Gertsamtkunstwerk

Musical Meme

Pick a band/artist. Then answer these questions using only titles from the band/artist’s songs.

1. Name of band/artist: Adam (Ant) and the Ants
2. Are you male or female?: Something Girls
3. Describe yourself:Goody Two Shoes
4. How do you feel about yourself?: Desperate but not Serious
5. Describe your ex girlfriend/boyfriend: Killer in the Home
6. Describe current girlfriend/boyfriend: Prince Charming
7. Describe where you want to be: Place in the Country
8. Describe how you live: Kings of the Wild Frontier
9. Describe how you love: Mile High Club
10. What would you ask for if you had just one wish?: Baby, Let Me Scream At You
11. Share a few words of wisdom: Don't Be Square (Be There)
12. Now say goodbye: Feed Me To The Lions

via

Should I Have Worn An Arran Jumper?

I stumbled inadvertently into an incongruous setting this evening. I booked a ticket a few weeks ago for a concert at the Barbican, and I swear the premise changed in between me booking it, and now.

My ticket says Billy Bragg and Special Guests...Songs of Protest.

Fantastic. Billy Bragg! Songs of Protest! Fantastic.

By tonight it had morphed into Folk Britannia. Folk! Me! It's going to be on telly. February 24th. BBC4. I'd seriously recommend watching it, actually. I think I might record it and fast forward through the Boring Bits.

I must admit I hadn't heard of all the guests. And some I'd only sort of heard of, like Neil and Callum MacColl, the sons of Ewan McColl and Peggy Seeger.

I got chatted up in the interval. Go me! I was explaining to the chap that I'm not a folkie, but I came to Billy Bragg via Red Wedge. But even I've heard of Donovan and Martin Carthy.

"They're gods...!" he said, transfixed.

I think my face gave the wrong answer. Diplomatically, I said "They're certainly more than names."

I think at the start of the evening I would have said "I sort of like folk, but not greatly..." I think now I can define it more closely: I like a great many songs of protest and I have unknowingly been a great admirer of Woody Guthrie for many years.

Highlight of the eveningwas of course hearing the wonderful Billy sing the superb "Between The Wars"

And I'll give my consent
To any government
That does not deny a man
A Living wage

Biggest disappointment - this was the first time I've ever heard him perform it live without a mass audience singalong.

I kind of had a Ghost of Christmas Future moment with Bill. He's forty eight now, but looking exactly the same as he did in 1987 at the Royal Concert Hall Nottingham. He's a good story teller, but I suddenly had this insight - he's on the precipice of his anecdotage, and I can imagine in about thirty years, turning on the TV,and Billy's there as the old geezer who reminisces about the Old Days. The bloke who chatted me up said he's turning into the Cliff Richard of British Folk. Which is a terrible thing to say. I want to emphasise that I think Billy is wonderful.

I'll write a bit more tomorrow. But Billy says you really should watch the documentary that opens BBC's Folk Britannia season tomorrow night.

Althogh it's not on his site, he's playing the Shepherd's Bush Empire on 3 May. Tempting, tempting...but the night before the London elections...I'm not sure...

nothing compares to sinead

I have had this album for so very long. So long that I actually have it on vinyl - and a TDK AR60 cassette. I simply don't think I play it enough. It is jolly good, and has most definitely stood the test of time. I'm not embarrassed to say that buying it was a direct consequence of 'nothing compares to u' being number one in the singles' charts, back in the days when the Singles Chart mattered, and being number one mattered greatly. But I was already a Sinead fan.

There is no weak track on this album; every single track is really very good. Yet, perhaps, even though some are haunting, some are profound, not one really leaps out as being a contender for the Top Hundred pop songs that I might compile in two years time...And yet, this very great album is much greater than the sum of its not inconsiderable parts. I see it's available as a CD for £6.99 on Amazon. Ii expect I probably paid at least this for the vinyl version back in 1990. You kids just don't know what it was like back in the dreadful days of Thatcherism. Okay, I admit it, 'black boys on mopeds; is brilliant! (says Political Gert!)

There is no doubt that Sinéad O'Connor is a genius.  A flawed genius, but you only have to listen to this album to realise the amount of rubbish that gets passed off as something worthwhile and profound these days.

Best of 2005

Although I still have two concerts to attend, it's time to reflect on a year of concert going. Silly to include the two that happen this week, because any objectivity will be impaired by propinquity.

If I was sensible I would just do a list of ten and leave it at that.

But it's not that straightforward.

Firstly, I will syphon off Live8. Five-and-a-half months on, I am tempted to joke that We have made Live8 history. For good and for bad it was a Sui generis event and a fabulous day out.

We were lucky enough to win tickets in the text message lottery. I am glad that I didn't fork out mega moolah for a ticket, even if that would have put me closer to the stage and actually able to see the Slebs. There was a great deal of standing around; an awful lot of posturing and smugness. There were some truly awful acts appearing. It was full of a very much-of-a-muchness musically where light rock meets heavy pop, all nicely safe and middle-class.

There was enormous cultural imperialism, with barely an acknowledgement of non-white performers; indeed, without doing a check, I think the entire London line-up, except for Youssou N'Dour, belatedly included as a veneer of multi-culturism, was either from Western Europe or North America. The audience was overwhelmingly white, with barely a sighting of any black or Asian person. And by being there, we were able to fast forward through the appalling TV coverage (Jonathan Ross). But I don't think that I shall look back in twenty years time and see it as an epoch-making event. I will remember it, and I will remember some of the acts that played, notably REM, Scissor Sisters and above all Robbie Williams. Also Madonna, Pink Floyd and Paul McCartney. I can't even remember the names of many of the instantly forgettable bands that strutted their ignorance. A formulaic calculation of music enjoyed would not merit this a place probably even in my top ten. But it was greater than the sum of its sometimes appalling parts.

I also must separate out the five times I saw and heard Plácido live, twice in concert, three times in Die Walküre (one a concert performance). Of the five, the Dublin concert and the Prom were absolutely simply the best, but I also thoroughly enjoyed the two ROH Walküres and the Berlin concert. Indeed, if I had only seen him in Berlin, this would rate as my favourite concert of the year. And I met him, which was a wonderful unforgettable experience!

As for the rest. I have belatedly come to the conclusion that going to concerts and operas with Jimmy is not always a wise thing, because we tend to imbibe too much alcohol, before, during and after, often rendering me unable to remember sufficient detail to write a meaningful review, even though I have a clear memory of the levels of enjoyment and the reasons why. This applies to La Traviata; Thomas Quasthoff; the Fauré etc after which I met Teddy Tahu Rhodes; a Mainly Mozart (And Bach, Haydn and Handel) featuring Carolyn Sampson and The Sixteen, La Fanciulla Del West and Un ballo in maschera last week (much better than I had had reason to expect).

I bought and failed to use far too many tickets, but, interestingly, I do no regret my non-attendance, except perhaps for the Alice Coote Dream of Gerontius, which came over marvellously on the TV.

I attended a few turkeys, but only walked out of one, the disgraceful Renée Fleming (Flappers please note that I reserve the right to delete anonymous comments and ignore Flaming emails).

So the best of the rest, in no particular order. Neil Diamond at Earls Court, Beethoven's Ninth at the Royal Festival Hall; Steve Reich at the Barbican; Silete Vente etc at St George's Handel Square, featuring Carolyn Sampson; Mozart at Cadogan Hall, featuring Carolyn Sampson; Eugene Onegin at ENO, starring Gerald Finley; Gerald Finley and Julius Drake at Cadogan Hall; Rigoletto at Royal Opera House and Giulio Cesare at The Proms. I still have a Dream of Gerontius at the Barbican and a L'Enfance du Christ at Cadogan.

And the winner is, after careful consideration, Die Walküre, at the Proms. Or Plácido in Dublin.

I think my ultimate concert would have to involve Plácido, Carolyn and Gerry sharing a platform.

New Order

(Readers of my months ago  post on Pink Floyd, which followed on from The Mission will realise the tenuous grip I have on the alphabet...! And on this All the Records by Forty Project)

Now, there's a group. I had a friend who always insisted that they were from Macclesfield, in order that the Macc Lads (remember them? No? Hey, that's showbiz!) would not be Macclesfield's finest...But in actual fact, they are from Manchester, and, if I'm not mistaken, part of the Tony Wilson Factory.

In October they released Singles "Singles is the ultimate anthology of the works of one of the most exceptional and groundbreaking British bands to date." So, what was Substance?. Oh, I know, released in 1987. A generation ago...!

I used to think that New Order was Music for Grown Ups, in as much as when Blue Monday was first released and didn't chart, but was played on Piccadilly Radio, I didn't like it. Then on its second outing in August 1983 I was in the Body Shop in the Royal Exchange, in the days when the Body Shop was a trendy alternative place and not a multinational capitalist conglomerate. I remember it vividly; I bought two hairgrips that look like biros and I picked them from the basket just as New Order came on the radio. I've still got them. It was like an epiphany to me. I gravely that I had grown up a lot in the intervening months. I was all of fifteen. Blue Monday is the UK's biggest selling 12" single. They were/are blue, but I think this was a Tuesday.

Since then I have always liked New Order. It's reasonably intelligent music, good beat, reasonably good tunes, fairly innovative use of the electronics which in the Eighties were not exactly in their infancy but had only just begun to make an impact on the commercial music scene.

Back in the Eighties they were seen as bit Indy, non-cynical, non-sell-out. But see above comment about Substance vs Singles. Not to  mention the extent they have milked and re-milked Blue Monday with re-releases, remixes, re-released-remixes. How our heroes have feet of clay.

Best not to dwell on that and just listen to the music.

Other Favourite tracks include Thieves Like Us, State of the Nation

But in the final analysis although I quite enjoy listening to New Order I could never get passionate about them. Possibly because they utterly fail to get passionate about the music themselves...

Whigfield

I suffer to blog.

What on earth possessed me?

I can't even claim youthful naivete.

The CD liner says 1994 on it.

By then, I was beyond a Young Person's Railcard.

I would have qualified for cheaper car insurance.

I was ticking a different box.

I was fully Chartered Public Finance Accountant.

And a councillor in a well-known London Borough.

And I bought Saturday Night by Whigfield.

On a CD single.

Not just an old fashioned 3 minute vinyl 7" 45 rpm single with a B side.

No this contains:

• Saturday Night - Radio Mix
• Saturday Night - Extended Nite Mix
• Saturday Night - Nite Mix
• Saturday Night - Beagle Mix
• Saturday Night - Dida Mix
• Saturday Night - Deep Nite Mix
• Saturday Night - Trance Beat Mix

In contrast, Anthony Way's singing of Panis Angelicus, Oh For the Wings of a Dove and the theme from Joanna Trollope's The Choir, although bland and saccharine seemed really quite pleasant.

Well, I promised to blog all my records by 40.

The only reason I have resolved to continue is confidence that it really can't get any worse than this.

It's not even 'so bad it's good'. It's just unforgiveably bad.

The Verve

Time to get this 'all the records by forty' project back on the rails. Time is running out. But - and remember this, crucially - there is still plenty of time.

I've had The Verve's Urban Hymns queued up for months. I have had a block on progressing because I did not want to play it. It's all Chris Martin's fault. I can't even remember who Chris Martin is, but he's married to somebody who's less famous than the tabloids would wish us to think.

Then my former next door neighbour "Howls Like A Wolf" compounded it by playing Urban Hymns, loudly, a couple of days later. The best I could say about it was that it was significantly better than the woeful efforts of Howls Like A Wolf - hey, even Mrs HLAW considers his singing woeful. But they've moved out now. Live8's an age ago. I expect many of the performers can no longer remember what it was about.

I bought this record back in 1997 when it was fresh and cool, and I was damn cool back then. Well, I'll let you believe that, most of you didn't know me then! It certainly sounded like a breath of fresh air then, but listening to it now and I'm not sure what to think.

I had a discussion with my brother the other day. I don't want Christmas present but instead I want double birthday so I can buy an MP3 player. He asked me whether I was intending to put my entire CD collection onto it. I said, in principle, but I'll soon find plenty of tracks and possible even entire albums that I might discretely erase. He said he refused to countenance the possibility that he might ever have made any mistakes in his record buying life. I countered that even on other wise great albums there are turkeys - I cited Christy Moore's appallingly twee cover of the Fairytale of New York. I didn't go on to say that there are albums that actually only contain a small handful of tracks worth wasting three minutes of your life on.

If I was listening now on an MP3 I would most certainly delete Catching the Butterfly. Maybe I'm getting old but this is just noise. Similarly Weeping Willow.

Perhaps I wasn't cool as I thought I was back there. Perhaps I only bought it for Bittersweet Symphony, that staple of Pub jukeboxes, certainly round here, and, quite possibly, across the nation. And just looking at the CD liner, it's just dawned on me that, unlike the rest of the album, which is written either by Ashcroft or The Verve, this track is written by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards. Okay, perhaps I'm the only person who doesn't know that, I've never been able to get into The Rolling Stones. But, I'm thinking, even though I don't especially like Sir Mick, I would far rather hear him sing it. Indeed, I would far rather hear just about anybody - Mariah Carey, Celine Dion, Dido, Andrea Bocelli - sing it rather than this grating annoying toss-pot. Maybe he's not a toss-pot, maybe I'm just finding him guilty  by association with that nobody whose name I've already forgotten and can't be bothered to look earlier in the post.

I also like The Drugs Don't Work. Although probably not as much as I liked it back there. It's one of those songs that's desperate to be a standard, used at least once, in my experience as music-over music in some schmaltzty TV documentary or drama.  But that bloke's  voice is intensely irritating.

One Day has the potential of being a reasonably good song, if only it were sung by someone better, like, oh I don't know How ls Like A Wolf.

But the overall effect is one of banal sentimentality masquerading as emotional depth. I'm glad I've got that out of the way for another ten years or something. I can't see this being a priority to load onto my MP3 player. I decided to rate it on Amazon with two stars and thus I got recommended Katie Melua and McFly. Not that I pay the slightest attention to the Amazon star ratings, because people who love aproduct give it five stars and thosse that are indifferent or hate it don't bother registering that.

The packaging is rather dire. Five sheets of paper stapled into a twenty page booklet full of mainly abstract photos, a couple of them quite good. No lyrics, no information, just pretentious crap. I expect Verve's name will live on because of two songs. Otherwise, bleugh...

Tindersticks

This is the only 'signed' CD I own. Don't laugh.

The album includes a strings section two dozen strong. Including a chap I worked with at the time this was recorded and released. He was a freelancer, subbing from time to time with professional orchestras and doing session work. Not enough to earn a living but getting paid for his hobby. So having missed him on Later with Jools Holland, I bought the album, and, to his acute embarassment, I asked him to sign it..!

I don't play it very often, and I don't really understand why. I suspect that Tindersticks are an acquired taste, but it didn't take me long to acquire the taste. Yet, I have never bought any other of their albums.

There used to be a dreadful phrase 'Adult Oriented Rock'. I hated the phrase and I hated the genre, and it seems to have died a death. However, there are certain types of rock music which will be lost on the average teeny bopper, requiring a certain amount of maturity to fully appreciate them. And I would thus describe Tindersticks.

Despite my erstwhile slight connection with this band, I really don't know anything about them, and the CD liner isn't exactly informative.  Googling reveals that they've been recording since the early 90s and haven't split up, although they've been working on 'side projects'. They have quite a long discography that seems to include six studio albums.

There is very little information about them on the web, really. And it's quite difficult to describe their music. If you want safe and bland don't listen to the Tindersticks. Yet, in its melodic mellowness it can hardly be described as brash and inyerface. It is predominantly acoustic, on the whole tuneful or deliberately atonal. They don't so much have a lead singer as a lead recitalist. This guy does not sing. Yet it is more than talking. He has a voice rich with overtones. Haunting. As I say, I am surprised that I haven't played it more often and am not more familiar with it.

Standout tracks include 'Ballad of Tindersticks' and 'Let's Pretend'  but I emphasise that this is not a Singles Album. I actually don't think it's even one that ought to be played on 'random' or 'shuffle'. It has to be taken as a whole, and one has to savour the contrasts in soundworlds.

Pink Floyd

As my crazy fortnight-and-a-bit trails off in to a return to my version of normality, I take up again with The Rod for My Own Back Project ie playing - and blogging - all my record collection before I hit forty. (I am 37½ in a couple of weeks).

By some gorgeous serendipity I realise that apropos rock/pop cassettes I have alphabetically arrived at Pink Floyd. Pink Floyd, whom I have seen live, in a powerful and memorable performance, one of my top four from Live8.

Not that my record collection is massively endowed with Floyd. I am 99.99% certain that I taped these two albums from my brother-in-law. Since then I have always liked them, but not loved. I have an inherent prejudice against a certain type of 70s Rock, ponderous longwinded guitars. But, on the other hand, they are mellow and atmospheric, musical and easy on the ear. And excel at everything that I loathe so much in bands of a similar genre. I don't want to be one of those people who rave at the genius of The Floyd, they are, after all, desperately uncool people, and mainly men. But, what can I say, Pink Floyd - Genius...! Putting (almost) all those young arrogant bands to shame, most of whom, if they were play to a massive gig in twenty-five years would have most people shrugging and saying "Who?"

And now, gorgeously, everytime I hear these albums I shall recall that one wonderful day three weeks ago in Hyde Park.

My favourite tracks are Shine On You Crazy Diamond,Wish You Were Here and Speak to Me/Breathe but I think the albums have to be taken as an overall, er, concept, chilling, laying back. I kind of feeling they are a perfect soundtrack for a mellow joint, except that joints make me feel sick.

Pete Doherty

The full impact of this astounding performance did not come over so well when positioned 2.25 miles from a screen as it did on TV. I think that, perhaps, when all the hype and self-congratulation has become tomorrow's fish wrapper, it may well end up featuring in one of those endless formulaic Channel 4 hosted by Graham Norton Top 100. Moments of comedy? Acts of camp? Musical memories? Perhaps one of the very greatest TV moments of the 21st Century.

Chris Martin, and Keane, and Travis

It's quite fun watching the TV coverage of Live8 gradually, slowly, bit by bit, not being caught up in the hype, the lies and the bullshit, digesting it in hourly or so chunks.

Chris Martin of Coldplay, mostly famous for marrying a Hollywood 'actress' announces Richard Ashcroft 'the greatest singer in the world'. I've nothing against Rick; indeed I have a Verve album. But, following on from Paul McCartney and Bono makes this a difficult claim to substantiate. Perhaps he could justifiably be called The Third Best Singer to Perform at Live8 prior to the arrival of Gerry and Jimmy. Not that snappy, though, is it?

A bit of pop-star-stupid hyperbole would not have bothered me greatly, (except that, sadly, Ashcroft proved himself to be less of a singer than even Dido) but Martin announces that Live8 is the single greatest thing ever organised in history. Um, no. It's a Rock Festival. He must be singularly stupid, or self-centred, or merely suffering from (drug induced?) amnesia if he can not actually remember the mobilisation by Non-Governmental and Governmental organisations in the aftermath of the Tsunami all of, oh, six months ago. How about the Berlin Air Lift, or the eradication of smallpox, or the siege of Leningrad, all of which took place within the lifetime of certain Live8 performers. History goes back further.

And then in interview, the aggregation of Coldplay managed to remind me why I decided, long before the first LiveAid, that it saves a lot of time to dislike men in their Twenties until they provide reasons otherwise. Just a short interview showed them to be arrogant, ignorant and self-centred. Arseholes.

So it was nice to see Travis, who came over as a fundamentally decent set of guys. They said what they had to, without being especially interesting, but there was no sign of 'me me me' ignorance. I suppose using such hyperbole makes Coldplay feel good about themselves. Such a pity; you would have thought fame and riches would be sufficient.

Poor Gwyneth.

Bu the biscuit goes to Keane. "We've been aware of the issues a long time because Richard Curtis, one of the organisers, was an early Keane fan." It would be comical if it wasn't so sad. Guess what folks, there are loads of people who have been aware of the issues for a lot longer, because they've made the effort to inform themselves. Remember the Drop the Debt campaign for the Birmingham G8? Remember the Jubilee Campaign. I know that some people are going to be fooled by the faux compassion, but not everybody, and some of those who aren't fooled are going to use modern media to say so.

I do hope that none of these acts continue the pretence of caring. They're pop stars, they're supposed to hedonistic and greedy. Performing three songs for fifteen minutes in front of a global audience of 3 billion is not altruistic. Some of them have a track record of doing more, and I won't deny that. Maybe some more will do something in the future. But, to be honest, I have a lot more respect for the legions of ordinary people who do something without fanfare, then posturing solipsistic popstars who would have been fools to turn down the best PR that money can't buy.

Live8

Wow!

I could - and, hopefully, will - write up my experiences. There's no point giving an objective narrative of the concert. You watched it on the TV, or recorded it for future viewing, or you're not interested. Besides, I am sure that the internet is full of such narratives.

We left Victoria just after eleven and walked to Marble Arch, where we joined a queue, 1600 metres from the entrance. We spent a long time outside the Dorchester, I recall, chatted with various people, watched the London Pride March. At quarter to three we entered Hyde Park, where Bitter Sweet Symphony was playing. We had missed U2 and Coldplay, the former, in particular I am annoyed about. We could see the stage construction, and, sort of screens. We went for a mooch, and found ourselves in a great position under a screen for REM, but there was nowhere to sit, so we mooched again, and found a good place where we could sit, and could see the screens - just about. Quite a few people left after Madonna, so we moved forward to a better view and a better sound. Jimmy could see better than me, having a height advantage, so could actually see The Who. I could briefly and intermittently. I could see Pink Floyd - tiny dots on the horizon, but I saw them. Then more people left, and we moved forward again, and had a better view of Paul McCartney and George Michael, and the final ensemble, although still dependent on the screens, really.

Overall, thoroughly enjoyable, the atmosphere was fantastic, a lot of chatting with random strangers. No trouble really - some leery beered up guys on Bayswater Road were getting on everybody's nerves (one of them was actually wearing a Burberry baseball cap) but otherwise, it was a really good example of the nicer aspects of human nature. I did not go to the loo once - I drank only a litre of water, when I got home my pee was dark brown and odorous. I really would not recommend it as a habit - for a once in a lifetime experience, it was worth it! We got home at half past one, dead on our feet, with aching legs, sore backs and barely coherent with tiredness, but, nevertheless, able to share our impressions of the highlights and lowlights.

Elton John was good, REM were fab, and it took us a long time to find anyone to top REM. I was disappointed by Madonna, although she exceeded Jimmy's expectations. We both decided that The Scissor Sisters were the best of the new generation, with Travis a long way behind, but well ahead of the field. We might buy their album. Sting was highly professional, without really setting the crowd alight.

Robbie Williams was superb, a giant, a consummate entertainer who really had the section of the crowd near me going some (good grief, I even bounced, and discovered I rather enjoyed it...). I didn't think anybody could top that, and, in a sense, no one did. I don't especially like the Who but even though their music leaves me cold I could see that they were utterly professional and would have given a lot of pleasure to those that like them. Pink Floyd were ace. But overall, the highlight for me was Paul McCartney - it's a close call between him and Robbie, with Paul edging it because of his legend status, and the way he got us rocking and rolling. Even though I am a big fan, I was really surprised at how good he was. I suppose that's my one and only chance to see him live, and I will treasure that memory for ever.

Of the acts I saw, I would pay money to see Elton John, REM, Robbie Williams and the Scissor Sisters, and Paul McCartney, but I don't think he tours now (I may be wrong...).

I'm afraid most of the lowlights were women. Dido was just awful, a bland hotpotch of nothingness, saved and simultaneously shown up by Youssou N'Dour. Ms Dynamite was crap - I have an objection to people coming on and immediately telling the audience to put their hands in the air, or whatever. REM didn't need to tell people that. Robbie and Paul engaged with the audience and projected their personality. And she ruined Redemption Song.

I felt sorry for Annie Lennox - her voice was gone (did she have a cold or is this a long-term problem?). Very professional, but it was sad.

Mariah Carey was irredeemably awful. I don't know what was worse, her caterwauling or her cringe-making platitudes. Joss Stone was boring boring boring. And I think that was reflected in the attitude of most people round me, who soon sat down and chatted amongst themselves.

Snoop Dogg and Velvet Revolver were just noise.

I also enjoyed UB40 and Bob Geldof, but perhaps as much for nostalgia as for anything inherent.

The BBC has a rating of the acts. I can't say I am in total agreement, but these things are subjective.

In between acts, they subjected us to patronising platitudinous preaching lectures on video. At one point, I said to Jimmy "If they play Drive by The Cars, I shall personally throw up..." And guess what, on cue, it started, so I giggled maniacally. I think I got a few glares for that giggling fit. I think Laughing at Drive by the Cars is the modern equivalent of Farting during the National Anthem.

Forgive me for being cynical, but all this stuff about Make Poverty History. There were loads of merchandising and food stalls. Lot's of T-shirts were sold saying "This T-shirt can save lives." I was tempted to buy one just to find out where it was made. Lots of teas and coffees were sold. Although I didn't enquire, I would wager a large amount that they were not Fair-Trade. And loads of people were eating chicken or burgers and chips, probably without a second thought about agricultural subsidies. I don't imagine that the majority of people there actually give a fig about the Third World, or only in a bland suitably bleeding heart way, but not if change would disrupt their own comfortable lifestyles. And yet again, there was a whole day devoted to Africa being the basket case of the world, with just Youssuo N’Dour and Kofi Annan acting as a symbols of a continent that is far more complex and sophisticated than most people even start to think about. Sorry, I went along to rock. That changes nothing. Change is brought about by boring boring political processes.

They also showed excerpts from some of the other concerts. I was thinking they were rather dull in comparison to ours, but put that down to something to do with sound reproduction. It's a good comparison, actually. If you are miles from the stage, so can't actually see most of the acts, is it any different from seeing it on TV? Well, yes, because it ought not to be any different, considering I was dependent on the same screens and sound system. But it was clear to me that even the crap, the bland, and the distinctly mediocre in London came over better than their equivalents from elsewhere. That having been said, Stevie Wonder and Bryan Ferry, and, to some extent, The Pet Shop Boys came over well, which does suggest that they are simply better, more professional performers than the rest (of what I saw - it was highly edited excerpts).

Earlier in the week, Jimmy was teasing me. Bear in mind that I shall be seeing You-Know-Who later this week, and twice more this month, and in early August. Jimmy was saying that, after yesterday, my affections might transfer. So I was teasing back, saying I imagined I would become a born-again Snoop Dogg fan. Jimmy was going "Oh yeah, Snoop, he's the man, definitely Snoop Dogg...who is he?" Well, it's fair to say that I am a born-again Paul McCartney fan. And transfer of affections doesn't come into it. Paul's always being up there in my pantheon.

Take That

  Don't get me wrong - I was never into Take That. Just five pretty expertly-styled boys with a modicum of talent. I do remember when something happened, either they split, or maybe it was when Robbie left. But it was big news. Bigger news than the IRA ceasefire that was declared that day.

Four boys that got lucky to be in a band with Gary Barlow who wrote some fairly decent songs. Still, their best songs are covers -  How Deep Is Your Love, Relight My Fire, Could It Be Magic, It Only Takes A Minute  And they got lucky in getting producers who could transform their voices into something bland enough to be inoffensive, and something sweet enough not to grate.

There was a time, back in the 90s, when I made all the disparaging comments about five pricks and oh was that one about the front row of  a Take That concert, all just small kids?  Then there came a time, 1996, when it became imperative to buy their Greatest Hits. In fairness, it's not a bad record. Tunes, and that sort of thing. Some of them fairly memorable - Everything Changes, Babe, A Million Love Songs. I expect for a fair proportion of people now in their mid-Twenties Take That provided a soundtrack to their growing up. Fair enough. But there's nothing on this album, except perhaps How Deep Is Your Love? that really speaks to me as anything other than a pleasantly executed pleasant tune. I haven't played it more than probably a dozen times in nine years, and I can't see myself playing it many more times in the foreseeable future.

But you can bet that when I see Robbie on Saturday, I'll be waving my cigarette-lighter or whatever appropriate sheeplike gesture is required in order to feel the sense of momentous occasion.

And if the Spice Girls make a Greatest Hits I expect I'll buy it...

Live 8

Guess who got tickets...Jimmy!

I suppose I shall have to be nice for the next nearly three weeks!

Ten Summoner's Tales

I bought this on the recommendation of someone who featured in my life a long time ago. (What's the betting I see him in the next few days...?) To be honest, I rarely play it. There are better Sting albums in my collection.

A collection of cleverly written and not unpleasant, but, ultimately, mediocrely forgettable songs. Best of the bunch is Everybody Laughed But You and Fields of Gold. The latter has been covered by a whole bunch of indifferent singers. It seemed rather lovely a dozen years ago. But, to my mind, it hasn't really stood the test of time.

Although I have always quite liked Sting, and The Police, I suspect I always read him/them as cold technocrats, lacking in passion, so I can never get really passionate or enthusaistic about them. Definitely more a cerebral than a visceral experience.

Overall, it is quite a pleasant album, and if this was part of a small collection, I would undoubtedly play and enjoy it often. But life is too short, and the collection too big for it to have any significance to me.

There is more Sting in my collection, but on tape.

Steeleye Span

It briefly seemed like a good idea. Then for a long time, it seemed like a bad idea.

In truth, it's not really that bad. But it really isn't any good. Most of the songs are Trad. arranged X.

Actually, most folk songs are Trad arranged X.

But this is neither fish nor fowl. Not really folk, because of the intrusion of too many electic instruments. On the other hand it's way too sappy to be rock. And the voices are way too irritating to be anything but, well, iritating.

So, worth having as a curiosity. Worth playing once every ten years or so. 

And I bet it doesn't feature in the Scaryduck Collection!

Grains of Sand

I like The Mission. Not that I'm a Goth or anything. I think I taped this from my brother. The Mission were quite big when I was a student. Gothery in general was big when I was a student and Sixth Former.

I like the dark brooding unrelenting nature of the album as a whole. My favourite tracks include Hands Across the Ocean;  Mr Pleasant - a lovely boppy poppy tune, yet with dark brooding Gothy undertones, and a bit of a Twenties style rhythm. Sophisticated pop. And yet, simple. Kingdom Come is really quite beautiful.

I think what I like about the best Goth stuff - like the best Punk - is that it is extremely tuneful, and also has complex instrumentalism. I guess that's why I find so much modern pop music so boring is that the tunes are predictable and the instrumentalisation is so bland.

Birds of Passage starts with a piano and background strings then that drmataic gravelly voice comes in. Then it builds up into a semi-anthemic chorus, with the drums coming in. There's something gorgeously haunting about the whole song. I think that's partly to do with the key it's written in. Then the guitar takes up the piano theme.

Heaven Sends You is one very erotic song that just builds up. Sweet Smile of A Mystery is yet another superb track.

I don't really know a great deal about The Mission, but, on the evidence of this album, they are gifted musicians. And they're on tour in September. Matt, if you're reading this, fancy a night out on the 20th? (Their only London date clashes with tickets I've already booked to La Fanciulla del West at the Royal Opera House).

I've probably had this album fifteen years and I have just realised how utterly utterly brilliant it is. Laugh at me but I've just fallen madly in love with The Mission. God, this album is good. Quite possibly the most underrated record in my entire record collection!

A beautiful noise

Tonight, to Earls Court to see Neil Diamond. I booked six months ago, and in the interim I have slightly wondered whether I was wise. Sure, a great songwriter, but, really, not that great a singer, and not as young as he was.

So it was great to read Mike's review from Manchester. But returning to it to post a link made me realise that I ought to change my post title. But I’m not going to…!

I found it an entirely enjoyable evening. He isn’t a singer, at least not strictly. Nor is he a crooner. Nor is he entirely a speaker in the Leonard Cohen mould. But he has a voice that is unique, and idiosyncratic and it’s a sound that I love!

I was a little surprised at the demographics of the audience. Few children and teens, and a lot of pensioners, but whereas I had been expecting a mainly forty five plus audience, I was surprised at the large numbers of twenty-somethings, including quite a few groups of three or four young men. I was chatting with a woman beforehand and we were remarking on this, saying how it just shows that people actually don’t want to be classified like sheep and told what to like and what’s fashionable. She said her hero was Cliff. I was very good and just said, pleasantly, “He’s not really for me.” And I didn’t even mention my hero...

Neil Diamond performed for over two hours without an interval - there was no support act. He didn’t really have a break, except for leaving the stage once or twice between songs, but that was hardly a break, because the music was continuous. He did start by dancing around a little, although he calmed down, and did some songs sitting. I overheard someone comment on the way out – “He just went on and on! At his age!” (Although I heard someone on the radio last week talking about Death of a Salesman, and he commented that when it was written, someone in their mid Sixties was considered old, but that simply isn’t the case nowadays).

I have to say that he really isn’t glamorous or stylish. I was at the back of the arena. Being in a tiered seat I had a great view, but it was a distant view, so I was grateful for the video screens showing close-ups. He looks almost like a parody of a middle-of-the-road singer, or like a stereotypical American tourist.

He is however a consummate professional and a natural performer. I wouldn’t describe him as charismatic, but he knows how to play an audience. It was wonderful to hear live that voice that has graced my record collection for quarter of a century and to hear so many wonderful songs. The entire show was slick and professional, starting with the band rising one by one from beneath the stage. A very competent group of musicians, with some fabulous shoo-wop girls. The lighting was good, and changed with the mood of the songs, but it wasn’t gimmicky and over the top.

From time to time I got on my feet and danced but I was in a section that wasn’t much into dancing. I think the highlight for me was You Don’t Bring Me Flowers. I don’t know who the woman was who came on to sing, but she was much better than Barbra Striesand. It’s a very profound song, and, perhaps, the one that really got me into Neil Diamond. That or Forever In Blue Jeans, which sounds as fresh today as it did back in 1979. America is a great anthem, and the crowd were happily singing, swaying, clapping. Until the bit where he sang “My country tis of thee, Sweet Land of Liberty Of thee I sing…” and I could swear that the audience went very quiet. I’m A Believer, Sweet Caroline, and Cracklin’ Rosie were great crowd-pleasers.

Soolaimon is a stand out as a song I was previously somewhat indifferent to but just adored live, closely followed by Brother Love’s Travelling Salvation Show. As well as You Don’t Bring Me Flowers, my favourite song was I Am I Said. I also enjoyed Beautiful Noise, Desiree, Red, Red Wine. Biggest disappointment was Love on the Rocks, which seemed less live than on the album. And I was disappointed that he didn’t sing Song Sung Blue, one of the very few pop songs I knew before I was into pop music.

I took my camera. The stewards were being a bit zealous going up to people and telling them to put their phones away. So I thought I’d be very careful, and get my camera set up inside my bag. I switched it on, and it came up with the message ‘No CF card’. My memory card is sitting in my card reader on my desk at home… So no pictures, sadly.

To conclude, an enjoyable and memorable concert, and part of me wishes I had a ticket for tonight as well. It has become the sixth item on my list of most memorable concerts of 2005, but it’s not top of the list, a list that I suspect will more than double before the year is out.

Faith

This simply isn't as good as it ought to be. Just refer to my post on George Michael's Greatest Hits, and you will appreciate that I really like George Michael.

This album contains some wonderful tracks, especially Father Figure, One More Try and Kissing a Fool. I have actually played it three times. Once with Jimmy. We both agreed that George Michael is a great singer. And we're not using the word 'great' lightly. An artist and a mensch.

I am trying to work out whether it's a case of the Emperoro's New Clothes, or the misfortune of listening to a cassette-taped-from vinyl. Or maybe what mood I'm in. But, much to my surprise, when I go to tot up the scores at the end of blogging all my records (by forty), this will not be featuring in any Hall of Fame.

Sound of the Suburbs

A compilation of songs taken from the Golden Age of Pop. To be honest, some of the tracks are, on their own, really quite mediocre and forgettable, but put in an intelligent compilation add up to greater than the sum of their parts.

I have to conclude that after twenty six years of familiarity and careful listening, I still do not have a clue about what Oliver's Army is about. And I will state publicly that this is one of perhaps only three or five songs by Elvis Costello that I actually like. I liked it all the way back when because it has a nice tune and a good beat. I actually like the lyrics, even though I haven't got a clue what they mean. I went through a phase in my teens of thinking maybe they were very right wing, but now I can't remember why.

I Don't Like Mondays is undoubtedly my favourite Boomtown Rats song, coming in a run of bloody good singles that included Rat Trap, Diamond Smiles and Someone’s Looking at You.. I can definitely understand what the lyrics mean, good tune, good beat. Classic song! Indeed, it was put into my Top Twenty of the 20th Century that I carefully compiled on 30/31 December 1999, and later expanded to Twenty Two. I see no reason to remove it.

Sound of the Suburbs - great tune, great beat, great lyrics. Also responsible, initially, for my suburbaphobia; in the days when I knew nothing else, this song implanted an eternal notion.

Call Me has great lyrics but, actually, the tune and beat are only so-so. At the time it was out I thought it Blondie's best song thus far. Quarter of a century on I think it is weaker than many others. Still pleasant, though.

Happy Birthday is a wonderful feel-good song. Shame that Altered Images were a flame that flickered for just a short period before burning out.

Buzzcocks 'Ever Fallen In Love' is just fabulous, and much better than that awful cover that was done when I was a student...

No More Heroes is one of those Stranglers songs I like. I like some Stranglers songs. My favourite is Duchess. I don't have much Stranglers in my collection. I know somebody who has bought all their albums three times - on LP, cassette and CD. I don't know if he has any Stranglers DVDs.

In fact, I must conclude that all a good pop song needs is a good tune, a good beat and good lyrics. Perhaps I am being slightly disingenuous calling them 'pop'. Pop is light and fluffy; rock is serious with attitude. Yeah, right, protest songs by nice white middle-class boys (except, of course, for Martha Muffin, Clare Grogan and Debbie Harry. Martha Muffin I know nothing about but I think I can safely say that nice white middle-class girls wanted to be Debbie or Clare or maybe a mixture of both...!).

Bruce Springsteen

His imaginatively named and even more imaginatively purchased Greatest Hits.

Or Spruce Windscreen as I sometimes refer to him. I think that might be a (Timmy) Malletism.

"The Boss" is one of those artists about which I have decidedly mixed feelings. It's worth noting that all eighteen tracks on this CD are written - words and music - by him, so the assessment has to include his writing talents as well as his singing talents.

I don't especially like his voice. Not that I dislike it. It's just not a voice I would want to hear sing the Argos Catalogue.

None of the tunes are special; musically, the songs are just variations on a few chords.

I've never seen him live - let's face it, exactly who have I seen live.

So I guess the conclusion is that this is a mediocre, eminently forgettable album.

And yet and yet, I do like it so very much. Some tracks really stand out. A few are neither here nor there. I actually knew the Frankie goes to Hollywood version of Born to Run before I knew Bruce's. I first alerted myself to him when Dancing in the Dark was riding high in the charts, back in the days when the singles charts had some meaning.  I imagine if any proper Springsteen fans are reading they'll be shuddering a that. But, so what. I do like that song very much.

I enjoy Thunder Road, Hungry Heart, Born in the USA, My Hometown, Glory Days, and Streets of Philadelphia. Each one of these songs is far better than any of the elements I refer to above. It would be interesting to hear some of them performed by someone who can sing, with some musicians who can really play.

The River is most definitely a song that I have to single out as being one of the special ones. Perhaps when I have played my entire record collection and completed this ridiculous roject, I may look back over it and list my Top Hundred, or some such. Well, note to my future self - include The River. It is a ballad, in the very best tradition of classic ballads.

Madonna

  I acquired this when I was a student. I won it from Radio Trent. I can't for the life of me remember why now, but I did cause some amusement by saying that I lived under the flyover - the Dunkirk flyover is one of the oldest in Britain and whilst I lived in Dunkirk, its widening was a major civil engineering project. We even got newsletters through the door updating us on Flyover progress.

It's a lovely album. The title track is quite possibly one of my very favourite tracks of all time, but there are some other pleasant tracks, notably Promise to Try, Dear Jesse, and Spanish Eyes

I actually wrote "That having been said, considering this is a vinyl-cassette transfer,  I do feel it is more or less made redundant by Immaculate Collection which I have on CD." Then  I realised that that was rot.

I suppose nowadays we tend to think of Madonna as a rather foolish attention seeking woman who is famous just for being famous. But listening to this record is a strong reminder that back then she was a rather foolish attention seeking woman with some amazingly good songs on her CV, who in my view (and despite some noteable precursors) totally revolutionised the role of women in pop music. And, although, no doubt, seriously enhanced by studio engineers, her voice has plenty of colour in it.

This is more redundant by the Immaculate Collection, with its truly good tracks being on there. Love Makes the World go Round isn't, but, although I like it, it isn't a reason in itself to get the album. I suppose I like 'Jimmy, Jimmy' but my reasons are not musical...

Simon and Garfunkel

Homeward Bound is said to have been written on Wigan station. Have you ever been to Wigan station? Which Wigan station I hear you cry?

Wigan has the strangest station arrangement of any town I have ever visited - well, except from Mansfield, which doesn't have a station at all!. There are two Wigan stations, Noth Western and Wallgate. North Western serves the Inter Citys and Cross-Countries, Wallgate the locals. They are highly visible from each other. Indeed, they are just down the stairs, negotiate the drop-off layby, cross the road and Bob's your uncle. Wigan North Western is a high level station exposed entirely to all the winds that rush from the Irish Sea to the Pennines and back again. Wallbank has no station indicator. The trains display only the final destination, and run entirely randomly, not to a timetable. So it is not uncommon to see a queue forming on the platform of people asking the driver "Is this train going to X?"

America mentions the New Jersey Turnpike. Actually, I think lyrically it's a great song, the way they describe the other people on the bus and make up stories about them. I have been on the New Jersey turnpike twice. The first time was on a coach tour setting out from Bayonne, NJ to Niagara Falls (NY and Canada), Washington DC, and Philadelphia PA, so very evocative as we had gone to look for America.

The second time was in a limo from Staten Island to Newark airport to catch a plane to Buffalo-Niagara (we then caught another plane to Boston, and a train to Washington DC, and a plane to New Orleans via Atlanta GA and another plane back to La Guardia to spen a final day in NY before catching a plane from JFK to Heathrow or Geneva via Frankfurt - so we'd all gone to look for America)

Keep the Cutomer Satisfied is a fairly mediocre song, but the rass arrangement in it is something special. It has a sound that is somewhere between big-band and jazz, sweet music to the ears...

Of course, the toppest track is Bridge Over Troubled Water. When I really really like a piece a music that is really really popular, I feel slightly embarrassed. It sort of goes again the grain, knowing that, often, universal popularity is the product of the unthinking minds of tasteless people. So, with songs like this I keep listening sceptically and critically. But in the end, there is no escaping the fact that the tune is brilliant, and the way it works up to a crescendo at the gae is just fab.

Anorak Alert

Channel 4 did the Top 100 albums of all time ever and totally objective last week.

I hate that sort of thing with a vengeance. It's fundamentally a transient product, voted on by transient people with transient tastes. It demonstrates nothing and proves even less. Top is Radiohead. Really? So, what age group was consulted? If a proper statistically valid sample of the population was consulted, Cliff Richard might end up top. But that wouldn't do, would it. Just not hip enough.

But, for the sake of utter anoraknacy, I have the following

2. U2 - The Joshua Tree
5. PINK FLOYD - Dark Side of the Moon
6. OASIS - Definitely Maybe
7. THE BEATLES - Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band
8. MADONNA - Like a Prayer
10. THE BEATLES - Revolver
11. R.E.M. - Automatic for the People
12. THE BEATLES - The White Album
15. OASIS - (What's the Story) Morning Glory
16. ALANIS MORISSETTE - Jagged Little Pill
18. THE VERVE - Urban Hymns
39. THE WHITE STRIPES - Elephant
47. DIRE STRAITS - Brothers in Arms
51. HAPPY MONDAYS - Pills 'N' Thrills and Bellyaches
70.PULP - Different Class
79.GEORGE MICHAEL - Faith
84.PAUL SIMON - Graceland
86. MEAT LOAF - Bat Out of Hell
91. ROBBIE WILLIAMS - I've Been Expecting You

And of the ones I have deleted, I have albums by about half of the artists, just not that particular album.

In a U-turn and a massive backflip I express surprise at a surprisingly eclectic mix of albums representing more or less every taste in pop music. Not necessarily all to my taste, and certainly not what I'd use to compile a personal top one hundred. But a superb example that that the mass collective sometimes has a amazing skill for determining on aggregate what is right.

Dandy Highwayman

Finally, someone recognises Adam as the genius we knew he was back in 1980. We might have been adolescent girls, but we were also intelligent young women with discernment and judgementAdam and the fall.

It really was Pop's Golden Age.

Icon

Turning Japanese

I was never as into Japan as some of my friends were, perhaps I was just too suburban and mainstream to get the weirdness, but what little I have of their oeuvre I like. Back in the Eighties I thought David Sylvian one of the most beautiful men alive. I have a signed photo of him, which was actually taken by Steve Jansson. And there's a whole story behind that...

Sixties Beat

Ah, the Sixties! she says through rose-coloured glasses of misty nostalgia. In the early Eighties we had a bit of a 'thing' for the Sixties, which we regarded as some sort of Golden Age, little knowing that we were in fact living the Golden Age. Perhaps we were smart enough to know that time was needed to get some perspective on the Eighties.

Listening to this double CD, what really hits me is that although very many of the tunes are very nice - some very nice indeed - and in some cases the harmonies, there is nevertheless a samey-sameness about the soundworld. Everything seems perched towards the upper part of the range, little going on in the lower reaches of harmony, uninteresting percussion, and, in most cases lyrics that are banal. Generally music that is designed to offend no-one

Almost all the tracks are about being in love, or love ending, or love unrequited, and, as such, have formed a soundtrack to generations of lovers. But, actually, what do any of these songs actually say about the human condition, or about the feelings of really being in love - as opposed to infatuation?

That having been said, this 2-CD has been played hundreds and hundreds of times in the dozen or so years since I bought it. It includes a number of tracks that I doubt I could live without: I Only Want To Be With You; The Locomotion; You've Got Your Troubles; He Ain't Heavy He's My Brother, Nights in White Satin, Catch the Wind and A Whiter Shade of Pale.

And there are certain songs that are really exempt from all but the mildest most pedantic criticisma: House of the Rising Sun, You've Lost that Loving Feeling, You'll Never Walk Alone; and Good Vibrations

Don McLean and Christy Moore

I have two Christy Moore albums. I played and blogged Smoke and Strong Whiskey CD the night before I went to Ireland last year.

And in a bizarre freakish coincidence, what comes up alphabetically on cassettes to play two nights before I went to Ireland? Yup, Don McLean. Taped off vinyl. It's on the other side of Christy Moore's really really superb Voyage album, also on vinyl, but really needs to be on CD, because the vinyl jumps, and the tape runs out.

Pat reminisced about how Voyage kept her company on many journeys. It is a superb travel album, sadly, that is not currently possible because I don't have a cassette Walkman.

Part of this 'blogging all the records by forty' is an attempt for me to work out favourite songs and favourite albums. I didn't even need to go through this exercise to know that Voyage would make the list of Best Albums. It has some really great songs on it, but the album is even greater than the sum of its parts. I owe an unpayable of debt of gratitude to Helen-in-Glasgow for introducing me to Christy Moore back in the Southend days.

There is not a weak song on this album. The Voyage is a simple but beautiful love song. All for the Roses is a wonderful ballad about a person. The words really bring out it. Bright Blue Rose is musically fabulous - a bit of country guitar here, Uillean pipes there.

But the very best track on the whole album is Farewell to Pripchat. A song about Chernobyl, in 1986. For me, it changed the world. It's all but forgotten now, but the effects remain. My cousin spent a number of summers working in holiday camps in Moldova with affected children. Elena's Pictures tell a story.

I think Christy Moore's The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face is quite possibly the best ever recorded.

I have one Don McLean album - American Pie, which I bought mainly for the title track. Seminal song. When Madonna covered it, she totally lost any respect I had for her, and I haven't liked her since.

The album as a whole is pleasant, and a reasonable cassette-mate with Christy. Although I suspect when I eventually get Christy on CD, I probably won't play American Pie half as often.

The Smiths

  Seminal group of the Eighties. And, therefore, in its way, a Singles album has to be super-seminal.

I didn't really know how big The Smiths were until I went to University. When they were together, they had two singles go to number ten, and no further. Ask reached number 8 on its re-release in 1992.

But they were big. Very big. Local band, local heroes where I grew up. I almost knew them.

And then at University my sole claim to 'cool' was my tenuous connections with The Smiths. All the thinking people were into The Smiths. When they appeared on the South Bank Show a crowd gathered in the JCR. Okay, a crowd always gathered for the South Bank Show - it was partly a Sunday night thing - but the crowd for The Smiths was massive.

It's one of these albums that you either know every track on it and can adequately write your own rave review, or else you're just not into them and never will be. I did start a list of all the ones I really like, but it just became a track listing, so I shall just say that I think my favouritest of all is Panic.

One of the things I found fascinating about The Smiths was that immediately prior to them it was usual to have singles of five or six minutes in length, and there was even a belief that 'longer' was 'better' or, at least, better value for money. But The Smiths reinvented the three minute single - and gave them some bloody long titles.

About five years ago there was a series on the telly about the great bands of the Eighties, a sort of Where Are They Now? but cool, with attitude. I found the one on The Smiths painful, hearing about the seemingly unhealbale rift between the two geniuses that are Morrissey and Marr.

This album is on CD. Standard functional packaging. We shall revisit The Smiths when we reach 'S' on the cassettes - actually, ex-vinyl...
(and you thought I only had a Greatest Hits compilation...?)

Paul McCartney

If I was a clever blogger I would have combined this post with the recent one on John Lennon. But I'm not clever, so it's separate.

It's basically a Greatest Hits of Wings, and Macca's 'solo'. I am pretty certain that I taped this off my brother Matt. Quiz question for one virtual brownie point. Where did Wings make their live debut?

No one can say that Macca isn't innovative. In the Sixties he wrote songs in the then dominant Beatles-style genre. Hang on, didn't he (co-)invent that genre. Or, as the Amazon review says

Truth-in-packaging regulations are strained to the breaking point--some previous work with a former band was pretty darn "best" too

In the 70s, he used the prevailing concept-rock fashion to produce songs such as Band on the Run. It is very typical of that in that long slow build up, a complete change of tempo heralded by Denny Laine's great little guitar riff. Obfuscatory lyrics, in fact the whole bang shoot. There's another passage , on bass, I think, that sounds very Seventies, but is used again in anticipating-the-Eighties-way on Goodnight Tonight, which, incidentally, I really like. Then in the Eighties he went very poppy.

I really love Ebony and Ivory. I'm sure some cynical bastard is reading this and making sicky-throwy-up noises. Guess what, Cynical Bastard, I don't care. There are three really good aspects of this record - the words, which were still pretty revolutionary in 1982; the ying/yang contrasts of the voices of Macca and Stevie Wonder; and thirdly, a certain je ne sais quoi, which may just be a trick of a clever studio engineer, but there is a pillar of depth of sound. I will add that I would take it away and edit it, cutting that silly half-rapped bit. But I guess that was pretty much bleeding edge in 1982. It just so happens that Labi Siffre and Madonna both did the pseudo-gospel much better.

I also like We All Stand Together. When it was out, I used to sing it and Matt would do a brilliant Frogs' Chorus. And I love Mull of Kinytre. So there...!

Macca is a legend, a supremely talented songwriter, a genius. But he also had the odd afternoon off over the years. These include Listen to Waht the Man Said; C-Moon; Maybe I'm Amazed; and Say Say Say.