A Midsummer Night’s Dream: Automatic Dlamini feat. PJ Harvey - Putty (29 November 1992)

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John Peel’s programmes could get people to overcome all sorts of biases and ignorant attitudes towards music.  Although there may be genres of music that one wouldn’t rush to embrace, Peel’s playlists invariably meant that there would always be something that would catch your attention and cause you to reassess your attitude towards the merits of that genre.  Likewise, Peel shows could also help you to look more closely at artists and performers that you may previously have been dismissive of or inattentive towards.  Such is the case here for me with John Parish and his band, Automatic Dlamini.

When I fell for the charms of PJ Harvey in 1995, John Parish was part of the picture and sound that helped sweep me along through the television appearances that Harvey made that year promoting tracks from her To Bring You My Love album, a record which Parish had co-produced with her.  Standing to her left, in classic lead musician position and either playing the relentless, unstoppable riff on Meet Ze Monsta or playing the shaker on Working For the Man, he clearly played as much of a part in constructing the soundscapes and ambience of Harvey’s music in that period as she did herself.  It shouldn’t be forgotten just how much of a stylistic shift To Bring You My Love was to those who remembered the PJ Harvey trio

sound of Dry and Rid of Me.  But it paid off, critically and commercially, and this may have been what persuaded  Island Records to sign off on their next PJ Harvey release being a collaboration between herself and Parish, in which he would set her lyrics to his music. It may also have been the label realising that this would probably be the only way in which they were liable to get any kind of timely follow up record from Harvey who had run herself into the ground during 1995 touring To Bring You My Love with the result that she ended up being signed off sick at the start of December 1995 and cancelling a string of live shows through that month, including the last show of the year in Bristol, which would have been the first ever “proper” gig that I was going to attend.  In the circumstances, sharing the load on a new album seemed like a sensible idea.

When the album, Dance Hall at Louse Point was released in September 1996, I learnt a little more about the ties that had bound Harvey and Parish together and how Harvey had started her musical career by joining Parish’s band, Automatic Dlamini. He had clearly been a huge influence on her, yet if you had said to me then, “Would you like to listen to an Automatic Dlamini album so you can hear a bit more of John Parish’s music?” I’d have probably made my excuses that I had something more urgent to do.  And this would have been purely down to snobbish incuriosity on my part.  I didn't mind hearing him working behind PJ Harvey, but why would I have wanted to hear him on his own?  She had the profile, he didn’t. And if he was so influential, why wasn’t his profile higher?  Oh, such shallow thinking and as ever, thank God for John Peel providing an opportunity to learn some musical lessons which I would otherwise have been too ignorant to do.

Formed in 1982, Automatic Dlamini look to have been a frustrating band to have followed if you were hoping for regular material from them. Their first releases including debut album, The D is For Drum came out during 1986/87, but 5 years had passed by the time their second album, From a Diva to a Diver appeared.  Not that they were inactive during that time. Harvey joined the band in 1988 and played on an unreleased album titled Here, Catch, Shouted His Father.  But she left in early 1991 together with drummer, Rob Ellis, although she contributed to several tracks on From a Diva to Diver including Putty, which with its brushed drums, slide-acoustic guitar and dustbowl blues tone feels like a warm up for tracks on Dance Hall at Louse Point such as Rope Bridge Crossing.  Lyrically, it has clear resonances towards the kind of music they were to make together on future projects with the sculptress of the song putting together the model of a feckless man and making cuts and slices into the clay like a voodoo sorceress.  A role which Harvey seemed born to play on a future track.  You can be sure that somewhere, some poor soul was experiencing a burning sensation somewhere painful as the sculptress uses fire to firm up the putty that she mutilates.

I had to take the opportunity to listen to other John Parish compositions on earlier Automatic Dlamini tracks and what struck me, from the admittedly limited sample I heard, was how Putty appeared to mark something of a departure for him from the predominant tone of Automatic Dlamini songs.  In Putty, and through his future work with Harvey, he sounds like Nick Cave with songs which feel like they are set in small, dimly lit cabins in the middle of vast desert wildernesses.  But with earlier tracks like Principles vs Feelings or Crazy Supper, he writes like Jarvis Cocker and sounds like Nick Heyward, by creating songs of intense but lyrical urban domestic disharmony.  If ever you wanted to make a Spotify playlist titled Yuppie Kitchen Sink music, then Automatic Dlamini would need to feature on it.  So, Putty represents quite a shift for Parish in the way that To Bring You My Love would be a shift for Harvey.  Their artistic bond has lasted up to the present day, but ultimately, who influenced who?

Video courtesy of blackartfox

Oliver! appendix: Krispy 3 [Peel Session] (7 December 1991)

Long time readers of this blog may remember that I often cited the Peel Session recorded by Chorley hip hop trio, Krispy 3 for broadcast in his Radio 1 show on 7 December 1991 as one of my Holy Grails given how much I loved it on first hearing and its apparent unavailability.  Whenever a previously missing track from 7/12/91 turned up, I would include it as an appendix here, but never lost an opportunity to reference that Krispy 3 session, almost as a way of saying, “Yes, New Mind were great, but if you had heard Krispy 3’s Peel Session, then you would truly be in the presence of greatness.”

Well, my benefactor and champion, Webbie has kindly uploaded a recording of the session from that show together with Peel’s links.  It’s a wonderful capsule which showcases just how entertaining and fun, Krispy 3 were.  Peel had been an enthusiastic supporter of them through late 1991, and they first came to my attention through their excellent single, Don’t Be Misled. Which made it all the more surprising that I’ve heard nothing from them in any of Peel’s 1992 shows, although he may have played some tracks from their debut album which was released just as The Comedy of Errors was finishing and I was about to go on a short acting hiatus which meant that Peel’s shows and tracklistings for the period July-September 1992 fell outside this blog’s remit.  All is not lost given that they continued to record music up to 1999, so hopefully more music from them will turn up through the years.

Krispy 3’s particular genius was the way in which they used seemingly mundane or unglamorous scenarios as cover for more serious topics.  Second track, Where We Going? starts out with the crew pondering the problems of getting lost while going camping in the countryside - a notion since reclaimed in recent years by the black community in the rush of “Ever See a Black Person go to/do....” memes*. However as the track progresses, the Where We Going refrain changes from “which way up do I hold this compass?” fish out of water style self-mockery to a more searching question of where the black community may find itself going in the future. Similarly, opening track Answer Me, Will Ya uses the pretext of a customer survey to ask the audience about the associations (and prejudices) they may have towards anyone in a hip-hop group.  It’s all done with subtlety and with a heavy layer of humour, but no irony, so it cuts through more deeply and invites more self-recognition from the audience than might be offered up when they are lectured by The Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprasy, though by the time they get to session closer, Hard Times, they are less coy about confronting the listener with tales of degradation, hypocrisy, poverty and lack of charity. 

As entertaining and enjoyable as Krispy 3 were in this session, they did show themselves as being inescapably in thrall to some of hip-hop’s more eye-rolling traits. Third track, Too Damn Ignorant, takes its cue from the inferiority complex which seems to bedevil so many hip-hop groups, namely the sense that they’re not getting the respect that they feel they deserve. In Krispy 3’s case, that might be rooted in the fact that they came from Chorley rather than Manchester, and it provokes an attack on those who accuse them of lacking big city authenticity. Though while the complaints may be genuine, “We’re not country bumpkins!” etc, they manage to turn it around in order to attack the small-mindedness and bad habits of some of the city-slicker figures in the hip-hop fraternity.

*I didn’t come up with a very good label for this, but earlier tonight I saw an advert promoting European Black History Month which featured a number of black people talking about things which they and their community didn’t generally do despite being a part of British society. It was all very tongue in cheek but included statements like “Black people don’t eat Sunday roasts” and “Black people don’t go to Cornwall on holiday” which is the black community’s loss, if true.  But the point remains that these perceptions/prejudices have been reclaimed by the black community in recent years.  Nobody did it better than Stephen K. Amos in his alleged response to a punter after a stand-up gig in Bow, who approached Amos and said, “Fuck me, mate! I never knew black people were funny.”

To which, Amos replied, “Some of us ride bikes.  Have been known to ski. Can work with rudimentary tools.”

Video courtesy of Webbie.  Check out their Peel related podcast.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream: John Peel’s Music - Sunday 22 November 1992 (BFBS)

 The audio files which contain the BFBS shows for October-December 1992 appear no longer to be accessible. In a YouTube world, that makes no odds in terms of presenting the selections I chose from those Peel shows, but unfortunately it means that the notes posts which cover Peel shows for the periods will be a little scant for a while.  For instance, on this show, Peel told an anecdote about being taken to watch horse racing as a child by his parents at Bangor-On-Dee. He was surreptitiously encouraged by his father to place some bets and had a moderately successful time of it, winning as he remembered, about £40, which in those days would have bought you a small country estate with full shooting rights.  Unfortunately, he never got to see or spend the money he won due to his father looking after it.  Now, I’m able to present a little context to that anecdote, but as things currently stand with those audio files, I can tell you nothing about how a play of Superstar by French band, Lucievacarme linked to Peel’s own experience from earlier in the week of spending 90 minutes in a hot TV studio to record a 30 second link for a French television programme.

Had the Luicevacarme track been available, it was a definite candidate for inclusion from this show, which it has to be said contained a fairly high number of tracks which made my list. Inevitably, a few fell from favour, such as...

Therapy? - Accelerator - This nearly got in on retrospective grounds given that in early 1993, I became quite a fan of Therapy? but listening to this track, and a few others from the period which didn’t ultimately make the cut, I wonder what I saw in them.  It gives me no pleasure to write that.

Pond - 11x17 - Taken from a CD released on Sub Pop which Peel admitted he hadn’t liked during his initial listens to it, but which he was learning to love on subsequent listens.  It obviously grabbed me first time around, but lost its impact when I went back to it.

Nirvana - Here She Comes Now - a cover of The Velvet Underground track.  When I revisited it, I learnt that when it comes to Here She Comes Now, all I can say is that as far as my preferences are concerned, There She Goes Again.

Full tracklisting

A Midsummer Night’s Dream: Strobe Man - Punished For This [Dalek Mix] (22 November 1992)

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I’ll spare you my Dalek impressions, they’re barely recognisable anyway. John Peel after playing Punished for This on 22/11/92.

Strobe Man was a one-off alias for Andrew E. Beer.  The Strobe EP was his only release under this name and the highlight of the record was Punished for This, which would have stood a very good chance of inclusion on this blog even if it had been terrible, due to the title sample being taken from the Doctor Who story, Genesis of the Daleks (1975).  In this case the line, “You will be punished for this!” is not said by a Dalek, but rather by their creator, Davros.  How could I resist a record which gave this Doctor Who fan the opportunity to enjoy MC Michael Wisher.

I don’t know where the opening sample of speech comes from but having ended it on the line about “evil” and then segueing that onto the rantings of the creator of one of the most evil alien races in science-fiction, Beer’s audio masterstroke is the introduction of angelic diva vocals from around 1:05 onwards.  These serve to act as a soothing antidote to Davros’s ranting and the other harsh, metallic sounds which punctuate the track.  It serves to act as a reminder that even amidst barbaric surroundings, goodness can still be found in the most unexpected places.  However, the way that the track fades out on both the angels’ sighs and Davros’s threats is a reminder that good and evil, violence and peace constantly live side by side. The question is which one will drown out the other?

Video courtesy of BzERK IE

A Midsummer Night’s Dream: Lisanga - Samba Bert (22 November 1992)

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Lisanga, which translates as “meeting”, appears to have been something of an African supergroup (weren’t they all?)  Alas, the Africa - Force Unie Vol 1 album has not to date been followed by further volumes, while the cast list of performers on the record includes many luminaries of the African music scene who have featured on Peel playlists throughout the year such as Lucien Bokilo, Mav Cacharel and inevitably, Diblo Dibala.  But, as Peel pointed out, even the great Diblo found himself overshadowed on the sleeve credits for this record. For while Dibala was credited with lead/solo guitar,  Africa - Force Unie Vol 1 also included contributions from N’Gouma Lokito and Miguel Yamba on “Magic Guitar”.  I don’t know how that is differentiated on the recording beyond saying that they ALL provide magic guitar.

Video courtesy of Lisanga - Topic

A Midsummer Night’s Dream: Ciccone Youth - Addicted to Love (22 November 1992)

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Groups start side projects for all sorts of reasons.  It can while away time between album releases/tour schedules, allow for musical experimentation in areas that may alienate their core fans if done under their established brands or just give an opportunity for collaboration with other artists without risking those brands.  But when the members of Sonic Youth hatched a plan for a side project in 1986, they weren’t doing it for any of the reasons stated above.  Instead, they formed the side project to help a friend in need.

On 22 December 1985, D. Boon, guitarist and songwriter with Minutemen, died in a car crash, aged 27 years old. For his devastated bandmates, drummer George Hurley and bassist Mike Watt, Boon’s death not only spelt the end of Minutemen but also their participation in the music business.  Watt fell into a deep depression, unable to contemplate making music without his friend.

Meanwhile, Sonic Youth, who had built up a friendship with Watt over the previous year after sharing several bills with Minutemen, offered him a shoulder to cry on while he processed his grief and managed to coax him into playing bass on a couple of tracks during sessions for their EVOL album.  One of these tracks, a cover of Bubblegum by Kim Fowley, was to have something of an influence on their imminent side project given that the band recorded it by playing along to Fowley’s record then erasing everything but themselves from the recording.  This would be repeated again during the EVOL sessions when Sonic Youth recorded a version of Madonna’s Into the Groove  put through a mixture of stabbing discordant guitar, distant basslines, percussion, intermittent synth effects, a toneless Thurston Moore vocal and occasional snatches of the original Madonna recording being brought into the mix to harmonise with Moore.  It wasn’t quite the “worlds in collision” stunt that it could have appeared at first glance.  

Madonna and Sonic Youth were known to each other from Madonna’s pre-fame days fronting No Wave bands at Danceteria, “...sitting on Mike Gira’s lap...hanging out and smoking cigarettes” as Moore remembered it.  Into the Groove(y) as the Sonic Youth cover became known was paired up with a one man recording by Watt of another Madonna song, Burning Up to create a 3 track 12-inch put out under the name, Ciccone Youth, a fusion of Madonna’s surname with the second part of Sonic Youth’s name.  

Burnin’ Up sold particularly well in the UK, but in the main it achieved the purpose which Sonic Youth hoped it would and persuaded Mike Watt to stay in the music business. By the time 1987 rolled around, Watt and George Hurley were ready to get back on the horse again as fIREHOSE.

By 1988, Sonic Youth reactivated the Ciccone Youth name and used it to gather together both the material recorded with Watt in 1986 and several other tracks which didn’t fit the Sonic Youth mould.  These included spoken word interludes on dying in a sinking boat such as Me and Jill or the business proposal floated during Two Cool Rock Chicks Listening to Neu!, a silent tribute to John Cage and a number of other offcuts and fragments heavily overladen with deconstruction, sampling, compression and other experimental tangents.  They called it The Whitey Album though any similarities to The Beatles 1968 double-album are only to be found in tracks which recall the spirit of Helter Skelter, Revolution 9 and the unreleased What’s the New, Mary Jane?

But this is Sonic Youth we’re talking about and inevitably their love of straightforward pop would have to find expression in some form. On The Whitey Album, it came about through this version of one of the most iconic songs of the 1980s, Addicted to Love by Robert Palmer.  It is arguable that Addicted to Love owes much of its iconic status to its striking music video in which Palmer was backed by a band comprised of identical female models, but it’s worth remembering that no less a figure than Noddy Holder regarded Addicted to Love as the song he would have most loved to have written. Ciccone Youth’s presentation of Addicted to Love is considerably less polished than Palmer’s original given that Kim Gordon is intoning over a karaoke backing track. No models in the video either, though Kim made the video herself using a film-your-own video booth at a branch of Macy’s and decided to go for a Vietnam War vibe.  I’d spent many years regarding Addicted to Love as an 80s relic, I think I felt that even at the time that it came out, but this version of it has caused me to reassess my attitude towards it.  The truth is that it’s been stuck in my head this last week both in its Ciccone Youth and Robert Palmer versions. Kim’s video may seem to give a subtle middle finger to the glossy decadence of the original video, but even reviewing that , I hadn’t realised just how tongue in cheek the Palmer video was.  It’s a great, indestructible song and any way of performing it will ensure it remains an earworm regardless of whether you want decadence or grime.

Addicted to a good night’s sleep in my case...Peel was not so easily persuaded by it in either version.

Videos courtesy of sonicboy19 and Robert Palmer.