Friday, 15 December 2017

Oliver!: Po! - Look For The Holes (4 April 1992)



When putting together their Grains of Sand EP, Rutland’s second best known cultural ambassadors clearly recognised that Look For The Holes was the ace of the record, and accordingly gave it a side to itself.

On the surface, the song is a post-breakup farewell; that moment in any emotional parting where it is made clear that lives will now travel in opposite directions and that any future meetings will be in the company of others and most likely on neutral ground.  It belongs to that pantheon of amicable break-up songs.  While there are hints that the relationship and its aftermath may have been traumatic:
“I’m brave/I’m not your slave...”
We really get the sense that all sound and fury has been spent, there are no more fights to be had, just acceptance to be shared.  Ruth Miller is still trying to cajole her ex to reflect on their shared history positively and without casting her, needlessly, as the villain:
“Think of the good times we had/You could never ever hate me.
Be sad/Please don’t get mad.”

However, the line which sticks out for me is:
“Some people cling to the past/Like a very hungry little puppy.
I know/I won’t be the last.”
Although it’s of a piece with the break-up theme, suggesting the bravery of leaving a relationship that’s gone bad rather than clinging on due to the memory of when it was good - I find that the clinging to the past metaphor strikes me and my generation very close to home.  In my case, it’s my own individual concern at spending too much time looking back to lost eras, halcyon days and memories.  Those days of warmth and safety that the snore-like guitar strikes on the verses are trying to take the listener back to.  I’ve tried, for my own good this year, to embrace more of the times that I live in now, even though they’ve gone through more substantial changes in the last 2 years than we could expect in the quarter of a century (yes, really!) since Peel first played this track.  Speaking more generally, I feel that my own generation, those who came of age in the 1990s, has cast itself as nostaglialists as severely as the most charactured Brexit pensioner.  It’s in the clothes we wear, it’s in the music we listen to, it’s in our cultural totems against which today’s are compared and found wanting.  And the root cause for this perpetual retreat to 25/30 years ago?  Fear.  Nothing more or less than that.  Fear of change, perhaps, but more likely fear of expanding horizons and looking beyond that which we know we enjoy.  Because to find pleasure in today risks losing the comfort blanket of the past.  Thank God for John Peel though.  Because even listening to him retrospectively, one is still being led somehow both into the present and the future.  But many of his audience would be coated by Ruth Miller’s clear-sighted lyric.

As an example of feyly incisive indie folk, Po! put me in mind of the Sarah Records act, The Field Mice, another band who peddled emotionally taut songs under the cover of deceptively gentle arrangements.  I see Look For The Holes as a female centred counterpoint to The Field Mice’s Think of These Things.  One can almost imagine that the narrator in Think of These Things managed to break through the outer ring of people who knew the object of his love longer than him, and yeah, times were pretty good for a while, but eventually his jealousy and possessiveness forces the girl to break away.  In keeping with the aesthetic of the scene though, there’s no triumphalism here.  She has to go, and nothing he can do will bring her back.  Listen carefully, and the sense is not of a new start after a turbulent time, but mere peace of mind.  A stunningly perceptive piece of emotional
songwriting.

Video courtesy of my lifesaver and benefactor, Webbie.

All lyrics are copyright of Ruth Miller.

Sunday, 10 December 2017

Oliver!: Chuck Brooks - Love’s Gonna Tear Your Playhouse Down (4 April 1992)



Time once again for another round of lyric word association.  I’m going to say a word and I want you to tell me another word you associate with the first word in any song setting.  OK, are you ready?  Here we go:
Love...you.
Heart...break
Blue...eyes
Tear...shed

No not tear as a noun, but tear as a verb, like rip.  Try again:
Tear...playhouse.

When I was a child, I found the song title, I’m Gonna Tear Your Playhouse Down, as covered by Paul Young to be both fascinating and confusing.  What could cause someone who seemed so mild-mannered and normal to demolish a Wendy House?  I didn’t have access to Urban Dictionary in 1984 so was blissfully unaware of concepts like fur lined porn dungeons. But the moment I heard John Peel play Love’s Gonna Tear Your Playhouse Down, I had to do further research.  Was I’m Gonna Tear Your Playhouse Down, originally recorded by Ann Peebles in 1973, in any way a reply record to Chuck Brooks’s 1970 recording of Love’s Gonna Tear Your Playhouse Down?

Alas, no.  While Peebles (and Young) threatened retribution on someone who had been playing them for a fool, Brooks is the player shaken to his very core by feelings of love.  If Melvin Van Peebles or Fred Williamson had chosen to make a blaxploitation version of Les Liasons dangereuses in the early 70s, this may very well have featured on the soundtrack when Valmont starts to fall in love with Madame Tourvel.

Peel actually restarted this record, when he played it, because he was convinced that the wound up opening note was because of an error on his part, but, “It really does start like that. Incredible!”  He only played up to 3:14 which covers side A of the original single.  The video covers both sides, but the last three minutes is pretty repetitive grooving with Brooks trying new metaphors for the tearing down of the playhouse.

“Leave it, Paul.  It’s only a Wendyhouse”.



Videos courtesy of losmoutinhos (Brooks) and PaulYoungVEVO.

Saturday, 2 December 2017

Oliver!: Midway Still - Better Than Before (4 April 1992)



Let me take you back to the early days of this blog and the sense of excitement I felt when I listened to the Peel show broadcast on 2 November 1991.  The file picks up from the end of a news bulletin and goes straight into Pickin’ The Blues and after the initial guitar notes, in comes John Peel, “Do you know at half time I thought Liverpool were on for a record breaking 2 wins in a row but it was not to be.  Katch 22 in session together with Foreheads in a Fishtank along with three hours of top quality...well not quite three hours, but a lot of good records.”  And then he played the first of them, and this blog was, suddenly, really happening...but it wouldn’t be marking its first post with Wish by Midway Still, which sounded ditheringly morose to me, certainly in comparison to Howlin’ Wolf who was up next.
However, having been the first group played in this Oliver! odyssey, it’s nice that Midway Still turn up as the production comes out of 5 months of  rehearsal and rounds the final bend into the production week - opening night was on 7 April 1992.  Better Than Before is a huge step up in quality from Wish, fizzing as it does with energy and attack.  The powerful backing plays off Paul Thomson’s vocal so well, it made me think that if Buddy Holly had lived long enough to record music in the grunge era, this is what it would have sounded like.

Video courtesy of Anderson bertolin.

Monday, 27 November 2017

Reflections on listening to American Rock bands from the early 1970s, having previously dismissed them out of hand AKA a blogger does penance

“...Grand Funk Railroad are one of those band names which can fatigue me without hearing a note - see also the likes of The Eagles, Quicksilver Messenger Service and (Chicago)”.

As soon as I wrote that alarm bells went off.  “You should delete that”, I thought to myself, but I kept typing.  “Think again”, I said as my finger poised above the Publish button, but to no avail.  I published and was damned by my own integrity.
To dismiss early 1970s US rock groups is easy, cheap and lazy.  It’s especially lazy when, as in my case, you haven’t listened in any real depth to anything those groups recorded.  I put some blame for this at John Peel’s feet. Having played some of those bands in the early 1970s on fairly heavy rotation, he, perhaps understandably, cut many of them loose once he heard The Ramones for the first time.  In many cases, he had moved on even earlier than that.  By late 1977/early 1978, he could barely remember any affection he may have held for them as he gorged himself and his audience on a diet of punk, reggae and post-punk music.  In the last 25 years of his life he appeared to dismiss a lot of the stuff he played between 1970 and 1976 with a “What was I thinking!” level of insouciance, while still continuing to wrongfoot 21st Century listeners by throwing in a Jackson Browne track when it was least expected.
Needless to say, I fell in with this orthodoxy that many of those US bands of the early 1970s were rubbish. Looking at my record collection, the majority of the stuff I have from that period is by 60s bands that were continuing to record into the new decade: my beloved Move of coursethe best of The Rolling Stones and some solo Beatle brilliance - all of their records exhibited the flaws of the periods such as extended wigouts on guitar and any other instrument to hand, The Move were partiularly guilty of this at times.  But I forgave them because they had paid their dues as pop acts and served up enough slices of brilliance in 2 and a half or 3 minutes in the preceding years that they had earnt the right to stretch out over 5, 6 minutes or longer.  It was those Johnny Come Latelys that pitched up in 1969 believing that extended drum solos were their birthright which got my prejudices flaring.
Nevertheless, my closed-ear dismissal of those four groups gnawed away at me.  I couldn’t escape the realisation that any piece of cultural review, even one as squashed into the back corners of the World Wide Web as this blog, cannot hope to retain any sense of credibility if it doesn’t listen to that which it would seek to belittle, if only to see whether the belittling is justified.  And who knows, maybe, just maybe, this music may not be as bad as I guessed it to be.  I might even like some of it, and then how would I recognise myself?
So I set myself a challenge.  I would listen to 3 albums each from the oeuvre of Grand Funk Railroad, Quicksilver Messenger Service Service, Chicago and The Eagles.  I would choose albums released by the groups between 1970 and 1976.  This seemed appropriate given that The Eagles released the Hotel California album 3 days before Peel’s first Punk special. The symbolism was irresistible.  So here are my field notes from my excursion into hair ‘n’ beards early1970s American rock music, and we begin where all this started:

Grand Funk Railroad
Albums listened to:  Closer To Home (1970)Survival (1971) and We’re An American Band (1973)
Prejudices prior to listening: monster riffage and funk stretched out to epic length.
Expectations confounded?:  Absolutely.  Of the four groups in this experiment, Grand Funk Railroad rocked the hardest and although they liked to top that 5/6 minute mark, they only did so when they had something worth listening to.  In the case of Closer To Home that something is the final two tracks - the outstanding rock/soul hybrid of Hooked on Love and the epic title track I’m Your Captain (Closer To Home) which manages to fuse together early 70s sunshine pop, Cream-style power trio dynamics, Space Oddity and Sailing By.  15 minutes listening for 2 songs and 2/3 of that is for I’m Your Captain which falls into the early 70s trap of bunging on several additional minutes for 1
repeated line, but they pack in enough ideas for twice that number of songs.
In discussing Survival, I need to broach a difficult subject - one that some of you may feel queasy about but it’s simply unavoidable when looking at this record, because it underpins most of what drives the thrust of the album.  Christian rock.  Wait! Come back, please!  Honestly, it’s really good.  For lead singer, guitarist and principal songwriter, Mark Farner, a relationship with God informs the best songs on this record, most explicitly in I Can Feel Him in the Morning, a fusion of Revolution 9 and a stab at a contemporary hymn which works far better than a description like that makes it sound.  Comfort Me swims with palpable joy and relief at having found a way back to God, it almost makes you wonder why we don’t all do it.  However, any cynicism can’t stand up for long when set against the effervescence of Farner’s vocal.  If it doesn’t convert you, it at least makes you pleased for him.
Throw in the tremendous anti-war rocker Country Road, the audio-verite state of the nation gospel thrills of I Want Freedom and a cover of Gimme Shelter which sounds like the leads in Hair backed by Black Sabbath’s rhythm section and you have an album so full of interesting sounds and ideas that it stood out as the only album of the lot that I would actually go out and buy.
I’m actually listening to We’re An American Band as I type this, for a second time.  This was partially because, apart from the title track, which I already knew through Peel endorsed cover versions, none of the other tracks had grabbed me when I first heard it, which didn’t bode well.  It sounds like an entirely different band from that on the other two albums.  In large part this may be down to the change in producers, this album being the first one recorded with Todd Rungren, who tried to make every record he worked on sound like the most complete pop record ever made, and the artists themselves sound like the biggest acts in the world.  It takes aim and fires at stadium rock and in terms of sales figures, it hit the mark, reaching Number 2 in the Billboard Top 200 albums - the other two albums covered here both got to Number 6.  It’s all got far more virtuosic and rockist compared to earlier albums and that’s not to say that is necessarily bad, especially on tracks like The Railroad or Ain’t Got Nobody but I did find myself missing the more intimate settings that Terry Knight placed them in.



Video courtesy of drwu1975


Quicksilver Messenger Service
Albums listened to: Just For Love (1970)Quicksilver (1971) and Comin’ Thru (1972).
Prejudices prior to listening to: aimless Americana that would go on for decades
Expectations confounded?: Yes.  I hadn’t thought that any of these bands would be waving a flag for guitar pop as opposed to rock indulgence, but Quicksilver Messenger Service did just that to decent
effect across all three of these albums.  One of the last acts to be signed up in the rush to mine the San Francisco sound of the late 60s, QMS were still keeping those sunshine vibes going with tracks that sounded 1967 in 1972.  At its best this meant the fantastic 1970 single, Fresh Air, a back to nature rocker with a chorus that should have had all those with and without tickets at The Isle of Wight Festival punching the air that summer.  Just For Love’s other highlight for me is Cobra, a fast country blues instrumental that clearly influenced The Doug Wood Band’s most famous piece of work.  When QMS were good, they were really good.  But the issue for me is that too often, they were pleasant but little more.  That’s still better than being boring though and the Quicksilver album featured two gems in Song for Frisco in which the band lament the end of the Love era in their home city and Don’t Cry My Lady Love with its gorgeous barroom piano sound.
Comin’ Thru, their penultimate album, highlights the pleasantness conundrum.  It’s very funky in
places and has a lightness of touch about it, common to most QMS albums.  But I’d struggle to name
a single outstanding track from it.  Maybe, the topical Doin’ Time in the USA which formed a neat
opening salvo with their take on the traditional song, Chicken, but it was a bit of a meander from
there.  The musical equivalent of a walk through St Austell town centre: pleasant but unremarkable.



Video courtesy of ScreamDream3000


Chicago
Albums listened to: Chicago ll (1970)Chicago Vll (1974) and Chicago Vlll (1975)
Prejudices prior to listening to: eggy sub-stadium rock pop played by people in skinny shirts, wide lapels and all looking like Gene Wilder.
Expectations confounded?:  Yes, although I find listening to any of their albums more than once and in one go difficult to recommend.  But that shows up the shallowness of my ability to listen, I think, because Chicago’s early 70s albums really want you to listen.  They are packed with ideas, flourishes
and interest.  At the risk of sounding like Joseph ll in Peter Shaffer’s Amadeus, there’s almost too
much music on offer here.  What stops it from sliding into double/triple album purgatory is the way
that it incorporates its brass  section and never stays still long enough for an idea to become boring or repetitive.  In trying to distinguish their sequence of numerically titled albums, all you need to know is Chicago II is the one which brings together politically charged jazz funk workoutsHair-inspired  
musical numbers and  rejected television show theme tunes.  Chicago VII opens with six instrumental
numbers but these run the gamut from the Afro-Soul of Aire  to a terrific Lalo Schifrin inspired piece
called Devil’s Sweet, so it’s all good.  Chicago VIII is the one which could take the much derided title for Best Album of 1975. A lush, thinking pop record with bags of romance, humour and intelligence. Unlike their other records, it contents itself with a mere two sides rather than four and it is a more straightforward rock record content to play out its ideas in 4 minute bursts rather than 7 and a half
minutes.  It also features Brand New Love Affair Parts 1 & 2, one of the best of those lush 70s orchestral ballads that sound like the NewYork Symphony Orchestra had been drafted in on a pop contract.  My favourite of this type is God Bless the Absentee by Paul Simon.  In conclusion, I went
in thinking Chicago would be dull, beige lightweights but the evidence of the early 70s suggests that they would have been what Pink Floyd would have sounded like had Syd Barrett kept it together  and been able to steer them towards the kind of free jazz, large number collective he wanted them to be when trying to write pop songs became too much for him.



Video courtesy of TrixxyKatt



Eagles
Albums listened to:  On The Border (1974)One of These Nights (1975)Hotel California (1976)
Prejudices prior to learning: as for Quicksilver Messenger Service but far beardier.
Expectations confounded? No, but not as painful as feared.  In a sense, while 1976-77 may be remembered as the period when punk came and swept everything aside,  the reality is that US Country Rock was arguably holding it to a draw when the sales figures and interest in the Hotel California album are taken into account.  That album was something of a vindication for The Eagles, who had agitated for a move more towards rock than country over the preceding three years.  In fact
so much so that it caused them to part ways with the legendary producer, Glyn Johns and perhaps
more tellingly, lose Bernie Leadon, a country roots musician of astounding versatility. Listen to any
early 1970s US rock album featuring banjo, or steel guitar and the chances are it was played either by  Leadon or Clarence White.  At the point where I started listening to the band for the On The Border album, it’s the tension between the country and rock elements that makes for the more interesting
tracks.  For the first 3 minutes of its 4 minute running time, Midnight Flyer is a straight country
shuffle driven on by Leadon’s banjo, but the last minute sees a tonal shift and heavily phased electric
guitar plays the track out.  Elsewhere, Eagles set out their stall with tracks like the terrific You Never
Cry Like a Lover or Best Of My Love which sounds like it was created to be exactly what it was, a
(US)  Number 1 hit single.
One of These Nights attempts to build on this success, but its best moments are those where Eagles
flirt with psychedelia in tracks like the supercharged wooziness of Visions or Bernie Leadon’s swansong instrumental, Journey of the Sorcerer, otherwise known as the theme to The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy.  Set against that, the album’s title track sounds like the most 1975 thing ever committed to vinyl.
And so finally to Hotel California.  It’s a bit unfair to hold this monster selling record up as one of the exhibits in the Why Punk Had To Happen trial, but the decadence of the album is pretty nauseating.  In a track like Life in the Fast Lane, the cocaine reality that these guys lived with every day is directly quoted and amidst the stodgy rock tunes and sanctimonious nonsense of the closing track, The Last Resort, it stands out as the album’s most revealing tune for lifting a lid on the inherent emptiness that comes with great fame.  The title track might have become over familiar through years of bad karaoke, but listened to in context, with its  shimmering arpeggios and brilliant voodooesque lyrics - one of Eagles’ strongest suits throughout each of their records - it does  a brilliant job of highlighting the sense of bloat that had swollen so much of  rock music into something which had gotten away from its audience and which punk rock of the kind John Peel played on that December 10 1976 show, broadcast in the same week that copies of Hotel California were first placed on record store shelves, tried to close the gap.  41 years on, we can afford to be more generous to these and other exponents of “good singing, good playing”.



Video courtesy of RockWillNeverDie95


Saturday, 11 November 2017

Oliver!: John Peel Show - BBC Radio 1 (Friday 3 April 1992)

There are times, dear reader, when I feel that I fail you in terms of what you might basically expect from a John Peel blogger.  Whether it be not listening to any of the recent glut of Peel retrospectives through 6 Music or Radio 1 Vintage; not providing regular updates on his appearances on the latest repeat of Top of the Pops or most pressingly in the case of the programme Peel broadcast on this night, not selecting the track Rahm by Attwenger.  I mean Austrian accordion led rap music was what the Peel Show was essentially for wasn’t it?  Well, in some respects, yes, but it wouldn’t have got on my mixtape, I’m afraid.  And in light of Attwenger’s subsequent behaviour towards our hero, maybe it’s for the best.

If we file the Attwenger track under Foreign Novelty, it has to be admitted that Peel was indulging his musical funnybone in this show given that he chose to end it with an extraordinary record from 1963 called When I Did the Mashed Potatoes With You by Larry Bright in which over a lush background, Bright reminiscences about performing novelty dances with his lost love.

The file I made my selections from came from the last 45 minutes of the show.  There were two tracks I would have liked to include but wasn’t able to, and in the case of the first of them, it’s most irritating:

Sanchez and Shaka Shamba - No Bun It Down - Described by Peel as “a plea to the Jamaican authorities not to burn the marajuana crop”, you can hear an abridged version of the track by clicking on the link.  With its dancehall beats and stabs of electric guitar, this is a business proposal to the Jamaican government about why they should legalise ganja, where they could grow it and the export strategy they could follow (Britain, America and Canada would be great markets apparently).  Shamba plays the part of the businessman, outlining the benefits of legal ganja, while Sanchez plays the satisfied customer - happily getting blissed out and inspiring the writers of Just a Little by Liberty X a decade later - see if you can hear the lift.  The track could be accused of irresponsibility, though it makes it clear that harder drugs than ganja are not welcome, but I love it for the fusion of riddim, politics and social issues.  An audacious gem, please can someone put the full version up, especially if it links into...

Wingtip Sloat - M31 - Peel followed Sanchez and Shaka Shamba with this track from the Washington D.C. trio.  He wondered what a sloat was, and it turns out that it’s not anything complimentary - at least this side of the Millenium.  M31, in the style of this band, is a driving song which starts out as jangle before moving to clangle with added feedback and dissonance before it comes off the musical motorway and arrives on calmer roads.  I’ve not been able to play any of the Wingtip Sloat tracks that caught my attention so far.  If you have 37 minutes to spare, I can recommend a listen to User Friendly Bowl Wrapper, a collection of originals, covers, works-in-progress and outakes from 1991.  Peel was still raving about them when he spoke to Rolling Stone in 1993, so I’m hopeful that they will be able to turn up here soon in some form.


UPDATE

The wonderful Webbie @keepingitpeel  and especially, https://keepingitpeel.wordpress.com/ came up trumps again by uploading both tracks for us all to hear.






That Rolling Stone interview is notable for its final paragraph in which Peel reflects back to the early 70s and considers that, in the long run, Tony Blackburn was right and he was wrong.  But the mention  of Quicksilver Messenger Service provides me with a nice preview for the next post I’ll make here where I reflect on a few of my own musical prejudices and what I found when I confronted some of them.  Required reading for advocates of Grand Funk Railroad, Quicksilver Messenger Service, Chicago and The Eagles.

Full tracklisting

Tuesday, 7 November 2017

Oliver!: Swell - Turtle Song (3 April 1992)



Peel was in one of his lightly sarcastic A & R man moods on this show as for the second week running, he made pointed reference to Swell’s status as potential Next Big Things: “Tipped as the next big things but one” as he put it, before going on to play the next big things, later in the programme.

Compared to the epically panoramic sweep of the previous week’s Down, a track which in parts hints at U2esque levels of mass-marketism, Turtle Song is more one for the fans.  It starts off with a drum practice in a factory cafe before going into a tightly packed riff suggesting an emotional face-off between David Freel and the target of his entreaties.  In typical Swell style, the tension appears to be a bluff though given the “beautiful day” that plays out over the scene.  It’s evidently still a stoners’ paradise.

Video courtesy of MrAlstec

Saturday, 4 November 2017

Oliver!: Kalaeidoscope - I’m Gonna Get You [Remix] (3 April 1992)



“There have been dozens of people called Kalaeidoscope down the years, and this is the latest of them” - John Peel prior to playing this tune on 3/4/92.

A look at Discogs shows Peel was right about this with at least 25 sets of artists sharing the name across the decades.  This dance act from Bedford, a fact which Peel always mentioned whenever he played them, upset the apple cart somewhat by using a different spelling from the more widely known Kaleidoscope.  As they used it on both of their releases for the Bass Sphere label, we shall use it too.

Listening to their work here I’m becoming convinced that it was the likes of DJ Ramin and others within the hardcore dance community who were the true musical geniuses of the last decade of the 20th Century.  Although starting out from the computer game intro beloved by their contemporaries it’s the flourishes provided by perfect samples such as “Who’s a potty mouth” one that lift it to another level amidst all the breakbeats and synthesiser riffs.  It also contains a snippet from Bizarre Inc’s wonderful chart hit of the same name. The precision and artistic ear needed to blend that together and make it work will never fail to impress or thrill me.

It’s interesting that although the big voiced female “Come on”s help date this song to 1992 like a stick of rock, I find myself more drawn to it than a lot of the guitar based stuff that I picked out recently.  It sounded like the future then, and it still does today.