Tuesday 2 June 2009

DJTEES PLAYLIST

Singles

Todd Rundgren – I Saw The Light
Cor, love this, especially the solo. Simple and perfect.

REO Speedwagon – Take It On The Run
Smalltown America on a massive scale. Epic soft rock at its finest. Currently about to tour with Styx and Journey. On a cruise ship. Yes, honestly.

Paul Simon – Duncan
“Holes in my confidence, holes in the knees of my jeans…”

The Smiths - Cemetry Gates –
Not sure why, seem to have been thinking about Oscar Wilde recently. And not in That way.

10 CC – Art For Arts Sake. 
Witty and clever pop rock by men who looked like Geography teachers.

Dio – Holy Diver. 
Small but massive.

Journey – Who’s Cryin;’ now.
FM classic from the tight-pants-high-voice specialist, Steve Perry.

Cockney Rebel – Mr Soft. 
Early Cockney Rebel was a fascinating art-school mix of vaudeville and folk-rock. This is loveably sinister. 

Albums

Quiet Sun – Mainstream
Roxy Music guitarist Phil Manzanera’s ambient jazz rock noodle excursion. Gongs are hit and songs are called ‘Mummy was an asteroid, daddy was a small non-stick kitchen utensil.’ So not ‘mainstream’ at all then.

Everything But The Girl – Love Not Money
Hull’s finest and largest chinned duo does mellow and yet acerbic folkie songs set against a backdrop of Thatcher’s brutal economic wastelands. Was quite profound at the time.

Extreme – Porno Graffitti
From that brief phase in the early 90s when funk metal was hip; about 3 weeks in 1991 I think it was. Get The Funk out!

David Gilmour – David Gilmour
His first solo album from 1978. Sounds very like Pink Floyd only with added Dave-power. Timeless stuff. It made the top 30 both sides of the pond.

AC/DC – Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap
Before they were famous: sleazy and nasty and noses pressed up against the window. Punch the air and sing after me.

Cold War Kids – Loyalty To Loyalty
Urgent and powerful with deceptively funky bass hooks.

Libertines – Up The Bracket
As fine an expression of raw young energy and enjoyable destruction as anything since The Jam. 

Pixies – Doolittle
The rush and thrill of sticking naughty things in yourself, distilled. Plus: in love with Kim Deal.

Spirit – Spirit of ‘76
Randy California’s spirit of ’76 couldn’t have been less like the punk thing happening in UK. An album of rambling collages and great cover versions of Dylan and Hendrix numbers with added spliff enhanced guitaring. Yeah, that’ll do nicely.

Bob Dylan – Together Through Life
We have been, Bob, and we always will be. 

Fleetwood Mac - Rumours
Hats off to the short ponytail on the cover, and indeed everything else about this album. Revisit it and rediscover how to write bloody fantastic songs with killer melodies. Worth it for the rasp in Stevie’s throat alone.

The Who – The Who Sell Out
An awesome and witty concept, with stonking big tracks and a big bath of baked beans.

Credence Clearwater Revival  - Bayou Country
Fire up a bit of ‘Proud Mary’… you know you want to. R & B as it should be rough as gravel, strong as a California black oak.

The National - Alligator
With so many hot new things, fads and saviours of modern music sold to us by the music press, it’s easy to miss it when the real thing comes along. These guys are the real thing.

Nick Drake - Bryter Layter 
If music could shunt aside the clouds and get us all out of the city, then this would do it.

Kirsty MacColl - Kite
Smart, beautiful and would have ripped your balls off if you’d crossed her. What’s not to love?

Steve Winwood – Steve Winwood
His first solo outing in ’77 is a smooth slice of rock and soul. The success of Arc of a Diver overshadowed this one, but it’s probably a better album overall even if the cover looks like the sort of water colour painting the boy who’s ‘good at art’ would do in th 4th form.

The Decemberists - The Hazards Of Love 
It’s a concept album! It has ‘movements’ rather than tracks! And yet still brilliant! Quite the achievement.

Dodos - Visiter
Sounds like it was recorded in a studio next to Buffalo Springfield, but was in fact released last year.

Gary Moore- We Want Moore
Mid 80s live album oddly featuring Jimmy Nail on the encore! Killer guitar music to gurn to. You never come back from a nuclear attack. Not if it lands on yer heed anyway.

Elliott Smith - Either/Or
That he’s not with us anymore is proof that there is no Almighty. And if there is, he’s a nasty vindictive thug who deserves no praise.

The Twilight Sad - Fourteen Autumns and Fifteen Winters
Loud, raw, visceral but tender. If there is justice in the world then they’re gonna be huge.

Iron & Wine - Our Endless Numbered Days
Whispering beauty from a man with the most impressive beard you’ve seen in some time.

Morrissey - Years of Refusal
Five or six corkers with five or six bits of filler. But when the corkers are that corking, you don’t mind about the filler.

Muse - Absolution
Massive, overblown, silly, OTT. And when did that become a bad thing, eh?

Stephen Stills- Live
Has an electric side and an acoustic side. The electric is killer – contains and rocked up Wooden Ships. Donnie Dacus does the lead. Whatever happened to Donnie?

JN & NM

A HISTORY OF ROCK FESTIVALS

CHAPTER 5

California Jam I & II


The first Cal Jam was held on 6th April 1974 at Ontario Motor Speedway in Ontario, Southern California.

Promoter Lenny Stogel felt the location for this 12-hour gig was ideal. Two highways bordered the speedway and it was within driving distance of LA and San Diego. It also had parking for 50,000 cars.

It had been hoped to get Led Zeppelin, The Band or The Stones to play but their fees were too high.

Cal Jam

However, the headlining bands were still top calibre: ELP, Black Sabbath and Deep Purple. Also on the bill were boogie merchants Black Oak Arkansas, Seals and Croft, Rare Earth, The Eagles and Earth Wind and Fire.


Now that’s what I call a killer bill eh!

Stogel was sure that the way to make a festival a success was to keep everyone’s attention 100% of the time, so to that end he had a stage built on tracks and with hydraulic lifts so that one band’s gear could be set up while another played their set. Then within 15 minutes of a band leaving the stage, the next was ready to go. On top of that skydivers, stunt men, skateboarders and other entertainers kept people amused.

ELP had a hell of a lot of gear by this time and had to have a special platform constructed for them – impressive really when you consider there were only three of them in the band. It was around this time that Carl Palmer had a 100% steel drum-kit built which weighed something insane like a tonne and must have needed its own truck to ferry it around.

The gig pulled in 200,000 fans, all paying $10 a ticket; the gross was one of the biggest in rock at that time. ABC filmed it for their In Concert series. It’s this footage that you will see on all manner of DVDs of Purple and Sabbath in particular.

First on, were Rare Earth who hit the stage 15 minutes early! Although it was still just 1974, it already felt a long way from the hippy fests of five years earlier. Some felt it was brilliantly organized and executed, others saw it as the death of experimentation and creativity.

However, the music was at times superb. Purple, with the newly installed David Coverdale on vocals and Glenn Hughes on bass, played most of the new Burn album and Blackmore was on excellent form. They finished their set in mayhem with Blackmore throwing guitars into the crowd, sticking his guitar into one of ABC’s cameras, dousing his amps in petrol and blowing them up! They left the site by helicopter fearing ABC might be a bit cross about all this and want the police to arrest them.

ELP closed the show. You’ll have seen the famous footage of Emerson playing a grand piano while spinning 50 foot up in the air! It’s an amazing site to say the least.

Lenny Stogel later said: “I didn’t want anything popping off unexpected. I wanted to be in total control… two hundred thousand kids is a big responsibility. I used to get a funny feeling in my stomach whenever I thought about it. I had to be in control – for the preservation of my sanity.”

Stogel was to die in 1979 in a DC-10 plane crash in Chicago.

The lure of the big bucks made Cal Jam II inevitable at some point. 18th March 1978 was the date for the gig at the same location. This time, 250,000 turned up, it was also filmed and this time it was recorded for an album.

By now the old festival spirit of love, peace and grooviness was definitely gone. This was all about everyone making big money from rock n roll.

The line up was FM radio friendly. Santana headlined, supported by Dave Mason, Heart, Aerosmith, Ted Nugent, Mahogany Rush, Rubicon and Bob Welch. Some commented that this illustrated the so-called stagnation of rock in the late 70s. The performers had a choice of either being helicoptered in from The Beverly Hills hotel or chauffeured in lavish customized vans with artwork of the bands latest album spray-painted on the side. I’ve seen a photo of the Heart van – it looks awful – like a cheesy cartoon style painting you’d see at a fairground.

This was the era of rock star excess. Plates of M & M’s with the yellow ones removed and pinball machines backstage and all that – all of which must have been great fun for the musicians but a bit of a pain in the backside for those who had to service their needs.

The Cal Jams were undoubtedly a big success for the promoters and for the bands too and they are fondly remembered by many who attended. There’s no doubt some brilliant music was played. It was at such gigs that the modern notion of a well-organised festival was born. 

It wasn’t like the counter-culture happening that were so revolutionary a few years earlier, but it was nonetheless a great place to get your rock n roll rocks off, and who amongst us can’t say that isn’t a very, very good thing!

CHAPTER 6

The Denver Pop Festival 1968

denverpop

This festival went down in history as one of the most violent of the era with cops and long-hairs fighting pitched battles.

It seems that the violence was partly the result of radical activists. The American Liberation Front, a collective of young Socialist, radical clergy, students for a democratic society and anti-war protestors, had got a permit from Denver City Hall to stage a series of protests and demos at City Park culminating with a Fourth of July march through downtown.

The ALF leaders wanted to get festival-goers to join their ranks, one of the first instances of outright politicisation of the counter culture. City leaders didn’t like the idea of this at all, and drew up plans to prevent it happening by enticing festival campers to pitch up at the local baseball ground rather than in the park where the demos were to be held. Free transport would take them to the gig.

Ticket prices were $6 per day, or $15 for all three days on 27th to 29th June.

The Denver Pop Festival was promoted by Barry Fey, the leading dude in the area and a man who had put gigs on at Red Rock and Denver Auditorium. The festival was to be held in Mile High Stadium; it made sense because all the facilities were already there so all Fey had to do was stage the music and take the tickets. That was the theory anyway.

The line up was headed by Jimi Hendrix, along with CCR, Three Dog Night, Joe Cocker, Poco, Iron Butterfly, Willie Mae ‘Big Mama’ Thornton, Taj Mahal, Johnny Winter and one of the first appearances by The Mothers Of Invention. Incidentally, Zephyr were also on the bill, a local band featuring a young Tommy Bolin – do check out Zephyr’s albums – they’re well worth it.

Thornton opened the gig on Friday night, followed by The Flock – featuring violinist Jerry Goodman who was to later play with Mahavishnu Orchestra (wasn’t he also Nash The Slash?)

Then came Three Dog Night, The Mothers and Iron Butterfly

Everything seemed cool with only a couple of gate-crashing incidents for the Police to deal with. The music was loud so many ticket-less fans just hung around outside to groove anyway. The ALF passed out literature but there was no hassle.

This all changed on Saturday evening. The gig was due to start at 6.30pm. Fans with tickets were let in at 5.30 and while that was happening, a large crowd that had gathered at the south end of the stadium. They charged the fence, only to be repelled by Police and security, however several hundred managed to get in. By 7.30pm another large group had gathered by the main gate. Police reinforcements arrived in riot gear which only provoked people more and a hail of bottles and rocks were thrown at the cops, while those who had got in for free began to attack the security from inside the stadium.

When one cop was floored by a wine bottle, the tear gas was brought out and fired at the mob who simply threw the canisters back. In what sounds like a scene from the Simpsons, the prevailing wind then took the gas into the stadium which understandably upset the fans who were at the time watching Johnny Winter. Panic broke out and Barry Fey, under pressure from the Denver Police Chief, opened the gates up and let everyone outside in for free.

Barry was not a happy man, and was angry that the Police hadn’t kept control. Now a precedent had been set for Sunday night, and another big crowd gathered, demanding to get in free.

This time, the cops, feeling like they’d been humiliated by a bunch of student and long-haired freaks the previous night, were determined not to give in. Retaliation was in the air. Police dogs surrounded the stadium, an extra platoon of cops in riot gear was deployed, and a thing called a pepper-fog machine was on hand to pump tear gas and skin-burning mace into the air. Everything you need for a good night of rock n roll eh?!

This provoked the kids to throw more rocks, which in turn provoked the police to use the pepper-fog like a machine gun, mowing down their enemy. As kids tried to get away they were billy-clubbed and arrested. Violence was rife on all sides. Who was to blame? It wasn’t easy to say; no one was innocent. However, many in the alternative community felt that the authorities were simply scared of what they saw as the threat of the counter culture and that the ‘straight’ town officials just totally over-reacted and panicked.

Fey was under pressure from the cops to open the gates again to stop more trouble and again he gave in. Over 3,000 gate-crashed and caught the end of Hendrix’s set. He played Purple Haze and legged it as a wave of gate-crashers poured across the field towards the stage. It was to be the Experience’s last ever performance

The whole festival was a disaster and city fathers said it would be the first and least festival the city ever put on because it was impossible to control such large scale events. However, only 50,000 (at most) had actually attended at any one time so it was far from a big sprawling festival such as Woodstock which would happen a few weeks later.

However, the idea of containing a festival within a stadium was an idea that was not dead and it would be resurrected in the 70s to greater effect because it offered the chance to regulate and control fans with more sensitive policing.

In hindsight, it’s easy to see how and why the authorities got this wrong. The left-wing activists mixed up with a bunch of long-haired kids and freaks looked like revolution to some people; the end of the American way. It wasn’t, of course, and it was never going to be – most just wanted to have a good time and get their dose of rock n roll.

No one came out of this one with much honour. The set that Hendrix played – which is of course available as a bootleg – is very, very good though. But it must have been hard to dig it when your eyes are streaming with tear gas!

CHAPTER 7 

Miami Pop Festival 1968

miamipop

We’re talking here about the event on 28th December to the 30th December. There was a smaller Miami event in the May of the same year. But this was important moment in festival history as it was the first major one held on the east coast. Over 100,000 attended.

It as actually held in Hallandale, just outside of Miami in Gulfstream Park, a massive race track. Promoter Tom Rounds, who had organised the Mount Tam fest in Oakland the previous year, amazingly rented the track for just $5,000 and a 5% gross of the gate. This more or less guaranteed a decent profit could be made.

Rounds and his associates had already realised you needed to get everyone on your side, so he secured backing of local Governor Claude Kirk, the Mayor of Hallandale and local community groups, all of whom worked together to solve difficulties over sleeping arrangements and traffic jams.

This was an early example of a two stage festival where one band could set up while another played on another stage a few hundred yards away. With stalls and booths in between it ensured there was always plenty to do and the music was more or less continuous with bands all playing around 45 minutes each.

The line up was broad-ranging. From the folk side of things were Joni, Buffy Sainte-Marie, Richie Havens and Ian & Sylvia. Blues was represented by the brilliant Butterfield Blues Band - do check out all their albums if you can: hardcore electric Chicago blues at its finest.

Also on the bill were Canned Heat, Booker T and the James Cotton blues Band. Hugh Masekela and the Charles Lloyd Quarter were the jazz element; soul was there in the shape of Marvin Gaye, The Box Tops, Junior Walker and Joe Tex – that’s hot stuff right there, eh!

If you fancied a bit of bluegrass then Flatt & Scruggs were there to finger-pick you to heaven. On the pop side were The Turtles, Three Dog Night and Jose Feliciano.

And finally there were the rock n roll bands. Oh yeah. You got Terry Reid; Procul Harem; Fleetwood Mac; Country Joe; The Dead; Pacific Gas & Electric; Iron Butterfly, Steppenwolf, Sweetwater and Chuck Berry and a host of other local bands. This was one hell of a lot of music, wasn’t it? And all for just $7.

The Dead’s set was Turn On Your Love Light> Dark Star> St. Stephen> The Eleven> Drums> The Other One> Cryptical Envelopment> Feedback> We Bid You Goodnight.

By all accounts it was West Coast rockers Pacific Gas & Electric who rocked the festival, playing four times to thunderous applause. A much forgotten band, PG & E are well worth checking out. They were from Los Angeles and were an early racially mixed band. Their 1968 album Get It On, the eponymous follow-up and 1970’s Are you Ready are a fine triumverate of records. For no good reason I've recently been collecting all their singles on vinyl!

The Miami Pop Festival was a big success. No trouble, lots of great music – Rolling Stone ran a headline ‘The Most Festive Festival of 1968’ and indeed, it proved to be a great way to wrap up a great year of rock n roll.

Tom Rounds got all the plaudits and planned a follow-up fest the next year. He got everyone on board once again, but then Woodstock happened and the authorities panicked. They feared half a million kids would show up in Hallandale this time and wreck the whole place. They pulled his permits and the festival never happened. In one short year the whole festival vibe had gone from being one of groovy acceptance of this new social phenomena to fear of the breakdown of society. All of which seems a shame really.

As this festival showed early on, it was quite possible for everyone to have a good time, to get their rocks off, for the promoters and bands to get paid and for everyone to go home happy to have been part of some good vibes and great music.

Within a year Altamont had proved to be the flip side to this enlightened dream, ending in violence and murder. But in 1968 in Miami, the future still looked golden as the bands jammed together long into the night.

CHAPTER 8 

The Isle Of Wight 1970

isle of wight

600,000 people on an island with a population of just 100,000. Political protesters taking the stage. Jimi, Jim, Joan, Joni and even Mungo Jerry (almost). The last weekend of August in 1970. It was, of course, the Isle of Wight Festival.

It would be the third year in a row that the organisers, Fiery Creations, would put on a festival on the small island off England’s South Coast. But the two previous years were not even in the ballpark in terms of size. The 1970 Festival would be the largest rock event ever, bigger even than Woodstock. But it nearly didn’t happen…

Miserable, posh, stick-in-the-mud residents didn't want the cream of the rock world descending on their patch for a third year running and shunted the site around during negotiations in a bid to make logistics as difficult as possible. Eventually, though, it was agreed to hold the event at Afton Down on the West of the Isle.

The hippies were not welcome. Brian Hinton’s excellent book on the IoW festivals contains some great material from an appalled local counsellor:

“(Local resident) Mrs H reported that at 10.30pm a stark naked man jumped out and danced in front of her car.”

and: “Mr F, High Street, reported an indecency outside his shop at 8am. He told those involved that the village was not used to such behaviour and he would send for police if they did not move on.”

The Fiery Creations lads, brothers Ray and Ron Foulk had their site: now they needed acts. And toilets. But first the acts. Once they secured Jimi, the rest fell into place pretty quickly. Bob Dylan had played the IoW the previous year – his first gig since his 1966 motorbike crash, so there was plenty of profile for the biggest US names.

They put together a stunning line-up including The Doors, The Who, Miles Davis, Sly and the Family Stone, Free and Emerson, Lake and Palmer – playing their second-ever gig. Laughing Leonard Cohen performed stand-up. Not really, but he did play – and in fact performed one of his greatest versions of the beautiful ‘Suzanne’.

Kris Kristofferson, Joni Mitchell, Joan Baez, The Moody Blues, Procul Harem, Ten Years After, a very early Supertramp, Hawkwind, Donovan, Chicago… what a feast.

“Things Ain't What They Used To Be” types might note the Isle Of White's Festival in 2008 included Will Young!

Turning from the Pop Idol winner to public toilets, the organisers had their work cut out on that score: site manager Ron Smith set up a makeshift assembly line to make loo seats in a disused button factory. Bet Perry Farrell never done that for Lollapalooza.

Anyway, because 1969 had been such a massive scrum, re-supplying the site had been nearly impossible: when bars ran out of drink there was no way to get lorries to them. So for 1970, they hit upon a scheme of having two walls around the site, so that the space between the two could be used for access. Smart idea, but a lot of the punters didn’t take to it. People felt that the site looked more like a prison camp than a festival, and the event was marred by simmering bad feeling throughout.

Suppose these days, where fans are all too used to regimented, sponsored-by-Starbucks corporate gigs, that it seems a bit unreasonable to have a go because you didn’t like the fencing, but these were different times, man. But there was an end-of-an-era vibe to the festival, as if the crowd felt that the Sixties were over now. “They’re selling hippy wigs in Woolworths,” as Withnail put it.

But, by Jebus, there were there some rocking performances over what Melody Maker called ‘Five Days That Shook The World’. The Doors played one of their greatest versions of The End, in a spooky, semi-dark stage – Jim didn’t want the strong lights that the film crew were using. If you get a chance, check out Murray Lerner’s film of the festival, Message To Love, for awesome footage of that. The Who gave it the full gun with the complete Tommy – and ended with a belting ‘My Generation’ and ‘Magic Bus’.

Also on the Saturday, Joni Mitchell's performance of ‘Woodstock’ was interrupted by distinctly Manson-ish beardie called Yogi Joe who wanted to protest the perceived corporatisation of the event. Joni pleaded with the crowd for calm and respect and played Big Yellow Taxi. “You don't know what you've got ‘til it’s gone – they paved paradise to put up a parking lot.”

Jimi Hendrix, beautiful and damned, played his second last gig on the Sunday, just three weeks before his death. He was pretty out of it beforehand – his roadies were worried that he might not even make it on stage. But he did, hammered, to some boos, and opened with a savage, magnificent take on ‘God Save The Queen’. His show was an angry, torrid climax to a thrilling, often ugly, era-defining five days.

But after the storm, there was hope as well. Richie Havens – who had opened the Woodstock festival – played last here, with the sun coming up on the final morning as he gave his lovely take on ‘Here Comes The Sun’.

Optimism, then – but there would be no repeat of the Isle Of Wight Festival. The commercial and logistical issues were just insurmountable, and the 1970 Festival stood as the last. A monument to all that was good and bad about the end of the Sixties and the way that rock music, and society, were changing.

Some fine live albums came out of the festival. Best of all is Taste Live At The Isle of Wight (not unreasonably) – with Rory on top form; The Who’s set is also available on CD and DVD as is ELP’s – cracking stuff it is too. I think there’s some of Free’s set out there too - in all their hairy magnificence – and of course Jimi’s legendary set is also available, as is almost every note Hendrix ever played on earth it seems.

There’s also a CD of the music from Murray Lerner’s movie which features everything from Leonard Cohen to Tiny Tim via the Doors and Ten Years After. The movie itself is a must see – for promoter Rikki Farr’s angry rants at the crowds trying to tear down the fences and especially for the old army dude who thinks it’s all a communist plot. Funny to think the establishment really believed the hippies were going to start a revolution. They didn’t dig what was really going on; it really was all about the music and it’s the music, now, as ever, that endures.

JN

VIDEO OF THE MONTH Queen – Live Aid 1985

Queen – Live Aid 1985

See the Video 
Queen
Before Live Aid Queen were all but washed up. They seemed to have been around forever. By all accounts they were weary of playing together. 1984’s The Works looked like being their last – even though it did feature once of May’s best riffs- Hammer To Fall. But Live Aid was to change everything. Here was a band who knew how to play to vast amounts of people. Tightly rehearsed and cleverly running all the songs into one long montage, all across the country people looked up at their TV’s and said as one,  ‘you know, I’d forgotten Queen were that good’

Queen 2
Opening with Bohemian Rhapsody and then tearing into Radio Ga Ga, Queen took this monster gig and made it their own. Freddie’s brilliant stagecraft and rapport with the audience were never better – and this video gives you a really good flavour of the short-n-sweet 20 minute set. From the call-and-response vocal warm-up exercises through the synchronised clapping for Radio Ga Ga and the sing-a-long for We Will Rock You and We Are The Champions, this is stadium pop rock as it should be done. Voted the greatest live performance ever in a BBC poll in 2005 – and not without good reason.

AT

ROCK ON SCREEN


Film/show: Pulp Fiction

Tune: ‘Son Of A Preacher Man’ by Dusty Springfield

Pulp Fiction
Scene: Taken from the gorgeous Dusty In Memphis album, if this song doesn’t move you, seek medical assistance immediately: you may well be dead. The song was originally offered to Aretha Franklin, who turned it down, but the Jerry Wexler-produced Dusty version gave her a top ten hit on both sides of the Atlantic in 1968. Quentin Tarantino had to have it for his 1994 masterpiece, and said that he would have cut the scene without it. Said scene, of course, sees the extremely tempting but extremely off-limits Mia Wallace, gangster’s moll, getting ready to be escorted for the evening by one of her husband’s goons. As Vincent Vega waits downstairs, Uma Thurman – for it is she, black bob wig notwithstanding – gets ready and powders her nose, addressing John Travolta’s Vincent through the intercom as Dusty conveys the sound of heaven itself to your eardrums. Slinky, seductive and marvellous fun.



Film/show: Fight Club

Tune: ‘Where Is My Mind?’ by The Pixies

Fight club
Scene: One of cinema’s great “Oh God, what have I done?” moments. Incidentally, if you haven’t seen the film a) you should and b) don’t read on, because we’re about to give away the ending, and Rock Solid wants to spoil you, not spoiler you. Ok? So Edward Norton’s unreliable narrator everyman has just shot himself/Brad Pitt in the mouth and the whole world is collapsing around him. He stands hand-in-hand with mad Marla Singer, watching as his own personal Armageddon is unleashed. Is it a symbolic detonation of consumerist society? Or have his misguided acolytes actually gone and blown up the whole city? Is it even happening outside his head? What record could possibly fit this better than ‘Where Is My Mind?’, from The Pixies’ debut full album Surfer Rosa, a terrific record and the real start of a quite brilliant band’s career.



Film/show: American Beauty

Tune: ‘American Woman’ by The Guess Who

American Beauty
Scene: Lester Burham is living the American Dream: he has quit his job, telling his boss where to shove it in the process, and managing to get a year’s pay-off money to boot. He’s about to get a stress-free, low impact job in a burger bar. He has an apparently mutual crush on a smoking teen cheerleader, he has taken up smoking pot and driving around in his car all day listening to the music of his youth. And in this scene, that’s The Guess Who’s ‘American Woman’. The sheer, unbridled joy that Kevin Spacey (in his finest role) pours into Lester’s enjoyment of the simple pleasure of a middle-aged man goofing off, get his bake on and listening to a prime slab of juicy classic rock speaks to us all on a very deep, and indeed a very shallow, level. One of the greatest films ever made, and this track is a perfect accompaniment to one of its high points.

AT

REVIEWS

Grateful Dead – Anthem For The Sun
the dead

Some music isn’t really music at all; it’s an aural expression of a state of mind (like, man), and Anthem For The Sun is one such example. To compare its sound to ‘normal’ music is as futile as trying to compare an abstract impressionist painting to a naturalistic one, or Marmite to a brick.

To fully embrace this classic Grateful Dead album some would say you have to drop some good acid and wait till it kicks in. But in truth, the music itself is just as likely to unlock your doors of perception as a tab of blotter. You need an open mind, but it is wonderfully disorientating, hypnotic and oddly emotional too.

It starts innocently enough, with ‘That’s It For The Other One’, a shuffling acid ballad which then shifts into the wild, freaky section where it all gets very strange. The sound crashes in and out and you can feel yourself being cut adrift from reality. Things start, then stop, and the quality of the air seems to change; sometimes soft and warm, sometimes almost frosty. The sound breaks onto the beaches of your synapses and then washes back like a tide of noise into your pineal glands. Bleeps, scratches, and tinkling bells sound like noises from the midnight forest of some gothic dream world. Is that something scratching at the window? Jerry Garcia’s voice occasionally emerges from the aural miasma, sings something cryptic, and then disappears again.

This is painting with sound, all manufactured from the spliced-together recordings of several gigs, artfully re-displayed as a collage. There are ‘songs’ (or at least sections which have titles) like ‘The Faster We Go The Rounder We Get’ but somehow it all unifies into a whole, despite being a billion flashes of different realities all bunched together into one handful of sand.

You need a specific mind-set to dig this experience. It’s strong medicine but repays you with an experience that will flare your nostrils and your mind. Difficult, but in the best of ways, you feel a more whole creature after hearing it.

JN

Fairport Convention – Liege & Lief
fairport

Fairport Convention’s fourth LP is a perfect distillation of all the elements that had been present in the bands preceding efforts, but surpasses all of them. It is a truly mature work that saw them move away from aping Jefferson Airplane or doing Bob Dylan covers to stake their claim as a unique, powerful and uncompromisingly British musical force. That it was born out of personal tragedy and recorded by a band in a state of flux makes it an eve more remarkable record.

A May 1969 bus crash claimed the lives of drummer Martin Lamble and the girlfriend of guitarist Richard Thompson. The band considered splitting up but instead began work on what would be their fourth album in the autumn. They searched through England’s musical past – literally – with Ashley Hutchings spending days and days looking through folk music archives as Cecil Sharp House for folk inspiration. This, in tandem with Sandy Denny’s maturation as a singer and writer, proved a source of huge inspiration. They were also bedding in the fiddler Dave Swarbrick, which gave the group a fresh energy, and a new drummer, Dave Mattacks. All drummers should have garden tools for surnames.

Only two of the tracks – the opener ‘Come All Ye’ and the closer ‘Crazy Man Michael’ were original compositions, the rest arrangements of traditional songs: the blend is seamless. The playing is flawless, inventive and driving; the vocals pure and timeless. An entirely new hybrid it was to inspire and influence the whole folk rock genre which continues to thrive today, often in the hands of the offspring of these early folk rockers. This summer will see an incarnation of the band playing their annual Cropredy Festival. 

Liege and Lief was the both birth of the electric folk genre and many consider it to be Fairport’s greatest work.

AT

Tim Blake – Blake’s New Jerusalem
tim blake

What became known as ‘new age’ in the mid 90s was already 20 years old by the time people were putting dream catchers in their bedrooms and carrying crystals around. Long before it was a lifestyle choice for middle-England and women called Candida, it was the kind of cosmic world view that Tim Blake and others like him embraced in the mid 70s. It was all about recording when the moon was full, ley-lines, extra-terrestrials, tuning in to nature’s harmonies and generally being an electric gypsy, with the aid, in Tim’s case, of a lovely big bank of synths that looked more like a 1950s telephone exchange.

Now this might not sound like your wok of stir-fried bean sprouts, but believe me when I tell you, this album is a stone-gone wonderful thing.

Tim was an early adopter of electronic keyboards, working with Hawkwind and Gong in the early 70s. His breakthrough solo album, 1977’s Crystal Machine, showed him as one of a new breed of electronic artists using keyboards to create a whole new art form. By 1978, when this album was released, he was using EMS Custom synthesizers, Mini Moogs and a Roland 100, Korg Polyphonic Ensemble and something called an ARP Omni, which sounds more like a digestive affliction.

Armed with this battery of electronicalisationism, he created soundscapes of skittering, sweet noises to embellish highly melodic songs. Big, fat, analogue sequencers keep the heart-beat throb-throbbb-throbbing so much so that there are moments, on songs such as Lighthouse, when it’s easy to imagine you’ve somehow ended up on an inter-galactic spaceship, or after an especially hot curry have been transported by radio waves to an alternative space time continuum. 

Lovers of Steve Hillage and all other Gong-related activity will embrace this – but even if you’ve never heard of any of them and are familiar with modern-day trance music, much of the roots of that can be traced back to Tim Blake’s pioneering work on his first two solo albums. He was also the first to introduce visual lasers to a stage show, so run-of-the-mill now, but back in the mid 70s it was an astonishing and thrilling visual marvel.

It is hippy stuff, yes, but so thoroughly wacked out that it’s impossible not to love it and on the wonderfully titled, ‘Passage Sur La Cite De La Revelation’ he creates one of the most brilliant electronic music excursions; every bit the equal of the best Kraftwerk and Tangerine Dream. Indeed, while others such as Eno have been credited with their pioneering work in this field, he is an innovator who is too often overlooked.

Still out there, mostly in Brittany, France, Tim is, as you would expect, currently working on something called Chomolithe (“light from stone”) which is light art that gives the impression that the buildings have been painted with glowing colours. And who can frown upon a man for doing that? Not I. That’s exactly what any self-respecting hippy should be doing in the 57th year of this incarnation. Next time round, I’m going to be synth wizard.

This is one of those records that still sounds futuristic, 31 years after it came out, perhaps because it was reaching for future dimensions we have yet to achieve. Put it this way, if I’m ever abducted by aliens, I shall be sorely disappointed if Tim Blake’s New Jerusalem isn’t being played on board their spaceship. 

JN

Neil Young – Fork In The Road
Neil YoungNeil Young is a tricky man to work out. For a while now he’s been contenting himself by putting out, for want of a phrase that doesn’t send a chill through your soul, concept albums. 

We had 2002’s ‘Are You Passionate’, basically a love letter to wife Pegi, then there was ‘Greendale’, a sort of ‘rock opera’ set around a fictional Californian town, and the hastily recorded ‘Living With War’, which did what it said on the tin, and contained the gloriously unsubtle ‘Let’s Impeach The President’.

And now we have ‘Fork In The Road’, a record fixated on all things automobile.

Man, it’s easy to be sniffy about this sort of thing. And plenty have taken that easy route, at best figuratively patting Neil on the shoulder like a doddery old boy who’s cracking out the old war stories again, at worst launching reams of stagnant bile, wondering how this relic dare still release records.

I’d bet a pound to a pinch of poo that half of these bile launchers haven’t actually heard the record. Not that I’d be arrogant enough to suggest that their taste is wrong, but the natural cynicism of many will kick in because it’s not particularly trendy to like Neil Young these days.

Had he released ‘Fork In The Road’ 15 years ago, when he was rockin’ in the free world with then-grungers de choix like Pearl Jam, then reviews would have been much more positive.

It’s full of pleasing, distorted chuggers with his trademark reedy wail (When Worlds Collide, Get Behind The Wheel), with the odd gorgeous acoustic country-tinged ballad (Light A Candle) that wouldn’t seem out of place on ‘After The Goldrush’.

It’s a record with a sense of humour too. ‘Got a pot belly/But it’s not too big/Gets in my way/When I’m driving my rig’ he sings on the title track. Endearingly silly stuff for a man who could be terribly earnest in his earlier years.

It’s a record that sounds like it was made by a man relaxed, happy with himself, and not in a bad way. Not at all. Often if you say an artist is laid back or relaxed it means they’re just phoning it in, with little care for the quality of the music as long as they’re still selling gig tickets. Not here. It has the sound of a man who’s making the records that he wants to, not anyone else.

Sure, perhaps he is never going to write another ‘Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere’ or ‘Old Man’, but he’s not standing still. It would be easy for Young to churn out the same old stuff, for him to sleepwalk through the latter years of his career, but he’s constantly changing. Perhaps innovating is too strong, but he’s not standing still.

Cyril Connolly, writer, publisher and friend of George Orwell once said: “Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self.”

That’s Neil Young.

NM

Radiohead – In Rainbows
Radio Head

I’ve got a friend called Danny. He looks a bit like one of the Nazis from Indiana Jones (less so now since he purchased a pair of Gok Wan glasses), and doesn’t exactly wander round the streets with a coat hanger grin on his face. Because of this, lots of people write Danny off as grump in chief, a miserable bugger who will only bring you down.

But they’re not listening to him. Danny is erudite, intelligent and very funny, and what could be more uplifting than that? And because they can’t get past his sometimes-sullen exterior, loads of acquaintances just don’t get him, let alone know him.

It’s the same with music. One of the more irritating ‘criticisms’ of music is that a certain album or artist is ‘too miserable’. Fine, if a record makes you feel unhappy then chuck it into a burning oil drum, but one suspects that those who dismiss a band for not being happy clappy isn’t listening properly.

One band who have suffered from this lazy dismissal for a long time is Radiohead. Gloomy, drab Radiohead, who can’t write a chorus and are too busy twiddling around to bash out a proper pop song.

Of course that’s nonsense. Radiohead have been putting out the most interesting and innovative albums of the last couple of decades, starting in 1993 with Pablo Honey, and now with 2007’s In Rainbows.

It takes them years to make these albums, and boy does it show. Every second of In Rainbows is perfectly crafted, moulded into exactly the vision that singer Thom Yorke and the rest have. It’s a record that sounds as if it was put together by a cross between a genius bursting with artistic freedom and a perfect ear for melody, and a mathematician.

And that’s not a bad thing. While it might sound like that would lead to a sterile, passionless waste of your time and mine, In Rainbows – like every Radiohead record before it – is absolutely crammed with emotion.

Take ‘Weird Fishes/Arpeggi’. From the split hands drums, to the gently lilting guitar arpeggios, to the lightly maudlin melody, it’s five minutes of aural beauty. It’s a song that so subtly builds to a glorious crescendo that you don’t notice you’re crying until the second chorus, and then it carefully drops off, leaving you sighing and reaching for the repeat button.

Then there’s ‘Reckoner’, a track that at first listen sounds like a crashing mess of cymbals and assorted other percussion, but after a few times round reveals itself to be a delicate love song that Yorke initially didn’t want to sing because he thought it ‘too feminine’. Since when has that been a bad thing?

And ‘House of Cards’, the sound of the end of a really good party, when there’s just a few of you left swapping old stories and reminiscing about some phantom time when everything was brilliant.

I could go on, but deconstructing an album so beautiful as In Rainbows seems like a crime. You have to hear it to understand it.

And that’s the point. If, after listening - really listening – to In Rainbows you still can’t abide it then OK, we’ll agree to disagree, and maybe have a pint to celebrate the diversity of human opinion.

But give it a listen, please.

NM

Kirsty MacColl - Kite
Kirst MacColl

It’s strange what you choose to care about. Well, perhaps not choose, but it’s odd how different things tug at your heart and make you sad.

Why do we care more about the deaths of rock stars than we do about the innumerable tragedies that befall the world around us? If asked, you’d probably be able to talk about how Elvis Presley or Janis Joplin or Mama Cass died for longer than you would about Zimbabwe or Darfur or Burma.

Kirsty MacColl was killed by a powerboat just before Christmas in 2000, and the ‘Justice For Kirsty’ campaign that her mother still keeps up interests me far more than most of the worthier causes around the globe. 

There’s a website (www.justiceforkirsty.org) with all the information, but the quick details are she was scuba diving near Mexico when a powerboat speeding through a restricted area of sea hit her. The owner of the boat, a businessman named Guillermo González Nova, claims one of his employees was at the helm, but the campaign says otherwise.

I shouldn’t really care more, but because music has given me a personal connection to her, I do care more.

And it’s because of albums like ‘Kite’. It’s a record full of perfect pop songs, ballads and one of the great covers (‘Days’). A record that is upbeat but melancholy, hopeful but wry, happy but angry. It’s damn near flawless.

Generally, records are either albums or collections of songs. They are either a set of ideas that work individually, or one single piece of work that can only exist properly as whole, that is more than the sum of its parts.

The best records, of course, are both, and ‘Kite’ fits this mystical third category. Bands split up over track-listings, how to fit a collection of tunes into a whole in the best way, but you could jumble the order of these songs and it would still all slot together perfectly. 

And what songs. ‘Innocence’ could well be the perfect pop song, relentless with bass drums and guitar all seemingly doing their own thing, but coming together beautifully. ‘Mother’s Run’, a sublimely sad lament, ‘Don’t Come The Cowboy With Me, Sonny Jim!’, a warning that most men who came into contact with MacColl would most likely have heeded – we could go on.

The tunes are great, obviously, but perhaps better are the lyrics. A great lyric – or indeed a great piece of poetry or prose – sums up a thought, or an emotion, or a time perfectly, requiring no further explanation, and that’s what MacColl does on ‘Tread Lightly’: “I curse the day I met you, but I won’t forget you, not in my lifetime.”

If you wished to explain a lost love, one who has caused joy and pain in equal measures, all you need to do is play them that song.

And on ‘No Victims’, the sad but rapier cutting down of a mystery antagonist: “I was seeing the world through your eyes/There was not much left not to despise/It's a shame but it's true/I started to feel things like you do.”

That she’s with us no more is a crime against nature. Bill Hicks said: ‘We live in a world where John Lennon was murdered, yet Milli Vanilli walks the planet….Bad choice’.

Well, replace Lennon with MacColl, and Milli Vanilli with most of the landfill pop that passes for inspiration these days, and you’ve summed it up neatly.

NM

LEGENDARY ROCK VENUES The 100 Club


100 clubIt began as a little basement club that acted as a shelter for jazz fans to dance while the bombs rained down on wartime London. It served as a cauldron for trad jazz, beat music and punk. Later, it helped birth Township and African jazz  in the UK, as well as launching some key indie bands. The list of performers who have played there is as long as your arm. 

And the 100 Club is still going strong today…

The venue at 100 Oxford Street was initially a restaurant called Mack’s when Victor Feldman, the drummer, and his two brothers began hiring the place on a Sunday to showcase their talent. Legendary tenor sax man Jimmy Skidmore joined them for the opening night on 24th October 1942.

The Feldman Club soon got a reputation among visiting GIs and natives alike as the place to go – and advertised itself with the slogan ‘Forget the Doodlebug – come and Jitterbug at the Feldman Club’. Glen Miller was one of many who came to play and listen at the basement of 100 Oxford Street, which happily formed a natural bomb shelter! Jack Parnell and George Webb also played, and by 1948 the venue was known as The London Jazz Club.

In the Fifties, the lease was taken over by Lyn Dutton, an agent who counted Humphrey Lyttelton amongst his clients. So popular was Humph that the club was renamed after him, which helped the place score one of its greatest early coups when his pal Louis Armstrong came to play there in 1956. Billie Holliday also came to hang out. Humph’s ‘Bad Penny Blues’, which hit the top twenty in 1958, sparked the trad jazz boom – and the club was right at the centre.

Humph and another regular, the Chris Barber Jazz and Blues Band, were getting too big for the little club, but the owners kept up with the public appetite for trad with the likes of Acker Bilk, Kenny Ball and Terry Lightfoot. But by 1964, the club had changed hands again, fashions were changing, and the new owner Roger Horton saw that it was time to broaden the club’s appeal. It took the name of the Oxford Street address: The 100 Club was born.

Blues was on the menu: Chris Barber brought in huge American names like Muddy Waters, Bo Diddley, Albert King and Little Brother Montgomery – as well as soul acts like Jackie Wilson. BB King turned up one night and got onstage to play with Roscoe Gordon.

British Blues and Beat acts were also well represented at the club – John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers, The Animals, Alexis Corner… Taking it on, The Who, Spencer Davis and The Kinks also played here throughout the Sixties.

But the Seventies brought hard times for the 100 Club as they did for a lot of venues. Recession and the three-day week and the turning off electricity in the evenings made running the club seven days a week an impossibility. Things looked bleak for the 100 Club by the middle of the decade.

But then came the phenomenon that was to change music, and put the 100 Club right at the centre of the music world: Punk.

The 20th and 21st September 1976 saw the 100 Club host the first-ever Punk festival. The Pistols, the Clash, the Buzzcocks, The Damned, Siouxsie and the Banshees, the Vibrators and Subway Sect all played: all were unsigned, and this was strictly for those in the know. The queue outside stretched for two blocks. Melody Maker called it correctly: “a new decade in rock is about to begin.”

And as a lot of other venues didn’t want anything to do with this new movement, the 100 Club became Punk’s undisputed spiritual home. What’s more, the 100 Club was still right at the cutting edge when the second wave of punk started, putting on bands like the Exploited, Peter and the Test Tube Babies and UK Subs and, as punk blended into hardcore by, say, 1981, bands like the Varukers and Crass.

The Rolling Stones were smart enough to know that this was a cool underground place to play at, doing a secret tour warm-up  there in 1982 – as well as a tribute gig in memoriam of their keyboard player Ian Stewart in 1986. This was the Stones’ only gig from 1982 to 1989, so not a bad little boast for the venue. Paul Weller has also snuck back in for low-key shows to try new material. In 2007, it was also the venue for the last-ever gig played by a 100 Club stalwart, the much-loved libertine George Melly.

The 100 Club has hosted Saturday afternoon reggae sessions featuring Eddie Grant and Northern Soul all-nighters. During the 1980s, the it held Friday night sessions, putting on African jazz bands, many of whom were South African: it became a focal point for the anti-Apartheid movement in the UK and a meeting place for exiled ANC figures. Greats of African music like Fela Kuti, Youssou N’Dour and Hugh Masekela were among the regulars.

In 1992, the club was given another shot in the arm when an unheard-of band called Suede were showcased here, putting the club slap bang on the map for a new generation of bands and fans. Oasis, Catatonia, Kula Shaker, Echobelly, Travis and Cornershop were among the acts from this fertile indie period to play at the 100 Club.

The club is still going strong today, looking much the same as it did in the 1970s. Its place in rock legend is assured: here’s to the next 67 years at the 100.


AT

STRUCK FROM THE RECORD TRACK and DANDELION RECORDS

TRACK RECORDS

Track Records

The public school rebel, the streetwise East End scenester and the guitar hero: the three men who put together Track Records were a diverse and complicated trio. But their label was to become perhaps the great indie of the 1960s, a showcase for a stable of great acts including Jimi Hendrix. The three men were Kit Lambert, Chris Stamp and, of course, Pete Townshend.

Kit Lambert, born into a rich, artistic family, served in the Army after his time at Oxford. He had a wild streak and was already no stranger to a hare-brained scheme: a filming trip to Brazil had ended in disaster in 1961 when a close friend of Lambert’s was killed by cannibals. 

When he left the service, he worked as an assistant director on The Guns Of Navarone and From Russia With Love. He became friendly with another film-maker, a slick, tough Cockney called Chris Stamp – whose older brother, Terence was already one of Britain’s brightest young actors – and the two began sharing a flat.

Kit convinced Chris that they should make a film about an up-and-coming rock band and the pair went to the Railway Tavern in Harrow Weald where a young group called The High Numbers were astonishing audiences with their blend of squalling, anarchic feedback, vicious drumming and heart-pounding energy. They were, of course, the band that would become The Who. Kit and Chris moved fast, buying the band out of their current management contract, changing their name and setting them on the road to superstardom.

The blend of Kit’s flair for publicity and sure grasp of what would sell to the new youth culture, coupled with Chris’s toughness and gritty business intuition were the perfect management team for the band. The film was soon forgotten as they began managing the band full-time. Kit encouraged Pete to explore the darker, angrier side of his song-writing, and guessed correctly that the pumping, sexually charged energy of the band could be a huge hit with young men. They dressed the band in the Mod fashion, took control of all the lighting at gigs – rare at the time for a band – and carefully shaped their image. He urged Pete on to greater ambitions in his song-writing, encouraging the genius and invention that would see them releasing such brilliantly original works as The Who Sell Out by 1967, and Tommy by the end of the decade.

The first Who album, My Generation, was a hit, and the management duo’s next step was to set up their own label. First, they had to fight a legal battle with Brunswick records to get them to release The Who. In the meantime, they released the next LP, A Quick One While He’s Away, on Reaction Records, distributed by Polydor. They released the single ‘Substitute’ on this several times, each time with a different flip-side, in order to muddy the legal waters.

(Incidentally, Reaction Records was a small but mighty Sixties indie label in its own right: a grand total of three LPs were released on it, but what a trio they were: A Quick One, and then two terrific Cream records – Fresh Cream and Disraeli Gears.)

Eventually, Kit and Chris managed to win their legal battle and, in 1967, Track Records was born. They were keen to have total artistic control of The Who’s output, of course, but there was another impetus for setting up on their own: a young left-handed guitar player from Seattle, Washington. Chas Chandler was already managing and producing him, but Kit and Chris knew that they had to get involved with Jimi Hendrix one way or the other.

The first release on the new Track Records label was the 1967 single ‘Purple Haze’ – not a bad way to open your account! If you have a white label copy of it in mint condition you can expect to pocket around £15 for it today. The label’s first LP was Are You Experienced? An original mono copy of that will set you back around £70.

Track Records signed Arthur Brown, putting out the incomparable ‘Fire’ single in 1968 and The Crazy World Of Arthur Brown LP in that year. They also put out records by the comic Murray Brown – Keith Moon’s favourite comedian – and the now very rare first single by Fairport Convention – If I Had A Ribbon Bow b/w If(stomp). Marc Bolan’s band, John’s Children released four singles in 1967. Thunderclap Newman, Marsha Hunt and Dutch rockers, Golden Earring were also on their roster, but the label, being able to be choosy with The Who and Jimi on their books, were not bound by commercial pressure. 

Roger Daltrey said: “It was a period when the record industry was growing so fast and the business couldn't keep up. Bands were leading the way; it was driven by the art and not the business. Now it’s driven by the business.”

No label epitomised that more than Track Records from 1967-1970. On the label’s first-ever press release, Kit declared:

“The label does not intend to sign artists indiscriminately. Our policy is to sign people who we consider to be unstoppable. Only artistes of the highest quality and Top Ten potential.”

For a while, they most certainly achieved that, though there are also some interesting, rare and obscure releases too by such long-forgotten bands as Cherry Smash, Tony Simon, The Precision, The Sandpebbles and Eire Apparent who even had Hendrix playing on a track. There was even a 1967 release by The Parliaments featuring a young George Clinton - that’s a £30 collectible now. 

But things fell apart at the end of the Sixties. Hendrix’s death left Track with a massive commercial hole where all their money used to be. Kit fell out, badly, with Pete over Tommy when he tried to sell it without the band’s say-so. Now heavily into drugs, the management duo was over-spending and their judgment was failing them. They were fired by the band in the early Seventies, and by 1974, Golden Earring were Track Records only act of note. Kit and Chris went to New York to produce soul act Labelle. They released a couple of tracks by The Heartbreakers in the mid-Seventies but the label folded in 1978.

Kit’s drug habit spiralled throughout the decade and he died after falling down the stairs at his mother’s house in 1981, a grim and unfitting end for a great rock personality. Chris also battled drugs but now works as an addiction counsellor. His brother is big in the gluten-free market with a range of flour and foodstuffs, The Stamp collection. In 1998, Ian Grant – the former manager of The Cult, The Stranglers, and Big Country – revived the Track Records label with Chris Lambert’s blessing. In 2000, Ian said:

“I cannot sign acts that are ‘unstoppable’ or guarantee Top Ten with every act. Such an audacious statement! But then again, if you had discovered Hendrix and The Who, wouldn't you have felt as bullish and confident as Kit did?” 

A classic record label that was created, shaped and driven by its owners, Track Records was ultimately to be a shooting star, and although it crashed and burned, it left some of rock n roll’s most revered music behind as its legacy. 

The complete discography is here

http://www.trackrecords.co.uk/history/disc.php


DANDELION RECORDS
Dandelion Records

There cannot be a rock music fan in the United Kingdom who did not at some point listen to the late John Peel’s legendary radio shows. His championing of acts from The Fall to The Undertones to PJ Harvey and the White Stripes helped countless bands on their way. But his own record label is less well-known. Here, we’ll find out a bit about Dandelion Records.

Set up in 1969 and named after his hamster (!)Dandelion was a pet Peel project that allowed him to release records he loved but which had little chance of commercial success. His judgement was pretty much always spot on: only one single made the UK charts, when Pictures in the Sky by Medicine Head reached no. 22 in 1971. In its short life (1969 – 1972), 18 Dandelion artists released 27 records, and one eccentric sampler called There Is Some Fun Going Forward. They were very close to signing Roxy Music but Island Records whisked them from under Dandelion’s noses.

Set up on idealistic, not to say somewhat shambolic, principles by John and his manager/business partner Clive Selwood, the first release was Bridget St John’s LP, Ask Me No Questions. Bridget was a singer/songwriter in the Joni mould, a relatively conventional proposition. Nevertheless, they had a hard time finding a major to distribute them. As Clive recounts:

“Though Peely had helped Decca and EMI earn millions from acts they never knew they had, he was still regarded as a dangerous hippie...”

They eventually managed to get a deal with CBS, and were later distributed by Warner and Polydor, but the acts were resolutely non-commercial.

They attempted to revive the career of Gene Vincent, releasing an album called I'm Back and I'm Proud, but by this time the legendary rocker was a drunk and more or less a liability. He wasn’t the only Dandelion signing who was a challenging proposition: they had also signed a sort of pre-punk band called Stackwaddy (not a hybrid of Stackridge and Showaddywaddy), who Peel unwisely chose to showcase the label in front of horrified WEA suits. They worked on building sites by day, came straight from work, smashed into the free drink at the record company office and were paralytic by the time they came to play. The singer took a piss on the stage and they could hardly get through a song. Later that same night, they were on their way to play another gig when one of them was sick on a policeman, earning the group a night in jail.

But there were highlights too. The recording of an Australian band called Python Lee Jackson was curtailed due to the singer being too drunk (bit of a theme here). An unknown called Rod Stewart was brought in to replace him for the session. Rod’s fee? Some spare parts for his car, from the band’s manager – who also sold second-hand motors! Rod and The Faces were Peel’s favourite live band for many years and of course, he was on that famous Top Of The Pops appearance when the band played Maggie May, with Peely, looking a bit sheepish, perched on a stool ‘playing’ mandolin.

The label’s biggest success was with Machine Head, a two-piece, bluesy, multi-instrumentalist duo who had three hits in the early Seventies. Another act, Tractor, were big on the hippy festival circuit and are still playing today, But the Dandelion label itself was not to exist for long: it disbanded in 1973. They just didn’t have the financial clout to hold onto the calibre of artist necessary.

It seemed that this would be the end of the Dandelion story, but mint condition LPs from the label sell for a good whack. A German label, Repertoire, reissued six of them and a fair bit of the catalogue is available on Cherry Red. A six hour DVD tribute to John and the label was released in November last year.

Like John’s radio shows, the label showcased stuff he thought was great, no matter how weird or commercially untenable. He didn’t, it turns out, have quite the genius for label management as he did for playlist selection, and it wouldn’t be unfair to say that Dandelion released the odd stinker, but – like the man himself – the passion and energy and sheer mad love of the music shines through in everything they did. And that’s not something you can say about a lot of labels.

AT

GENIUS OF THE MONTH Captain Beefheart

Captain Beefheart

Captain Beefheart

He retired over 25 years ago to paint and hasn’t made a record since. Even at his peak commercial success was elusive. He had a reputation for bullying musicians. He rounded on countless audience members for their real or perceived failure to treat his music with respect. His output in later years was patchy, bordering on the cynical. He was, and remains, a difficult bugger.

Yet Don Van Vliet has produced some of the most sophisticated, challenging and innovative work of the last 45 years. His influence on punk and new wave music was probably unparalleled. John Peel said of Don: “If there has ever been such a thing as a genius in the history of popular music, it’s Beefheart. I heard echoes of his music in some of the records I listened to last week and I’ll hear more echoes in records that I listen to this week.”

Born in Glendale, California to a working class family of Dutch origin, Don Vliet displayed a prodigious talent as a sculptor and painter from an early age. His works would be compared to those of Franz Kline, the abstract expressionist, whose bold canvasses were a lifelong influence.

But it wasn’t painting that brought the rare talent of Don to the world. At Antelope Valley High School in Lancaster, CA he met Frank Zappa. Lancaster was a small town on the edge of the Mojave Desert, off Hwy 14 in Southern California, God knows what it must have made of two freaks like Don and Frank in the early 60s.  

They had soon collaborated on a film script, Captain Beefheart vs The Grunt People. The first use of the Beefheart name, Don claimed that it was inspired, if that’s the right word, by his uncle Alan. Uncle was fond of showing off his, erm, little uncle (his nephew?) to Don’s then-girlfriend Laurie. He would take a piss with the bathroom door open and lovingly squeeze his lad, murmuring “What a beauty: it looks like a big, fine beef heart.” My uncle plays the spoons, which I’ve never liked one bit, but there’s always someone worse off than yourself.

Captain Beefheart zappaDropping out of art college pretty swiftly, Don – under encouragement from Frank Zappa – began playing the harmonica and singing. He discovered he had a powerful bass and modelled his vocal style on Howlin’ Wolf, playing as few gigs at small Southern Cali clubs.

In early 1965, a guitarist called Alex Snouffer contacted Don about putting together what would become the Magic Band. Don had adopted the surname Van Vliet by now, but would of course perform as Captain Beefheart. The other band members were given (whether they liked it or not, by all accounts) stage names.

A couple of early releases, including a Bo Diddley cover, enjoyed some local success and the demos for what would become Safe As Milk were punted to A&M Records. The record company did not care for them, dismissing the material as “too negative” and they were dropped. But in 1966, Beefheart signed with the eclectic label Buddah (spelled like that) Records, where he sat on a roster alongside pop fripperies like the 1910 Fruitgum Company and Ohio Express, as well as hippy folkie Melanie and Gladys Knight! At this time, he hooked up with key collaborator John French on drums. French was an invaluable asset to Beefheart throughout his career, able to translate the Captain’s often highly esoteric requests/demands into usable material.

Stories about Beefheart’s working methods are legion. He would whistle parts, or play a little bit on harmonica and have French – rechristened “Drumbo” – transcribe them. At the last minute, he might decide he actually wanted a part played backwards. Later in the band’s career, then-Magic Band guitarist Jeff Morris Tepper was felt, by the Captain, to be too much influenced by the Beatles. Beefheart locked Tepper in a cupboard for three hours and played him the blues record Red Cross Store by Mississippi John Hurt over and over again. One of French’s successors on the Magic band drums, Cliff Martinez, was given a cassette tape of drum parts to learn; it turned out to be a recording of the Captain doing the washing up. Cliff could replicate those rhythms, right? Was Beefheart trying to record the innate rhythms of life or just being wilfully obtuse? Probably both.

safe as milk

For the making of Safe As Milk, the band recruited a 20-year-old guitar hotshot named Ry Cooder, who had already garnered a big reputation as a slide player alongside nascent bluesman Taj Mahal in The Rising Sons, and they finished recording in the summer of 1967. John Lennon was among the new devotees and wanted to sign Beefheart to the Beatles’ planned avant garde label Zapple. Not long afterwards, Beefheart finished recording on what would become 1968’s Strictly Personal. He put it about that this was all recorded in one night and that the producer had remixed the record against his will. There doesn’t seem to have been much truth in this, but it was clear even early in his career that Don was determined to create his own truth and his own mythology. Buddah didn’t like what they heard when played Strictly Personal – it probably frightened them – hearing Don barking “Ah Feel Like Ahcid” wasn’t everyone’s cup of steamed vegetables. The record finally appeared on Blue Thumb, the label owned by Bob Krasnow – who produced the sessions.

trout mask

Don began work on what would come to be regarded as his masterpiece, Trout Mask Replica. Living together in conditions that John French described as “cult-like”, Beefheart, drummer Drumbo, “Zoot Horn Rollo” (guitarist Bill Harkleroad), “Rockette Morton” (bassist Mark Boston), “Antennae Jimmy Semens” (guitarist Jeff Cotton) and “The Mascara Snake” (Victor Hayden, bass clarinet and vocals) rehearsed together for eight months solid on the material. Practising 14 hours a day and living on welfare, the band were half-starving and a bit deranged. They were arrested for shoplifting food – Zappa, the album’s producer – bailed them out. Perhaps most outrageously of all, Don claimed that the band never took drugs.

This Manson-esque regime, though, meant that by the time they came to record, the band were complete masters of the intricate and extremely technical material. It must have been some challenge playing with him, on a personal level, as well as a musical one. He claimed to have taught Harkleroad and Boston to play from scratch; both were already highly accomplished players in their own right!

The result of all this was a 28-song work of unsurpassed invention, ambition and strangeness combining jazz, surreal poetry, blues, garage rock. It’s not an exaggeration to say that it defined the concept of the rock LP as work of art in the terms that people regard a painting or a play or a symphony. Not only was it ground-breaking, it was also a vastly influential piece of work, not necessarily in terms of its musical content – which is pretty much impossible to, er, replicate – but in terms of its idea of the album as fully realised creative statement. While in USA it evaded the charts, the UK embraced his insanity and put the album at 21 in the charts. This was a remarkable achievement for a such a wilfully uncommercial artistic statement

lick my decals off

Another absolutely terrific record, Lick My Decals Off, followed in 1970 and charted at 20 in the UK, the band spurred onto even greater heights with the addition of Art Tripp from The Mothers Of Invention. The friendship between Zappa and Don was not above spilling over into rivalry or the luring of musos. Two further powerhouse wild, anarchic R & B records – The Spotlight Kid (44 in the UK) and Clear Spot – followed in the early Seventies but the Magic Band, of whom Tripp had emerged as the leader, began to tire of their Captain’s demanding behaviour. They ducked out to form Mallard and the Captain assembled what amounted to a pretty poor substitute – unkindly referred to as ‘The Tragic Band’ – for the soft-rockish Unconditionally Guaranteed and Bluejeans & Moonbeams. Unconditionally, with its more conventional approach to rock n roll, attracted him new followers, many of whom must have felt a bit funny in the head when they subsequently bought the aural miasma that was Trout Mask Replica. He made a fantastic appearance on Whistle Test performing Upon The My-Oh-My from this record.

He didn’t record in 1975-1977 as Beefheart, but did do a collaboration album with Zappa on the live album, Bongo Fury. Recorded in Austin in May 1975, it closes with possibly the finest version of Muffin Man committed to vinyl, with Zappa in uber-noodle mode tearing up the fretboard as only he could.

blue collar

The Captain put together a new band towards the end of the decade. He covered Jack Nitzsche’s Hard Workin’ Man for the movie Blue Collar starring Harvey Keitel. After punk broke, he enjoyed something of a rebirth, upheld as a hero to new wave. A young, willing band – who had grown up playing his albums – formed around him and a superb triumvirate of 1978-1982 records Shiny Beast (Bat Chain Puller), Doc At The Radar Station and Ice Cream For Crow cemented his legacy. The title track of the first of these featured a return to the chanting necromancer of old that we had loved on the title track of Zappa’s Hot Rats, back in 1970.

There was even mainstream acceptance – appearances on David Letterman and Saturday Night Live seemed top indicate that at last, the world had caught up with the Captain. 

Having finally achieved some measure of commercial and broad critical acclaim for his music, Don promptly retired. Maybe he felt that his job was done; that he had pulled the wheel on the ship of fools around to his position on the compass and had no need to sail any more. 

beefheart art

He retreated to the California, a studio and a house by the sea, some painting in the desert, the company of his wife, Jan. His paintings are well regarded, a sort of neo-primitive abstract expressionism, but organic, powerful but not senselessly brutal. The invention and sense of humour that characterised his music is contained within. He is more or less reclusive, and rumours abound that he has a long-term illness, although some friends have said to the contrary.

He said of his art: “You know a lot of people can’t hear my paintings. And they should be able to. God knows, they’re noisy enough.”

A genius who changed the way artists saw the medium of the LP, Beefheart is a colossus of the alternative rock genre who is destined to influence, inspire, confuse and make hairs stand up on the back of necks for generations to come. He never had a hit album or single in his own country and yet remains a legend in his own lifetime. 

A voice from the a world beyond the daily realities of existence, Beefheart’s music remains a shattering experience that is challenging and, ultimately, thrilling. 

Check out the really excellent fan site http://www.beefheart.com to learn more.

AT  &  JN