‘The End of Our Love’, which can be considered
the prime example of a jazz or ballad singer handling material which would
appeal to young dancers.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">By the time Nancy
recorded what would become a Northern Soul evergreen, her arranger H.B. Barnum
had also been busy with Letta after she was invited to work with the visionary
David Axelrod, making a couple of LPs for Capitol where David was king out
there on the West Coast. He took advantage of the label’s resources and made <i>Letta
Mbulu Sings</i> and <i>Free Soul</i>, two quite astonishing LPs which came into
this boy’s life via a Stateside compilation in 2005, with sleevenotes by the
then ubiquitous Dean Rudland, as part of a programme of Axelrod-related salvage
operations after he had made his dramatic comeback with Mo’Wax, for which James
Lavelle will be forever loved despite everything. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Letta’s Capitol
titles are incredible, not least in the way that the team of Axelrod and Barnum
took the core South African folk and township jazz sounds and blended them with
the new soul power, with maybe some Latin boogaloo and Brasil ’66 elements
thrown into the mix, without imposing much in the way of sweeteners like an
enforced Beatles or Bacharach cover or two, which was so often the way of
things. Indeed, most of Letta’s material was provided by her soulmate Caiphus
Semenya and sung in her native tongue. This particular CD is a perfect example
of the holy artefacts which one turns to in times of trouble, when the spirit
needs revivifying and the feet need to move.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Letta’s recording of ‘What’s
Wrong with Groovin’’ was first heard here as the title track of a Jazzman collection
early in the new millennium, and God bless the day that CD was found or bought,
ah but where? It seems most likely it was in the HMV store at Oxford Circus,
and would certainly have been picked up somewhere on that Soho stroll which then
might start up at HMV, take in Borders across the street (and did Pram really
play there or was that a dream?), moving on to Berwick Street and Selectadisc,
Mr CD, Sister Ray, and maybe Sounds of the Universe (which would have still
been hidden away in Ingestre Place), then down to that odd discounted bookshop on
the corner of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Walker’s Court and Brewer
Street. Ah memories!</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But HMV seems most
likely as there was a time when in a section, down the far end on the ground
floor, where some enterprising departmental head got away with prominently
putting out displays of those DJ Shadow and Cut Chemist quasi-official <i>Product
Placement</i> and <i>Brainfreeze</i> mix-CDs along with other titles which
would appeal to fans of these, like the <i>What is Wrong with Groovin’</i> set
which proclaimed it was “a compilation of collectable and hard-to-find jazzman
sevens featuring the rarest scorching latin, oddball library gear, canadian
deep funk, heavyweight dancefloor jazz, forklift truck adverts and so much
more”. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who could resist that sort of spiel?</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">That Jazzman CD was a
round-up of tracks Gerald Short’s label had released on desirable but pricey bespoke
singles, and there would be a further four CDs in the series, up to <i>Pow Wow</i>
in 2005, all beautifully presented with linked artwork by Andrew Symington consistently
on the theme of record collecting and the accompanying accoutrements. Taken <i>en
masse</i> those CDs form a particularly valuable set, and are among the most
played products here still. In a way they also perform a sort of ‘Deck of
Cards’ function in terms of connections and signposts.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The series of CDs
covers an impressive variety of styles, and is truly internationalist. There,
however, were three main areas of musical activity which accounted for a good
two-thirds of the sixty-odd tracks. Primarily, there were the rare funk recordings
which you could say seemed central to the Jazzman operation, and Gerald and co.
were very much a part of the international cratedigging underground, that coterie
of explorers dedicated to unearthing lost blasts of raw funk, ideally ones
nobody else knew about. Where this phenomenon differed from, say, the early Northern
Soul scene was that there seemed a willingness to share sounds and information.
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What Jazzman were
doing fitted neatly alongside those funky archaeologists like Eothen ‘Egon’
Alapatt and Dante Carfagna who were so immersed in this excavation work. So,
for example, the fifth issue of the UK hip-hop magazine <i>Big Daddy</i>, early
in the new millennium, contained the first instalment of The Funk 45 Files,
which had Egon focusing on James Reese and The Progressions’ ‘Let’s Go (It’s
Summertime)’ while the next issue looked in-depth at The Highlighters’ ‘The
Funky 16 Corners’, both being tracks which appear on the Jazzman compilations
and on Stone Throw’s much-loved collection of rare funk tracks <i>The Funky 16
Corners. </i>Jazzman’s Gerald Short and in-house designer Andrew Symington
would also contribute to <i>Big Daddy</i>, so it all fitted together very
neatly.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Jazzman also put out
a series of regional rare funk compilation CDs, collecting up an astonishing
array of raw sounds which so often benefitted from being recorded on a
shoestring budget. It is incredible how high the quality of the material is
across these sets, even if many are variations on a theme, so many junior JBs
and a myriad of minor Meters. A particular favourite here is the <i>Midwest
Funk</i> set, which was released simultaneously with Egon’s Now-Again imprint
(a subsidiary of Stone’s Throw initially) though with different artwork. Highlights
of this CD include The Us’ ‘Let’s Do It Today’, The New Establishment in Soul’s
‘Whip It’, Barbara Howard’s ‘I Don’t Want Your Love’, and Harvey & the
Phenomenals’ ‘Soul & Sunshine’ which lives up to its incredibly inviting title.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The set comes with impressively
thorough annotations by Dante Carfagna which are totally obsessive in terms of
detail and all the better for it. There are so many stories that have been
unearthed along the way by these guys. Dante himself is a fascinating figure,
not least because his own music is very different from what you would expect,
if his initial Express Rising CD is anything to go by. It is a curious cut ’n’
paste affair, presumably put together from salvaged vinyl, and sounds like a
late-flowering extension of the DJ Shadow ‘What Does Your Soul Look Like’ meets
Tortoise or LaBradford aesthetic which existed for a glorious moment in the
1990s pop world: beautiful meditative sounds rather than the meticulously
modelled new funk on offer at the time from the likes of the Stark Reality (a
Jazzman subsidiary), Soul Fire and Daptone labels.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Another favourite
Jazzman title is <i>Florida Funk</i>, which overlaps with Soul Jazz’s superb <i>Miami
Sound</i> set, with Harry Stone’s far-reaching TK organisation heavily
involved, but one of the selling points of this Jazzman CD is the Latin element,
so brilliantly there is a group called Pearly Queen, named after the Traffic
song, and they look it too, but they’re kids from a Latin background and their
‘Quit Jive’In’ is sensational juvenile delinquent funk with an incredible
breakbeat at the heart of it, then there is Luis Santi y su Conjunto’s ‘Los
Feligreses’ which mocks religious hypocrites, and there is the fantastic ‘Na
Na’ by Coke which is absurdly addictive squelchy humid funk. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Other highlights
include Carrie Riley & the Fascinations’ ferocious ‘Super Cool’ and the odd
minimalism of The Mighty Dogcatchers’ ‘It’s Gonna Be A Mess’ and the Delrays’
‘Pure Funk’, though best of all is the untypical but irresistible ‘90% of Me is
You’ by Vanessa Kendrick, with a gorgeous string arrangement and a softer, more
vulnerable treatment than the later, more famous, version by Gwen McCrae. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The second major area
of Jazzman interest was what could loosely be considered to take in library recordings
and film soundtracks, but also tracks made for commercials, so perhaps production
music would be an apt phrase, music made for a purpose rather than simply being
a commodity or work of art. This was predominantly recordings from the late
1960s and early 1970s which were often of interest for their funk quotient, or
general dancefloor tendencies, psychedelic effects, breakbeats, electronic
colouration, general easy listening excellence, and consistently an exemplary high
standard of composition and playing. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Jazzman had already
mined the area with two CDs of <i>Le Jazzbeat!</i> which focused on French library
recordings, notably the second volume which concentrated on the work of Eddie
Warner whose ‘Devil’s Anvil’ with its skeletal disco sound was also a highlight
of Jazzman’s <i>Soul Freedom</i> collection. In a way the <i>Jazzbeat!</i> sets
dovetailed with the activity of the idiosyncratic German label Crippled Dick
Hot Wax! whose output included the excellent <i>Shake Sauvage</i> CD, a
collection of cuts from French film (blurred) soundtracks, and the very popular
<i>Vampyros Lesbos: Sexadelic Dance Party</i> which was a collection of Manfred
Hübler and Siegfried Schwab compositions from Jesse Franco films with a striking
Soledad Miranda cover photo.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Then there was
Crippled Dick Hot Wax!’s <i>Beretta 70</i> collection of themes from Italian
crime films, and their essential <i>Beat at Cinecitt</i></span><i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">à</span></i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
series which illuminated the world of Italian soundtrack work, beyond <i>Mondo Morricone</i>,
with selections from the likes of Riz Ortolani, Piero Piccioni, Bruno Nicolai
and Nora Orlandi, but no Piero Umiliani. A particular highlight was the
inclusion of Doris Troy incongruously singing the savage ‘Kill Them All!’ from
the wonderfully strange Roman Gary film <i>Kill!</i> starring Jean Seberg with
the best haircut ever. Crippled Dick Hot Wax! also released an essential if
slightly illogical Maximum Joy compilation, and a great Lydia Lunch set where
she is backed by the Anubian Lights which was a sort of return to the world of <i>Queen
of Siam</i>.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">From the UK’s library
music world, the Jazzman 7s CD compilations featured Keith Mansfield’s ‘Morning
Broadway’ on the opening <i>What is Wrong with Groovin’</i> set, a perfect
example of the artform, gently funky, with Harold McNair on the flute almost
sounding like he’s carrying off the perfect scat singing session. It is a track
that fits perfectly into the aesthetics evoked by the incredibly important
mid-1990s collection <i>The Sound Gallery</i> which drew heavily on the KPM
archives. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">That CD was important
in the sense that it brought together and defined a sound world which had been
subliminally absorbed and enjoyed growing up, with ads on TV and at the cinema
(the Pearl & Dean music!) and themes from television shows, and so on. In a
way Young Marble Giants tapped into this early on with their testcard music, evoking
a wonderful realm of incredible invention that hitherto was not featured in the
official music histories.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And it was all very
odd because that <i>Sound Gallery</i> set featured music that was spectacularly
out of time, like John Cameron’s ‘Half Forgotten Daydreams’ which sounds
exquisitely like a track from an imaginary Walter Wanderley LP on CTI in the
A&M era with strings by Deodato and featuring Flora Purim and co. doing
that perfect wordless vocal thing. And yet it was recorded in 1973 for KPM.
John Cameron also features in the Jazzman 7s series, with the fantastic
‘Troublemaker’, a soul-jazz flow which was paired, brilliantly, with Mike
Westbrook’s ‘Original Peter’ starring Norma Winstone doing the perfect vocalese
thing. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A highlight of the <i>Pow
Wow</i> CD, ‘Troublemaker’ is slightly different in that it is not library
music, but an actual jazz recording from the end of the 1960s when Deram was
happy to blur the lines between what was happening in the pop and jazz worlds.
So, the John Cameron Quartet’s <i>Off-Centre</i> LP was produced by Wayne
Bickerton who worked with The Fascinations around the same time to devastating
effect. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">John was joined on
this set by an incredible line-up of Danny Thompson on bass, Tony Coe playing
drums, and Harold McNair on flute and sax. It is a fantastic record, with a few
ballads where Harold’s flute playing is exquisite and will appeal to anyone who
has been enchanted by what John and Harold did for the <i>Kes</i> soundtrack
around the same time. Dare one say these ballads are far better?</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Also featured in the
Jazzman series is Barbara Moore’s exquisite ‘Hot Heels’ from her <i>Vocal
Shades and Tones</i> LP for the De Wolfe library with the perfect iteration of
the Sergio Mendes, 5<sup>th</sup> Dimension, Swingle Singers, Burt Bacharach, Michel
Legrand artform, which was Barbara’s forte as a composer, arranger and
vocalist. The <i>Vocal Patterns</i> and <i>Moonshade</i> sets she recorded with
Roger Webb are revered, though the only commercially available compilation or
overview of her work strangely seems to be a Japanese CD, <i>Sweetly Sing
Barbara</i>, which features ‘Busy’ from the <i>Voices in Latin</i> LP and is
the perfect English Brasil ’66-response. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Ironically, or
appropriately, another Brazilian maestro Rog</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">é</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">rio Duprat recorded a
set for KPM in 1970, <i>The Brazilian Suite</i>, and it features sounds that might
be said to be pop Esperanto, and could arguably be English, Italian, German,
French, or Brazilian in origin. Another highlight of those Jazzman CDs is IRP-3’s
‘Tema de Soninha’, an excerpt from a Brazilian soundtrack, which has it all:
the busy percussion, the dramatic bass, and some swirling organ which is pure
Deodato.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Barbara Moore’s
sultry ‘Steam Heat’, another selection from <i>Vocal Shades and Tones</i>,
which she says was written with the Amazon in mind, with John McLaughlin on
guitar, is on <i>Shut It!,</i> a collection of music featured in the various
series <i>of The Sweeney</i>, which came out in 2001 amid a surge in interest
in library sounds and assorted soundtracks. Was this all so much hopeless ‘retromania’?
Not really, rather this was part of a new age of enlightenment, one which
challenged rock orthodoxy while illuminating hidden corners, and revealing lost
stories and sounds. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Gerald Jazzman points
out these salvaged sounds inspired cutting-edge examples of new music, and you
can hear it in recordings by, say, AIR, Stereolab, and Broadcast. Indeed Broadcast
playlists from the early years of the new millennium would feature Jazzman
favourites like Nino Nardini, and Cecil Leuter’s ‘Pop Electronique No. 2’, as part
of their mood mosaic alongside Morricone, Basil Kirchin, David Axelrod,
Radiophonic Workshop, Alice Coltrane, Comus, Vashti Bunyan, Zouzou, American
Spring, Krzysztof Komeda, Rotary Connection, United States of America, Goblin,
Wendy & Bonnie and so on. Names which are familiar to many of us now,
perhaps, but not back then, oh no. This was a new jigsaw to put together, and
very much in the spirit of the first ever Clash interview where Joe Strummer is
talking to Steve Walsh (later of Manicured Noise) about how “we deal in junk”,
making use of what other people have thrown out. Amen to that Joe.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The third main area of
Jazzman activity on those compilation CDs was vocal jazz, often with a twist in
terms of rhythm or beat. And if, over time, one became overpowered by funk,
sated with library sounds, then this was an area where, here at least, interest
has grown steadily over the years. Appropriately the first CD in the series
starts with Kathleen Emery’s breakbeat carnival ‘Sometimes I Feel Like A
Motherless Child’, a song that will now forever be associated with the
magnificent Olive Kitteridge. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The same volume also
features Lorez Alexandria’s take on ‘Send in the Clowns’, which is one of those
songs indelibly associated with Radio 2 being on at home growing up, but it
never sounded this good back then. A Jazzman favourite, Lorez returns later in
the series with her King recording of ‘Baltimore Oriole’, a composition that is
so perfect for the reflective jazz singer. Lorez is honoured as the only person
to appear twice on these CDs other than Nino Nardini.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Another highlight is Fred
Johnson’s ‘A Child Runs Free’, an anomaly as it is a 1980s recording with a frantic
Brazilian backing, and indeed it features on another treasured early-2000s CD
collection in the (possibly not entirely legitimate) Italian series <i>Mondo
Bossa</i>, along with France Gall’s irresistible ‘Zozoi’, another Jazzman 7s
favourite. Then there is Freddy Cole with ‘Brother Where Are You’ and Byrdie Green’s
fierce ‘Return of the Prodigal Son’, and a particular favourite is Carmen
McRae’s vocal version of ‘Take Five’ with the Dave Brubeck Quartet. The
immortal Mark Murphy also turns up in the series with the exceptional Latin mod
jazz of ‘Why Don’t You Do Right’.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In a slightly
different area of vocal jazz is MaseQua Myers’ ‘Black Land of the Nile’ with
Jami Ayinde, a glorious example of what we now tend to call spiritual jazz.
This appears on the <i>Hunk of Heaven</i> CD, and Gerald Short mentions that it’s
a favourite of Gilles Peterson’s and originally comes from a hopelessly rare LP
from a stage show of black fairy tales. It sort of seems familiar from what
Gilles used to play, back in the day, and he did a lot to generate interest in
this musical activity, not least via close compadres Galliano where they joined
the dots to Doug and Jean Carn’s ‘Power and Glory’ and Pharoah Sanders’ ‘Prince
of Peace’, releases on Black Jazz and Strata-East respectively, which in turn
links to Soul Jazz and Universal Sound and their programme of enlightenment.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Soul Jazz’s most
important release in this area was the <i>Universal Sounds of America</i>
compilation, which introduced so many of us to the Art Ensemble of Chicago’s
‘Theme De Yo Yo’, for which God bless Stuart Baker and comrades, and to Pharoah
Sanders’ ‘Astral Travelling’ (linking nicely to the contemporaneous music of
Photek) which in turn leads to those gorgeous Impulse! digipak reissues and
especially Alice Coltrane’s <i>Journey in Satchidananda </i>and Pharoah’s <i>Karma</i>.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">While ordinarily baulking
at attempts to codify and classify music, spiritual jazz is an unusually
helpful term, even if there is no precise definition. Perhaps it is music that
is likely to be immersed in radical politics, with a strong sense of black
consciousness, African heritage, probably strong religious beliefs, a glow of
warm humanity, a highly melodic and winningly rhythmic mix, with a backbone of
self-sufficiency, underpinned by the lifeforce of the naturally flowing bass,
the drum as heart-centre, percussive adornments, shaking, rattling everything,
possibly some sweet refreshing vibes playing, maybe a flute dancing along,
saxes speaking in tongues, horns joyously blasting, a pianist sharing poetic
expression, and hopefully some uplifting congregational singing and chants. Or
something like that. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Jazzman gradually got
drawn into this area, and released the glorious <i>Spiritual Jazz</i> CD
compilation in 2007, a set of “esoteric, modal and deep jazz from the
underground 1968–77”, a copy of which oddly, fortuitously, turned up in a local
charity shop shortly after release. Who the hell would give that away? It is
such a revivifying mix of odd, lost communal projects and collective expression,
with highlights from the James Tatum Trio Plus, Mor Thiam, Ndikho Xaba &
the Natives, The Frank Derrick Total Experience, Ronnie Boykins, and the Hastings
Street Jazz Experience (with Kim Weston singing in there somewhere, brilliantly,
being an old school friend of group leader Ed Nelson). Predominantly this was
music issued by small and local independents with a do-it-yourself ethos,
rather like Jazzman’s rare funk series, often well-served by small recording
budgets which mean more rawness which can mean more elevation of the spirit.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Jazzman as a label
became steadily more immersed in the spiritual jazz side of things, but somehow
that didn’t register here until relatively recently when noticing that the
ninth volume in the series was a double-CD set dedicated to “modal, esoteric and
deep jazz from the vaults of Blue Note Records 1962–1976”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On realising that the collection opens with
two particular favourites (a 1966 recording, Bobby Hutcherson’s ‘Verse’ from <i>Stick
Up!</i> with McCoy Tyner on piano, then Pete La Roca’s ‘Basra’) it seemed
sensible to assume that the more unfamiliar tracks might match the standard of
that opening two, so it had to be bought, which was an excellent decision.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It was a real joy to
discover Andrew Hill’s ‘Poinsettia’ and Hank Mobley’s ‘The Morning After’, for
instance, and very definitely Freddie Hubbard’s ‘Blue Spirits’. The accompanying
CD booklet opens with an inspirational Freddie Hubbard quote about his <i>Blue
Spirits</i>: “It’s a spiritual album. I don’t mean in a religious sense, but in
the sense that I consider music to be a spiritual experience, because you can
get at your deepest feelings in music”. Some very definite shades of Dave Godin
there? That makes sense: spiritual jazz and deep soul being two sides of the
same coin. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Duke Pearson is a strong
presence on the set, notably with ‘The Phantom’, one of the greatest ten-minutes
of music ever. His ‘Empathy’ was a delight to discover, as was his own version
of ‘Cristo Redentor’, though the original, from Donald Byrd’s <i>A New
Perspective</i> LP, is sacred here. And maybe that one song, more than any
other, is <i>thee</i> soul saver. The Blue Note set closes with Solomon Ilori’s
‘Igbesi Aiye (Song of Praise to God)’ which is the track closest to the initial
spiritual jazz collection, for generally the Blue Note variants are more
tightly wound and more studious, something to do with tension and density and space.
Somehow just the idea of a spiritual jazz Blue Note compilation makes the heart
sing, and credit to Gerald and co. for not shying away from featuring familiar
names.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In fact, that is part
of the appeal of the Jazzman 7s CD sets: ‘California Soul’ by Marlena Shaw,
Esther Williams’ ‘Last Night Changed It All’, Jonathan Richman’s ‘Egyptian
Reggae’, for example, are there alongside the oddities and obscurities. And
while it is always great to hear old favourites, Jazzman is loved here for
introducing this boy to some strange delights which may have been played to
death but about which still little is known, like the Deirdre Wilson Tabac’s <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>extraordinary ‘I Can’t Keep From Crying
Sometimes’, Kent Schneider’s uplifting ‘The Church Is Within Us Oh Lord’, and the
Gettysbyrg Address’ gorgeous ‘Baby True’. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Each of these three
somehow elude categorisation, and in many ways capture the blurring of
boundaries that was going on as the 1960s drew to a close. The Gettysbyrg
Address track is a particular favourite here as it has a languid ‘Spooky’ or
‘Light Flight’ feel, with a Latin lilt and a warming jazzy piano part plus a
simmering Jos</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">é</span><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> Feliciano-style break. Rather perfectly in the original
Jazzman 7s series it was paired with Triste Janero’s ‘In The Garden’ which was
a particularly inspired move. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">If one were today putting
together a compilation, a playlist, or a mix, as a care package for a loved one
in troubled times, then those tracks would <i>have</i> to be on there: Deirdre
Wilson Tabac, Kent Schneider, Gettysbyrg Address, and Triste Janero, but what
else? How about another version of ‘What’s Wrong with Groovin’’, the one by Phil
Moore III and the Afro Latin Soultet with Leni Groves on vocals, from the 1967 <i>Afro
Brazil Oba!</i> LP with Joe Pass on guitar. It ain’t Letta, it might be
lighter, but it works, wonderfully well.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Yr Heartouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13069476478838746714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3579071422066847226.post-73413215340919101112020-03-14T05:25:00.000+00:002020-03-14T13:48:56.027+00:00Bless The Day #6: Righteous Life<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYvQi61uMGTB_EH9Cm6rTWzLazTSXzDAERagZXYvxHLOLyald_bkhEKY1oFzBJV6UhBAXiFPUoZZsaxXJam5O16hixreTElrBu-x_bg7WIgflhHSVUIgaxS2xIvNJ9ct48ZP2J2FCwKkQ/s1600/stillness+cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="364" data-original-width="363" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYvQi61uMGTB_EH9Cm6rTWzLazTSXzDAERagZXYvxHLOLyald_bkhEKY1oFzBJV6UhBAXiFPUoZZsaxXJam5O16hixreTElrBu-x_bg7WIgflhHSVUIgaxS2xIvNJ9ct48ZP2J2FCwKkQ/s320/stillness+cover.jpg" width="319" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">‘Righteous Life’ by
Sergio Mendes & Brasil ’66 is one of those special songs, one which is
guaranteed to generate a warming inner glow, with its rolling waves of thermal
bass, shimmering piano, and the drums propelling things along, while the
singers seem to share deep insights, and if the words are pleasantly elusive in
terms of meaning they have just the right feel of poetry, politics and
spirituality to suit the most reflective of moods.</span><br />
<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The song appears on <i>Stillness</i>,
the final Sergio Mendes & Brasil ’66 record, released right at the end of
1970. <i>Stillness</i> has been made available on CD through Soul Jazz’s Universal
Sound imprint, in a lovely deluxe package, without any extras or any in-depth explanations.
It may not be typical of that outfit’s sound but it is an incredibly beautiful
record, and gets off to such a great start with the two Paula Stone compositions,
‘Stillness’ itself, and ‘Righteous Life’. The evocative words from the title
track appear on the LP cover, underneath a photo of the group, lazing by the
side of a river, capturing the new looseness that infuses the record.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The individual photos
on the inner sleeve of the singers and players have a wintry, old-timey look,
which sort of fits the spirit of the age, when you think of the covers which
came with <i>The Band</i> and Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young’s <i>Déjà Vu</i>.
The rear cover photo is more dramatic, showing Sergio and the group huddled
behind barbed wire, symbolically perhaps. It is certainly a dramatic change of
image from the immaculate matching suits for the guys and glamorous short
dresses for the ladies which one would ordinarily associate with Sergio Mendes
and Brasil ’66. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The blurb on the obi
strip which comes with the Soul Jazz <i>Stillness</i> CD describes the Brasil
’66 sound as being more mature and serious, in the sense of having a new depth
and breadth, and being more meditative. This suggests the strapline from Jon
Savage’s eye, ear and mind-opening <i>Meridian 1970</i> compilation on Heavenly:
protest, sorrow, hobos, folk and blues. There are no tough rock guitar solos on
<i>Stillness</i> though: thank Christ. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">After the two Paula
Stone compositions comes a cover of Joni Mitchell’s ‘Chelsea Morning’, a sign
of moving with the times, and there is also a reinterpretation of Buffalo
Springfield’s ‘For What It’s Worth’, a bit of a delayed reaction perhaps, but
arguably a song even more relevant in 1970. Coincidentally or not, their
A&M label mates The Carpenters covered ‘Nowadays Clancy Can’t Even Sing’ gorgeously
on their debut LP around the same time. The two records have bassist Joe Osborn
in common.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">If Joe is the star of
‘Righteous Life’ then the Sergio Mendes version of ‘For What It’s Worth’ belongs
to the sensational percussion work of Mark Stevens, a jazz man, and it shows,
who provides something approaching what would be roots reggae filigree, with plenty
of cowbell action, giving the track an almost Bristol blues or prime Mo’Wax
1990s pop sound, and Karen Philipp excels when taking the lead vocals here. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It’s tempting to
wonder what the reviews were like when the LP was released. If you search
online you may find the archives of the American audiophile magazine <i>Stereo
Review</i>, which in its April 1971 edition reviewed <i>Stillness</i>: “With
this new album, Sergio Mendes and Brasil '66 become the radical chic of the
music world,” wrote Rex Reed, referencing the topical Tom Wolfe <i>Vogue</i> essay.
Incidentally Reed’s writing also appeared in Tom Wolfe’s <i>The New Journalism</i>
anthology. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">His <i>Stillness</i>
review was generally positive: “Their music is svelte, chic, soign</span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">é</span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">,
and sensual. They are the hip cats who still prowl through the musical jungle
on little cat-paws of bossa nova. They are so smooth they have become the
elite. The title of the album is taken from a lovely song by Paula Stone; it is
haunting. It's the first band and the last on the album, and what comes in
between is as quiet and poignant as a walk in the spring rain.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It is pure
speculation, but presumably the LP was looked down on by younger writers in the
still-emerging rock press. That same year in <i>Rolling Stone</i> Greil Marcus described
John Sebastian’s ‘Magical Connection’ as being “a Sergio Mendes bore with
vibes, that simply doesn’t make it at all”. What can you say? It is such a
special song. And have you heard the gorgeous Sarah Vaughan version?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">‘Righteous Life’ was first
heard here via A Man Called Adam’s <i>The Apple</i>, and God bless the day it
appeared unexpectedly, shortly after release, in one of the boxes outside that
odd record shop in the covered arcade at the top of Eltham High Street. Most of
what they tried to sell would be old classical albums, and just occasionally
there would be an unexpected gem, like a beautiful and battered import copy of
Phil Ochs’ <i>Pleasures of the Harbor</i>, another classic A&M release with
magical powers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In the early 1990s <i>The
Apple</i> got played to death here. It will forever be associated closely with Ultramarine’s
<i>Every Man and Woman is a Star</i>, and it is so lovely that both outfits are
making great music in the present tense. Now, when listening occasionally to <i>The
Apple</i>, it is a secondhand signed CD that gets played, though the same love
lingers for the songwriting and production team of Sally Rodgers and Steve
Jones. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It was really Sally’s
words and singing that appealed most, and the absurdity of releasing a single
called ‘Chrono Psionic Interface’ seemed exactly what pop music should be about
heading into a new millennium, and in a way a realisation of what Life hinted
at when Factory released ‘Tell Me’. The Weatherall ‘spaced out’ vocal mix of
‘CPI’ is a bit special too, with extra flute, though will now forever have sad
connotations having dug it out to play when preparing notes for this and
learning later that day that the great man had died. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A Man Called Adam’s
signature tune remains ‘Barefoot in the Head’, an immense, ecstatic celebration
of life, a desert island disc for this boy, and what could be better for
eternity in a sun-kissed paradise. One of the great things about <i>The Apple</i>
is the way it suggests so many cool connections, notably ‘Barefoot’ with its Brian
Aldiss (“it’s the velocity, girl”!) sci-fi flavour, and that oh so perfect Rod
McKuen and Anita Kerr seashell sample from ‘The Gypsy Camp’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Then there was Hubert
Laws on flute, plus the track ‘Bread Love & Dreams’ which coincidentally or
not was the name of a late 1960s UK folk trio, whose excellent self-titled debut
LP features orchestral arrangements by Ian Green of Timi Yuro and Rosetta
Hightower fame. And, as we now know, Sally and Steve knew their <i>Stillness</i>,
though the funny thing is that ‘Righteous Life’ feels so good, so right, on <i>The
Apple</i> that it just seems to be a core AMCA song, with exactly the perfect poetical,
political and spiritual thing going on. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There seemed to be little
or no clue 30-odd years ago among acquaintances that ‘Righteous Life’ was
composed 20-years earlier by a talented young songwriter called Paula Stone, from
Detroit, who was signed to Sergio Mendes’ production company Serrich. There’s a
story there to be told. In true Fangette Enzel style, beyond ‘Stillness’ and
‘Righteous Life’, there doesn’t seem to be too much evidence of Paula’s work. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She certainly composed
the excellent ‘Don’t Need Nobody’ which Richie Havens performed beautifully on
his 1973 LP <i>Portfolio</i>. And Discogs lists her as writing words for a
couple of songs recorded by Angelo, who is presumably Angelo Arvonio whose ’Hey
Look at the Sun’ was a 1972 single on Atlantic produced by Sergio Mendes. Sergio
later recorded the song on his Brasil ’77 set <i>Love Music</i>, and it is
exquisite soft rock in what would become the soothing Captain & Tennille
way, a style there were already hints of on <i>Stillness</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The original of
‘Righteous Life’ was first heard here via a “very best of” 2CD collection,
found in a charity shop locally, but the treasured compilation is a CD of “20 easy
listening<i> </i>classics”<i> </i>by Sergio Mendes & Brasil ’66, part of the
<i>Easy Loungin’</i> series, with the recognisable late-1960s <i>Playboy</i>-ad.
style artwork of Stefan Kessel, who also provides the German liner notes. This
dates back to 1995, which was around the same time Stefan’s distinctive graphic
design made an impression via the invaluable <i>Mondo Morricone</i> collection
on Colosseum. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Stefan, a big Bobby
Scott fan, may be most familiar for his Marina label which has given us some
superb releases, new and archival, from the likes of James Kirk, Josef K, Jazzateers,
Shack, Adventures in Stereo, and Peter Thomas. He also managed to release a
modern-day Free Design CD which was every bit as beautiful as the group’s belatedly
revered original LPs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Perhaps most
appropriately Stefan and Marina put out a Pale Fountains collection,
concentrating on their early recordings, dating from when part of the buzz
around the group was their contrary taste, and this was probably where the idea
of loving Sergio Mendes & Brasil ’66 first came in. For, in the summer of
1982, they were part of the mood mosaic of influences the young Michael Head
cited: Sergio, Love, Bacharach & David, John Barry, Simon & Garfunkel, the
Velvets and so on. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And, at this time,
Pale Fountains fitted into what was here an imagined scene encompassing
Weekend, Aztec Camera, Vic Godard, Jazzateers, Carmel, while up in Manchester
there was A Certain Ratio and Swamp Children, then there was Everything But The
Girl coming through with ‘Night and Day’ (which was a Brasil ’66 favourite),
and Ben and Tracey doing their solo things.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">If the Laurel Canyon
(rainbow) connections to <i>Stillness</i> are intriguing they should not
overshadow the Brazilian aspects. The one Brazilian musician, besides Sergio,
who plays on the LP is guitarist Oscar Castro-Neves, and his composition
‘Celebration of the Sunrise’ is perfect, with the singers united in wordless
harmony, a wonderful display of vocalese and percussive excellence, which
beautifully matches the theme of the title track which is reprised immediately
afterwards. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It is also significant
Sergio should choose to record for <i>Stillness</i> songs by Gilberto Gil and
Caetano Veloso, the focal points of the Tropicália movement, outrageous and
outspoken troublemakers who were undesirables in the eyes of the repressive
Brazilian authorities. These two sublimely gifted performers were at this time
political exiles, which adds a new dimension to <i>Stillness’</i> back cover
photo with the group behind that barbed wire fence, in the sense of keeping dissenters
out or perhaps imprisoned. Was this a way of Sergio showing solidarity?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The version of Caetano’s
‘Lost in Paradise’ is stunning, the song a new departure for him being written
in English, a plea for communication and connection, passionately sung here by
Gracinha Leporace, who was brought into the Brasil ’66 fold as the great Lani
Hall was leaving. Gracinha had been the singer with Bossa Rio, whose 1969 debut
LP was produced by Sergio for A&M, and featured one of the first Caetano
covers outside of Brazil in ‘Today Tomorrow’ or ‘Boa Palavra’. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The song had been
recorded a little earlier, with English lyrics by Norman Gimbel, for Petula
Clark’s <i>The Other Man’s Grass is Always Greener</i> LP. That is pretty cool:
Petula perhaps sings Caetano first in English, while channelling her inner Elis
Regina, and the lovely title track, composed by Tony Hatch and Jackie Trent, was
heard sung so often around the home growing up here. Ah life!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In his heyday Sergio was
always keen to expand horizons and showcase the work of new Brazilian songwriters,
in particular Edu Lobo whom he was a great champion of with Brasil ’66,
recording his ‘Upa, Neguinho’, ‘Laia Ladaia (Reza)’, ‘Canto Triste’, ‘For Me’, plus
‘Crystal Illusions’ and ‘Pradizer Adeus (To Say Goodbye)’ with English lyrics
by Lani Hall. The last two there also appeared on a 1970 LP by Edu Lobo (or
rather simply by Lobo before the other lupine singer had a hit with ‘Me and You
and a Dog Named Boo’), produced by Sergio for A&M, which is an exceptional
work, and an especial favourite here. The work of the new wave of Brazilian composers
like Edu would have as important a role in shaping the sound of <i>Stillness</i>
as the more famous West Coast troubadours.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Sergio was also
behind the idea of getting the great saxophonist Paul Desmond to record an
album of Edu Lobo and Milton Nascimento songs for Creed Taylor’s CTI, the
imprint which came under the umbrella of A&M in its early years. This 1969
set, <i>From The Hot Afternoon</i>, really sounds exquisite, and Paul’s playing
lives up to the words used by Gene Lees in his liner notes: “Paul’s mind turns
interesting corners and he explores funny little musical side-streets, streets
of great charm and humor and, at times, wistful beauty”. Wistful beauty is an
apt phrase to describe this record, where the gentle waves made by Paul’s small
core group are augmented by Don Sebesky’s silky strings. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Edu himself plays
guitar on a few tracks, and gets to sing on a couple. On his ‘To Say Goodbye’
the words are sung by Wanda De Sah, who had been a vocalist with Sergio Mendes’
early Brasil ’65 group. There is a lovely story about how the song was pitched
so low that Wanda could hardly sing the words, and yet the strained whisper she
produced sounded so right to Paul that he kept it as it was, which was
absolutely the right decision. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Paul’s follow-up to
this LP for CTI/A&M was a set of Simon & Garfunkel songs, and again he
works with a small core group, of Ron Carter, Herbie Hancock and Airto Moreira,
on an enchanting set of interpretations which are exceptionally easy on the ear
but as radical in their way as anything else around at the end of the 1960s.
And particularly with Herbie’s electric piano playing it is possible to hear
the advent of the archetypal CTI sound.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">That late 1960s run
of CTI titles, before Creed went independent, and before the fusion thing came
along, contains some terrific records, by Wes Montgomery, Herbie Mann, and so
on, all of which are pretty smooth, non-disruptive, and can serve as medicinal
background sounds, ideal for meditative moods. Some great musicians recur
across these titles, like Ron Carter, Herbie Hancock, Grady Tate, Ray Barretto,
Richard Davis, Hubert Laws, and Paul Griffin, with Don Sebesky’s orchestral
arrangements being a key feature on several titles. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Within that run of
CTI releases, there was a very strong Brazilian presence, with Antonio Carlos
Jobim’s <i>Wave</i> and <i>Tide</i>, Tamba 4’s <i>We and the Sea</i> and <i>Samba
Blim</i>, Walter Wanderley’s <i>When It Was Done</i> and <i>Moondreams</i>, and
Milton Nascimento’s <i>Courage</i>. Within that little sequence one can trace
the growing influence of Eumir Deodato, who after arriving in the States and
doing great arrangements for Astrud Gilberto and Maria Toledo gradually became
more and more in demand, going on to work with Sinatra and Roberta Flack and
becoming CTI’s chart pin-up with the worldwide pop success of ‘Also Sprach
Zarathustra (2001)’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Somehow Edu Lobo’s
A&M LP escaped being given the Don Sebesky or Deodato strings treatment,
which has a lot to do with its enduring appeal. It is a relatively
stripped-down affair with Edu and Hermeto Pascoal providing the arrangements. Edu
has a pretty unique way with him and his songs are propelled along by rhythmic
acoustic guitars, percussion, and the sort of scat vocals which can be heard on
‘Zanzibar’ and ‘Casa Forte. Edu is given vocal support by Gracinha Leporace, by
the way. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It is fun to consider
how to place Edu Lobo’s work of the time alongside Nick Drake’s and note
similarities in mood and in the idea of these two tall romantic and handsome
composers who wrote and sang exquisite works of melancholia. It is easy to
imagine them being friends or at least fans of one another in an ideal world.
That blue bossa feel to ‘Poor Boy’, the piano of Paul Harris, those Robert
Kirby orchestrations, the occasional use of flute, the sensuously strummed
acoustic guitars: there are plenty of clues to suggest Nick would be
sympathetic to what Edu was doing, and vice versa. And the percussion work of
Rocky Dzidzornu perfectly adds colour in the same way Airto Moreira does on
Edu’s A&M LP. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Then there is Nick
Drake’s ‘Cello Song’ and the version of ‘To Say Goodbye’ on the <i>Sergio
Mendes Presents Lobo</i> set. On both recordings the use of cello was a stroke
of genius, and maybe has a lot to do with a very real fondness here for cello sonatas
by Debussy, Faur</span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">é</span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">, Britten,
Rachmaninov, and in particular Bach’s cello suites. That cello-augmented
version of ‘To Say Goodbye’ is particularly heartbreaking and infinitely sad,
especially when Edu cries out about being so lonely. It is something that it
would have been wonderful to hear Sinatra sing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The other favourite
moment from that Lobo LP is ‘Even Now’ which has English lyrics by Paula Stone.
Lani Hall is also credited, but somehow the words feel like Paula’s poetry,
with the way Edu sings of how an ordinary day can be transformed by the hint of
an approaching sunrise, so that the song sits perfectly alongside ‘Stillness’
and ‘Celebration of the Sunrise’, and indeed Oscar Castro-Neves plays guitar on
the LP which was partly recorded at Sergio’s LA home studio in Encino, as was <i>Stillness</i>
itself. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">‘Even Now’ in its
original Brazilian form appears as the title track of Edu’s <i>Cantiga De Longe</i>,
an LP recorded, presumably just slightly earlier, in Los Angeles for the great
Elenco label and the Brazilian market, with the same core personnel of Hermeto
and Airto, and an even more stripped-back sound. There is some overlap in terms
of tracks, and Edu writes about how on the opener ‘Casa Forte’, when working
with Hermeto, things fell into place and he found the sound he had been
searching for. A particular highlight is Edu scatting together with Wanda De
Sah on ‘</span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Á</span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">guaverde’,
though it is the closing track ‘Cidade Nova’ that tears this listener apart
every time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The Edu Lobo A&M LP
was first heard here via a 2006 CD reissue on Rev-Ola. The cover was instantly
appealing, even without hearing the contents, being a Guy Webster photo of Edu sitting
looking pensive, with splashes of vivid red, and a concrete background, which
all fits perfectly in an almost Blood & Fire way. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rev-Ola may not be a label people
automatically think of in connection with invaluable Brazilian salvage
operations, but Joe Foster and his team will be forever loved here for a
fantastic programme of CDs, one which includes essential Brazilian related
releases from Bossa Rio, The Carnival (who were former members of Sergio
Mendes’ group paired with Bones Howe), Wanda De Sah, Astrud Gilberto, and Som
Imaginário whose debut sometimes sounds like the sweetest sort of madness
imaginable.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There were also some
Brazilian-influenced U.S. acts like a CD collection of the A&M recordings
by Claudine Longet, whose soft singing style was perfectly suited to the
Brazilian bossa classics, and the set also features one of the loveliest
versions of Joni’s ‘Both Sides Now’. Then there was Triste Janero from Dallas
whose addictive LP from 1969, <i>Meet Triste Janero</i>, was reissued by
Rev-Ola in 2003. Unusually for a young group of the time their influences
seemed to be on the Brasil ’66 and Bacharach side of Love, with neat touches of
organ which suggest a fondness for Jimmy Smith, Ray Manzarek, Booker T. and
maybe even Walter Wanderley. Teenage singer Barbara Baines was a true star,
while her brother Paul played guitar. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Triste Janero’s own
songs were fantastic, especially ‘Rene De Marie’ and ‘In The Garden’, and the
soft, sparse, Brazilian-inspired sound caught on the LP has worn wonderfully,
and delightfully they are at times eerily reminiscent of those legendary early
Jazzateers recordings with Alison Gourlay from when, at the start of 1982, they
were Postcard’s new hopes, and writers like Glenn Gibson, Chris Burkham and
Dave McCullough were falling over themselves to capture an idyll of the Velvets
meeting Astrud Gilberto uptown. Even more appropriately for Postcard fans the
highlight of <i>Meet Triste Janero</i> is a gorgeous cover of the Lovin’
Spoonful’s ‘You Didn’t Have To Be So Nice’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Deodato had a lot to
do with what is possibly Rev-Ola’s greatest release, <i>Daybreak</i> by Joe
& Bing, an LP recorded in 1970 (but which sometimes sounds uncannily like
early Pale Fountains) and which was initially only issued by the duo as a
private pressing, which was odd as it featured playing from some of the top
musicians of the day, like Grady Tate, Dom Um Romão, and Garnett Brown, as well
as production and arrangements on certain songs by Deodato and Harry Lookofsky.
The title track of this set is another Desert Island contender for this boy,
and with its melodic warmth, the celestial folk harmonies, and the theme of
daybreak encapsulating an escape from the past, it is a perfect partner to its
contemporaries, Sergio’s ‘Stillness’ and Edu Lobo’s ‘Even Now’. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In a wonderful plot
twist, Joe & Bing’s LP got a new lease of life when it was released on Quartin
in Brazil where it was presented as being by Best of Friends. The label was at
the start of the 1970s a new project for Roberto Quartin, who was an important
part of the Brazilian musical tapestry and a serious Sinatra scholar to boot. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Quartin released only a small number of
records, and presumably <i>Daybreak</i> was added to the catalogue to boost its
profile in the same way that Alan Horne invited the Go-Betweens to join the
Postcard roster to give a global dimension.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Deodato returned to
the song ‘Daybreak’ when working with Astrud Gilberto on her 1972 set<i> Now</i>,
which was released on the Perception label, and is a real favourite here.
Astrud seems to revel in a new sense of freedom, and Deodato’s arrangements
suit perfectly. The LP opens with the exceptional ‘Zigy Zigy Za’, which is
another of those songs guaranteed to get you grinning no matter what. And the
version of ‘Daybreak’ is just perfect, especially the heavenly background
choral vocals and acoustic guitars. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Quartin as a label
first registered here via a compilation on Far Out, released in 1997 and bought
in the homely Rough Trade Covent Garden basement shop, when still trying to
piece together the Brazilian musical jigsaw without much guidance, and that is
part of why it remains so special, sacred almost. The Quartin collection was
remarkable, mysterious too, with not too much supporting information, just the
magical sounds, of Piri and Jos</span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">é </span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Mauro in particular,
and it was fun later fleshing things out when Far Out finally (almost 20 years
on) were able to release in full Jos</span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">é</span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">’s <i>Obnoxius</i>
and Piri’s <i>Vocem Querem Mate</i>? on CD.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Listening to Piri’s
blend of flute, frantic acoustic guitars, percussion and predominantly scat
vocals, joyous wordless wonderment, and Jos</span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">é’s lush, bruised, brooding
romanticism and deep spirituality, while admiring the beautiful artwork, partly
the work of </span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Cesar Villela</span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> who was responsible for the striking
Elenco sleeve designs, and reading Ana Maria Bahiana’s inspirational liner
notes for <i>Obnoxius</i>, all contributes to a sense of something special, so
that it feels a privilege to be part of the experience as a consumer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Interestingly, Joe Davis and Far Out
do not seem to have mentioned Quartin releasing <i>Daybreak, </i>and the CD
booklet that comes with the Joe & Bing reissue does not specifically
mention Piri or José Mauro. There is no particular reason why they should have
done, but it is that sense of fitting things together that is so special, what
Gilles has always called joining the dots, but which it would seem entirely
appropriate on this occasion to call making magical connections.</span><span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />Yr Heartouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13069476478838746714noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3579071422066847226.post-37800161920371359252020-02-15T06:00:00.000+00:002020-02-15T06:00:01.161+00:00Bless The Day #5: Stop This World<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdJpO6MDZn8_5vlBs5-8mdPQ0DdB1Inoq472GXweo1xfiFLjlWlVlUGVPDxIMpb_zW5MGpPt3RfMDY4_JEJdiQPt08zBOkc1pjA8jJce9T9yR8hertqYH2go4PJRwTFpTSmAbq3LDfXfE/s1600/Mose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdJpO6MDZn8_5vlBs5-8mdPQ0DdB1Inoq472GXweo1xfiFLjlWlVlUGVPDxIMpb_zW5MGpPt3RfMDY4_JEJdiQPt08zBOkc1pjA8jJce9T9yR8hertqYH2go4PJRwTFpTSmAbq3LDfXfE/s320/Mose.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A casually caustic Mose
Allison singing ‘Stop This World’ is something which seems very much of the
moment, what with the way he suggests someone stopping this world, and letting
him off, because there’s too many pigs in the same trough, too many buzzards
sitting on the fence, and none of it is making any sense. Well, it’s easy to
see where he’s coming from, and how it might be applied to the world today. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The song itself is a
perfect example of Mose’s lightness of touch, the way he uses his wit as a
weapon, with raised eyebrows and a studied nonchalance of manner. Mose and his
piano are accompanied here by bluesy horns, which add to the drama. He may be down
but he’s still the master of ironic inflections and acute observations delivered
in a deadpan and detached wry way, the singer of songs which sting just as much
as someone ranting and raving, yelling and hollering.</span></div>
<a name='more'></a> <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">‘Stop This World’
appears on Mose’s <i>Swingin’ Machine</i> LP, a 1963 release on Atlantic.
Breaking away briefly from the trusted piano trio form, the horns here are a
rarity among the Mose catalogue, and particularly of note is the presence of Jimmy
Knepper on trombone, who also around that time played on Gil Evans’ <i>Out Of
The Cool</i> and Charlie Mingus’ <i>Oh Yeah!</i> </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">One tends to think of
Mose as an urbane enlightened Southern Gentleman with nothing left but manners,
wit and charm: “Better days this lad has known”. In another time maybe Mose
would be in a Willa Cather book as a professor, viewed locally with amused
affection. He certainly came across as a smart guy, in more ways than one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was smart in that he made his songs seem
so simple, but few could achieve such elegant concision. And just look at those
clothes he wears on his LP covers, the classical Ivy Look, those button-down
shirts, the jumpers, and if a man must wear a moustache then Mose showed the
way to do it. It really comes as no surprise that he was a favourite among some
of the early modernists in the UK. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">People always say
that, oh you know, Mose, he came from the blues, and was blues through and
through, but the blues has always been a bit of a blind spot here (along with
opera and heavy rock), but Mose appeals because his singing is smooth and soft,
almost like Nat ‘King’ Cole, and he sang sort of sly with a twinkle in the eye,
and he coolly carved out his own unique space. Richard Barnes, and this would
probably have been the first time Mose’s name was encountered here, in his
beautiful <i>Mods!</i> book said that Allison stayed on the jazz side of the blues,
which seems a good place to be.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When Mose first moved
up to New York in the 1950s he played with jazzmen like Al Cohn, and indeed it
was Al’s wife, the magnificent moody Marilyn Moore, who discovered Mose. He
early on also played with Stan Getz and Gerry Mulligan. Is it only here that this
always conjures up images of Jack Kerouac on Piccadilly at midnight being asked
by teddy boys if he knew Gerry Mulligan? And some great jazz musicians played
in Mose’s classic piano trios, like Paul Motian and Osie Johnson on drums, Ben
Tucker and Red Mitchell on bass, all at various times. Oh yeah, and Pete La
Roca played drums with him too.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Part of Mose’s genius
was not singing too much. Goodness knows what the young mods who loved ‘Parchman
Farm’ or ‘Young Man Blues’ thought when they tracked down an elusive early Mose
LP. Did they despair at all the piano-led instrumentals, where he swings gently?
That was the case here, but gradually there has developed a definite fondness
for them, particularly the less jaunty numbers like ‘January’, ‘Spring Song’, ‘The
River’, ‘Old Man John’, ‘Idyll’, all the calming compositions, which are therapeutic
in the same way George Winston’s Windham Hill seasonal-themed sets are. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Maybe many of us, as here,
first really listened to Mose via compilations, like the Prestige collection <i>Mose
Allison Sings</i>, and in particular an Atlantic best of, which also concentrated
on the vocal side of Mose, and God bless the day that CD collection turned up
in the racks of the local Our Price in the mid-1990s, mid-price too, so bought
as part of a process of filling gaps in a musical education, because
interestingly original Mose albums never seemed to turn up in the charity shops
round our way, or even when, as Shena Mackay wrote in <i>Dunedin</i>, on summer
Saturdays and Sundays all of South East England was transformed into one
gigantic car-boot sale, there never appeared to be any Mose LPs on offer. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Even with the
Atlantic compilation it took time for Mose’s music to seep into the soul, but eventually
his songs really took hold. It is likely that one of Mose’s songs was first heard
here, indirectly, via the magnificent <i>Sandinista!</i> with The Clash swinging
through ‘Right Here’, a track from <i>The Word From Mose Allison</i>, which was
billed as being “words of wisdom from the jazz sage”, and the LP itself came
out the same week this boy said: “Stop this world I’m getting on”. And that
cover, with Mose looking decidedly dapper in that coat and scarf combination, with
the grey-flecked hair, well, what can you say? It worked that look, it really
did. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Sandinista!</span></i><span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">
Oh, it’s a wonderful thing, a flawed sprawling affair, sure, but so was Sinatra’s
<i>Trilogy</i>, his conceptual affair, which was out around the same time, and that
could be more than coincidence. <i>Sandinista!</i> is brilliant because it
covers so much ground, the musically curious Clash cats exploring whatever
alleys their passions took them down, and anyway everyone has their own <i>Sandinista!</i>
Don’t they?</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The one here is all
about the doomed romantic Joe’s post-‘Bankrobber’ blues and ballads, those unique
infusions of reggae, jazz, and folk song forms, different permutations each
time around, different emphases, the ones that sound like bottom-of-the-glass
midnight confessions, the bruised laments, heart of darkness marching songs, last-ditch
wild waltzes, and especially there’s ‘The Call Up’ and the rose that Joe wants
to live for, although God knows he may not have met her, and the dance where he
should be with her. It’s a sentimental strain that continues on into <i>Combat
Rock</i>, where again approximately a third of the songs are that way, leading
up to ‘Death is a Star’, as everything does. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Memories here of a <i>Sounds</i>
feature in July 1982, with the best pop writer of the time Dave McCullough on
the road with The Clash in Hollywood, and Joe’s talking about Dylan coming to
see them and then going off to record back-to-basics rock & roll again, and
Dave is suggesting this was ironic as <i>Combat Rock</i>’s richness saw The
Clash heading towards the narrative style of Dylan, Van Morrison, Joni and so
on. Then Joe picks up on the mention of Van and it touches something dormant in
him and he seems to drift off into a reverie about <i>Astral Weeks</i>, a
reverie haunted by ‘Cyprus Avenue’ in particular, and he talks about how Van
had lived the songs: “I defy anyone to say ‘Cyprus Avenue’ isn’t soul”. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And being young men
in the early-1980s they dismiss Van’s recent work. Dave was a big fan, though.
He loved <i>Into The Music</i>, but hated <i>Common One</i>, which was
characteristically perverse. He was notoriously fickle. Many years later, another
music writer, Greil Marcus would write about listening to Van, and he brutally
dismissed “the endless stream of dull and tired albums through the 1980s and
’90s carrying titles like warning labels.” He sneered at what he called the
characterless singing, the faceless playing on all those LPs from <i>Common One</i>
through to <i>Tell Me Something</i>. Well, that is fair enough. It’s a personal
opinion, and at least it makes it easier to reject Greil’s writing on the
grounds that he was stupid enough to write a book called <i>Lipstick Traces</i>
about punk and not mention either the O’Jays or Subway Sect. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Whether you love them
or not, Van’s determination to come up with an album every year-or-so is
impressive, and his work rate is admirable, the dogged dedication to his craft is
commendable, in an Agatha Christie type of a way. And all those records Greil
disparages, well, it seems an incredibly rich seam of work, and throughout the
1980s and into the ’90s, on these LPs, there seems to be a continuous narrative
which has come to be appreciated here very much, and maybe there is a theory to
be developed how one needs to be considerably older than Van was when he made
these records to really love them and feel them. It’s not essential but it
helps somehow.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">At one point, in one
of his poetic compositions, Van sings: “I wish my writing would come. You know
it’s hard sometimes.” Oh yes. That was a familiar feeling for a while here too.
And that’s when the penny dropped, when the words weren’t there, and one
solution was to keep busy, to keep from thinking, too much. On days when routine
gets you through, falling back on order and method, it became a ritual to play
one Van CD late each afternoon, working through chronologically, and that’s
when the 1980s LPs really clicked, despite or because of all their <i>Sandinista!-</i>style
distracting or detracting moments. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And played over and
over, some songs from that series of LPs, they offered something to draw on
when there seemed little else. At times they connected with something inside.
And then when the light came shining through, when everything fell into place,
on days like that, other songs captured that inner glow, what Van might call
the rapture, but just don’t ask him to explain.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The grandee Greil’s
gripes seem to centre on Van’s references becoming too explicit, and that makes
sense in a way, but Van’s sharing passions, and anyway you just go on and make
your own new connections, which might make no sense to anyone else, like say with
Bobby Scott’s ‘Rivers of Time’, Joy Division’s ‘Heart and Soul’, Hoagy
Carmichael’s too, Go-Betweens’ ‘Arrow in a Bow’, Orange Juice’s ‘Tender
Object’, Michael Head’s ‘Something Like You’, Jonathan Richman’s ‘Fly Into the
Mystery’ and ‘Angels Watching Over Me’, also Shena Mackay’s <i>The Orchard On
Fire</i>. Why not?</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">“We were the wild
children, born 1945, when all the soldiers came marching home from war with
love looks in their eyes,” sang Van. So, maybe Shena is a year older, born on
D-Day no less, but it’s all there, the two of them, in their work at times, the
growing up in the 1950s, the small but important details remembered, the
tastes, the smells, the sounds, the words. Imagine them now, sitting, drinking
tea, in a café on the outskirts of town, talking awkwardly about Ray Charles
and Gene Vincent and gazing out of the schoolroom window, the colours of the
leaves, the shops they remember, and the hymns that have haunted them. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So Van, there he was,
in the 1980s and beyond, with all that poetry and jazz to protect him, in with
the harps and synths, the pipes calling, his band and sweet choir, those
Sisters of Scarlet Carol and Katie, pure gospel, nearer my god to thee, and the
circling concepts, constant keywords, the repeated phrases, incantations and mantras,
the richness, the vividness of Van’s vocabulary, his imagery, the Arthurian
legends and Celtic myths, mysticism and mists, songs of spirituality, days of
deep devotion, evening meditation, contemplation, got to go on with the dreaming,
the healing, and into the daring night, the dark night of the soul, and you
know this world is so cold, and cares nothing for your soul, but all these
trials have not been in vain.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Then, in the daytime,
a lot of walking, daily walking close, in haunts of ancient peace, up that
mountainside, in that old great coat, in the woods, in days of leaves, wandering
over the green fields and far away, down by the river and by pagan streams. And
you know you’ve got to have faith, when it’s summertime in England, and the Irish
rover, the eternal exile, is a long way from home, a stranger in a town called
paradise, off the ancient highway, with the ancient voices calling, with visions
of Sal Paradise. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There are so many cherished
songs on those 1980s Van LPs, and into the 1990s too, where there’s ‘So Quiet
Here’, ‘Hymns to the Silence’, ‘In The Forest’, ‘Til We Get The Healing Done’, ‘Underlying
Depression’, ‘Days Like This’, beyond time. “Music and writing. Words. Memories.
Memories way back”. It’s so great the way Van strives to capture the shaping
forces that made him, to document and understand where he came from, and how he
seems to draw strength from that knowledge. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The parts where he
prefers the spoken word are peculiarly effective and affecting, in the spirit
of those wonderful Rod McKuen and Anita Kerr records, Sinatra’s <i>A Man Alone</i>,
Kevin Rowland’s reminiscences, and Joe on ‘Death is a Star’ where he seems to
channel Jack Kerouac. Van’s violent outbursts of Sidney Bechet and ‘O Sole Mio’
are things of incredible beauty, aren’t they? “Previous, previous, previous”.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Van tells stories so
vividly on ‘Coney Island’ and ‘Pagan Streams’ and conjures up the vanished
world of his own youth beautifully when talking to us on ‘A Sense of Wonder’, ‘See
Me Through Part Two’, and ‘On Hyndford Street’, singing too on ‘Cleaning
Windows’. He is particularly good when he speaks about the transformative
effect of the magic that came through on the wireless, through the ether, the jazz
and the blues and the folk, and Debussy on the Third Programme, in the early
morning when contemplation’s best, and so on, which all connects with growing
up on stories of Grandad Carney’s solemn weekly ritual listening to Cavan
O’Connor, and woe betide anyone who disturbed that sacred time.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The evocation of
Belfast back then in Van’s songs is covered in a lovely little book by the
Irish poet Gerald Dawe, which is called <i>In Another World</i> and so immediately
connects with Richard Hell as well as <i>Astral Weeks</i>. The slim book is
worth more than a dozen doorstop-sized biographies, the ones whose writers
cannot understand why there should be more mystery, more things hidden. One
chapter in Gerald Dawe’s book starts with a quote from Mose Allison’s ‘Was’ which
probably not coincidentally is one of the songs that appears on <i>Tell Me Something</i>,
a 1996 celebration of the songs of Mose, on which Van appears with Georgie
Fame, Ben Sidran, and Mose himself, plus a fine young line-up of jazz
musicians. It’s a fun record, and includes Ben Sidran sprightly singing ‘Look
Here’. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Ben is in grave danger
of becoming a real hero around here. Listening deeply to (most of) his 1970s
LPs, finally, has been a revelation of late, largely thanks to a neat BGO 2CD set
of his four Arista titles, and it’s been fun finding it so easy to relax into
his flow. Little bits every now and then seem nigglingly familiar, from a
Gilles Peterson show on the radio way back when perhaps, and unnervingly on <i>I
Live A Life </i>he sounds suspiciously like he might have been on constant
replay in Money Mark’s keyboard repair shop, but generally there’s not been a
sense here of being bombarded by people saying you’ve got to listen to Ben
Sidran, he’s right up your street, very sardonic, a right smartarse, like Lou
Reed if (if only!) post-Velvets he went off and became a singer playing piano
in saloon bars (after hours), and there’s no memory of reading how Ben’s tracks
are so sumptuously funky and jazzy and hip. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Except that
presumably Ben wasn’t exactly hip in the 1970s, but time has been kind to this wise
guy and his acidic songs, and if he was out of step back in the day you can at
least say he was cute enough to involve a lot of wonderful singers and players,
like Phil Upchurch, Blue Mitchell, Clyde Stubblefield, Tony Williams, Frank
Rosolino, the Brecker Brothers, Willie Tee, Woody Shaw, Mimi Farina, Larry
Carlton, Richard Davis, Mike Melvoin, Arthur Adams, Phil Woods, and Suzanne
Ciani, as well as summoning up the spirits of, say, Mark Murphy, Jon Hendricks,
Bob Dorough and very definitely Mose Allison, going as far as covering his ‘Foolkiller’
which had been another highlight from <i>Word From Mose</i>. Ben has said that
hearing Mose was a life-changing thing.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Van Morrison went
public on the debt he owes to Mose back when he recorded <i>A Sense of Wonder</i>,
in the mid-1980s, which included a cover of ‘If You Only Knew’ as well as Ray
Charles’ ‘What Would I Do?’. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>Tell Me
Something</i> forms part of Van’s collaborative phase, which began with <i>Irish
Heartbeat</i>, his project with The Chieftains which is such a joyous and
moving affair, with one of the most uplifting sequences in popular music,
taking in ‘Raglan Road’, ‘She Moves Through The Fair’, ‘I’ll Tell Me Ma’. And
then there is the duet with John Lee Hooker on ‘Wasted Years’, and the skiffle
celebration with Lonnie Donegan and Chris Barber, and also there’s the
partnership with Georgie Fame, who had played organ on a series of Van’s records,
<i>Avalon Sunset</i>, <i>Enlightenment</i>, <i>Hymns To The Silence</i>, and <i>Too
Long in Exile</i>. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Then in 1995 Van and sweet
Georgie Fame had some fun at Ronnie Scott’s putting together the delightful <i>How
Long Has This Been Going On,</i> where with a great group of young jazz
musicians they perform a set of old songs, including a couple of Mose Allison
covers and a cracking version of ‘That’s Life’. The emphasis was kind of on the
swingin’ vocalese side of jazz singing, with nods to King Pleasure, Louis
Jordan, and Jon Hendricks, so it was appropriate Annie Ross should pop up as
special guest on ‘Centerpiece’, the old Lambert, Hendricks & Ross classic.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Presumably Georgie and
Annie knew each other from the 1960s, with a Flamingo Club, Jeff Kruger, Ember
Records connection, and from when she ran Annie’s Room in Covent Garden where
the older in-crowd came to see the likes of Mark Murphy, Timi Yuro, Blossom
Dearie, Anita O’Day, Ethel Ennis, Nina Simone, and indeed Mose Allison. Oh for
a time machine! Then in 1981 Georgie and Annie recorded their celebration of
Hoagy Carmichael, <i>In Hoagland</i>, and while that is Hoagy’s real name it
always somehow suggests Hoagy Lands of ‘The Next in Line’ fame. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The record features
Hoagy C. himself, shortly before he died, and a great line-up of British jazz
players. Georgie and Annie are on fine form, and the record itself fits nicely
alongside Kid Creole and Vic Godard records of the era: Vic needless to say
being a big fan of Hoagy, and of ‘Washboard Blues’ in particular. That’s not a
gratuitous Godard mention as Vic’s championing of the classic songwriters back
then played a large part in a growing appreciation here of composers like
Hoagy, an understanding of whom could be gleaned from Radio 2 shows hosted by
Benny Green and Hubert Gregg. A big favourite here is a CD, <i>The Old Music
Master</i>, with liner notes by the charming Hubert, which features Hoagy, caught
on old 78s, singing his own songs (and you can trace the connection with Mose
on those), including ones covered by Georgie and Annie, like ‘Hong Kong Blues’,
‘Rockin’ Chair’, ‘Stardust’, ‘Lazy River’, and ‘Georgia On My Mind’ which Van
later did a great version of.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Annie is little more
than a presence on Van’s <i>How Long This Been Going On</i> celebratory set, a
totem, but from around that same time she can be heard in fantastic dramatic
form on the <i>Short Cuts</i> CD, a Hal Willner project based on the soundtrack
for Robert Altman’s film which was itself loosely based on some of Raymond Carver’s
classic short stories. Annie stars in the film, but the record is far better, a
real favourite here. On it she puts in a virtuoso performance of method acting,
as a damaged nightclub singer, accompanied by a small jazz combo who get it
just right, with calming classical interludes. Annie plays it on the record as
someone emotionally eroded by life’s stormy blasts, and it all comes out in the
tortured torch songs, delivered with exquisite timing and rhythm, though the
voice may be careworn and shall we say lived-in, an ideal counterpoint to the gnarly
Dylan of the time, oddly, and perfect for the part in a slightly unsettling blues-in-the-night
twisted way.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Annie herself really
turned pop music on its head when she wrote the words for and sang the aptly
named ‘Twisted’ in 1952, with a small group featuring Percy Heath and Art
Blakey, playing a large part in inventing vocalese as we now know it. Mark
Murphy did a great version too on his immortal <i>Rah!</i> Another song Mark
made his own was ‘Who Can I Turn To?’ which was the title track of his
mid-1960s Immediate LP. This Anthony Newley & Leslie Bricusse song was also
performed compellingly by Van Morrison and Georgie Fame on their Ronnie Scott’s
set. Van really gets inside the song, and the arrangement is gorgeous. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And Van’s intensity
is such that this listener is reminded of a scene in a 1991 TV drama about Tony
Hancock, with Alfred Molina brilliant in the title role plus, perhaps, Frances
Barber stealing the show as his wife, and this is when a very tired and
emotional Tony is at the radiogram, in his flat, drinking, crying, his wife
despairing, and Anthony Newley’s singing ‘What Kind of Fool Am I?’ in his
highly melodramatic way and Molina manages, just, to say: “He really
understands”. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And this was the
standout number from the Newley & Bricusse stage show <i>Stop The World I
Want To Get Off </i>which, as far as it’s possible to tell, has nothing to do
with Mose Allison’s ‘Stop This World’. Indeed, Mose has said his title came
from a sketch by Professor Irwin Corey. So, yeah, great minds think alike, and
all that. Coincidences do happen. What makes this funnier is that the Max
Harris theme tune for Newley’s <i>The Strange World of Gurney Slade</i>, a hit
in the UK which the astonishing TV series most definitely was not, is at times
extraordinarily close to Mose’s ‘Parchman Farm’. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What makes this stranger
still is that the ‘Parchman Farm’ piano riff recurs in Anthony’s ‘Bee-Bom’, the
fingerclickin’ cool bop b-side of his 1961 hit ‘Pop Goes The Weasel’. Newley mooching
through ‘The Weasel’ and ‘Strawberry Fair’, playing the old Cockney vernacular
card, was a particular highlight of listening to Radio 2 at home as a kid, and
later it seemed easy to make the connection to punk rock. Appropriately The
Clash would cover ‘Pop Goes The Weasel’ at soundchecks.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Anthony’s showbiz
mate Sammy Davis Jr. later teased ‘Bee-Bom’ into a very smart mod-jazz number,
and Morgana King, with an arrangement by Torrie Zito, took it further down that
road. The song even travelled as far as Czechoslovakia where in 1967 Karel
Štědrý sang it as ‘Bi-bom’ and there is a gloriously daft pop-art video to go
with the song from that optimistic pre-clampdown time there. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Century Gothic",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">‘Bee-Bom’ was
nominally written by Les Vandyke who also performed as the singer Johnny Worth.
Les wrote early hits for Adam Faith and for Eden Kane, Beardy Pegley’s mate.
Ironically, Les also wrote and recorded ‘Doin’ The Mod’, a piece of
opportunistic fun that naturally would be frowned upon down at The Scene in Ham
Yard where as Guy Stevens plays Mose Allison’s ‘Stop This World’, the young
kids might be dancing, and thinking: “Why can’t it always be like this?"</span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Yr Heartouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13069476478838746714noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3579071422066847226.post-42087538410787743802020-01-18T06:24:00.000+00:002020-01-18T13:56:04.634+00:00Bless The Day #4: Lazy Afternoon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkvwPaeHRMvVmxzYPCERxNWkgxTjzMii2zpg0LL48QvxQVRzQWFCwdV_pBiQnNEreXfcVAEIldw_Gvn802hWNphTob_h0CruBgXEk2kdWmKEzy77CMy1VYmcdLlsa1D3f0dR1CgQ3BaKQ/s1600/lucy+reed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="486" data-original-width="400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkvwPaeHRMvVmxzYPCERxNWkgxTjzMii2zpg0LL48QvxQVRzQWFCwdV_pBiQnNEreXfcVAEIldw_Gvn802hWNphTob_h0CruBgXEk2kdWmKEzy77CMy1VYmcdLlsa1D3f0dR1CgQ3BaKQ/s320/lucy+reed.jpg" width="262" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">‘It’s
A Lazy Afternoon’ as sung by Lucy Reed is quite something. Discreetly
accompanied by Dick Marx on piano and Johnny Frigo on bass doing the bare
minimum beautifully, her precise articulation, the exquisite enunciation, the unforced
projection, everything, it’s all so subtly sensual and seductive, the mood is incredibly
dreamy, so intimate, so tempting, so indolent. When Lucy suggests spending a
lazy afternoon with her, only a fool would hesitate.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She really
works wonders with John Latouche’s carefully chosen words, his very vivid
imagery, with those beetle bugs zooming, and the tulip trees blooming, the
farmer leaving his reaping, the speckled trout no longer leaping, the daisies
running riot amid the quiet. You really feel as though you are there, with Lucy
offering her hand, and with that look in her eye. There’s absolutely no need to
answer is there?</span></div>
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The
lyricist Latouche was quite a character by all accounts, and there are plenty
of accounts of him being a very sociable guy, very well-connected in New York’s
artistic and literary high society in the immediate post-WW2 years, with
friends and champions including Gore Vidal and Carson McCullers, moving freely
in the sort of circles you might associate with Truman Capote and Holly
Golightly. He wrote for John Cage and worked with Duke Ellington, and among the
many songs he provided the words for, before his early death in 1956, there is
‘Ballad for Americans’, with music by Earl Robinson, as sung by Paul Robeson,
famously. But ‘Lazy Afternoon’ is arguably John’s greatest moment, and certainly
Lucy Reed’s 1955 version is the favourite here, and God bless the day a wrong
turning was taken on YouTube which led to stumbling across this exquisite
recording.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">By
the time Lucy sang it on her debut LP, The Singing Reed, she was a mature lady,
in her mid-30s, with a young son. She had lost a husband in the war, and after
that decided to dedicate herself to singing jazz. Her performances with Dick
Marx and Johnny Frigo in Chicago clubs such as the Lei Aloha are legendary, and
this was at a time when there were a lot of great singers appearing regularly
in Chicago’s clubs, cabarets, and bars, and it is intoxicating to read of Jeri
Southern or Lurlean Hunter singing there, or Bev Kelly working with the Ramsey
Lewis Trio, and oh to hear Audrey Morris perform the songs that appeared on her
Bistro Ballads set (the one with Johnny Pate on bass) and imagine being in the
audience at Mister Kelly’s, sitting near Studs Terkel and Nelson Algren crying
into their beers.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">You
really can hear how the many dates they played, Lucy, Dick and Johnny, created
the close chemistry which shows on the few tracks they recorded together for
her debut. Most of the LP, however, was recorded in New York with Lucy backed
by a young Bill Evans leading a quartet or simply playing with bassist Bob
Carter. This would have been one of the very first recordings of Bill in a
studio.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Among
the quartet tracks is a quite remarkable recording of ‘Out of This World’,
where Bill’s arrangement has a South American flavour, with the repeated
rhythmic guitar motif giving an almost tango-like feel to the song. Lucy’s
singing throughout is wonderful. Quite non-demonstrative but incredibly
emotional, very natural, with no affectations, and her maturity works for her.
She is particularly good, with Bill accompanying her in a sympathetic way, on
Bart Howard’s ‘My Love is a Wanderer’, which has a haunting, folk song-like
feel. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Lucy
made one other LP in the 1950s, This Is Lucy Reed, which was produced in New
York in 1957. Having already recorded with Bill Evans, this time around she
worked with the George Russell Sextet and with a Gil Evans Septet, which shows
how highly she was regarded. There is a lovely story George Russell told about
how Lucy had rung him up one day and asked if she could bring her friend Bill
to visit. This was, oh yes, Bill Evans, and well you can look the tale up, but
this was how Bill came to work with George on his Jazz Workshop LP in 1956, and
later on the exceptional Jazz in the Space Age album.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The
three tracks Lucy recorded with George Russell are incredibly good (and all
these 1950s recordings are available on a Fresh Sound 2CD set), particularly
‘Born To Blow the Blues’, a composition by George with words by Jack Segal
about a young man with a horn, who lives only for his music, which may refer to
the film but better still is the idea that it was inspired by Dorothy Baker’s
brilliant novel, the story of Rick Martin, itself loosely based on the tragic
tale of Bix Beiderbecke, and within the book there are so many great lines
worth remembering or reciting, such as: “He stayed in the joints with his own
kind, the incurables, the boys who felt the itch to discover something. He
stayed within the closed circle of the fanatics, the old bunch of alchemists,
and there he did his work.” Or how about this? “The good thing, finally, is to
lead a devoted life, even if it swings around and strikes you in the face.” And
you can be sure it will, oh yes.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Another
of the tracks Lucy recorded with George Russell was a bewitchingly moving take
on ‘In The Wee Small Hours’, which is so familiar from the Sinatra version, but
sung by a lady who’s lost a husband in the war, has been bringing up a young
kid while working in the jazz world, well, it takes on new emotional
dimensions. She is quoted as saying: “I never sing anything that doesn’t kill
me when I hear it … I feel I go home as tired as a horn player, because I’m so
closely linked, emotionally speaking, to the tunes I do. I find songs that mean
so much to me, too, because I’ve had experience, more than many of the young
chicks singing today. I’m 35. The tunes are meaningful to me because I’ve lived
them.” There’s a book in those few sentences isn’t there?</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Another
four tracks on the LP were arranged by Gil Evans, and this was in January 1957 when
he was on the approach to the corner of Miles and Gil, a few months before he
and Miles put together the LP that was Miles Ahead and which led on to Porgy
and Bess and Sketches of Spain, those classics which it is tempting to kick
against but some days everything falls into place when you dig them out and
play them and find something new, not just what you’re told to appreciate in
them, and you realise they are indeed entitled to be considered classics.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Nat Hentoff’s liner notes give an insight into
Gil’s way of thinking when working with Lucy, and thinking is the operative
word because he clearly gave the arranging process careful consideration, which
makes sense. One of the songs Lucy and Gil did together is ‘A Trout, No Doubt’
which features some smart wordplay and hip tongue-twisters, and singing this
sort of clever nonsense seems to have been one of Lucy’s strengths, as she had
also done a fantastic job romping through ‘Tabby the Cat’ with Bill Evans in
support, you know the feline who walks around with a righteous air and addresses
Count Basie as Pally.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">‘Lazy
Afternoon’ has become a jazz standard, and there are many, many versions out
there. Some of them are great, but many of them just feel wrong, with the
arrangement or the singer doing too much or moving too fast. One of the most
enchanting versions is that sung by Scott Walker, a 1966 Walker Brothers-era
recording which lay in the vaults for 40-odd years, which gets the languid mood
just right, and who would resist an invitation from Scott? It was Kaye Ballard who
first sang ‘Lazy Afternoon’, and it appeared on a single in 1954 on the flip of
her recording, again the first, of Bart Howard’s ‘In Other Words’ which became
better known as ‘Fly Me To The Moon’.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Kaye
first sang ‘Lazy Afternoon’ in the 1954 Broadway musical, The Golden Apple, a retelling
of Homeric Greek myths set in smalltown America at the turn of the century,
with words by John Latouche and music by Jerome Moross. Maybe Moross is better
known as a soundtrack composer, particularly for Big Country, the main theme of
which will always be associated here with the Geoff Love Orchestra and his
Music for Pleasure LP of Big Western Movie Themes from 1969, part of a great and
very successful series, and it rings a bell that the early Pale Fountains set
great store by the Big Bond Movie Themes set alongside Sketches of Spain, and
indeed Concierto de Aranjuez was another Geoff Love success as Manuel and his
Music of the Mountains. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Another
of the most wonderful recordings of ‘Lazy Afternoon’ is by Helen Merrill, appropriately
as in the musical it is sung in the character of Helen, the fairest of them
all, which suggests a Herman Leonard shot of the singer from the 1950s somehow,
maybe the one where she has her hand pushing up her chin. Helen’s rendition is
mistier than Lucy’s, more reflective and wistful, but still incredibly intimate
which has always been Helen’s strength, the thing her big admirer Miles Davis apparently
wanted to capture in his playing, the art of natural intimacy, and Helen’s
ability to intimate, to suggest rather than state, is quite deadly. “Helen of
Destroy” is what the French critic Gil Pressnitzer reverently called her.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Helen’s
‘Lazy Afternoon’ appears on Merrill at Midnight, a 1957 recording, part of her
five-piece EmArCy suite of LPs, some of which were pop and others deep jazz but
all of them were wonderful, with a pool of musicians reappearing here and there
across the titles, in different permutations and settings, like Milt Hinton,
Osie Johnson, Barry Galbraith, Oscar Pettiford, Hank Jones, Art Farmer, and
Jerome Richardson, the truly intuitive players, which can be no coincidence. That
LP also features a mesmerising recording of ‘Black is the Colour of My True
Love’s Hair’ which leaves this listener simply spellbound every time it is
played, and that is often. In interviews Helen has spoken about how she used to
hear her mother singing Croatian folk songs around the home as a kid and maybe
she channels some of that magic on this early performance?</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Helen
is, quite possibly, the favourite singer here, a position she has attained by
stealth, a gradual growing awareness just how many exceptional performances she
has released on record over the course of many years, allied with a realisation
there are so many of her LPs that one has yet to hear. And Helen is also almost
certainly the only singer, apart from Lucy Reed, to record with Bill Evans, George
Russell and Gil Evans. She was determined to have Gil Evans as the arranger on
her Dream Of You set from 1957, when again he was heading towards (being) Miles
Ahead, and it perhaps can be argued that it shows. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The
record is worth buying for the cover portrait of Helen alone, that smile, those
eyes, but the LP itself is extraordinary. Gil’s arrangements were surely
challenging to sing with, but Helen at times sounds like she is surfing the
waves of sound and at other times she seems to be carressed by the music,
floating like a cloud, weightless and lost in a world of her own, impervious, cocooned,
wrapped, rapt, and the performance of ‘Where Flamingos Fly’ by Helen and Gil is
simply beautiful and a sort of suggestion of what was to come on Out Of The
Cool with Jimmy Knepper’s trombone singing Helen’s part so movingly.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The
following year, 1958, Helen recorded The Nearness of You, which again has an
exceptional picture of her on its cover, and quite possibly it is the one to
look at while listening to her sing ‘Lazy Afternoon’. Five of the tracks on
this record, the last of her EmArCy LPs, were recorded with George Russell and
his quintet, featuring Bill Evans on piano, Barry Galbraith on guitar, and
Bobby Jaspar on flute. ‘I See Your Face Before Me’ from this session is
particularly arresting, with Helen sounding like she’s sharing secrets, and
Bill shadowing her, lost in daydreams of his own. And this was around the time
he would go off and work with Miles Davis and record Kind Of Blue, an LP
apparently shaped by some of George Russell’s musical concepts, an LP that has
shaped so many of our own concepts of music.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">On
the other seven tracks from The Nearness of You Helen was accompanied by a
quintet featuring Dick Marx on piano and Johnny Frigo on bass, with Mike
Simpson on flute, Fred Rundquist on guitar, and Jerry Slosberg on drums. Their
performance of ‘Summertime’ is quite extraordinary. It is a song we have all
heard so often, in so many different ways, and Helen and her group take it so
slowly and softly that it’s like a lullaby, but quite scary in a way, with a
real edge to it, which is captivating, and the perfect complement to what Marx
and Frigo did so wonderfully well with Lucy Reed on ‘Lazy Afternoon’. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Quite
possibly the version of ‘Lazy Afternoon’ that first made an impression here was
Karin Krog’s from the Mr Joy LP she recorded in 1968, which became quite an
obsession, especially the remarkable title track. It is tempting to build up
quite a convincing theory that Karin’s recording was inspired by the Lucy Reed
rendition, particularly as Lucy’s friend George Russell wrote the liner notes
for Mr Joy in which he celebrates Karin’s pioneering spirit and the way as a
jazz singer she was stretching out towards new music and electronics, while
taking jazz and folk forms in new directions with her musicians, who included
saxophonist Jan Garbarek who also played on George’s contemporaneous Electronic
Sonata for Souls Loved By Nature.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But,
no, in interviews to promote her 2015 Light In The Attic compilation Don’t Just
Sing, Karin said that her ‘Lazy Afternoon’ was inspired by the instrumental
version on Pete La Roca’s Basra, his Blue Note LP from 1965, where the drummer
is accompanied by Steve Kuhn on piano, Steve Swallow on bass, and Joe Henderson
singing sweetly on tenor sax, which is pretty cool really as it’s not one of
the records that the casual jazz fan would immediately associate with Blue
Note, but it is one of the favourites here. Wouldn’t it be great if it were a
favourite of Scott Walker’s too? It would make sense.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Basra
is a brilliant record, one of so many incredible Blue Note LPs from that period.
Apart from the lovely lope through ‘Lazy Afternoon’, the consistently excellent
set features the Latin flavours of ‘Malaguena’ and the Middle Eastern inspired
title track. La Roca had an impressively outward-looking approach, and Ira
Gitler in the liner notes refers to the drummer’s study of Indian music,
Sanskrit, yoga and James Joyce. A personal favourite, the impressively sinuous
and serpentine ‘Candu’ is another obsession here, and rates with the best
rhythmic blues dance performances of the time.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Another
1965 recording Pete La Roca played on was Helen Merrill’s The Feeling Is
Mutual, the first of her pair of collaborations with the pianist and arranger
Dick Katz. These two LPs are mesmerising, and showcase Helen’s artistry
perfectly. The first also has sympathetic support from Ron Carter, Jim Hall,
and Thad Jones. That trio also appeared on the 1968 follow-up, A Shade of
Difference, alongside performances by Gary Bartz, Richard Davis (weeks before
he played on Astral Weeks), Elvin Jones and Hubert Laws, which is perfect
really. From The Feeling Is Mutual the recording of ‘Deep in a Dream’ is as
good as anything ever, Helen singing with just Jim Hall’s guitar accompaniment,
and if the song is associated with a wistful Chet then Helen is the one who
goes deep, without ever making a great show of it, and she reaches somewhere
really deep on this one.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The
choice of material on these two LPs, mostly ballads, wonderfully, is resolutely
rooted in jazz standards and unearthed lost gems, and there was (presumably
consciously) no attempt to tackle contemporary pop material thus helping to
make the records timeless. This is pertinent as there was a distant family link
between Helen and Laura Nyro, which Michele Kort revealed in her book Soul
Picnic, and indeed Laura’s immortal Wedding Bell Blues was reportedly about a
doomed romance of (sort of) Aunt Helen’s, one that led to her going into exile,
which in turn led to her working with Piero Umiliani on her wonderful Parole e
Musica set with the unforgettable recitations of the lyrics in Italian between
Helen’s performances.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The loose
family links between Helen and Laura are almost casually mentioned in Michele’s
excellent book, but it is quite intoxicating when the thought finally sinks in,
the idea of that connection and how it prompts questions about whether Laura
was influenced by Helen and her resolutely uncompromising approach to her art.
The jazz aspect to Laura’s singing and writing is often spoken of, but it is
usually in the context of Billie, Miles and Coltrane rather than closer to home,
so who knows? Surely Laura was aware of Helen’s work, and vice versa, but
critics do not seem to have explored this, or have they?</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And
then, just as casually, Michele mentions Helen’s son Alan who as a kid was a
close friend of Laura growing up in the Bronx in their unorthodox homes. And
then that too really registers: it is Alan Merrill as in Arrows, an early
childhood love here when the week revolved around the new issue of Look-In and
the pop of Chinn & Chapman soundtracked this world. Then, later, learning how
the name Arrows came from Peter Meaden, their first manager, who in a recurring
pattern lost them to Mickie Most. Then, Arrows pop-up in Jon Savage’s England’s
Dreaming in the audience for an early Pistols gig at the El Paradise strip club
in Soho. And, most recently, Alan’s name crops-up in the credits of the superbly
autumnal Light in the Attic compilation, Even A Tree Can Shed Tears: Japanese
Folk & Rock 1969 – 1973, where he plays keyboards on a Gypsy Blood LP in
1972, at a time when his mother was living out there.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Quite
probably Alan had something to do with one of the records Helen made in Japan
at the start of the 1970s which was a very irregular set of songs from The
Beatles’ catalogue, with some unexpected choices and some occasionally experimental
arrangements from pianist Masahiko Satoh. And with Helen’s delivery often so
confidential, seemingly so close to the listener’s ear, some of the Beatles’
ballads work wonderfully well as secrets imparted, and it is incredible really
how songs, like ‘In My Life’, which they wrote as young men take on so many new
dimensions when sung reflectively by an older woman. In particular Helen’s
version of ‘If I Fell’ is exceptional, a whispered confession, and the way she
sings “please” is frightening, while ‘And I Love Him’ is a gorgeous bossa blues.
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Masahiko
also recorded with Helen around that time as part of the Gary Peacock Trio on a
daring LP that closes with a devastating version of Buffy Sainte-Marie’s ‘Until
It’s Time For You To Go’, and it is tempting to fantasise about Helen and that
line-up making an LP of Laura’s early ballads, soft and slow and sort of
stretched out in a cat-like way, in minimal settings. So, for example, on A
Shade of Difference, a haunted Helen solemnly sings ‘Lonely Woman’, the Ornette
Coleman tune with words by Margo Guryan, and it is easy to imagine her also
singing Laura’s ‘Lonely Women’ and its line about how no-one knows the blues
like lonely women. And it is fun to play with the notion of Helen singing, say,
‘Billy’s Blues’, ‘Poor Susan’, ‘I Never Meant To Hurt You’, ‘He’s A Runner’, ‘December’s
Boudoir’, ‘Woman’s Blues’, ‘You Don’t Love Me When I Cry’, ‘New York
Tendaberry’, ‘Been On A Train’, ‘Upstairs By A Chinese Lamp’, and maybe, yeah, ‘Stoned
Soul Picnic’, because isn’t it really a younger relation of ‘Lazy Afternoon’?</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In
fairness to Michele Kort, when Soul Picnic was first published, or indeed first
read, there would have been little sense here of the sustained brilliance of
Helen’s singing career, and the discovery of her artistry has been a personal
highlight of the past dozen-or-more years. It was once like that with Laura.
There seemed relatively little said in the 1980s about her magnificence. Indeed,
the first time her name piqued interest here was via a glorious version of
‘Stoned Soul Picnic’ by Johnny Johnson & the Bandwagon found on a Direction
soul compilation, which also featured Cliff Nobles, so there was quite a strong
Dexys connection. And then there was ‘Reminisce (Part Two)’ with Kevin talking
about ‘Wedding Bell Blues’. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Did
her songs get played on the radio back then or were her records generally
available?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It doesn’t, ahem, ring any
bells, but there is a recollection of overhearing The Wolfhounds’ Callahan recommending
Laura to Alan McGee one night upstairs at The Black Horse in Camden, and earlier
the same night McGee raving about Manicured Noise’s ‘Faith’. Who knows why that
should stick in the mind so? Then the first time one of Laura’s records would
have been played here was a boot sale find of an old 45 on Verve Folkways of
‘Goodbye Joe’ (which was a lovely fit with Tracey Thorn singing Bid’s song of
the same name) backed with ‘Billie’s Blues’, which was spelt that way, yes,
making misleading connections to Billie H. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Perhaps
partly because of that old salvaged single, Laura’s debut More Than A New
Discovery is much loved here and, while it may never have sounded the way Laura
imagined it should, Herb Bernstein’s arrangements mostly work so well. And his
is a name revered here for that, and for things like what he did with Barbara
Banks’ ‘River of Tears’, Lainie Hill’s ‘Time Marches On’, and what he did with
Norma Tanega and on ‘If You’re Ready Now’ with Frankie Valli and co. Then
appropriately his successor as Laura’s arranger was Charlie Calello, who also
had close links to The Four Seasons’ stable, which may be coincidence, but as
the great Kate Atkinson wrote: “A coincidence is just an explanation waiting to
happen”.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">One
of the reasons why it can be claimed Laura was a great jazz singer would be the
way she could take someone else’s song and get inside it and let it get inside
of her and then turn it inside out and present it in a new context. For
example, her (“I’m a non-believer but I believe in your”) Smile LP, a favourite
here always, opens with a cover of The Moments’ ‘Sexy Mama’, and apart from its
brilliance there is the tangential association with memories of 1975 and the
All Platinum sound of The Moments with ‘Girls’, ‘Dolly My Love’, and ‘Shame
Shame Shame’ by Shirley and Co., The Rimshots, and somehow those youth club
disco sounds seem as much an integral part of the Postcard mythology as the
Velvets and Byrds. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "century gothic" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Then
there’s Laura’s spiritual record with Labelle, but also there’s the Christmas Laura
singing, well reclaiming really, transforming yes, ‘Up On The Roof’, a song of sanctuary,
escape, but also an offer of a clandestine liaison, an invitation, like ‘Lazy
Afternoon’, definitely ‘Lazy Afternoon’. And here’s an invitation: play Lucy
Reed’s ‘Lazy Afternoon’ straight after listening to Sir Peter Maxwell Davies’
own performance of his protest ‘Farewell To Stromness’. It works, magically.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Yr Heartouthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13069476478838746714noreply@blogger.com8