Category Archives: Music

Gones for a Song: Now That’s What I Call Music! 21-30

Getting now to the core of this effort to think about and list out my current favorite albums from years of obsessing about music. You can probably spot by now the self-evident obsessions and repetition of styles, there are definitely some sounds that resonate more than others and I have avoided some of the big obvious IMPORTANT albums, partly as they have had the crap played out of them on the radio, soundtracks and have become mundane. No spoilers here but do not be disappointed that your favorite Zep, Beatles, Marvin Gaye, NIN or that not much Rap or modern R&B have made the list. I just did not play that much of any of them to entertain myself over the last couple of decades with the possible exception of the wooden Zeppelin stuff, like ‘Going to California’, “Over the Hills and Far Away” or ‘Tangerine’. There is a real Mix-Tape vibe to this week’s 10 though, all over the shop stylistically and release date too. So let’s get into it “One, two, three, four, tell me that you love me more, Sleepless long nights, that is what my youth was for”https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/6TQbkVVdhJJ0Z345UJZYbt

Number 30: Amyl and the Sniffers “Comfort To Me” 2021. Amy Taylor is a pocket sized banshee backed by some of the scuzziest guitar thrash, it is my distinct pleasure to have ever heard. It could be described as punk and has the same ridiculous amount of energy that sometimes just seems so engrossing and elevating when other punk is just noise. She has a foul mouth and most tracks have the ubiquitous E annotation, but in front of a messed up mosh pit of mouth breathers she rules supreme and takes no shit: “What the fuck’s up?” she yells. “If anyone falls down, you help them up. Don’t touch anyone. Let’s get rowdy!”. If you have to drive somewhere late at night and want to drive faster than is legal or recommended, crank this shit up.

Number 29: Underworld “Drift Series 1 Sampler” 2019. Underworld started a long, long time ago with two friends in Cardiff, I have never heard the first couple of albums which they themselves dismiss as Mark 1. The Mark 2 version saw Karl Hyde and Rick Smith start down a path of electronic music innovation not matched by many, certainly not in terms of longevity, diversity of output all of it relevant and upbeat and they are still at it. I got into them with their trio of mid 90’s bangers, “Dubnobasswithmyheadman”, “Second Toughest In the Infants”, and “Beaucoup Fish”. During Covid and confinement they decided to not let the moment pass of having space to just keep creating, so they committed to release something new every week for a year and Drift is the result. That’s a lot of music, so the Drift Series 1 Sampler is the best way into their world. As ever, a mix of slow chillout tunes amongst dance and upbeat workouts. I threw into the playlist an extra, a great thing they did with the marvelous throated friend of parakeets, Iggy Pop.

Number 28: Joni Mitchell “Shadows and Light” 1980. Joni Mitchell is one of those artists whose name gets shortened like Bruce, Elvis or Lennon and generally is known and loved for her archetypical 1970’s singer-songwriter output, an inspiration to Lana Del Ray, Taylor Swift and Prince amongst many vocal fans. I really enjoyed her forays and explorations into jazz in the late 70’s where she single handled brought Weather Report into the mainstream and Charles Mingus from a jazz footnote to be the name to drop by all wannabe ‘hepcats’. This album is a live selection of that period recorded at the Santa Monica Bowl in 1979 and features a stellar band, Pat Metheny, Lisle Mays, Michael Brecker, the ridiculously pretentious Jaco Pastorius and The Persuasions. All at the top of their game and having fun furrily singing the blues.

Number 27: The Groundhogs “Split” 1971. Tony ‘TS’ McPhee had the good taste to be a massive fan of John Lee Hooker and named his band after Hooker’s ‘Ground Hog Blues’. They provided the backing band to the great man on one of his albums and supported him on his 1964 tour of Britain. They were a power trio with bass and drums similar to Cream, jazz rhythm signatures and lead guitar taking its own path with McPhee’s blues growl singing updated blues rock rather than just rehashing the original blues classics while taking the credit – looking at you Messrs Page and Plant and their pathetic ‘traditional’ credit to avoid paying royalties to Muddy Waters or Jimmy Reed. I first got into them with “Thank Christ For The Bomb” and its odd First World War theme, The Fall covered ‘Strange Town’ which shows I was not alone. This album has the first side four parts of the Split suite, inspired by a months long panic attack and then the more standard 4 songs on side 2 which included the belting ‘Cherry Red’. I saw them on this tour and the “Who Will Save the World, The Mighty Groundhogs” tour the following year, which featured Tony’s new toy, a synthesizer.

Number 26: Paul Kantner and Jefferson Starship “Blows Against The Empire” 1968. I heard this one lazy Saturday afternoon listening to the John Peel ‘Top Gear’ radio show and started down a path of obsession with the Airplane, Grace Slick and Paul Kantner. I never got the Grateful Dead, but I absolutely got the Airplane and their side projects were at times better. The sessions for this were from a frenzied stoned summer in Wally Heider’s San Francisco studio where the Dead, Quicksilver Messenger Service and Crosby, Stills and Nash were noodling around on Crosby’s solo album “Almost Cut My Hair”. The Airplane were falling apart but this high concept science fiction space opera meets anarchic revolution (this is 1968 after all) is glorious. Lots of Pooh references, plus hijacking starships and babies. The album won a Hugo award, and I devoured from cover to cover the lyric booklet, including all the artwork by Slick and her odd annotations. Space-ship engine noises and very Robert Heinlein, they didn’t get their dates right though as the starship “ought to be ready by 1990”. Governor Reagan, as he was, also gets a nod “You unleash the dogs of a grade-B movie star Governor’s war…so drop your fuckin’ bombs, burn your demon babies, I will live again!”

Number 25: Talk Talk “Spirit of Eden” 1988. The late and sadly missed Mark Hollis was the inspiration behind all that was great about Talk Talk. They first broke through as a synth pop band doing Duran Duran style dance songs, all big floppy fringes, pastel suits with big lapels and the sleeves rolled up. The dance hits and the 12” mixes of ‘Living In Another World’ and ‘Life’s What You Make It’ are solid bangers so it was a pleasant surprise when they morphed into a thinking man’s creative act with electronics supporting rather than dominating the quiet post-rock with “Colour of Spring” in 1986. Hollis found his niche and that album and the fabulous “Spirit Of Eden” became a real inspiration to many bands including Radiohead, Kate Bush and Elbow amongst them. It’s hard to define their sound but adjectives like pastoral, peaceful, contemplative work but the sound is also glorious, this is the definitive Sunday morning album and cries out for headphones. 

Number 24: Sleeper “The It Girl” 1996. I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I had a minor crush on Louise Weiner, the gamin lead singer, who with her partner Andy Maclure had one of the most popular BritPop bands in the early to mid 90’s. Maclure had to endure being one of the infamous Sleeperblokes, a pejorative term at the time in the music press and used by musicians, to refer to any person of limited standing within a band or a drab and unremarkable individual. Maclure and the other “Sleeperblokes” themselves were reported to find it a joke, and even produced an ironic “Sleeperbloke” T-shirt to go with Wener’s “Another Female Fronted Band” T-shirt. This is the third album and is the perfect combination of ironic smart-ass lyrics and driving pop rock, like the Replacements but with a girl singing and less overall angst.

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Number 23: Bob Marley & The Wailers “ Rastaman Vibration” 1976. One of the odd side effects of the ‘Mod’ scene in the UK in the 1960’s was the opening up of the market and popular tastes to Jamaican ska music. Named after the rhythm being ‘um ska, um ska’ we danced to ‘Long Shot Kicky Bucket’, ‘The Israelites’ and ‘Double Barrel’ so it was an easy transition to the yet slower still reggae beat in the 70’s. Punk tours were always multicultural and vocally against the casual racism of the skinheads – the biggest fans of ska ironically – so reggae became de rigeur to be played at parties alongside the latest punk or New Wave. Toots and the Maytals gave us the genre with ‘Do The Reggay’ and did well, as did Burning Spear and the homegrown Steel Pulse, but the rulers of reggae were without doubt the Wailers and the king was Bob Marley. They got cross over hits, with white guys like Clapton taking their songs and bringing them mainstream attention. The albums ‘Burnin’ in 1973 with ‘I Shot The Sheriff’ and “Natty Dread” had all the hits that came to fame on “Live” and “Babylon by Bus”. This album is more rounded, no filler or repetitive retreading. The lyrics are more confident, and his voice is now that of a global star and the studio arrangements are superb, with a large band and singers all in one stoned groove.

Number 22: Mathew E. White “K-Bay” 2021. I was late to his 2012 “Big Inner” but fell in love with its big aural landscapes, when I heard it. He is in many ways a Southern songwriter but instead of being influenced by the normal Americana tropes his background in jazz showed through. This is a man who likes wide screen production sound, lots of layers of music, choirs, piano and guitars. The follow up “Fresh Blood” in 2015 was more of the same cosmic gospel but “K-Bay” is his masterpiece, there are shades of “Pet Sounds”, “Give Me The Night” and “Gaucho”. But rather than just be a pastiche of 70-80’s AOR he has taken the smooth production and soundscape but layered over it found sounds and his ironic voice, it also rocks harder than music to cook to.

Number 21: Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds “Push The Sky Away” 2013. Nick Cave is possibly the most attractive version of growing old gracefully there is. He is insanely talented, generous of spirit, creative across several media, was the perfect romantic partner for Polly Jean and has suffered in his personal life in a way no-one would wish on their worst enemy. That he has lost not one but two sons on top of his father dying in a car accident when he was 19 and that he has managed to keep his shit together and keep producing interesting and new music is remarkable. Then in 2023 he admitted part of his ability to get through the turmoil in his private life is that he has been addicted to heroin for 20 years, addicted in a managed way but still every morning and evening addicted. The Birthday Party, Cave’s first band was on the noise side of noise-rock and make The Viagra Boys look like CSN&Y and he has always had that hard edged rock side to him, as much as the later stuff has become more melodic and a real contrast from his Grinderman dark side project. He has a great band in the Bad Seeds but as you can imagine over the 21 years of its existence it has changed, it included Barry Adamson from Magazine, Blixa Bargeld from Einstürzende Neubauten but his core collaborator is Warren Ellis; now that Mick Harvey, who was with him from Birthday Party days is gone, he just gave up in 2012 and moved back to Melbourne, drugs being one of the issues. Cave’s 2024 album “Wild God” was released to rave reviews, but I prefer the darkness of the “Skeleton Tree”, “Dig Lazarus Dig” and this marvelous “Push The Sky Away” version of Cave’s gothic life.

The Tidal playlist is here: https://tidal.com/playlist/a49d4aef-b275-4389-8d37-4dae3554044c

Gones for a Song: Now That’s What I Call Music! 31-40

Definite feeling of being in the home stretch now, which will be a relief for some of the subscribers who didn’t sign up for this and instead are expecting vignettes of daily life in France. Substack does seem to attract nerds of every artistic persuasion, and music anoraks are right up there with train spotters and the guys sitting on camping chairs on the other side of the fence at the bottom of the runway, tuned into ATC and writing down tail numbers. It seems like every day there is someone raving about an album from the 1980’s or something new they have heard. The other odd treat for us is seeing your heroes showing up and writing on Substack, 

Laura Marling, 

Neko Case, 

Stephin Merritt and 

Rickie Lee Jones – although in fairness to RLJ she is writing about films, old films and generally having a metaphorical walk down memory lane. 

Nick Hornby is also on here and although his books always share the joys of music from this side of the speaker he gets a mention purely because of the round about introduction to Steve Mason. 

I have been listening to some cool new stuff over the last few weeks and as much as I have enjoyed writing about the aural bookmarks in my life you can see by the distribution of albums from the last 15 years over my top 100 I actually spend most of my time listening to new music. I will bring back ‘Gones for a Song’ in December with a top 20 albums of 2024. Anyway in the words of young Pink, lets get into it: one, two, “Free, Four”https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/5GUuKta1wlx1Y0AWOm9RB5

Number 40: TV On The Radio “Dear Science” 2008. I get obsessions about certain bands, when it’s not just I like a song or an album but I devour everything I can get hold of. With TVOTR I discovered them through an EP ‘Young Liars” in 2003 which had a Pixies cover ‘Mr Grieves’ and I was hooked. I didn’t get to see them live until 2012 after the unfortunate death of the bassist Gerard Smith. They of course hailed from Brooklyn, you could tell by all the cool kids who would turn up and do guest vocal spots, Bowie, Karen O, Grizzly Bear, Peter Murphy. The music is upbeat rythym driven alt-rock but clever arrangements and interesting melody lines and harmonies made it the thinking man’s music of choice for about a 5 year period from 2006-2011. The 3 middle period albums are all superb but this one has the better overall consistent flow over “Return to Cookie Mountain” or “Nine Types of Light”. Dave Sitek’s side project “Maximum Balloon” is worth checking out if you have never heard it. There is a potential top 20 list project of ‘no hit wonder’ side projects out there.

Number 39: Gil Scott Heron “I’m New Here” 2010. The backstory to this fabulous album and the subsequent two excellent spin-offs is cool in its own right. I remember Scott-Heron as a hipster jazz-poet in the 70’s when his ‘The Revolution Will Not Be Televised’ was a staple at any cool party. He was actually a poet and damn angry, he was the first one to make a political point about cultural appropriation. Then funk came along, and he missed it, he was still tied into a loungy jazz beat and flute, which could not get you arrested in the late 70’s, let alone a record deal, so he faded from the limelight, probably because he didn’t pull any punches about the institutional racism all around him. He released a few more albums in the 80’s (“Reflections” is actually really good and worth checking out), but he bubbled around in the background as a kind of godfather of Rap character. Like many black men of the time, he got busted and locked up several times for drug possession, while white men on Wall Street got rich while in possession of the same drug. Richard Russell of the fabulous ‘Everything is Recorded’ releases and lots of production work reached out to his former US label and traveled from England to record Scot-Heron while he was out on bail in 2007 and continued over the next 3 years, helping him get some kind of artistic life back. This album was released in 2010, a mix of his ruminations looking back on his life, his grandmother and interspersed with songs. Sadly, by this time he was HIV positive and in May 2011 he passed due to complications with pneumonia. Jamie XX released a remixed version of the songs under the name “We’re New Here” which is excellent, as is the “We’re New Again” by Makaya McCraven.

Number 38: The Knife “Silent Shout” 2006. You have heard Karin Dreijer’s voice if you do not necessarily listen to The Knife, she releases material as Fever Ray, she is on Röyskopp stuff, she has sung with Björk, some of which has made it to ads and TV show episode fade outs. You will however probably never seen what she looks like unless you are a fan, and even then would probably struggle to recognize her in the street, as live she wears masks and outrageous make up, there is a definitely a persona as a singer “dancing for dollars” and as a person she sees that as a separate life. The Knife is the project with her brother Olof, they did 4 albums before they gave up in 2014. This is hard core techno beats but very Swedish with awesome melodies, you can channel some Abba if you look hard enough beneath the distortions, it is also quirky; one of their first big songs was about ‘Lasagna’. They had a couple of hits on their first two albums, but this is peak, edgy Knife, sharp and pointed.

Number 37: Savages “Adore Life” 2016. I had the classic ‘day late and dollar short’ experience with these noisy women, I was really into this the debut album and then word came they were playing ‘The Bottom of the Hill’, a tiny hole in the wall club walking distance from my apartment in SOMA in San Francisco. I thought I should get a ticket for that, but they were so obscure Anglo/French gurrrl rock, no rush. They had such a rush they got moved a week later to the Independent and sold out there within an hour. So, I never saw them. I see Jehnny Beth all the time living in France, she is the Annie Nightingale/Lauren Laverne of French rock shows on ARTE the arts channel, she is also a reasonably well-known actress and was in ‘Anatomy of a Fall’. This is arty post-punk, louder and harder guitars than Warpaint, more catchy and less whiny than Sleater Kinney. They made 2 albums but have not played since 2017 so arguably not still a band. The Beth solo album is terrible, and I have not listened to the other side projects so about time for a reunion.

Number 36: Elbow “The Take Offs and Landings of Everything” 2014. Elbow now snuggle quietly in the bosom of the average British rock fan and Guy Garvey is practically a saint. The lead singer, main songwriter, Radio 6 DJ, professional Mancunian and general great man to have a beer with, in a way that the prior holder of that office Mark E Smith never was. They have released 10 albums since starting out as Elbow in Bury in 1997, they write together and share the credits, so the money is spread out equally. The early albums are claustrophobic, I got “Asleep at the Wheel” but didn’t play it much as I found it all a bit dour, but with each album they got more adventurous in both song structure and emotional heft. “Leaders of the Free World” and “Build a Rocket Boys” are both big, beaty and bouncy, but this is my favorite. Hard to say a bad word about Mr Garvey and his friends, anyone who can write a song called “Jesus is a Rochdale Girl” is a fucking legend.

Number 35: Dry Cleaning “New Long Leg” 2021. Yet another odd British art rock band with the vocals spoken rather than sung? Yes, it is post-rock with great scrunchy guitar and big bass lines with the odd tuning every now and then, that is just on the melodic side of atonal. Floating over that is Florence Shaw’s sprechgesang tales of mundane lives, which are like being part of a conversation in a pub, they are odd and funny as fuck: “I’d like to run away with you on a plane but don’t bring those loafers”, “I’ve been thinking about eating that hot dog for hours”, “What do you think your parents feel? That nod that says, ‘I’ve seen things’”. They have released “Stumpwork” and an EP since this and have had some reasonable commercial success, playing to adoring European festival crowds. I hope they can keep it up.

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Number 34: Genesis “ The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway” 1974. Genesis were a nice bunch of public school boys who fell under the impresario Jonathan King’s spell, managed to wriggle out and added Steve Hackett on guitar and Phil Collins on drums. They were prog-rock defined, in fact I first heard their song ‘In The Beginning’ is on the “World of Progressive Music” which was the second album I ever owned. Flowery stories, lots of keyboard flourishes, nursery crimes indeed. Peter Gabriel’s voice telling the story, in this case of a Puerto Rican graffiti tagger in New York city. Gabriel had a dramatic flair and live wore odd costumes, including headdresses and makeup putting him into various characters like the ‘Watcher of the Skies’. “Selling England by The Pound” had set the scene as they got darker and less fey, but TLLDOB is their peak. But the recording of it was the end of Peter Gabriel’s involvement with the band, it was arduous, and he was absent for a lot of it due to his wife’s difficult pregnancy. They toured and performed the album in its entirety plus an encore, a decision that was not supported by the entire band considering the large amount of new material. The stage shows also involved new, more elaborate costumes worn by Gabriel, three backdrop screens that displayed 1,450 slides from eight projectors and lasers. When the reviews came in they focused on Gabriel’s theatrics and took the band’s musical performance as secondary, which pissed the others off. So, he left, and they produced a bunch of boring pop rock albums over the next 20 years while Collins became a mega star and father of Emily in Paris. Odd side note: Eno is on this album.

Number 33: The Tubes “Young and Rich” 1976. When I lived in SF The Tubes were ever present, a bit like the Quicksilver and various Dead spinoffs, well past their sell by date, playing bars and free concerts and I didn’t even bother to find out who was still in the band. In 1976 they tried to present themselves as a punk band on the back of a single “White Punks On Dope” which had been on the 1975 original Tubes album. I saw them on that tour when they were such a contrast to what the English punk scene looked like as to be laughable. They survived being ‘gobbed’ on incessantly – the quaint habit of standing in front of the stage spitting at the band. If it was good enough for the Clash or Souixie then the Tubes had to put up with it, even though they looked more like hair metal than punk. This album is so clever and fun and unlike much of what was produced in 1976 is still compelling. Its tongue is firmly in its cheek for sure with ‘Proud to be an American’ and ‘Don’t Touch Me There’ lots of ironic humor and good musicianship. They were not just vaudeville, the musicianship was consistently good, drummer Prairie Prince played for bunch of bands as a session musician and was part of Jefferson Starship, Vince Welnick ended up playing keys for the Dead.

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Number 32: The Who “Live at Leeds” 1971. The Who were the Mod band to the Stones being the Rockers band. The 4 piece of drums, bass, guitar and singer never changed and was pretty simple, the songs were always poppy, they started out singing Tamala Motown songs and as much as Pete Townsend wrote two ‘rock operas’ they were mainly 3 minute pop songs, verse chorus verse chorus solo verse chorus. Townsend is and was a stunning guitarist, lots of reverb and fret runs, maybe not as technically as complex as Beck or Clapton but he could rock, and this album is his guitar show piece. It includes the Tommy medley of “‘See Me, Feel Me’, as features in the Woodstock movie, the expanded version includes the precursor to Tommy “A Quick One, While He’s Away”. Both demonstrate they had superb harmonies as well as the craziest drummer to ever grace the stage, Keith Moon. The original vinyl had just 6 songs and they were the perfect hard rock. I saw them at Charlton’s The Valley in 1974 with Lou Reed and others in support and they basically mixed this set with the more upbeat Quadrophenia songs.

Number 31: Ian Dury “New Boots and Panties” 1976. Ian Dury was a pub rocker, his band Kilburn and the High Roads (not to be confused with Hatfield and the North) were popular in that early 70’s gap before punk, they ironically supported the Who on their Quadrophenia tour in 1973. Dury, Davey Payne and Chas Jankel came out of the last iteration to become Ian Dury and the Blockheads, although this album, which made his fame was released under his name only although Jankel co-wrote most of the songs. Dury was a multi-talented odd ball, he had been at art school with Peter Blake and had a commercial art career before the music took off. He wrote stories about the characters in the demi monde of East London and Essex where he grew up, the names were changed to ‘protect the innocent’ but Randy Mandy, Plaistow Patricia and Clever Trevor are with us to this day, in the same way that Joyce’s Dublin characters are recognizable today. He was great live, and I was lucky to see him and the Blockheads on the Stiffs tour with Costello, Wreckless Eric and Larry Wallis. I somehow befriended Kosmo Vinyl and got myself, girlfriend and a mate back to the afterparty at The Midland Hotel, which was next to St George’s Hall in Bradford, up close you really understood the degree of his disability from polio but it didn’t stop Dury who, to the strains of JJ Cale’s “Okie” as he tried to seduce the girlfriend. Another small world factette, Dury and the Blockheads toured the US for the one and only time in 1978 supporting recovering former poet, Lou Reed.

Tidal Playlist version is here.

Gones for a Song: Now That’s What I Call Music! 41-50

I went to Toronto at the weekend for a business trip, I spent most of the time in a hotel and in meetings, as you do. I did manage to do two things I do on every big city trip, explore by going for a run and hit up a couple of vinyl stores. I had not been to Toronnuh really before, technically I had once before, but we literally flew in, had 2 meetings and flew back to New York. I will talk more about my thoughts and impressions in Monday’s ‘Gones for Good’. I killed a good hour rack flicking but picked up a Stones Bootleg ‘Bright Lights, Big City’, which is an interesting footnote to my last choice “Get Your Yaya’s Out”, as it’s the original Stones with Brian Jones doing studio demos of blues songs and then 4 songs from the 1973 tour rehearsal in Montreux from mixing desk. I also got the re-release over a double album of White Stripes’ “Elephant” and “Countdown to Ecstasy”, which per my thoughts on the Dan last week features the ‘guitar’ band incarnation before Jeff ‘Skunk’ Baxter leaves. The Canadian Dollar is a friend to all visitors so I left a happy man. We are over the halfway mark, so there are some seriously great works of art ahead, as well as those albums that just get under your skin even if they never sold a ton. Let’s roll:

Number 50: Clap Your Hands Say Yeah “Only Run” 2014. Alec Ounsworth continues to this day touring as CYHSY but started the band with 3 friends in Philly in 2004. He has what could be disparagingly be called a slightly whiny voice, but so does Eric Johnson of Fruit Bats, Izaak Brock of Modest Mouse and Jordan Dreyer of La Dispute and those are all fine bands. Like them, Alec sings about the absurdity of day to day life in Modern America, like them, he gets shouty and angry at times and soft and caressing at others. The Clappers as a band were successful for a while, the kind of band that NPR’s Bob Boilen would come in his pants over, the band that Cheryl Waters would introduce them by saying their album was the best of the year. That type of accolade makes them popular but doesn’t necessarily translate into fame and fortune, so Alec still making music and taking it around is cool. I met him once and had a beer with him after a show at the Independent, nice guy. Their first album features the gloriously titled “By the Skin of my Yellow Country Teeth”, great album, as was “Some Loud Thunder”. This album, the 4th, was released after that short moment of fame had mainly passed but is to me peak Ounsworth, all big songs and a big setting, Matt Berninger kind of big, and he actually adds vocals on ‘Coming Down’. 

As WordPress does not want to embed the playlist it can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5yvtYVRjFrLqTuxHo9heiE?si=a950e3d8e75446f2

Number 49: B-52s “The B-52s” 1979. The B-52s are almost national treasures in the way that Springteen or Madonna is and Taylor Swift will be, yet back in the late 70’s they were a dance punk band from Athens, GA. They wrote funny and ironic songs and made a fun if kitchy dance sound, they had two singers with bee-hive hair and managed to channel all that was great about life in the 1950’s without the systemic misogyny. They became bigger than life with ‘Love Shack’ from the ‘“Cosmic Thing” album, which to this day will pack any wedding dance floor, but I love their early stuff when Ricky Wilson was still alive and his strange Twilight Zone guitar sound. This contains the fabulous first single ‘Rock Lobster’ which I have on 7” vinyl and bought when it came out just on the title alone.

Number 48: Car Seat Headrest “ Twin Fantasy” 2018. Talking of whiny young men Will Barnes, aka Will Toledo is the mouth and brain behind the Headrest, he released his own stuff on Bandcamp and then when fame came knocking he released some of it again. It’s noisier than typical teenage boy bedroom rock, and it’s happily not even close to Emo. His songs have the conceit of a good education in a let’s break the 4th wall kind of knowingness. As much as he started on his own and his stuff has typical touches of the loop and double tracked vocals that is almost a trope, he actually writes big hooks in a Replacements, Swiss Family Orbison, Big Star way. This album started life as a self-penned college kid piece in 2011 but this release, sometimes shown as ‘In The Mirror’ version, is re-recorded with the full touring band. It builds on the ‘Teens of Style’ and ‘Teens of Denial’ albums with the band in 2015 and 2016, bigger, more flourishes and rocks out.

Number 47: Richard and Linda Thompson “I Want To See The Bright Lights Tonight” 1974. Richard Thompson was part of the great Fairport line up and got bored of doing straight folk so left in 1972 just as they were getting famous. He recorded his first solo album “Henry The Fly” which got panned, although it now is seen as a gem. He met on this album the singer Linda Peters who soon became his wife, muse and lead singer. They released 3 albums, this and two others before giving up on music completely and becoming Sufi Muslim in a community in the boonies. Let’s be kind and say they were on a journey and Richard is a practicing Muslim to this day, they produced 3 albums which were faith driven and not well received. They came back with “Shoot Out The Lights” just as Thompson left the pregnant Linda for a US tour promoter. It was a big hit in the US, and they toured to promote it, but the enmity between them was visible to the audience and that was the end. Thompson has produced tons of solo stuff since and is an accomplished guitarist able to play in any style. I am not a massive fan of his voice and the work as a couple is in my mind much better, this album has the glorious mix of influences with Linda’s voice and Richard’s guitar touches pulling it together.

Number 46: Radiohead “Ok Computer” 1997. I bought “Bends” while working briefly back in the UK and loved ‘Fake Plastic Trees’ and ‘Iron Lung’ and was really into their odd strung out sound as it was a contrast to the grunge that dominated mainstream rock in the US. This album if not their masterpiece is the highlight of their early years. The middle period of “Kid A” and “Amnesiac” went all a bit introspective and synth driven but they got back to writing songs with “Moon Shaped Pool” and the fabulous “In Rainbows”, which I came close to nominating. This was recorded near Bath at St Catherine’s Court, which was owned at the time by Jane Seymour, New Order also recorded “Waiting for the Siren’s Call” there. The dub reggae version of this album, “Radiodread” by the marvelous Easy Star All-Stars, shows how great the songs are on this in terms of melodies. The other interesting thing about this album even though it sounds so dense is that it was mostly recorded live which shows how much they were in-synch musically at the time.

Number 45: Roxy Music “For Your Pleasure” 1973. When they appeared on the scene as part of the Glam pop explosion Roxy were always a bit more serious, a bit more studied, a bit more elaborately coiffed than the others. They became major pop stars and Brain Ferry became a global sex symbol and as much as they drifted off into AOR pop rock in the later years the first three albums are amazing. I would argue when Brian Eno left to do his marvelous stuff elsewhere they were inevitably sliding downwards to that smooth fate. There is always a bit of lounge lizard croon to Ferry’s stylings but together with the scent of Naugahyde, whisky and cheap perfume this album creates another world in a dark club somewhere in Eastern Europe before the wall came down. “ Ta ra, ta ra” indeed.

Number 44: Yves Tumor “Heaven To A Tortured Mind” 2020. Yves Tumor channels Roxy Music as much as he channels Prince and ‘Maggot Brain’ era Funkadelic. A multi-instrumentalist, he has been making music outside the normal R&B or rap scene since 2010 but is super productive and not stuck into one groove or genre. The end result is that interesting blend of funk, guitar rock and pop, he has been quoted as saying he is inspired by Genesis P. Orridge which you can hear in the bass lines, but this is much more varied and less drony. Sean Bowie, who records as Tumor, is helped on this album by the insanely talented Diane Gordon, who also lights up Lil Yachty’s “Let’s Start Here”, and the guitarist Chris Greatti. Bowie is a name already taken in music or at least carries too much freight, so I understand the need for his/their own identity. Originally from Knoxville, TN, he has been based in Turin for a while and channelling his own inner Herman Miller has designed and made furniture as well as this fun collection.

Number 43: School of Seven Bells “Disconnect from Desire” 2010. Dream pop that follows a line back to Cocteau Twins via Slowdive and the other shoe-gaze bands, but that is very bright lit and New York rather than some gloomy northern English steel town. I liked Secret Machines which was Benjamin Curtis’ prior band and this guitar and synth dreamy pop with the twin Deheza sisters vocals was always intriguing and driven by a strong groove. They sing all the songs on the album together, rather than taking turns, and their complex vocal interplay resides at the heart of the band’s sound. The “Alpinisms” album was great but this was their peak. They had a short-lived space in the public conscience as firstly Claudia left the band, while this album was being promoted, for the ubiquitous “personal reasons” and in Feb 2013 Ben Curtis was diagnosed with a lymphoma that he succumbed to 10 months later, and then school was down and out.

Number 42: Gang of Four “Entertainment” 1977. The sound of Leeds, 1970’s angst and cheap guitars. I saw them live a couple of times in the late 70’s while at Uni and they were unique in how they mixed the political polemic and shouty, spitting punk rock. I have the “Damaged Goods” original 7” mainly because I loved the B-side ‘Armalite Rifle’ and that was their opening shot. Over several years they evolved into an odd mix of funk and punk and saw them in the early 80’s with Sara Lee on bass when they toured with ‘“Songs of The Free”. This the first album and has their classics that still stand up today, ‘Love Like Anthrax’, ‘I Found That Essence Rare’ and the brilliant ‘At Home He’s A Tourist”. Spiky anthems and lots of feedback jerky guitar from the wonderful Andy Gill.

Number 41: T Rex “Electric Warrior” 1971. Talking of glam rock, Mark Bolan and side kick Peregrine Took ( not his real name) had been playing fey folk rock and singing about elves and maidens as Tyrannosaurus Rex but then wisely, trimmed the name, went electric and with some eyeliner, a silver sparkly velvet suit and big heels they were away. They kept some of the cosmic bullshit, but now with technically their 5th album it was much more pop with Tony Visconti producing and sprinkling his special own pixie dust over it all. One of the additions was the fabulous Flo and Eddie on backing vocals, this is the same period as the “Mother’s Live At The Fillmore” but less obscenities.

The Tidal version of the playlist is here.

Gones for a song: Now That’s What I Call Music!: 60-51

‘Go on throw this stone Into this halfway home’

It was a relatively straightforward task to come up with the albums that I think are the best, I started with about 130 then knocked it down to 100 and then each week I look at the upcoming 10 and listen to them all week and some get thrown out and some get moved up. As the quality is generally getting less and less disputed or the choice is less perhaps esoteric this gets less easy, play order maybe but now if they are in they are in. It’s also been a fun exercise to reflect how one’s passions change and develop. https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/71QsTs9LNDN07rtxSoeSbG

Popular music has evolved since its invention at sometime in the late 1950’s. A mass media for predominantly the young generation, which facilitated the fascinations of the young, fucking, friendship, frippery and dancing the frug. Not every twist and turn since then has covered every base, I would defy anyone to dance to ‘Metal Machine Music’. The methods of distribution have changed over time on this odd journey from radio, 78’s, 45’s, albums, concept albums, 8-tracks, cassettes, Walkmans, CDs, I-Tunes, Napster, Soulseek and MP3 files and finally streaming. The artist, record company, live music venue and all the people hanging around the edges making money out of the creative process at the heart of it all has not really dramatically changed in the intervening 75 years. Someone writes a song, someone sings or plays the song, someone listens to it and pays for the pleasure. People then write about it, cheer for it and line up to see it played live. Trends come and go and what music press still exists, if any, outside of Substack, talk it up or knock it down. Looking back at these 100 albums that have meant so much to me has reminded me that if there is any common linkage from the first album from 1967 to the most recent which came out last year, its probably that you can dance the frug to all of them, badly and slowly with some but the beat does indeed go on. Halfway though, halfway home!

Number 60: Alvvays “Blue Rev” 2022. Oh, Canada does it again. This cheery bunch hails from Nova Scotia and in terms of heritage, the voice and image of Alvvays is Molly Rankin, who is the daughter of the core founders of the biggest Canadian Celtic music band, The Rankin Family, which I had heard of but other than a teen flirtation with my inner Paddy and Planxty, Celtic music is not something I have ever been that interested in. They are more of a Toronto band in practice, and this is jangly upbeat power pop in its purest form, with enough scuzzy guitar to counter the bubble gum elements. I first saw them in 2014 at Potrero Del Sol, which was the small, intimate fun one-day festival that was everything Outside Lands wasn’t. They had a great first album which featured the irrepressible “Archie, Marry Me” that I had heard thanks to those nice people at Polyvinyl Records so was desperate to see them. The next album got better and this their third continued the progress, and who doesn’t like a song about Tom Verlaine.

Number 59: Prince “1999” 1982. Well now, if you wanted to dance the Frug, or the Mashed Potato, the Texas Slide, the Latin Hustle or even the fucking Twist (which I can remember my mother and sister doing in all seriousness) this whole album is full of bangers. Prince was a genius in a way I just did not see in MJ, who seemed to be heavily dependent on Quincy Jones. Prince played killer guitar (if you have never seen it check out the solo for the George Harrison tribute here, and check out the pre-mike drop mike-drop walk off), wrote a million songs, a variety of other instruments and was pretty adept at putting together great bands, usually heavily featuring women players. 39 albums released before he died, most sold well, many were classics “Sign o’ the Times’, ‘Purple Rain’, ‘Diamonds and Pearls’ but this album I had on cassette, CD and bought again on vinyl as it is all gold, all dance beats and funk-box synth sounds.

Number 58: The Teardrop Explodes “Wilder” 1981. Julian Cope was the face of New Wave, sheepskin lined bomber jackets, blond quiff and quotes from Baudelaire. Illusions of allusions were the lyrical gems cast like pearl before swine, with faux horns and syn drums bopping away. Cope was a bigger talent than the pop leanings that the Teardrop had to produce to pay the bills, and his solo stuff allowed him to later explore the breadth of his imagination, but this album is the perfect package, upbeat, smart and more varied melodies than Morrissey and Marr ever came up with in one album. Part of the Liverpool Eric’s scene with the Bunnymen, Courtney Love was his groupie girlfriend, they were managed by Bill Drummond of the KLF and burning millions of pounds as performance art infamy. This is the second album, produced by Clive Langer, hence the shiny bounciness. The third was aborted due to ‘artistic differences’ between Dave Balfe, the keyboardist and Cope and later released to general snoozes, after the band no longer existed in any practical sense, as “Everybody Wants to Shag the Teardrop Explodes”.

Number 57: LCD Soundsystem “Sound of Silver” 2007. James Murphy’s unique schtick is to be part of the cultural milieu yet at the same time as taking the piss out of it. He is so Brooklyn and so Berlin and so in awe of French disco yet sees the shallow facade that makes up so much of the supposed glamour. He namedrops Can, Suicide, Beefheart, Daft Punk, “Setting the Controls For the Heat of the Sun” and yet it is not pastiche; he and the band had enough really love for the music that they produce great dance music, they didn’t lose their edge, they got the grooves just right. Arguably the ‘Sound of Silver’ just continues what was started with the first album, but the songs are tighter, the ideas slightly better formed. They had some more maturity, but they always seemed to be a bunch of middle-aged friends who loved music rather than a bunch of kids. They did the mature thing and stopped before it got it too boring, and then realized they missed it and have come back for more. The Franz Ferdinand vocal version of “All My Friends” is worth finding if you have not heard it and just for giggles the two songs on the playlist are from the ‘Someone Great’ remixes.

Number 56: The Smiths “Meat Is Murder” 1985. I got into the Smiths relatively early, had the first album on cassette and the ‘Hatful of Hollow’ compilation but bought ‘Meat is Murder’ as soon as it came out and still have the original vinyl, that has survived 17 different moves including crossing the Atlantic 4 times. The Smiths were quintessentially English, they wrote about the dreary life of early 80’s Manchester under the rule of Thatcher and a general sense that it could and should be so much better. Steven Morrissey and Johnny Marr bonded over a mutual love for ‘The Monochrome Set’ which is a fine basis to start a band and The Smiths reached relative commercial success thanks to John Peel, great songs and a consistent commitment to the art they were making, both in the imagery and the sound. ‘The Queen is Dead’ is excellent as well but the last album “Strangeways, Here We Come” named after the Manchester prison was a fitting symbol of the demise of the band, they didn’t really exist at the time it was released, Johnny Marr gave up and precipitated the split as he felt imprisoned in the format of the Smiths and wanted to explore other music. Sadly, none of the 4 of them achieved anything like the success they enjoyed together, Morrissey had minor solo success, Marr has been in Electronic, The The, Modest Mouse and a dozen other cameos and lots of session work. The drummer and bassist O’Rourke and Joyce have done loads of session work but not much else.

Number 55: The National “High Violet” 2010. Originally from Cincinatti but yet another Brooklyn band they are now almost national treasure status, having been around for 25 years. Matt Berninger’s laconic drawl has been getting milder and more restrained of late, but I first saw them at Brixton Academy in 2005, the first gig I had been to in years, due to parenting and living in a musical desert, San Luis Obispo for 4 years. I loved the crazed anger of ‘Murder Me Rachel’ from the “Sad Songs For Dirty Lovers” and that was a highlight of the gig, and I was hooked. I have seen them twice since, and they are a great live band, all good musicians, and have so far avoided the consequences of the rock and roll life. As much as they have got more restrained, they have not stopped evolving their sound to keep it interesting, the vignettes of life that Berninger shares are all relatable in a Paul Auster kind of way. They have released 11 albums, and this is my favorite but there are two or three others that are up there, ‘Trouble Will Find me’ and ‘First Two Pages of Frankenstein’ are brilliant.

Number 54: Stereolab “Emperor Tomato Ketchup” 1996. Sounds like the Velvets with two girls singing counterpoint harmonies and one is French, drone heaven! What was there not to like about these guys, the musical equivalent of the entente cordiale although it’s a stretch to call the band Anglo-French, which you see sometimes, as 3 were English, one was Australian plus good old Laetitia Sadier and they have always been based in England. I first discovered their baroque mix of electronics, krautrock, Brazilian samba and lounge-core with their second album ‘Transient Random-Noise Bursts with Announcements’. They always did ironic album titles as they were music nerds as well as musicians, their second EP was called “Stunning Debut Album”. The band members changed over time with the core of Tim Gane and Sadier, the only constant. Mary Hansen was a constant until her death in 2002, she was killed by a truck while riding her bike. Sean O’Hagen of High Llamas was a member for a few years and contributed to this album, which was produced by John McIntire of Tortoise fame. This is more approachable and less drony than some of their stuff but if you like this they released 10 albums between 1992 and 2010 but in principle they are still around. They have each done solo stuff and they release what they loosely call compilations which includes live tracks, demos and odd versions to this day.

Number 53: Steely Dan “Katy Lied” 1976. The Dan were the thinking man’s rock band, all oblique references to mid century noir literature and the sound becoming progressively less like rock and more like the Crusaders. This was the first album after the departure of Jeff ‘Skunk’ Baxter to the Doobie Brothers, who together with the Eagles and Jackson Brown formed the new Western American sound. Becker and Fagan meanwhile wanted nothing to do with the wild west, they belonged in lounge bars somewhere off Hollywood Boulevard. The ‘Royal Scam’ came out the following year, also primarily recorded with session musicians but that was 1976 and punk happened and these geezers were definitely not cool by then. ‘Aja’ came out in 77 and is so slick and jazz driven that it is usually found in any high end Hi Fi shop who wants to show off their speakers and $5000 valve amp. To me “Katy Lied” is the perfect peak of Fagan and Becker’s ingenuity yet still constrained by the sense of a band and making a rock album and it all went a little bit boring and jazz from this point forward.

Number 52: Damien Jurado “Brothers And Sisters Of The Eternal Son” 2014. Damien is an old school singer songwriter that has been making records since the late 90s, he has been around long enough that he has been releasing his latest material on his own label. He is a great storyteller and creates worlds to entice you in and take part in the journey. He has a classic American voice so does much of his work with just that powerful voice and acoustic guitar, but he hit a strong creative streak starting in 2010 with ‘Saint Bartlett’ where he used loops, drums and synths to flesh out his songs and the virtual band setting really suited his material. I saw him live a couple of times in 2013 and 2015 and he had a bunch of effect pedals, so he was able to bring the album stuff to life even though it was basically him and his guitar. This album is the strong finish to the suite of 3 albums around a theme of new worlds and the big band sound.

Number 51: The Rolling Stones “Get Yer Ya-Ya’s Out”1970. The Stones are more of an institution than simply a band and in some form or another have been around for over 60 years, still releasing albums and more incredibly still selling out stadiums. They had two creative peaks; the sprawling double album ‘Exile on Main Street’ is a giant work and has some glorious moments; the other was arguably ‘Let It Bleed’ in 1969. It is a superb album but as much as I have listened to it and loved it, the live version of it is ‘Get Your Ya-Ya’s Out” and I have played the shit out of this album over the years. They were monsters live, the rhythm of Wyman’s bass, the much missed Charlie Watts and Keith Richard’s rhythm guitar drives the whole thing. This is Mick Taylor on guitar and as much as I loved the Faces Ronnie Wood is no Mick Taylor. This Mick Jagger is the full young prancing prince version, and his stage patter is ever present (“Charlie’s good tonight isnt he?!”) and he can play a reasonably serious harmonica. So, this is ‘Let It Bleed’ on steroids and you understand if you have this much fun playing live you would be happy to do this into your 80’s.

The Tidal version of the playlist is here as their embed coding doesnt work on Subtsack.

Gones for good: Episode 7 – Bread Heads

There was a recent article in the storied business journal, the Harvard Business Review, on the tactical genius of the French Boulanger. Through a study of the bakers in Lyon, the three learned professors “analyzed the location strategies of 177 bakeries within the city of Lyon, from the beginning of 1998 to the end of 2017”. They were surprised that Traditionalist bakeries (in the food capital of France) had survived. Bread making in France is a relatively simple business and is regulated in part. The ‘baguette traditionnelle’ specifically by law, can contain only flour, water, salt, and yeast. By their name, the Traditionalists don’t use a variety of “time- and cost-saving practices (such as the use of mixes and frozen dough), which are more or less invisible to consumers”. My emphasis in bold. What does not appear once in the research paper is the word or even the concept of taste. I could be snarky and make the case that as 2 of the three researchers are Dutch and the third Swiss that we should not be surprised. But really? The authors of the article were shocked, that despite these disadvantages, the Traditionalists have maintained a strong majority share of the French bread market despite modernist competitors using the cheaper efficient production tricks. They came to the mystifying conclusion that there was a logic defying trick by the Traditionalists, who instead of shunning being next to or nearby a modernist bakery, actually more often than not, set up right under their modernist competitors noses. So you make something you love making, in a time honored traditional way using natural ingredients and as sure as shit, tastes better than the bland cheaper option, and you are in business in a country that loves bread, in a city that worships at the altar of nourriture every day. Unsurprisingly, you are successful. In other news, wine is wet.

Other bread loving nations include the English and the Irish. Ireland has one of the highest natural incidences of celiac disease, yet you will not find a lot of gluten-free options. It seems the Irish have made a conscious decision that if they are to suffer, it will not be for a lack of bread. Nor for a lack of Guinness, although I was surprised to see the UK drinks more of the foamy browny-black stuff than its country of origin, closely behind Ireland is Nigeria. In a hot, sticky, equatorial humid climate the last thing I would be craving is Guinness, but that’s why I am not running a global drinks business like Diageo. Where you will not find cans of Guinness for sale publicly is the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. The Kingdom is dry and has been since 1952 when King Abdulaziz banned it after one of his sons got drunk at a diplomatic function and killed the British Consul with his sword.

This Thursday, continuing our own swordless tradition, we celebrated the saint’s day of Sainte Clemence. Yet another German widow of nobility who when her hubbie, Menginard I, Count of Sponhiem (a minor kingdom yet again in the Holy Roman Empire) went toes up, goes into a convent, does some good work and then mysteriously ends up beatified. If you are born on this day, the French refer to you as a Clementine, which could be confusing if you became so ridiculously successful in business to the point you are dubbed a mandarin.

Good weather, good times

Wednesday through this weekend was the “Le Temps Est Bon” (Good Weather) food festival which, although it’s the third week of March, was prophetic in its timing. It was 22 yesterday, and everyone is behaving like it’s spring. We went to one of the events, a dinner with the Mich 1 starred chef Vivien Durand from Lormont, near Bordeaux was invited to take over the kitchen by Florian Remont of the Bistrot du Potager, which is in the 7th, the Gerland area. Remont’s place is known for his South Western Pays-Basque style cuisine, so it was obviously a meeting of the minds. In a small world coincidence, we drove so many times across the Pont d’Aquitaine to and from Bordeaux airport to the cottage in Duras. On the headland to the south of the bridge’s entrance was a ruined château that in its day, i.e. before they built a 6 lane suspension bridge at the bottom of the garden, it must have had great views over the Garronne estuary. For all those years it was a graffitied husk of its former greatness, but in the latter few years of our journeys it was being refurbished, and it just so happens that Durand’s Black Prince restaurant is situated in the château’s former stable block.

The menu was a 5 course tour de force. Brussels, young and fried whole like a flower with a syrupy dressing of shitaki mushrooms kicked it off. Followed by sea-bass carpaccio, then a glorious sous-vide prepared monkfish dish. I think sous-vide is generally preposterous, but this was ‘melt in the mouth’ so I get it was worth the faff.

You are kidding me

The main event was kid goat from the Basque Country, spit roasted and served in an unctuous sauce with girolles and perfect roast potato. It was then followed with a selection of spring veggies – roast baby leeks and roast white asparagus on a bed of fried kale and spinach with pea-shoots garnish. It would have pleased Popeye and my Olive Oyl thought it the best dish of the night. Dessert was a bit of a mess with some crispy chocolatey sticks that were nearly inedible, on top of hazelnut cream and a bread flavored sorbet that just didn’t work together. Otherwise, pretty great food in quite a cool space.

The other oddity of the night was the total fail on the music. As well as the French do food, they do music as badly sometimes. We dined with a soundtrack of electronic disco at a volume that was just annoying enough that you noticed it, yet too low so all you really heard was the tinny repetitive beat. The music that if played loud while the young bucks were doing prep in the open kitchen would have been fine, but not dining music, never, ever. In the loos downstairs they seemed to have replaced the ceiling speakers with former earpiece speakers from old telephones so the tinny beat was something otherworldly, laughable even. It’s a shame as the French can do dance music – Justice, Daft Punk, Cassius, Laurent Garnier but this was just crap. This is what good French dance music sounds like.

Besties

It’s been a long and weirdly deflating winter. Milder than it should have been for weeks, wetter than it should have been for more weeks, and cold but not for long enough so far. The whole mess in Gaza continues to be an affront to supposedly Western democratic norms, but then again, the ongoing one in Ukraine is also a long-running festering sore. The climate summit was hosted by the head of a Petro-state’s national oil company and attended by over 4000 lobbyists; the climate crisis has devolved into nothing but the script of a bad 1990’s disaster movie. 

We seem to be living in the shadow of many megalomaniacs, as I have mentioned in prior outbursts. I feel a particular sense of failure about them as a group, as they are all of my generation. When I misguidedly thought that we were all reaping the benefits of the baby boom on our cruise towards a better place, some were in fact being formed to become tyrants. Viktor Orbán, two months younger than my brother, Xi Jinping, 3 years older than me but a year younger than Putin, a year older than Recep Erdoğan, baby boomers one and all. They obviously were not concerned about what car to drive, where Frank Zappa’s house was in Laurel Canyon and what was the best modern novel. The best car for them was chauffeur driven and bullet proof. They could plunder enough personal wealth to buy most of Laurel Canyon and the best book is obviously one written by them telling the proles what to do. There are some other minor characters strolling around the world stage, Nehandra Modi is an elder statesman having been born one year after the partition and departure from India of the British is 1950. He is well-loved by the Hindu majority of Indians and feared by those of other faiths, but he loves a bit of authoritarianism alongside his vegetarian and abstemious lifestyle. Benyamin Netanyahou, born the following year, is meanwhile bombing children with US-funded and supplied weapons in an effort to prolong the ‘war’ against Palestine helping him to avoid criminal charges, let alone the admonition for the terrible sequence of events that the supposed hard man of Israeli politics oversaw, that led to the horrific deaths of 1139 of the citizens he was supposed to protect. But the country is at war and that’s no time to stop taking action, or look at what you are doing for now and the future?

Lurking and gurning, stage left, is public enemy number one, the Donald. He is actually the oldest of this august group, born the same year as my sister in 1946. He is ahead in any poll you care to read, across most age groups including for some frightening reason the young. He is leading over everyone’s favorite grandfather Joe Biden. ‘Sleepy Joe’, as Drumpf dubbed him and Fox have continued to remind everyone, is at best underappreciated, at worst sleepwalking into an electoral disaster. Not that the Democrats don’t have experience with that, just wait until the numbers get worse mid-year and some bright spark will suggest Hilary should come back and throw her hat into the ring. Biden is four years older than Trump and wears each year like a decade. He walks across a stage, or down a flight of stairs and if successfully accomplished, we all breathe a collective sigh of relief, like parents watching their child negotiate his first nativity play as Shepherd Number 2, little Joe didn’t fall over or drop his Crook.

He is however single handedly keeping Western Democracy functioning. He is keeping China from invading Taiwan, he is keeping Putin out of Ukraine and doing this while what passes as the Republican party nowadays careens around the Washington political institutions trying to stymy him in anything and everything he does. The Federal Reserve has tried to kill the economy under Biden, but he has survived and the economy has survived. A little bruised but still punching. The general standard of living has improved and improved most for the people at the bottom. The jobs are still more in demand of job fillers than the prior decades of people hunting in vain for a job, a situation that continues to support modest and successful wage rises and better conditions for Union workers. The administration has ramped up green energy infrastructure, even if most of it has occurred in the south and southwest where it’s easier to build anything, period.

Sadly, Biden is the very embodiment of Rodney Dangerfield. He is old and he does not get no respect. Our common hope is now reduced to Trump being so deranged during the primary campaigns, where he will assume that the nomination should be his by right, without having to go through the motions, and that the legal convictions pile up enough doubt that enough people hold their nose, forget about his age and re-elect Biden. What then happens we can probably look forward to another B-Movie script too.

So as 2023 slips into collective memory I am not the most enthusiastic about what 2024 holds for us. There was some great new music created in the past year or more accurately discovered by me in the past year. So in the spirit of making an effort to finish on an upward tone here are some highlights of what the young people have been doing musically while my cadre have been busy fucking shit up: 

The links are to Bandcamp/YouTube but for those inclined there is a Spotify playlist here.

Geese – Album: 3D Country – bunch of young gents from Brooklyn or at least currently based there. They defy simple description but sound like the product of many nights drinking and listening to old 90’s geezer rock like Primal Scream’s Exile on Mainstreet Phase or Ash or Supergrass, but through a very American lens, almost a C&W bastard child. 2122 or Mysterious Love

Lil Yachty – Let’s Start Here. Where do you start with this? Yachty is a 26-year-old from Mableton Georgia, rapper, cool looking guy, man about New York City, hanging with the stars. Had some big hits including Broccoli with DRAM. All so normal then this drops. This album is the stepchild of Axis Bold as Love, Fulfillingness First Finale and Dark Side of the Moon, just insanely layered and fun and if Floyd or Stevie Wonder had the use of a vocoder this is what they might have sounded like. My favorite album of the year without question. Drive me Crazy or Black Seminole.

Fever Ray – Album: Radical Romantics – Karin Dreijer is a unique voice and has produced some of the most interesting electronic music of the last 20 years as half of The Knife and her solo stuff as Fever Ray. Some of her output is admittedly hard work but she has a great turn of phrase and the very Swedish electronics work well. This album is melodically stronger and dare I say it quite fun, the live video is worth finding. Kandy or Carbon Dioxide for the atmospheric gas fans amongst us.

Baxter Dury – Album: I thought I was better Than You. I was late to the Baxter Dury party. I was a massive fan of his Dad and had the good fortune to meet him once and have a drink with him while he serenaded my girlfriend to the dulcet sounds of J.J.Cale. Baxter has his Dad’s way with a lyric but has added his own louche style, girl backing singers a key part of his sound. I have consumed his early stuff now thanks to Rachel for the introduction to I’m Not Your Dog which for obvious reasons is popular with the French. Aylesbury Boy or Celebrate Me ‘lick my head’ indeed!

Steve Mason – Album: Brothers and Sisters. I have been a fan of Steve Mason’s happy, clappy, mellow soft rock since the Beta band 3Eps days and their 30 seconds of stardom in High Fidelity when John Cusack drops it into play. He continues to make great music and it’s all pretty upbeat, he has also done some dub versions with Dennis Bovell and that deep bass sound has permeated his work. There is yet another reworked sample of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan’s qawwli song Musst Musst as well. Brixton Fish Fry or No More.

Will Butler + Sister Squares. What happened to Arcade Fire? There was a period when they defined cool, “it” and relevant and then they disappeared into a haze of seriousness and a bad Christmas album. Will Butler was the earnest front man and happily this album, his 5th or so since the Fire went out, is fun, upbeat and catchy, still with Will’s quirkiness at times. Saturday Night or Stop Talking.

Hania Rani – Album: Ghosts. Hania is an accomplished Polish jazz pianist who has played with Portico Quartet and released some moody piano instrumental works like “On Giacometti” from earlier this year and her memorial pieces on behalf of Ukraine. This album shows her amazing voice and cool arrangements, interesting rhythmic stuff also going on from the Portico’s who back her on several songs. Don’t Break My Heart and Dancing with Ghosts.

Do Nothing – Album: Snake Sideways. In the wake of the earnest singy-shouty bands from the British Isles like Idles, Fontaines DC, BCBR or Yard Act comes Do Nothing. Two well received Eps were followed this year by the Snake Sideways album and it’s a lovely little grower. You have to like the spiky post rock guitars and Chris Bailey’s voice but there is some really great stuff here that rewards repeated listens. Amoeba or Happy Feet.

Ian Sweet – Sucker. Ian Sweet is the stage name of Jillian Medford and is the other side of LA to LDR’s glossy Hollywood glitzy antics. Her songs are of the young poor strugglers that make up most of the striving artists and actors in SOCAL. Gritty electric pop with some production that really pulls it together. Sucker or Fight

Skinny Palembe – Album: Hardly The Same Snake. Doya Beardmore grew up in South Africa but then moved to Doncaster of all places and his music reflects a global vibe that works as well in Donny as Jo’burg. It swings, it has a jazz inflection but works as a good collection of songs and his voice is more sustainable than Alex Turner’s striving eeforts at crooning. Don’t Be Another or Like A Heart Won’t Beat

Lana Del Ray – “Did you know that there’s a tunnel under Ocean Blvd?” Lana continues to get better and better, and this oddly named paeon to LA, the Carpenters and 70’s soft rock is superb. Couple of self-indulgent spoken voice segments by guests apart this is faultless. She has more confidence in her voice so happy to share the vocals with others. She wrote this on her phone and then built it up over time with collaborators and finally Jack Antonoff to pull it all together in an LDR album way, her 9th for god’s sake.  Did you know that there’s a tunnel under Ocean Blvd and Fingertips.

The Reds, Pinks and Purples – Murder, Oral Sex and Cigarettes. The RP&P is the performing name of Glenn Donaldson who lives in the Inner Richmond (I know as he released an album called that) in San Francisco and is prolific to say the least. He can be accused of sounding like Morrissey but he is way much more than the baritone which is indeed at times a bit familiar. All heart ache and frustrations, very, very catchy songs and then a throw away guitar instrumental that is glorious. What will heaven be like? Or Use This Song If You Need One.

Where did all the face melting go?

There was a time when any self-respecting band featured a self-confessed king of the fret-board, a string-bender extraordinaire, a shredder. Bands played long extemporized songs featuring guitar solos for at least half the length of the song. In a twist there later developed a genre of bands whose whole style was the long rambling instrumentals that were made up on the spot, live, around a base melody or motif, the jam-band, whose music arose out of love for the Grateful Dead. However, as to be expected with a bunch of Deadheads the live noodling was short on melody or rhythm and long on meandering. As much as the blues rock of Clapton, Page and Beck was long on solos they came through the same pop training with the YardBirds to know that solos should be parts of songs not the reason for the song.

The blues from Chicago and Memphis produced great guitar highlights but few self-indulgent solos, even the magii of BB, Albert and Freddie focused on their guitar as punctuation for their songs, maybe they understood the audience in a blues club came to dance and not to play along with the guitar. The arrival of more and more ‘heavier’ music brought the long emotive solo, Skynnerd’s ‘Freebird’, Zep’s ‘Stairway to Heaven’, the Dan’s ‘Reeling in the Years’, Niel Young and Crazy Horse’s ‘Down By The River’ made way for metal and Guns’Roses ‘Sweet Child O’Mine’, and album after album of pouting masculine rock from AC/DC, Sabbath, Ozzy, Judas Priest, Bad Company, Panthera, MSG, Queens of the Stone Age, Van Halen. The list is sadly nearly endless, over the 30 year period from 1975 to 2005 nearly every rock song features as the key selling point the guitar solo, squeezed out at high decibels and high register. The perfect accompaniment for Beavis and Butthead to head nod along to before building up to the guitar climax where the aficionado would play the guitar solo themselves on an imaginary guitar in the air. The perfect climax accompanied by the face distorting into various shapes, in time to the various notes and string bends, effect pedal and shrieks in the classic ‘face melt’.

Unsurprisingly, not a lot of women were a, interested in taking part in this bizarre ritual nor b, encouraged to play this kind of guitar as it is hard visually to make the best effort at being attractive while gurning along to the guitar in your hand. Joan Jett made a career out of one song that both celebrated and parodied this phase in music with “I Love Rock’n Roll”.

The clock spins forward and the guitar solo got lost along the way, certainly as a staple. Whether it was just the self-indulgence of it all. Drum solos lasted even less time. Other than the Doors, Rick Wakeman and ELP, keyboards had never really held the crowds attention, it’s the same with the modern version with earnest looking guys hunched over computer keyboards desperately trying to look rock while yet another loop starts in a synth driven band. The fossilized white rock approach probably didn’t help and people wanted something new and while melody will always be king, his queen is a good lyric. So RnB, rap, alt-rock and pop abandoned the guitar for the most part, at least the part you could play on your air guitar.

Post rock brought the noise and the technical chops, but you would hardly accuse Mogwai of long wanky guitar solos. St Vincent is one of the hardest guitar soloists playing today, but she always tethers the solo in her song structure. Jack White has a great blues touch, but he seems to have got lost of late in a cage of fuzz and reverb, and he is too much of a smart businessman to mess with the needs of streaming, so nothing he releases is ever over 5 minutes and most under 4 minutes. So where are the guitar licks for those who hanker for some twang without the torch song accompaniment?

Well, Uncle Jim is here to help! The guitar hero is alive and well, he is just hiding out in Niger, Houston, Leuven and Peckham. I realized that what drives Mdou Moctar was wanting to play electric versions of taureg songs and having been forced to build his own first guitar he was not going to let tradition get in the way. He brings a hard rocking energy and the guitar leads everything, and he will happily solo his head off, especially since achieving some traction in the West and is now backed with a band.

Kruangbhin sound like they are also from somewhere off the beaten track yet without insulting my friends in Houston, they are not, they are Texas through and through but they have a unique sound that is not in anyway country or western. They are guitar led and long on instrumentals, a re-imagining of the classic rock power trio, Beck Bogert and Appice but Bogert is in a mini-dress and heels and the front two wearing matching Beatle-mop wigs. Mark Speer, the guitarist, has very good technical chops and can play tons of styles and his sound is unique, lots of clever down tempo stuff but he can let it rip, especially live.

Leuven is known as the home of the largest university in Belgium that had been around since 1425, and is also the home of Stella Artois. Like Cambridge without the pretensions and lots of lager. Brutus is a hard post-rock band with classic hard rock vocals although in a twist, it’s actually the drummer Stefanie Mannaerts, who does the singing while beating the crap out of the drum set. The guitarist Stijn Vanhoegaerden can shred. 

South London is the home of Dry Cleaning. In the way of the world they have been classified as yet another arty, spoken-word English rockband alongside Squid or Black Country, New Road, who both broke through around the same time, post Covid. If you listen to them, particularly live, there are two things going on, for sure the surreal visual images elucidated by Florence Shaw, and launched like float glass on top of the batshit riffs of Tom Dowse’s almost hardcore guitar. Dowse, a fan of Sonic Youth and Pavement had spells in metalcore bands, he played support once for his heroes Converge. What is interesting about Dry Cleaning is that being in their 30’s they have none of the fears of not doing something, in case it prevents fame and/or glory. There was an interesting comment by Mike Skinner, aka ‘The Streets’, who at 44 is promoting a film he has spent years putting together: “Essentially, it’s all nostalgia. Most of a musician’s career is nostalgia for those few years when they were the thing…. When you’re a musician, your 20s are amazing, and then the rest of your life is about dealing with that.” Unsurprising that many bands disappear only to decide to tour their eponymous, multi selling album 25 years later, when they are all in their late 40’s, and probably need the cash.

I wonder whether it was just the amazing options that computers delivered that killed the guitar? To the budding musician you could learn to play guitar, endlessly playing chords like ‘Play in a Day’ with Bert Weedon, trying to replay the riff you heard that you cannot get out of your head. Hope you find someone else to play with, the way that most bands started for over 50 years. Or you could learn to play basic piano and then GarageBand, Pro Tools, Reason or Logic Pro will open up a complete panoply of musical styles, sounds and rhythms just for you in your headphones – you don’t even get to annoy the neighbors “I’m calling the police!”. For sure, there are never a shortage of indie guitar bands around, but the vast majority of music is not that anymore. I am not sure many 15-year-old boys are playing, on repeat, a shredding guitar solo, while they airplay the imaginary chords and melt their faces to each note; Spotify would only go and interrupt it with something else they are sure you want to hear anyway, or at least something they have been paid to play you.

The guitar solo is not dead, it has just seen better days. If you want to air-guitar away while pretending to do some housework, play this: I added a few older guitar classics for your enjoyment – hopefully Spotify leaves it as is, it boils my brain when they decide to add a song to my playlist playback….

  1. Mdou Moctar – Nakanegh Dich
  2. Khruangbin – Maria Tambien
  3. Dry Cleaning – Hot Penny Day
  4. Brutus – Victoria
  5. Television – 1880 or so
  6. Taste – Blister On The Moon
  7. Pavement – Fillmore Jive
  8. Modest Mouse – Teeth Like God’s Shoeshine
  9. Drop Nineteens – Delaware
  10. White Denim – Cheer Up
  11. Viagra Boys – Research Chemicals
  12. The Velvet Underground with Nico – Run Run Run
  13. Turin Brakes – Sleeper
  14. Thee Oh Sees – The Dream

Quitting time -a quitter’s raga

Every now and then the compulsive urge to try something new manifests itself in me taking on a new activity. Luckily, my desire to try out the new is equally matched by my ability to quickly see the errors of my ways and to stop the pointless pursuit of unrealized mastery of the new activity. I had shown a keen interest in music as I entered my teens and following in the Britton family tradition my parents thought I should learn a musical instrument. Having studiously ignored the piano sitting in the living room, they kindly bought me a guitar for Christmas and armed me with Bert Wheedon’s “Play in a Day”. I duly practiced “Bobby Shaftoe” solidly for about 4 days until, with my Trumpian-short fingers struggling with the steel strings of the two chords, I decided that maybe guitar was not for me. I spent more time electrifying the guitar with a small mike attached to the body and recording my echoey guitar effects on my reel-to-reel than I ever spent playing songs.

My only other musical venture was singing, we sang hymns every morning at school assembly and whenever we went on the bus to an away sports match to play another school I was one of the ring leaders of the back of the bus impromptu choir treating the compliment of the 3 or 4 teams to our cheery terpsichorean efforts. The songbook at that time included childhood favorites like “3 Wheels on My Wagon”, “Do Re Mi”, “My Old Man’s a Dustman” the inspirational “Jerusalem” and “Swing Low Sweet Chariot” and the classics from our parents like “New York, New York”, “Chicago”. As we got more into music we added “Feel like I’m Fixing To Die Rag” from Woodstock, “The Boxer”, “Pinball Wizard”, and some Beatles – “Rocky Raccoon” and “Back in the USSR”. I kept some of those into my rugby playing days, adding ‘actions’ to the Swing Low and Jerusalem songs, picking up some new and far more tasteless ditties along the way. Into our late twenties, we serenaded packed pubs on our cricket tours with many of the same songs. (If you would like to hear what those songs were supposed to sound like, listen here). My only formal effort at singing was I joined the choir for Gilbert and Sullivan’s HMS Pinafore, which was fun but not something I was going to find a lot of time for in a busy teenager’s life. 

I am sure on hindsight that joining the choir was more an ironic act than a genuine desire to improve my singing. In the same vein, one day when we were signing up for the local East Somerset sports tournament we all thought it would be hilarious to enter the 3000-Meter Walk. When the final entries were registered it turned out that as much as the hilarity at the time was communal I was the only one who had actually registered, so alongside my modest efforts with the discus I now had to learn to speed walk. I duly practiced walking in large circles and on the day I triumphed in a field of 4 and qualified for the County sports event, something my discus throwing did not qualify me for. At the County Event I scraped second and went on to the Regional Championships, which was getting embarrassing as the other athletes at this point were serious, focused and making an effort whereas I was not. In the Regionals I came a respectable 3rd out of 8, but that was the end of the line for my speed walking and the peak of my athletic career.

Over the years, I have tried my hand at various other sports out of curiosity or a desire for some fitness. Games with balls and rackets, tennis, badminton, ping pong, squash and the far inferior racquetball. Rolling ball games like boules, bowling, both Crown Green and 10 pin. Couple of efforts at the martial sports, boxing and judo. Team sports like football or rugby, cricket, field hockey, basketball (although years of playing rugby created habits of movement that proved bruising to my lunchtime pick-up compatriots) and Ultimate Frisbee. I have studiously avoided golf as I have neither the patience nor the desire to dedicate the time necessary to get any good at it, and the peripheral displays of male conformity and snobbery interwoven into the game alienated me from the get -go. I have held positions where it was obligatory for me to play, and I would happily hack around as part of a fun best-ball game, however on one occasion I was paired up in a four that was teeing off early in the draw and I had to take my tee shot in front of the gathered group of senior Japanese customers and serious American golfing colleagues. I was dressed correctly to look the part, but I gamely completely whiffed twice before shanking the top of the ball, for it to roll slowly and drunkenly down the side of the tee box. Before it got any worse, one of my Japanese colleagues smartly moved me to a different group at the back and spared everyone further embarrassment at my flailing efforts to kill the ball with a #1 wood.

I tried yoga while dating a yoga-loving Californian, but if ever there was an activity that smacked of temporary suspension of disbelief under the guise of a foreign and superficially spiritual activity, yoga was the poster child. I gamely accompanied her to her fave Sunday class in SOMA, only to be disdainfully rejected for not having the necessary experience for a class of this level. I think the guy could see that I would probably fart and would most definitely laugh and kill the serious vibe they were after. So my yoga career fell to the mat and never sprung back.

Another equally serious and ultimately annoying sports activity is skate skiing. It’s a revenge sport for the skinny and the short who were bullied in main stream team sports. The physics of the skis work against weight and height as they come in a basic size and surface area, the smaller and lighter you are the coefficient of friction is in your favor. If you are not, the ski is harder to move while propelling yourself on the flats and up hill, and insufficient to give you much control in the odd moments of relief down hill. It’s basically an unpleasant way to run fast in freezing cold weather with sticks on your feet.

One of the benefits of maturity is gaining a modicum of knowing one’s self, the self actualization process, knowing more accurately one’s own strengths and weaknesses. Logic then would suggest that we focus more on the things we can do well and enjoy, rather than persevering with those things that we ultimately will struggle with. The problem is that life throws challenges at us, especially in the work environment where it is harder to admit that we suck at something, especially if the thing we suck at is part and parcel of the job. I have spent a lot of time in customer facing environments, I have headed sales organizations yet the one thing I am terrible at is the networking gathering, the mixer, the early evening conference cocktail party, the schmoozing free-for-all amongst a large gathering of people. The goal of these events is to meet new contacts, introducing yourself, making polite small talk, sipping your drink politely cradled, as it always is, in a small paper napkin. Firstly, I have been doing what I do for such a long time, I struggle to get intrinsically excited about any industry event, it’s slightly more interesting than reading the minutes of the Chinese Politburo Central committee report on rice production but less interesting than watching reruns of the Simpsons. Secondly, I am just not that extraverted, I’m happy to wallflower or talk to the 3 people in the room who I know quite well rather than make the effort with the 297 I do not. I sit at lunches where it’s free seating and as much as I am French enough now to always say hello individually to everyone at the table, I marvel at the easy way some guys lean in, introduce themselves and chat as if they have known each other for years. With aging eyes I struggle to make out the name of the person on the name card, let alone the company name, so I am not going out on a social limb to introduce myself to someone who it may turn out is a vendor selling ‘insurance solutions’ or yet more software. I usually quietly eat my lunch and move on, same with the ‘cocktail events’, I meander around, drink one beer and desperately find someone I know or give in, and take my ball home.

Knowing when to quit is a learned skill, one I think I have mastered.

Je bosse

I think being the eldest child teaches you to be bossy. My brother Bob arrived home from the hospital with my mother when I was 3 and a half, already precocious I immediately enquired when he would be able to play cars with me. He duly became the dastardly Jerries to my plucky Tommy hero, the noble Indian to my brave cowboy, the dastardly Japanese to my Chindit. He was my goalkeeper when I later decided to be a footballer, so I could fire my dream shots into the top corner, or at least into the garage door and annoy my long suffering grandfather whose workshop was behind the goal. As our games outgrew just the two of us I recruited the Twohig brothers from across the road to our gang, then the Cornish brothers moved in around the corner and we had two opposing armies to work through our wars, raiding parties and bloodthirsty campaigns which were played out through the wooded world that was Tardis-like enfolded into our back garden.

I was the major general in charge of the maneuvers, the head coach making the tough calls and the CEO responsible for the division of labour. I was the oldest by one year from Kim Twohig and Neil Cornish but it was less a function of the height giving authority rather than desire for taking the authority, giving direction and leading the group off on our adventures. Whether foraging a path through the jungle of the bamboo thicket in our garden or trekking down the back lane of Webbs Hill to Vallis Vale and the overgrown former quarries that regularly became more strange lands to be explored and conquered.

My first formal interaction with a superior, other than dealing with my teachers, parents, grandparents and a much older sister, was Mr Wells of Wells Coaches. He ran the school bus services in the mornings and afternoons and day trips to Weston-Super-Mare, Bournemouth, Weymouth and Longleat. Children, sweet eating old ladies, smoking pub groups, travel sick as often as not, all his regular clients kept his coaches filthy. Myself and an everchanging cast of characters emptied the ashtrays on the back of every seat, swept and mopped the floors. We also got to clean the outside of the coach with a brush and a hose, I got to clean the outside until Mr Wells caught me cleaning my colleague with the hose and was told to clear off and never come back.

My next boss was a little more understanding but in her own way a little more intimidating. Barb Roberts was a bespectacled Yorkshirewoman adrift with her portly little husband in our little Somerset market town. She and George were friends of my parents and drank together at the Royal Oak, next door, every Friday evening. My mother and Barb did most of the talking, working through their packs of Silk Cut while my Dad and George punctuated with nods, chortles and knowing looks. My Dad’s pipe fulls of Condor tobacco completing the recreation of the great smogs of the 19th century while George, the non-smoker of the group, sipped his half of bitter. Barb was the manager of the Spar supermarket on the corner of Gore Hedge and Keyford. I worked for the going rate of 3 shillings an hour Friday after school and Saturdays stacking shelves and packing groceries. I moved on to other jobs that paid more or fitted around my school and, latterly, my sporting commitments better but I would see Barb and George with Mum and Dad on their Friday evening socials as they came back to our place for a night cap. This was the era of dressing up for an evening out so both the men wore suits, and the women in full make up, jewelry and dresses. George developed an increasingly large swelling in his groin that was never discussed, even as it became the size of a small football, more and more visible in his suit pants. He died suddenly of testicular cancer and it was still never disucssed. Barb went grey completely over the next few months and then died herself of a broken heart within a year. I looked to see on Google StreetView if the Spar was still there in some form but it has also disappeared under what is now a small housing development.

Bill Lewis was another outsider in Frome. He had been in the army but was a cockney who married a local woman. He had started a small cleaning business from scratch. He drove around town in his little van with ladders on the roof, hustling window cleaning when larger jobs were scarce. He managed to get a couple of contract cleaning jobs and then needed help and with my coach cleaning experience I was a shoe in to help him sustain his growing enterprise. I cleaned the floors of the large supermarket in the new West Way Centre every morning at 7.00am using a new fangled wet-vac. I balanced atop his highest ladders cleaning office windows. We cleaned  windows of the houses on the new estates. We cleaned PVC storage silos during the factory shutdown at Wallington Weston, where my sister and her husband had worked before setting off to darkest Essex for him to be a programmer. We also cleaned the canteen at the Express Dairy in Oldford, I did the cleaning and then Bill would help himself to chocolate bars and sweets which he smuggled out in the wet vac. Oldford is full of odd memories, the Vaughn family farm at Park Farm, home of first serious girlfriend Jude, The Ship pub where I ended up working as bar man and outside of which myself and a friend spent an afternoon mooning cars as they drove by. The Express Dairy is now owned by Bonne Maman for some reason and in the early 2000’s my brother Bob ended up in charge of HR for whoever was the owner at the time.

Time moved on and I stacked more supermarket shelves, I was a White Hunter at the Lions of Longleat for 3 summers, worked bar, was a cook in a Good Food Guide listed restaurant, did shift work in a carpet factory running looms, was a fitter’s mate in a factory in Newport South Wales where I broke my toe, as Zappa would have been happy to see I wound up “working in a gas station” and before leaving for France after my final summer after graduation, before starting a real job, I worked in an early waste recycling project at a cement factory in Westbury, where I broke my little finger on my left hand while rebricking the immense kiln. So much for health and safety.

My first few months with Unilever were typical of the ‘graduate trainee’ scheme. Weeks of training in the SPD’s head offices in Watford interspersed with weeks in branch operations. My attempt at getting into the shipping part of Unilever failed and I ended up in their distribution business appropriately named Speedy Prompt Delivery. There were various companies all in one way or another moving raw materials into or finished goods out of Unilever businesses in the UK. Romantic intentions of being in a global world of shipping and exotic ports in foreign climes were dashed by the day to day reality of managing warehouses and delivery trucks in Warrington, Eastleigh, Doncaster and other lifeless towns in England enduring strikes and power cuts of the 3 day week and the famous ‘winter of discontent’. So when I was offered a market research project in the Potteries for a newly established international freight subsidiary I had little sense of what path I was headed down. I arrived on the train in Stoke late on a cold Monday morning in February and was picked up by the General Manager’s secretary, Carole. A woman, it saddens me to say, that having worked with her for 3 years my enduring memory is that she was prone to severe constipation and had to be reminded by her father to do something about it when she was starting to look ‘peaky’. She was engaged to a milkman, who because he got up at 3.30 every morning was not exactly the life and sole of the party, she referred to him as Bert, even though his name was David, it was if she had decided remembering boyfriend’s names was too much like hard work so for short hand they all became Bert.

I was asked to wait as my new boss, the GM, was not yet in. At about 12.05 he exploded through the office door rummaged through his in-tray and then came back out, all without taking off his mackintosh. “Lets go and grab lunch!” he said and off we went, me trailing him in an attempt to make small talk, as we jumped into his brand new gold Ford Capri 2.0 GLS and headed off to a pub. As this was late 70’s England pub lunch was a sandwich and a couple of pints of bitter consumed while my new boss, Pete Meyrick, in his broad Swansea accent, explained that there was no project but if I was interested they needed a salesman to cover Britain, the Benelux and France. If I did that for him I would get a company car and he would fight the political battles to make it a long term job. So with a very used maroon Ford Cortina complete with 8 track player and the promise of international travel I was bought. I became the Marketing Development Manager for the Powder Tank Division of Unispeed Intermodal. Meyrick was a hard driving pugilistic manager. I am not sure I learned that much from him as communications were not his forte; he was a team builder in so far as he put effort into the group socializing after long hours. He developed an esprit de corps by belittling the other two sister divisions, their efforts, their GMs especially came in for his withering disregard and the support staff who we shared the offices with in Newcastle Under Lyme. He ultimately left two years later to set up his own operation and became rich by stealing the core contracts from under the nose of the Unilever business. He took two of my colleagues with him and the fact that he didn’t invite me to join him ultimately showed how little he thought of me. I, meanwhile, was sent to another sinking ship of a division in Southampton, whose whole management team upped and set up in business to replicate what they had been doing for the by now embattled Unispeed group.

I have had 14 jobs since then, some were a lot of fun, some less so. Some I am embarrassed about in hindsight.  I did learn something from each of them, even if the lessons were simply to never do something again. Some were very financially rewarding and some I spent more money than I earned. I have managed or lead teams as large as 300 and at times as small as me on my own, some of the those colleagues have become life long friends. I have a couple of times joined a completely different industry with differing mores and ways of doing business, that is tough and ultimately not easy to do successfully. So the one conclusion is that you probably need to be thoughtful about making a commitment to a job when you are young, as it tends to direct you down a path that guides or constrains the future career options. I always wanted to work internationally and escape the rainy little island of home so on balance when I sold my soul for the used maroon Cortina that was the bargain that I made and I am happy I did.

On the 8-track this shoulda/coulda been playing.

Malaise

Malaise, a very current sensation.

Every week I write one to two newsletters for work that I then spam out into the world with the help of a small mail monkey. It has been a salutary experience to have done that over the last couple of years. Every week I start with a potted update of what the world has been up to for the prior few days; that has been a constant parade of unpleasantness, as you can imagine.

I try and find some gallows humour amongst the pestilence, gluttony, famine and war that now makes up what has become our very own post Biblical age. Remember those heady days of the late 90s when the good guys could and did win? The End of History by Fukayama had made it clear that neoliberalism had triumphed and the last remaining autocratic regimes like China would go the way of Russia, Levi’s, i-pods and Nikes would be the out-riders of democracy as it swept across the globe. I remember waking up early one morning in a boutique hotel in southern Denmark and watching on the TV news the shiny happy version of Tony and Cherie Blair walk through Sedgefield, savoring his stunning victory over the sclerotic Tory regime. I spent many weekends amidst the hustle and flow of unflappable Hong Kong as the rich of China washed their ever-growing billions through the banks and buildings there, ever ready proof, if proof was needed, that China was accelerating towards democratic normalcy on a bus fueled by commercial frenzy. 

I lived for most of the last ten years in the at the time, searing hot cradle of high technology, San Francisco and the Bay Area which, together with the peninsula to its south, forms the amorphous Silicon Valley of legend.

The hubris of these days probably helped bring about the global clusterfuck that life is now. The very closeness of the impending success, so close we not only read and talked about it, but we could literally smell its approach, it of course smelled like pinot noir. This much fan-fared triumph of the supposed rule of liberalism brought about the subsequent decline and fall of the rumoured empire of hope. You could make a pretty good case that in fact it was nothing but a charade, that the liberal social democrats chose riches for themselves over true egalitarianism, that they never committed to solve the prevailing inequalities and just undermined the left as a viable option for a very critical 10 years or so. 

The financial crash of 2008, or more critically the bungled bail-outs of the rich banks and large companies while destroying the lives of millions of normal people in the US, followed by the hollowing out through austerity in the UK and other places breathed new life into the autocrats. The mirror that was held up to Russia and China that was western success and rich lifestyles was shown to be a pastiche; yes, we have corruption but look at them, they are just as bad! Throw in a couple of self-serving wars and mass destruction of poor brown people, and the moral high ground wasn’t so heady. Failing to be the good guys in Syria, Crimea and Libya just showed the bad guys how weak and divided we really were.

I have seen two similar descriptions in the last couple of weeks of the US and the UK being poor countries with a small number of very rich people. This was backed up in both cases with slightly different sets of analysis of standards of living, quality of life, life expectancy trends etc, but both made compelling cases. We continue to provide a very limited example of how to manage our societies to places with less democracy. The role of society is to provide support to the common weal, the tradeoff for the rights of man is ‘I give you power, you look after me`; whether such gift of power may be via the ballot box or acquiescence to the Party.

In both the land of my birth and the country I spent the majority of my adult years, the most distressing change to me is the acceptance of bullshit. You can make a logical and reasoned argument with someone who holds another viewpoint based on their perspectives and judgements about the circumstances that apply to a situation. That is what politics is, the debate and the compromise. If, however, someone is basing their view or argument on bullshit that is simply self-serving, and that avoids logic or the facts and cannot be resolved politically. The whole of the Presidency of Donald Trump was based on such a suspension of truth by not just the MAGA fanatics, but by every republican who turned a blind eye or held their nose and let him and his cronies enrich themselves. The Facebook fueled support for and provided the microtargeting to get Brexit delivered, it was and continues to be supported by the ruling government of the UK, willfully ignoring the facts that their actions have harmed and continue to harm the majority of their citizens that they supposedly represent. The campaign for Brexit was based on bullshit, and its resulting implementation was turbocharged by the same suspension of common sense. The alternative reading of both situations is that people actively chose to support the bullshit arguments because knowing full-well they were flawed in the general case it gave a small sense of expressing their frustration with the status quo, regardless of the obvious fact that they suited and rewarded personally the key elites they were so frustrated with. How is that different from Xi rewarding the cadres loyal to him or Putin and his chorus of oligarchs?

We also experienced a global pandemic. In a cliched way, this showed humanity in its most Dickensian. It was indeed the best of times, with scientists delivering vaccines in record time, nurses and doctors fighting to save the sick. That it was also the worst of times when ‘mates’ of the cabinet were fast tracked to immense wealth for securing contracts to supply the government with much-needed personal protection equipment, without competitive bidding or any oversight. That much of the PPE did not work in a basic sense of providing any protection or any value for its delayed and very expensive provision other than personal enrichment for a precious few didn’t ultimately come as a surprise. It didn’t seem to be that newsworthy either, for some reason, only Private Eye held up a mirror to the wide-open festering sore of the Tories continuing corruption. Who needed functioning medical equipment when you can have a round of applause and bang on a saucepan down the street.

We have enjoyed the recent implosion of the new version of unconstitutional leadership, Liz Truss is not enjoying much support in denial of her own nominative determinism. It seems like years of the same shit sandwich but ‘Margarine Thatcher’, as she views herself in this latest right wing cos-play at government, has actually been fucking things up for less than one month. Biden, thank heavens, is keeping western democracy in shape and supporting the Ukrainians’ effort to bring down Putin. His administration continues to pass meaningful legislation which is a pleasant surprise after 12 years of minor tweaking at the fringes, but we have McConnell and Trump’s real legacy, the Supreme Court as a constant threat, casting its shadow like Sauron over the land, its black heart ready to pump more hatred and bile into popular discourse. Every time I see Joe Biden he looks one step closer to a comfortable retirement at home, surrounded by Labradors and grandkids, sipping cocoa; but in fact he is almost single-handedly fighting for global peace and stability.  I am avoiding thinking about what happens in 2024, but quietly hoping by then Putin is buried in an unmarked grave somewhere in the forest outside of Moscow following a bloody and painful demise at the hands of his own inner circle.

Who knows, maybe by then we may have also seen the last of what used to be called the Conservative and Unionist Party as it self-destructs following the landslide victory of the coalition of the sane.

Plus, “My shoe organizing thing arrived. Thank God! I don’t want to go on about it but we are back in business”  – I knew I could bring a positive conclusion to the current malaise, after all. Here are some dark songs to listen to as the evenings close in.

Low- “Days Like These” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d8QiSZRX8dA

Ethel Cain – “Crush” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xu-t3tqDyAY

Arctic Monkeys – “Body Paint” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6zgEObNc_-k

Dry Cleaning “Anna Calls From the Arctic” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lYNwr7wuRHY

Edwin Collins – “I Guess We Were Young” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U7gbFMWZWlo

Ian Sweet – “Fight” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_tBnrUBPib0

The Beths – “Expert In A Dying Field” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-KACt6YhOyY

Linton Kwesi Johnson – “Inglan Is A Bitch” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=isMjvRpAckU

Little Simz – “Point And Kill feat. Obongjayar” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tvY31eN3gtE

Big Thief – “Not” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CAZb7PpVK_g

Viagra Boys – “Research Chemicals” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U7gbFMWZWlo

Amyl and the Sniffers – “Guided By Angels” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z–D1flPLnk