Older Than God is a series of documentary webisodes charting the artistic life of touch guitarist, musician and composer Markus Reuter (Stick Men, Crimson ProjeKct, Centrozoon, along with collaborations too many to list) lovingly filmed by his long-time friend and colleague Lee Fletcher. This is the latest episode:
The complete schedule of releases, further information and details of intended hard copy releases can be found on http://www.olderthangod.com/about.html
A fascinating insight into the motivations of a true artist, and more than worthy of a few minutes of your time.
Tuesday, 12 March 2013
Saturday, 2 March 2013
After the headphone dust has settled...
Their is a major problem with being a fan of a particular band or artist and attempting to write a review of a new album by said artist, to a strict deadline, in order that the review is posted on or before the official release date. That problem is objectivity, or lack of it. Fuelled by the adrenaline of anticipation, the fanboy's (or girl's) immediate reaction, unless the record is truly awful, is a spewing forth of hyperbole, a gushing sycophancy, accompanied by a general star-struck demeanour.
In my case that artist is Steven Wilson and the album was The Raven That Refused To Sing (And Other Stories). I submitted my review to DPRP and have since realised with hindsight that it could be construed as somewhat fawning, although it is odd that the two most gushing reviews came from colleagues who are SW newbies. My review was tempered with mild criticism, but after reading my mate Phill's acerbic take on it, I promised myself to revisit the album after the sturm und drang had subsided. The "sturm" of course includes the live concert on Monday, but, impetuous chappy that I am I ain't gonna wait that long!
The only way I could do this properly was to sit down and listen to all 3 of Steven's solo albums to date, back to back, so that I could glean a semblance of context, progression, call it what you will. My listening is restricted to the albums proper, so any gems hidden in the bonus tracks are discounted. Sitting through this lot was a task that was hardly taxing, I must admit!
In order to put my Raven DPRP review in context I am going to have to bite the bullet and continue with the dreaded, and in my opinion, unnecessary, marking system. Album grading is carried out in these contexts:
1. I regard Porcupine Tree's peak as being The Sky Moves Sideways and Signify albums. The former is a modern take on Floyd space rock, the latter is a more slick and polished version of that, and, if there was any justice, Signify should have been their breakthrough album, not the dogs' dinner faux-metal of Fear Of A Blank Planet.
2. In the world of prog if, say, Close To the Edge is a 10/10 and Going For The One a 9/10, then those two PT albums above are a 9 and an 8.5 in my opinion. When giving something high marks one has to remember that in ten years' time are you going to be playing Raven or whatever as often as the real classics? If you're being honest, probably not, eh?
Insurgentes
The solo debut has the feel of a true solo album, a real "one man show with guests" if you will. Part Porcupine Tree leftovers, part weird experimentation, this was made with the influence of late 70s and early 80s UK indie, the sounds the then teenage Wilson grew up with.
Standout tracks:
No Twilight Within The Courts Of The Sun - a wildly adventurous mash up of The Cure and spiky prog metal, including a classical piano break, and bloody marvellous it is too!
Significant Other - Steven goes shoegaze...OK, some of you think he's spent his entire career "gazing at his plimsoles", but this is a lost shoegaze classic.
Phill bemoans the lack of tunes on Raven, but there are no more "tunes" on Insurgentes to be honest. And, in my opinion, tunes are not the be all and end all anyway. Moody, broody and very dark, Insurgentes is SW at his most inward-looking.
Conclusion - for fans only: 6/10
What? Only 6? Look at it another way - if you got 60% in an exam, you wouldn't be disappointed, would you?
Grace For Drowning
In which "the band that isn't a band" was first tentatively assembled, which makes it all hang together so much better than Insurgentes. Grace For Drowning is a sprawling beast of a double album that translated so well into the live setting on the last tour.
Standout tracks:
Sectarian - Jazz-prog done properly, right up my particular avenue!
Deform To Form A Star - Stands out because it sounds like an old-fashioned (pre prog-metal) PT song, and doesn't really fit here. Nice tune though.
Belle De Jour - The calm before the storm, an utterly lovely but brief slice of instrumental melancholia built around Steven's simple but effective acoustic guitar figure.
Raider II - That oh so unusual thing - a modern prog track of epic length that isn't either; a) a mess (Anesthetise come on down), or b) instantly forgettable. I'll even forgive the Crimson and VDGG references writ large. More jazz-prog for astronauts!
Conclusion - 7.5/10
Maybe in need of a bit of editing, as there is a 9/10 60-minute album here, but full marks for taking risks.
The Raven That Refused To Sing (And Other Stories)
Luckily for you, I'm not going to review it again, just attempt to contextualise it, so bear with me.
GFD was a promising departure into a freer and more jazz-based territory that was not followed through fully on Raven, an opinion that holds from my original scribbling, and Steven seems to largely have put on hold his knack for penning a compact tune in favour of a more open ended but still structured approach. However one has to remember that Insurgentes is not all soaring shoegazey pop songs, as the likes of Salvaging and Abandoner confirm, but when you compare TRTRTS to Insurgentes it is safe to say that both are rooted firmly in the past, albeit with both eyes on the "now" unlike many other regressive rock bands of today.
TRTRTS looks back to the classic prog era while Insurgentes looks to the bleakest of Cure influenced indie and shoegaze for its inspiration, and both are equally valid sources. Insurgentes feels like it's telling you "I'm going out. I may be some time", leaving the listener wondering what will be brought back from the unknown, and GFD seems to be scrabbling around in the hinterland of left-field prog and assembling all sorts of scary delights, whereas TRTRTS has brought back the shopping and is laying on a feast that is maybe just a bit too perfect.
While nowhere near as bad as Phill's review/attack would have you believe, neither is TRTRTS the canine's testicles as occasionally my review might lead you to think. Good as the album is, it just does not seem to be pushing any envelopes, and is only the second time I consider an album associated with Mr Wilson can be said to have a "safe" feel to it, the first being The Incident after which, coincidentally or not, Porcupine Tree where put on hold. In defence of my DPRP review there were a few instances of doubt expressed there which the benefit of hindsight has only served to confirm, I'm afraid. Having said all that, TRTRTS is still damned good and will almost certainly feature somewhere in my top 10 of 2013.
Standout tracks:
The Holy Drinker - One track that does keep the jazz groove alive. Come on down, Theo Travis!
The Watchmaker - A great song and a story that tugs at the heartstrings, even if the music is a bit on the reverential side.
Conclusion - 8/10
Without question the most cohesive of his solo albums to date; I thought I was going to have to reappraise this downwards, but, in the context of the previous two albums it is definitely "better", in terms of songwriting (tell me The Pin Drop is not one of his best post-PT efforts, if you can), arrangements, production, you name it.
My only caveat is that has Steven's muse become a bit too reliant on past glories from the golden age of prog for inspiration? Knowing him though, it's probably all intended that way anyway, and the next album will hopefully take another turn. This leads me to wonder where Steven will go now, and I only hope he takes a long break, which in his world is probably all of 3 days, before he begins to rouse the muse again. We wouldn't want him to burn out after all.
There are prog fans who seem resentful of Wilson's "Prog God" status, but who else in the UK could release an out-and-out prog album that gets in the charts, top 20 no less. That's the real charts, not "Biggest selling CD in Yorkshire" by the way. Without SW it is doubtful that a magazine like Classic Rock Society Presents Prog would sell enough to survive, particularly given its ridiculous cover price, and a major outlet of news for the less commercially viable acts would be lost. I might not agree with that mag's stance, but it's the only one we've got, so more power to them.
If Steven Wilson carries on this upward trajectory then it's only a matter of time before Jools bleedin' Holland acknowledges the existence of a music outside of his safe indie and R&B remit, and invites SW and the lads on to Later. Can't imagine that there is any other UK prog act capable of that, can you?
...
Finally, a word or several about SW's sanctimonious drivel on his Facebook page recently. You've probably all seen him there, sitting at the head of a dining table laid with empty plates, the text bemoaning the fact that because a review copy was illicitly shared prior to release he will be made homeless. Well, not quite, but you get my drift.
Firstly I would bet that 90% or more of the folk who found this and downloaded it are fans who had either already pre-ordered the thing or subsequently bought it. The other 10% happened on it by chance not knowing who he is - unlikely given that I couldn't find the file share when he publicised it anyway - and if only 1 person in that 10% buys it or goes to a gig, he's actually profited from it. In other words; has he lost sales? Answer: almost certainly not.
Had I not had a review copy (and no, it wasn't me who uploaded it) and I had found it, would I have downloaded it? Of course I bloody well would, I'm a fan, I want to hear it asap! But, as with most SW fans, I want the hi-spec audio that goes with the territory, which is why I had pre-ordered it weeks ago. The reason SW releases all his work in every high-end audio format is precisely because he knows that's what his fans want.
The only type of "musicians", and I use the word advisedly, who really lose out big time in the download wars are the Britneys and Justins of this world, whose fans are not the slightest bit concerned with 5:1 mixes or fancy booklet artwork. They are more than happy with crappy mp3, and, they probably have far less disposable income to spend on their idol of choice's wares anyway. If Tiffany comes across an illegal torrent of Britney's new waxing (yeucch - what a thought), that'll do nicely thank you very much.
And another thing, while he's probably not what might be termed "rich" SW is probably more comfortably off than most of his fans. So, Steven, get off your high horse, loosen up a bit and enjoy yourself!
In my case that artist is Steven Wilson and the album was The Raven That Refused To Sing (And Other Stories). I submitted my review to DPRP and have since realised with hindsight that it could be construed as somewhat fawning, although it is odd that the two most gushing reviews came from colleagues who are SW newbies. My review was tempered with mild criticism, but after reading my mate Phill's acerbic take on it, I promised myself to revisit the album after the sturm und drang had subsided. The "sturm" of course includes the live concert on Monday, but, impetuous chappy that I am I ain't gonna wait that long!
The only way I could do this properly was to sit down and listen to all 3 of Steven's solo albums to date, back to back, so that I could glean a semblance of context, progression, call it what you will. My listening is restricted to the albums proper, so any gems hidden in the bonus tracks are discounted. Sitting through this lot was a task that was hardly taxing, I must admit!
In order to put my Raven DPRP review in context I am going to have to bite the bullet and continue with the dreaded, and in my opinion, unnecessary, marking system. Album grading is carried out in these contexts:
1. I regard Porcupine Tree's peak as being The Sky Moves Sideways and Signify albums. The former is a modern take on Floyd space rock, the latter is a more slick and polished version of that, and, if there was any justice, Signify should have been their breakthrough album, not the dogs' dinner faux-metal of Fear Of A Blank Planet.
2. In the world of prog if, say, Close To the Edge is a 10/10 and Going For The One a 9/10, then those two PT albums above are a 9 and an 8.5 in my opinion. When giving something high marks one has to remember that in ten years' time are you going to be playing Raven or whatever as often as the real classics? If you're being honest, probably not, eh?
Insurgentes
The solo debut has the feel of a true solo album, a real "one man show with guests" if you will. Part Porcupine Tree leftovers, part weird experimentation, this was made with the influence of late 70s and early 80s UK indie, the sounds the then teenage Wilson grew up with.
Standout tracks:
No Twilight Within The Courts Of The Sun - a wildly adventurous mash up of The Cure and spiky prog metal, including a classical piano break, and bloody marvellous it is too!
Significant Other - Steven goes shoegaze...OK, some of you think he's spent his entire career "gazing at his plimsoles", but this is a lost shoegaze classic.
Phill bemoans the lack of tunes on Raven, but there are no more "tunes" on Insurgentes to be honest. And, in my opinion, tunes are not the be all and end all anyway. Moody, broody and very dark, Insurgentes is SW at his most inward-looking.
Conclusion - for fans only: 6/10
What? Only 6? Look at it another way - if you got 60% in an exam, you wouldn't be disappointed, would you?
Grace For Drowning
In which "the band that isn't a band" was first tentatively assembled, which makes it all hang together so much better than Insurgentes. Grace For Drowning is a sprawling beast of a double album that translated so well into the live setting on the last tour.
Standout tracks:
Sectarian - Jazz-prog done properly, right up my particular avenue!
Deform To Form A Star - Stands out because it sounds like an old-fashioned (pre prog-metal) PT song, and doesn't really fit here. Nice tune though.
Belle De Jour - The calm before the storm, an utterly lovely but brief slice of instrumental melancholia built around Steven's simple but effective acoustic guitar figure.
Raider II - That oh so unusual thing - a modern prog track of epic length that isn't either; a) a mess (Anesthetise come on down), or b) instantly forgettable. I'll even forgive the Crimson and VDGG references writ large. More jazz-prog for astronauts!
Conclusion - 7.5/10
Maybe in need of a bit of editing, as there is a 9/10 60-minute album here, but full marks for taking risks.
The Raven That Refused To Sing (And Other Stories)
Luckily for you, I'm not going to review it again, just attempt to contextualise it, so bear with me.
GFD was a promising departure into a freer and more jazz-based territory that was not followed through fully on Raven, an opinion that holds from my original scribbling, and Steven seems to largely have put on hold his knack for penning a compact tune in favour of a more open ended but still structured approach. However one has to remember that Insurgentes is not all soaring shoegazey pop songs, as the likes of Salvaging and Abandoner confirm, but when you compare TRTRTS to Insurgentes it is safe to say that both are rooted firmly in the past, albeit with both eyes on the "now" unlike many other regressive rock bands of today.
TRTRTS looks back to the classic prog era while Insurgentes looks to the bleakest of Cure influenced indie and shoegaze for its inspiration, and both are equally valid sources. Insurgentes feels like it's telling you "I'm going out. I may be some time", leaving the listener wondering what will be brought back from the unknown, and GFD seems to be scrabbling around in the hinterland of left-field prog and assembling all sorts of scary delights, whereas TRTRTS has brought back the shopping and is laying on a feast that is maybe just a bit too perfect.
While nowhere near as bad as Phill's review/attack would have you believe, neither is TRTRTS the canine's testicles as occasionally my review might lead you to think. Good as the album is, it just does not seem to be pushing any envelopes, and is only the second time I consider an album associated with Mr Wilson can be said to have a "safe" feel to it, the first being The Incident after which, coincidentally or not, Porcupine Tree where put on hold. In defence of my DPRP review there were a few instances of doubt expressed there which the benefit of hindsight has only served to confirm, I'm afraid. Having said all that, TRTRTS is still damned good and will almost certainly feature somewhere in my top 10 of 2013.
Standout tracks:
The Holy Drinker - One track that does keep the jazz groove alive. Come on down, Theo Travis!
The Watchmaker - A great song and a story that tugs at the heartstrings, even if the music is a bit on the reverential side.
Conclusion - 8/10
Without question the most cohesive of his solo albums to date; I thought I was going to have to reappraise this downwards, but, in the context of the previous two albums it is definitely "better", in terms of songwriting (tell me The Pin Drop is not one of his best post-PT efforts, if you can), arrangements, production, you name it.
My only caveat is that has Steven's muse become a bit too reliant on past glories from the golden age of prog for inspiration? Knowing him though, it's probably all intended that way anyway, and the next album will hopefully take another turn. This leads me to wonder where Steven will go now, and I only hope he takes a long break, which in his world is probably all of 3 days, before he begins to rouse the muse again. We wouldn't want him to burn out after all.
There are prog fans who seem resentful of Wilson's "Prog God" status, but who else in the UK could release an out-and-out prog album that gets in the charts, top 20 no less. That's the real charts, not "Biggest selling CD in Yorkshire" by the way. Without SW it is doubtful that a magazine like Classic Rock Society Presents Prog would sell enough to survive, particularly given its ridiculous cover price, and a major outlet of news for the less commercially viable acts would be lost. I might not agree with that mag's stance, but it's the only one we've got, so more power to them.
If Steven Wilson carries on this upward trajectory then it's only a matter of time before Jools bleedin' Holland acknowledges the existence of a music outside of his safe indie and R&B remit, and invites SW and the lads on to Later. Can't imagine that there is any other UK prog act capable of that, can you?
...
Finally, a word or several about SW's sanctimonious drivel on his Facebook page recently. You've probably all seen him there, sitting at the head of a dining table laid with empty plates, the text bemoaning the fact that because a review copy was illicitly shared prior to release he will be made homeless. Well, not quite, but you get my drift.
Firstly I would bet that 90% or more of the folk who found this and downloaded it are fans who had either already pre-ordered the thing or subsequently bought it. The other 10% happened on it by chance not knowing who he is - unlikely given that I couldn't find the file share when he publicised it anyway - and if only 1 person in that 10% buys it or goes to a gig, he's actually profited from it. In other words; has he lost sales? Answer: almost certainly not.
Had I not had a review copy (and no, it wasn't me who uploaded it) and I had found it, would I have downloaded it? Of course I bloody well would, I'm a fan, I want to hear it asap! But, as with most SW fans, I want the hi-spec audio that goes with the territory, which is why I had pre-ordered it weeks ago. The reason SW releases all his work in every high-end audio format is precisely because he knows that's what his fans want.
The only type of "musicians", and I use the word advisedly, who really lose out big time in the download wars are the Britneys and Justins of this world, whose fans are not the slightest bit concerned with 5:1 mixes or fancy booklet artwork. They are more than happy with crappy mp3, and, they probably have far less disposable income to spend on their idol of choice's wares anyway. If Tiffany comes across an illegal torrent of Britney's new waxing (yeucch - what a thought), that'll do nicely thank you very much.
And another thing, while he's probably not what might be termed "rich" SW is probably more comfortably off than most of his fans. So, Steven, get off your high horse, loosen up a bit and enjoy yourself!
Friday, 1 March 2013
Michael Mantler - The Hapless Child and other inscrutable stories
I do not normally review old albums, unless they are part of my long neglected Formative Years series, but this oddity deserves some exposure.Until about a month ago I had never heard of this album, but during a visit to my good friend and gig-going companion Phil's abode up popped this dusty obscurity.
Some of you may well be asking Michael who? Well, it seems that this could well be the rarest album starring Robert Wyatt out there.
Let me explain; Michael Mantler is a composer, band leader and trumpeter in the contemporary jazz field. Married to celebrated jazz pianist Carla Bley at the time of this record (1975) they had also set up their own label WATT to release their projects, which included this little gem.
Setting the unsettling illustrated stories of writer Edward Gorey to music, Mantler assembled a top notch backing band for Wyatt's semi-spoken narratives, a style that scans where it shouldn't as anyone familiar with his solo work will know well. Also contributing narratives are Robert's wife Alfreda Benge, Nick Mason and Albert Caulder.
Gorey, who died in April 2000, was an odd character by all accounts, releasing his early works under sundry anagrams of his name such as Ogdred Weary, Dogear Wryde, and Ms. Regera Dowdy to name the 3 quoted on Wiki, and there were many others too, apparently. His stories read like they were written in Victorian times under the influence of laudanum and misery, often as not featuring sad children and an air of menace, and steeped in very black humour. This from the Poe-like title track:
"Her mother fell into a decline that proved fatal.
Her only other relative, an uncle, was brained by a piece of masonry"
The opening track is probably the spookiest, a story of a spirit falling through a house:
"Morose, inflexible, aloof,
it hovered just above the roof.
It's gone right through and come to rest
On great grand-uncle Ogdred's chest"
They are very odd indeed, and all "sung" in Robert Wyatt's unmistakable style. Hopefully you can click on the image below and enlarge it for more enlightenment.
 |
| Part of the CD booklet - illustrations by Edward Gorey |
Robert Wyatt's character is so deeply ingrained in this record it almost feels like a long lost Wyatt solo album to me, and because of that I am more than happy to attempt to describe its many delights to you. Some of these are the unusually acidic guitar interjections from the sublime Terje Rypdal, sending flying shards of slightly reverbed notes over the heads of the other players, so fans of the great guitarist are also in for a treat.
Carla Bley's piano forms the base of the tunes with colour added by the "string synthesiser"; is this a Mellotron you may ask, and I wonder that too.
Jack DeJohnette should need no introduction and with bassist Steve Swallow, who has a jazz CV as long as an extended trombone, they create marvellous counter-rhythmic textures for Terje and Carla to extemporise over. Nowhere is this more evident than on the blistering attack of The Object-Lesson. Terje had not been this animated since his first solo outings in the 60s. Marvellous stuff!
If you ever come across this and you're a Wyatt or Rypdal fan, buy it. Unfortunately the CD is long out of print, but you never know, it might just turn up here: www.secondspin.musicstack.com
Tracklist:
1. The Sinking Spell 5:17
2. The Object Lesson 5:05
3. The Insect God 5:05
4. The Doubtful Guest 4:54
5. The Remembered Visit 6:33
6. The Hapless Child 7:02
Total running time 33:58
Line up:
Robert Wyatt : Vocals
Carla Bley : Piano, clavinet, string synthesiser (Mellotron?)
Steve Swallow : Bass guitar
Jack DeJohnette : Drums, percussion
Terje Rypdal : Guitar
Alfreda Benge : Speaker
Albert Caulder, Nick Mason: Additional speakers
Saturday, 23 February 2013
inFictions - Maps Of Revenge And Forgiveness
With their debut album Maps Of Revenge And Forgiveness they have left us with a hugely satisfying 51 minutes of very tasty art rock, and sadly, although the album came out less than a year ago the band is already on hiatus.
The three core members are all in other bands and they are currently without a drummer, and given that according to the blurb on the Bandcamp page they got through 8 skin bashers during the 3 year gestation of this record, it would seem to be an ongoing problem of Spinal Tap proportions!
Veering between epic art rock balladary of a Jeff Buckley-like scale and Mars Volta spikiness, the lush arrangements and soaring vocals put me very much in mind of American band The Tea Club. InFictions main man Ed Cartledge (vocals, guitars) told me he'd never heard of The Tea Club, and given the small waves made by bands of this size that is undoubtedly true, but they definitely seem to share the same muse.
Joining Ed on this musical journey through a wistful but nonetheless modernistic landscape are Gareth Hughes (bass, double bass, synth and mandolin) and Tom Chaffer (guitar), as well as piano, and various string and brass arrangements.
Fusing post-rock idioms with classical flourishes and gorgeous acoustic guitar on Orchards shows that this band are not easily pigeonholed, and nor should they be. Ed has described the band as "post progressive rock" at the same time eschewing "70s pre-punk progressive rock nonsense". And although a debt to modern post-rockers like God Speed You Black Emperor and Explosions In The Sky is obvious, inFictions' highly developed epic scales and sense of melody owe more than a little to their dads' record collections methinks, as much as they might to Radiohead, whether they like it or nay! However there is nothing copyist about this album, it stands out there on its own, shining out like a lighthouse beacon through a dense fog of mediocrity.
On the rare occasion solos are used they very short and to the point as on The Silence Of The Sea where they are used simply as a counterpoint to the surging melody that all but jumps out of the speakers at you. This thing builds and builds and crashes, perfectly encapsulating the title and subject matter.
The amount of care that has been put into the accompanying artwork indicates that an awful lot of hard work and effort has gone into this project. We have a booklet with ten individually commissioned pieces to go with each track, and a button badge, all contained within an individually stickered cardboard box. The artwork is recreated on their classy website, where you will also find the thoughtful lyrics.
It would be a shame if the current band hiatus* becomes permanent as I consider that inFictions are a bit of a find amongst all the tame and predictable fare one has to wade through in the musical backwater that is modern prog rock. Hopefully we will hear more of the band in the future.
* Checking the Facebook page below reveals that there is a track being recorded as we speak, so good news, then!
inFictions website
BUY IT HERE!!
Facebook page
Tracklist:
This Road Leads to a Village of Informers (3:48)
Frozen River (4:49)
1st Intersection (5:49)
Line Drawings (5:06)
Laughter Track (4:02)
Orchards (3:35)
The Silence of the Sea (6:10)
The Cell (4:42)
2nd Intersection (1:34)
The Ghost of Some Old Sin (4:57)
Figurines (6:42)
Total running time 51:23
Line up:
As above...oh no, the drummer exploded!
Friday, 22 February 2013
“You can’t shine if you don’t burn"
The inexorable passage of time means that the old guard of popular (and not so popular) music are and will be leaving us with increasing regularity. My normal reaction to hearing of the loss of yet another musical friend is a long sigh, followed by a search for an appropriate tune by the recently departed.
Having said that, hearing the news of Kevin Ayers' passing a couple of days ago was a genuine shock, and left me feeling almost as bereft as I did when John Peel went to that great gig in the sky. Thanks to Peely, I was introduced to Kevin's wine soaked off-kilter pop songs at an early age, and he has always held a special place in my musical universe. His passing left me genuinely sad.
Kevin has a long musical history, going right back to that almost mythological band The Wilde Flowers, out of which came The Soft Machine and Caravan, and from which of course the whole Canterbury scene blossomed.
Encouraged into songwriting by his friend Jimi Hendrix, Kevin's music was always infused with a laid back summery groove, due in no small part to his childhood being mostly spent in Malaysia, his step-father being a British diplomat out there.
Leaving Soft Machine (now minus the indefinite article) and retreating to Spain after a gruelling tour of the USA in support of Jimi Hendrix in 1968, Kevin took up his role as left-field maverick pop singer-songwriter, never looking back. He was lucky enough to work with a stellar supporting cast over the years, Mike Oldfield, David Bedford, Steve Hillage, Andy Summers being just a few. Probably his longest serving musical partner was the also now sadly departed Ollie Halsall, a truly marvellous guitar player.
Unfortunately I never got to see Kevin play live, but over the years I have bought most of his records. If you've not got any of his solo work, you owe it to yourself get a "Best Of" at the very least, or if you're feeling a bit more adventurous try any one of his first seven studio albums, all of which are gems.
It is quite fitting that his last studio album, the short but very sweet The Unfairground showed a marked return to form for the exiled oenophile. So, let's all raise a glass of full-bodied red to Kevin Ayers, who showed us all that human warmth and a decent tune are at least as important as cerebral musical flexing, something all us pseudo-intellectual scribblers should remember once in a while.
Kevin Ayers died at home in his sleep on 18 February 2013 in Montolieu, France, aged 68. A note bearing the legend used as the title of this piece was found there. It is not thought to be related to his death, but seems kind of appropriate.
Having said that, hearing the news of Kevin Ayers' passing a couple of days ago was a genuine shock, and left me feeling almost as bereft as I did when John Peel went to that great gig in the sky. Thanks to Peely, I was introduced to Kevin's wine soaked off-kilter pop songs at an early age, and he has always held a special place in my musical universe. His passing left me genuinely sad.
Kevin has a long musical history, going right back to that almost mythological band The Wilde Flowers, out of which came The Soft Machine and Caravan, and from which of course the whole Canterbury scene blossomed.
Encouraged into songwriting by his friend Jimi Hendrix, Kevin's music was always infused with a laid back summery groove, due in no small part to his childhood being mostly spent in Malaysia, his step-father being a British diplomat out there.
Leaving Soft Machine (now minus the indefinite article) and retreating to Spain after a gruelling tour of the USA in support of Jimi Hendrix in 1968, Kevin took up his role as left-field maverick pop singer-songwriter, never looking back. He was lucky enough to work with a stellar supporting cast over the years, Mike Oldfield, David Bedford, Steve Hillage, Andy Summers being just a few. Probably his longest serving musical partner was the also now sadly departed Ollie Halsall, a truly marvellous guitar player.
Unfortunately I never got to see Kevin play live, but over the years I have bought most of his records. If you've not got any of his solo work, you owe it to yourself get a "Best Of" at the very least, or if you're feeling a bit more adventurous try any one of his first seven studio albums, all of which are gems.
It is quite fitting that his last studio album, the short but very sweet The Unfairground showed a marked return to form for the exiled oenophile. So, let's all raise a glass of full-bodied red to Kevin Ayers, who showed us all that human warmth and a decent tune are at least as important as cerebral musical flexing, something all us pseudo-intellectual scribblers should remember once in a while.
Kevin Ayers died at home in his sleep on 18 February 2013 in Montolieu, France, aged 68. A note bearing the legend used as the title of this piece was found there. It is not thought to be related to his death, but seems kind of appropriate.
RIP
Thursday, 14 February 2013
Jastreb - Yggdrasil
The one big problem was that apart from my then residency in a church choir (I kid you not) neither of us had a smidgeon of musical ability between us, nor had either of us ever so much as picked up a guitar before, nor could we read music.
These were but minor drawbacks in our quest for world dominance, so, we invented our own way of "playing". The strings were numbered 1 to 6, low E being No.1, and the frets were numbered from the head stock to the high notes. Then we set about composing, mathematical style. For instance if we wanted to play the first three notes of Smoke On The Water on the low E it would have been written 1/0, 1/3, 1/5...and so on.
Having no knowledge of musical scales was overcome by experimentation, and eventually we came up with a repetitive 3 or 4 note dirge, played at various speeds. After, ooh, minutes of rehearsal we were ready for the studio. Showing the technical ability of proto-Joe Meeks, one of us would record the basic track on the low E and the A onto a portable Philips cassette recorder. The cassette was then popped into Stephen's dad's hi-fi, and then the other one (I forget who did what!) would "play" along to the basic track, the two-geetar grungathon being recorded again on the portable recorder. This was done until a) the batteries ran out, or b) the tape disintegrated.
The resulting simplistic and murky cacophony had a strange harmonic dissonance as being unable to tune the thing, we had relied on Stephen's cousin pre-tuning it for us and inevitably it slipped from the true note over time. Not to mention that keeping time and hitting the right note was somewhat hit and miss. After all these years it amazes me to learn that the tape survived and that someone has recorded a cover version, under the name Jastreb!!
Jastreb, named after a cold war Yugoslav fighter-bomber, feature members drawn from, amongst others, the mighty Seven That Spells, a band whose righteous The Death And Resurrection Of Krautrock: AUM showed what can be done with a right bloody racket. Jastreb however, are simply awful. Their one track drone rock riff, all thirty six minutes and forty two seconds of the bleedin' thing, probably thinks it is hypnotic but in actuality is far too grating for that. It starts off with a three note descending pattern repeating itself ad infinitum until half way through, when it steps down the ladder of complexity, if that were possible, to hang endlessly on one repeated chord forfeckinever. To paraphrase Scott Walker, if shit were music, this would be something where you would advise those following to "leave it a while if I were you".
This album could be useful if your crow scarer runs out of cartridges, or if you have someone in your house you are itching to introduce to the delights of migraine headaches. Nope, I don't understand!
Sunday, 3 February 2013
Family - O2 Shepherd's Bush Empire, 2nd February 2013
"Rollin' and tumblin' ain't done me no harm"
This gig ties in with the release of the career-spanning box set referred to in detail in the YouTube interview below, which was shamelessly promoted downstairs in the foyer, and before and after the support act from the stage. One punter informed us when asked if he was going to buy it that "it would be bad form not to", and fair enough, if you can afford the £125 asking price it is a very well put together archival release. For once, it is hard to glean which came first; the idea to reform for these one-off shows, or the idea for the box. A chicken and egg situation if ever there was one
The support act was one Papa George, out of Barnes, SW London via Clarksdale, Mississippi. Banging out John Lee Hookerisms to the max on his National Steel, he was entertaining enough, and certainly knew his place, more than once telling us how good the headliners had been the previous night. As PW said, "he passed the time".
Anyway, I digress...strolling onstage with the bearing of an aged outlaw, 70s rock'n'roll footballer and fellow Leicester legend Frank Worthington introduced the band in the manner of the true fan he is, telling us twice in well lubricated tones what a great time he was having. There was obviously a good ol' party going down back stage.
The band saunter on to a rousing cheer and launch into the intro to Top Of The Hill, and not long after on shambles Roger Chapman to an even bigger greeting from the packed crowd.
Family were a strange band, and admitted as much in a song of the same name released as a single waay back in 1970. Neither prog nor folk, nor hard rock nor R&B (original and true definition), but an odd hybrid of all that and more. About the only band of the era who shared a similarly booze rather than drug-fuelled audience were The Faces, but Family had more strings to their bow than the ex-mods.
Although Family amassed a moderately large and loyal following they never made the step up to the major league their talents deserved, and disbanded in 1973, ironically enough a year that would turn out to be the peak year for the underground scene they came from. Maybe had they hit top form not in 69-72 but in 1973, who knows?
Of course, 99% of Family's songs were Chapman/Whitney compositions and guitarist Charlie Whitney was not here, and Chappo's almost first words to the audience after the first song ended were a good-humoured "Whitney, where the fuck are ya? Playin' yer bouzouki and eating kebabs in Greece?" As the interview below explains (from about 6:55 onwards), he wasn't up for it and all the work needed in preparation, and given his settled lifestyle in sunnier climes, who can blame him?
Showcasing songs that ranged from folksy to hard rock to barroom belters to almost prog constructs and all points in between, the ensemble were so obviously having such a great time the infectious joie-de-vivre of both band and audience instantly fed off one another.
The 2 permanent members, Chappo and drummer Rob Townsend, who go right back to pre-Family 60s R&B combo The Farinas (a name that to me sounds like a failed prototype for the Ford Cortina!); and slightly later entrant Poli Palmer on astonishingly good vibes and brief member Jim Cregan on rhythm and occasional lead guitar were joined by those Chappo referred to as "the In-Laws", starring Nick Payn (of Bill Wyman's Rhythm Kings) on sax, clarinet, flute and harmonica, whose cool blowing lent the band an almost Canterbury air at times, and who for me was the musical icing on the cake.
Joining Nick were Geoff Whitehorn on lead guitar and Gary Twigg on bass, both from Roger Chapman's Shortlist, John Lingwood on drums & percussion ex of Manfred Mann's Earthband, and multi-talented session man, composer and arranger Paul Hirsh on keyboards; all seasoned pros to a man who collectively belted out the tunes with panache.
Roger Chapman is possessed of a unique and fearsomely powerful larynx, which even after all this time is still well capable of hitting the spot, apart from once jokingly saying "Thank fuck for that!" when the crowd took over a high note he was straining for.
The hard work paid off, with only one missed cue that I could spot, at the end of the rather tricky Hung Up Down, not that it mattered. During instrumental Crinkly Grin, Chappo went off for a breather, returning at the end to josh "Instrumentalists - 'oo fuckin' needs 'em?" Perhaps not family entertainment, but definitely Family Entertainment!
We all shouted ourselves hoarse, belting out the lyrics to the band's one big hit, the white-boy funk extravaganza Burlesque. In my opinion only the mighty Zep topped that in the whitey-on-the-one stakes back in the day with Trampled Underfoot, but Family did it 3 years earlier. Other shoutalongs included In My Own Time and encore Sweet Desirée, all delivered with gusto by both band and audience.
A yearning Between Blue And Me is wistfully dedicated to Whitney and his Grecian blue skies, and beyond Chappo's earlier barbed references to his mate, the love and respect he holds for his songwriting partner is obvious for all to see.
Chappo concluded the gig with a heartfelt tribute to absent past members, some no longer with us, who made up the Family, naming James King, John Wetton, Rick Grech, Tony Ashton, John Weider, and not forgetting Whitney (always referred to by surname), whom he asked to come back and suffer the English cold.
A powerful and joyous evening, Chappo leaves with a final "Goodbye", and Family is put to rest.
Setlist: (e&oe!)
Top of the Hill
Drowned in Wine
Holding the Compass
Part Of The Load
Ready To Go
Crinkly Grin
Burning Bridges
No Mule's Fool
Sat'dy Barfly
Between Blue And Me
Hung Up Down
Burlesque
In My Own Time
Encore 1: Weaver's Answer
Encore 2: My Friend The Sun, Sweet Desirée
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