Audio Mobility - Cassette Snapshots #2

The second in the NME’s long-running series of tape compilations was Jive Wire. It was trailed as being “21 choice tracks by the cool, hot and crazy soundmakers of 1982, collected on cassette by the world’s sharpest music read, New Musical Express.” 30-odd years on it’s striking how well it is put together. The running order was clearly given some careful consideration as there is a definite flow to proceedings. Ironically, this programming adds to a sense of things falling apart in terms of a music scene becoming more factionalised. I can remember at the time feeling a sense of “oh yeah this-and-that selection of tracks are for me” while simultaneously feeling a definite sense of hostility towards certain other sounds/stances that were represented.
What I felt particularly enthusiastic about was the jazz related sounds, and particularly the sequence that went Defunkt, Rip Rig & Panic, Carmel, and Vic Godard. Those tracks were the ones I would return to, and feel a sense of affinity with. These were, after all, still sternly anti-rockist times, and jazz in all its guises and with all its connotations was emerging as an ideal alternative. Vic Godard was very much my hero at the time, resplendent in his tuxedo and bow tie, coolly clicking his fingers as he crooned for us hipsters. And Carmel who is featured with the magnificent Storm was the epitome of boho cool at the time, coming from an awkwardly avant-garde background but creating compellingly haunting music as a group with those incredible vocals to the fore. The Jive Wire cover design was illustrated by Serge Clerc, who would do a lot of work for the NME in the early ‘80s. Along with Mark Wigan and Ray Lowry he was the illustrator of the day. His particular emphasis was on a retro-futurist cool featuring be-quiffed young men in zoot suits and spats, playing saxophones, dancing with beautiful beat angels. He would appropriately go on to design the distinctive cover for Carmel’s debut LP The Drum when it finally appeared, produced by Mike Thorne of Wire fame.
The sections of Jive Wire I really felt uncomfortable with were the glossy ‘new pop’ parts where it felt like there wasn’t any room to breathe. In particular, it was the born-again glossicists that got to me: Thompson Twins, and Leisure Process which was the vehicle for the occasional Sounds writer Ross Middleton, a fervent evangelist for the ‘new pop’ movement. Ironically it would be David Gamson, who would later be an integral part of Scritti, who showed how the new funk could be done, with the stunning No Turn On Red. Gamson by this stage had already released a single on Rough Trade, albeit one (a radical electro re-imagining of Sugar Sugar) I believe which was rejected by Ze. No Turn On Red, nevertheless, in many ways sounds like the consummate Ze delight, almost too much so. Scritti are also represented, with the glorious reggae knees-up Asylums in Jerusalem. It is one of my favourite Scritti moments, though I confess it’s more to do with the simple pleasures of Green singing “Let him hip hop hippity hop ...” I seem to remember The Raincoats having a similar line.
Reggae is also represented here by Black Uhuru and by Aswad. The latter’s Ghetto In The Sky features a fantastic dub. There is a strong dub influence too in the funk/soul stylings of Buzzz whose Tonight’s Alright is an exclusive to the cassette. It’s an astonishingly good track. Buzzz released a few singles in 1982, got on the cover of Melody Maker, but you really get the impression they were too far ahead of their time. They were essentially reggae guys who’d played with Rico, for example. The singer was Dee Sharp who remains revered in UK lovers rock circles. He was, I believe, the first person to release a single on the legendary London label Fashion with the glorious Let’s Dub It Up.
The more primitive r‘n’r urges are catered for by Tav Falco’s Panther Burns and the Gun Club, and there can be no denying that the Americans were so much better at this than any UK counterparts. Theatre of Hate, whose Dreams of Poppies is included, really were never in the same league, but they were nevertheless a strange outfit with a remarkable underground following rather like Adam and the Ants had before the pop makeover. The closing track on the tape is Madeleina by Congolese soukous star Pablo, or to give him his proper name Pablo Lubadika Porthos. The full version of this was released as a 12” by Island, and judging by comments on the internet this track was for many people the entry point for investigating African sounds. It certainly sounds glorious, even now. And Island at the time, in its inimitable way, played an important part in promoting the music being made in Africa at that time.
It’s tempting to close with a video featuring one of the contributions by the ‘greats’ featured on this tape (Suicide's Dream Baby Dream, Kraftwerk's The Model, Gil Scott Heron's B-Movie), but it’s worth stepping sideways perhaps and including this 1984 Top of the Pops performance by Nick Heyward of his hit Warning Sign, which features a show-stealing rap/presence by Dee Sharp (post-Buzzz) which may be a little eyebrow raising for some ...

Audio Mobility - Cassette Snapshots #1

After the success of its C81 collaboration with Rough Trade in early 1981 the NME launched a long-running series of tape compilations. The first release in this series was the Dancin’ Master cassette which was ‘assembled’ in Autumn 1981. Where C81 placed a particular emphasis on showcasing sounds from small labels with a strong Rough Trade-related presence, the Dancin’ Master comes at the pop thing from a different, much more colourfully corporate, bigger-budget, angle with a pronounced Island-linked leaning. The tape is a bit of a mess, with several of the major attractions represented by live tracks or reworkings. But the appeal of the big guns, like The Jam, The Beat, Ian Dury, Elvis Costello, Talking Heads, will have been a useful way of capturing the attention of readers.
The rhetoric around the Dancin’ Master cassette reflects how pop had evolved during 1981. The cover proclaims: “Heart/Beat x Body/Motion + Soul/Sound = Dance Commotion”. The new emphasis was on the communal if imaginary dancefloor, where as it was easy to envisage C81 being about dancing alone in the bedroom or living room. If C81 set the tone with Scritti’s The ‘Sweetest’ Girl, then Dancin’ Master set its stall out with a version of Tom Browne’s Funkin’ For Jamaica. You could write several books about the contrasts and similarities between those two tracks alone.
The Tom Browne track is perfectly followed by a great track from Linx, who were one of three acts to feature on both C81 and Dancin’ Master. From a perspective of 30-odd years on the three British funk tracks featured on Dancin’ Master (Junior Giscombe and Beggar & Co. are also included) sound particularly brilliant. It’s tempting to argue they sound so great that there must have been some sort of subsequent conspiracy to suppress or stifle their magnificence. Although knowing the UK music industry it’s doubtless more a case of general ignorance and lack of imagination, not knowing how to develop the homegrown talent, thus shooting itself in the foot.
There is a strong New York presence on this collection, reflecting how the city had become very much the place to look for inspiration. The attention had been on Liverpool, Manchester, Glasgow and Edinburgh, but suddenly New York had a glamour that was not to be found in the UK’s creative centres. Early Sugarhill rap tracks from Grandmaster Flash and Funky Four + 1 still sound perfect alongside recordings by Kid Creole and the Coconuts and James White and the Blacks. This was at a time when parts of the pop media were getting very excited about Ze Records and the whole Mutant Disco thing was about to take off, Island was handling distribution etc., and August Darnell was understandably enough considered to be the saviour of the human race. The Kid Creole track included on Dancin’ Master was a live romp through his old Machine disco classic There But For The Grace Of God Go I, and the James White track was the August Darnell disco remodelling of Contort Yourself.
There is the temptation to read too much into a tape, but the absence of electronic ‘new pop’ outfits is intriguing. It’s probably only a question of timing and practicalities. Synthesizers, however, are really only represented by the Japanese contingent, which was Yellow Magic Orchestra-protégée Susan, and The Plastics covering The Monkees.
UK reggae was well represented. The legendary Lloyd Coxsone of Sir Coxsone Sound is featured with Zion Bound. It would, I confess, be another 12-odd years before I hear the King of the Dub Rock sets Coxsone made, when they appeared on CD. Zion Bound was from the second of these, which ironically featured Sly & Robbie blurring the lines between the UK underground and Chris Blackwell’s Compass Point revolution. Dennis Bovell was also featured on Dancin’ Master with Better which would also appear on his Brain Damage LP, a record which even by the mixed-up standards of the early ‘80s featured an astonishing array of styles. Dennis also appeared with his dub mix of The Polecats’ Rockabilly Guy, which again illustrates how lines could become delightfully blurred. It’s actually amusing now watching old Top of the Pops footage of The Polecats from ’81, with Boz Boorer there with his quiff and Gretsch, to note how soon afterwards The Smiths would be treading the same revivalist boards. Although if you are going to look back it would be more worthwhile to spend 40 minutes or so with this 1981 documentary on sound systems in London, which heavily features Six Coxsone Sound. Credit must be given to Dreadphotos for sharing this valuable footage:

Freedom Now: Sounds of Portugal - Pt.7

Freedom Now: Sounds of Portugal is the latest in our series of mixtapes, and it can be downloaded for free here. I suspect there would have been a time when mention of Portuguese music might have made me think immediately and exclusively of Ana Da Silva, who was born in Portugal and while 'in exile' in London joined The Raincoats to make unprecedented music. Many, many years after The Raincoats' amazing debut 7" Ana made a lovely LP for the (at the time) fantastic Chicks On Speed label. Her LP, The Lighthouse, was surprisingly electronic and great fun. The 'cuckoo in the nest' was her cover of Modinha, the beautiful song written by Antonio Carlos Jobim & Vinicius De Moraes. Ana's interpretation is a collaboration with Stuart Moxham (her one-time co-revolutionary chez Rough Trade), and it's gorgeous. Ana's voice is crackly, and I may be making this up as I go along but there seems a strong suggestion of the fado (Portuguese blues)tradition in Ana's delivery.
It was a civilised tradition when practically every LP released featured a Jobim-related song, and I still applaud Ana and Stuart for reviving that. Modinha has been recorded by many, and there is a very special version by Nana Caymmi who has one of my very favourite voices. But there is something about this performance by Tom Jobim and Elis Regina ...

Freedom Now: Sounds of Portugal - Pt.6

Freedom Now: Sounds of Portugal is the latest in our series of mixtapes, and it can be downloaded for free here. The mix in terms of time and sound is very much what might be called pre-punk. In fact the whole Anywhere Else But Here Today trans-global pop adventure had deliberately steered clear of punk/new wave sounds. But occasionally while carrying out investigations some fantastic punk era treasures have popped-up unexpectedly. And that certainly happened while rummaging around for Portuguese treasures.
I have to confess I was totally delighted to stumble across this clip of Aqui d'el-Rock, a Portuguese punk outfit, who made this fantastic film for local TV in 1978. The sound is very hard punk rock in the spirit of the Saints/Damned. Indeed the look of the group and the feel of the video reminds me of the much-viewed clip of the Saints doing (I'm) Stranded. I can't add much more about Aqui d'el-Rock. I know they released a couple of singles, but this is all you need:


And then I chanced upon a clip of the group Street Kids performing the track Propaganda on TV. It is wonderful stuff, and oozes 1981 in so many ways. It reminds me of one of those groups like B-Movie or Music For Pleasure that combined synths with a real driving dance-sound. And the look is VERY reminiscent of The Teardrop Explodes/Scars, complete with those dreadful Afghan scarf type things draped round the neck, which makes me think of a certain Mr Cope. I can add very little about Street Kids, but I think I am right in saying that the keyboards player was Nuno Canavarro who released an LP in 1988 called Plux Quba, which would become a massive cult favourite. It features Nuno using electronics, melodica, and pre-recorded tapes, and tracks like Cave sound years ahead of their time - Jim O'Rourke reissued it - and you'd almost swear it was a lost Warp release, or even something that could be enthusiastically reviewed in The Wire this month. It's a strange and gorgeous record, but I won't pretend I've known of it for years. I have to confess I only discovered it following clues from this ...

Freedom Now: Sounds of Portugal - Pt.5

Freedom Now: Sounds of Portugal is the latest in our series of mixtapes, and it can be downloaded for free here. One of the stars of the mix is Tonicha, singing Já chegou a liberdade. I understand Tonicha has been over the years one of the most successful pop figures in Portugal. She represented her country in the 1971 Eurovision Song Contest, singing the brilliant Menina, and if you hunt around on the web you will find some great photos, pic sleeves etc. of Tonicha in her pop prime. Ironically I first came across her music while rooting around randomly, and found a great track enthusiastically tagged 'acid folk'. It is quite amusing when rummaging around to note how pervasive the tag 'acid folk' has become, and I'm still not sure if it is helpful or not to use the label on each and every recording from any part of the world that blends traditional folk music with a suggestion of electric guitars.
I have yet to come up with a convenient shorthand of my own for what seems another universal art form. In the 1960s there was a worldwide trend for wonderfully dramatic ballads which seem to fuse ultra-emotional soul-style songs with more traditional local pop forms. Dusty Springfield is the UK example, Italy had Mina, and pretty much any country you care to choose has its own wonderful and often odd examples of this art form. But what is a convenient catch-all for this strand of pop history? I mean, I hate labels, but sometimes ... Anyway, here is a clip of Tonicha from 1968 giving a great performance of this very art form:

Freedom Now: Sounds of Portugal - Pt.4

Freedom Now: Sounds of Portugal is the latest in our series of mixtapes, and it can be downloaded for free here. One of the highlights of the mix is Maria Rita by Duo Ouro Negro. I have been half expecting someone to point out that the duo was not actually from Portugal at all, which would be true enough. The pair, Raul Indipwo and Milo MacMahon, were originally from Angola. And I can’t even claim that they were based in Portugal all the time. As true internationalists, they lived and performed all over the place, and their music reflected that. But they certainly are closely associated with Portugal, and it was via the Portuguese TV special Rua D’Iliza that I first stumbled across Duo Ouro Negro. This was a musical drama the pair produced, drawing heavily on their Angolan roots, and it’s such a glorious infectious work. It’s certainly one of my favourite posts over at Anywhere Else But Here Today.
Predicatably I’m no expert on the work of Duo Ouro Negro, but from what I’ve heard I absolutely love the way their sound is so fantastically mixed-up. At one moment their vocal harmonies are as sweet as the Everly Brothers, but then you consider there seem to be traces of African folk sounds, Cuban music, Brazilian samba and a whole lot more at any one time. An internet favourite is a 1959 recording with the Brazilian accordionist Sivuca, which is exquisite. And a favourite of mine is their version of the Indonesian lullaby Suliram, which oddly I first heard via the Yugoslavian singer Oivera Vuco, who recorded it in 1966. Coincidentally Olivera and Duo Ouro Negro were at various times in the ‘60s the toast of Paris at the Olympia. In fact Duo Ouro Negro are credited with making kwela the hippest dance craze in Paris in the mid-‘60s. But I always thought kwela was from South Africa ...
This is my particular favourite Duo Ouro Negro track which is simply gorgeous. I wish I could find footage of the pair singing it, but for now:

Freedom Now: Sounds of Portugal - Pt.3

Freedom Now: Sounds of Portugal is the latest in our series of mixtapes, and it can be downloaded for free here. The collection draws heavily on the folk songs or canção de intervenção that were part of the protest movement against the totalitarian regime in Portugal, and the performers were an important part of the resistance that led to The Carnation Revolution on 24 April 1974. Among the featured artists is Luis Cilia, with a fantastic track from his 1973 LP, Contra A Ideia Da Violência A Violência Da Ideia. I have to confess it was the title of that set that initially attracted me while I was rummaging around in the treasure troves of vintage Portuguese music, and the title track itself is remarkable. I am far from being an authority on the music of Luis Cilia, but I do know he was exiled from Portugal for a decade or so from 1964. Almost inevitably he lived and recorded in Paris, the city of exiles, where he continued to make a nuisance of himself as an outspoken critic of the policies of the Portuguese authorities at home and abroad (e.g. in Angola, where Cilia was born). The theme of exile in Paris is a familiar one with the Anywhere Else But Here Today/Your Heart Out projects.
Unsurprisingly, the singers who are included in the canção de intervenção movement, and who found support among or supported the left-wing opposition groups in Portugal, were not featured on TV and so sadly there is not much in the way of archival footage. Fortunately, with Luis Cilia the opposite is true. There seem to be quite a few pieces of film of Luis performing while in exile in Paris, where he looks wonderfully like a young Jean-Pierre Leaud.