♥

1. Billy Field – You weren’t in love with me
2. Camera Obscura – Destitution
3. Department S – Is Vic there?
4. Fantastic Something – The night we flew out of the window
5. Gregory Gray – Books to read twice
6. Herbie Armstrong – Do You
7. Le Change – Back seat of my car
8. Nevada – In the Bleak Midwinter
9. Phillip Goodhand-Tait – Everyday
10. Robert Wyatt – I’m a Believer
11. Rouen – Ordinary Life
12. Rouen – Young for Today
13. Scarlet Party – 101 Dam-Nations
14. Southern Comfort – Return to Frog City
15. Still Life – Away from this Town
16. Stockholm Monsters – National Pastime
17. The Farmers Boys – In the Country
18. The Records – Starry Eyes
19. Tonight – Drummer Man
20. Villa de Ville – Everything Counts

Obscure Seventies songsmith on Elton's label gets welcome revival

 

Phillip Goodhand-Tait

Goodhand-Tait is his real surname, although at school and into the mid 1960s, he was known as Phil Tait. His mother taught piano and his father was an active trades unionist. In 1957 the family moved south to Guildford where Goodhand-Tait attended Pewley school. Before long, he was singing in beat groups several nights every week under names such as Phill Tone and the Vibrants. In 1961, they renamed themselves Phill and the Stormsville Shakers, a group formed with Paul Demers on drums, Ivor Shackleton playing guitar, and Kirk Riddle on bass. “Stormsville” was the title of a 1960 Johnny and the Hurricanes album and ‘Shakers’ was meant to indicate the frantic nature of their performances.

In 1964 the Shakers played the Ricky-Tick club circuit, and backed Memphis Slim. He toured in the early 1960s as Phillip Goodhand-Tait and the Stormsville Shakers (his backing band from Guildford) supporting the likes of Larry Williams.

He wrote songs for Larry Williams; Roger Daltrey (“Oceans Away” – on the album ‘Ride a Rock Horse’ - and “Parade” and “Leon” – both on the ’One of the Boys’ album); Gene Pitney (“You Are” and “Oceans Away”); Zoot Money (“No One But You”) and Love Affair (“Bringing on Back the Good Times”, “A Day Without Love” and “Baby I Know”).

By 1971, he had branched out, and wrote the score for the film, Universal Soldier. In 1976 he played the harmonium on Chris de Burgh’s LP Spanish Train and other stories.

This track is of course a cover of the famous Buddy Holly song slowed down to make an emotive piano-based ballad and featured on the 1971 DJM (Elton John’s label who was a big supporter) album ‘I think I’ll write a song’.

It soundtracked many a teenage romance.

Fantastic Something

Fantastic Something were a UK based duo made up of two Greek born brothers, who had a hit in the early 80s called “If she doesn’t smile”. They disappeared after just two releases. The other one ‘If she doesn’t smile’ I also own – special requests will be treated sympathetically. They were on the great Cherry Red label. A glorious sound.

Camera Obscura

In the early Eighties there were a number of bands like Eyeless in Gaza, White Door  and Thomas Leer around who produced atmospheric synth music. Camera Obscura released this single and then fled – nowadays there is an excellent Glaswegian India band with the same name. The layer of soil thickens above the grave of the original and lamented Camera Obscura.

Department S

The late, great Vaughan Toulouse lent his vocals to this and many other great songs. The three remaining members of the band regrouped a year or so back to record a cover of Alvin Stardust’s ‘My Coo cachoo’

However, this song and their other great song ‘Going Left Right’ will never be bettered.

Rouen 

Rouen hailed from  the town of Bewdley in Worcestshire in the 1980s and signed to Virgin.
They realeased one album and a few singles, getting a listed on Radio 1 for one single – ‘Young for a Day’.

The band comprised of Nick Cox Keyboards with Nick Allsop, J Johnson, Mark Roslanowski and Nick Sellars.

Two tracks are recalled for duty here – ‘Young for a Day was the minor hit – ‘Ordinary Life’ is completely impossible to find anywhere else – so fill your boots.

Scarlet Party

Scarlet Party was formed in Essex in the early 1980s. The founder members were, singer/songwriters Graham Dye and brother Steven Dye, with drummer Sean Heaphy

They began to perform at many top venues, to a well established following, and had already recorded an album of original material, and were signed to a major record company, when joined by fourth member, Mark Gilmour, brother of Pink Floyd’s David Gilmour, on lead guitar.

The debut single, ‘101 Dam-Nations’ was released on EMI’s famous Parlaphone label, on 16 October 1982, along-side a special re-release of Love Me Do, celebrating The Beatles’ 20th anniversary at EMI. This helped to get Scarlet Party noticed, and with the voice of Graham Dye, uncannily resembling that of John Lennon, a television, radio, and magazine, publicity campaign, helped to reinforce the connection. The single was enthusiastically received (Kate Bush described it as her favourite), and reached number 44 in theUK Singles Chart. The follow-up single “Eyes of Ice”, was released in February 1983, on ice-clear vinyl, which was a request from the band, and all art-work for the sleeve was created by Graham Dye, using coloured pencils. EMI then decided not to release the completed album, which was to be called ‘Scarlet Skies’.

‘Scarlet Skies’, was recorded at Abbey Road Studios in 1981-82, but has never been officially released. The linked songs explore themes of war, love, and alienation, in styles reminiscent of both the mini pop operas of The Who, and the progressive concept albums of Pink Floyd.

The band recorded more original songs written by the Dye brothers, as a four piece, until the departure of Mark Gilmour at the end of 1983, and then, once again, as a three piece, also working on other projects, including a musical cartoon adventure based on the band, none of which were taken on by EMI.

Scarlet Party continued performing live shows, joined briefly by new member Micky Portman on bass, and recorded several more tracks at Abbey Road Studios. However, the band now feeling disheartened, and disappointed in EMI, decided to call it a day at the end of 1985.

Graham Dye went on to work as lead vocalist, on several albums by The Alan Parsons Project, and more recently, a new version of ‘101 Dam-Nations’ was made, featuring Graham and Steven Dye, together with Phil Collins  playing the drums. The brothers requested the help of Alan Parsons to produce the recording, which is not yet available. A shame.

Gregory Gray

Scottish-born singer/songwriter Gregory Gray released three fine albums of quirky, danceable pop from 1986 to 1995. However, his story goes back further than that and involves both a brief involvement with a second-string group of Northern Irish bubblegum popsters and a name change to disassociate himself from that chapter in his past. Gregory Gray was born Paul Lerwill in the village of Coleraine, Northern Ireland, on May 20, 1959. Lerwill picked up the guitar as a teenager and at the age of 19, he joined Rosetta Stone, a bubblegummy pop group led by Ian Mitchell, formerly of the Bay City Rollers. Known as “Flash” during his stint in Rosetta Stone, Lerwill stayed with the group until 1982, long past their brief notoriety amongst the pre-pubescent crowd. Following that, Lerwill changed his name to Gregory Gray to disassociate himself from his sugary past and formed an obscure group, called Perfect Crime, who were in more of a Waterboys-meets-U2 vein. He was a friend of Bono from the much more popular U2.

Finally signing a solo deal with CBS in 1986, Gray released his first album, Think of Swans, later that year. An artsy, often obscure record that maintains the Waterboys influence from his Perfect Crime days, Think of Swans was a complete commercial stiff and Gray was dropped after its release. After woodshedding for several years, Gray signed with Atco Records and released his much poppier second album, Strong at Broken Places, in 1991. That album was produced by Gray’s friend Davitt Sigerson, who later became the president of EMI Records. Sigerson signed Gray to EMI in 1995 and released the Stephen Hague-produced Euroflake in Silverlake, a Pet Shop Boys-like album of quirky electro-pop. Unfortunately, it followed his previous two albums into commercial oblivion and Gray gave up on his solo career, moving from Northern Ireland to New York in the late ’90s and forming an Underworld-like dance rock group, Mary Cigarettes.

Nevada

Their version of ‘Gustav Holtz/Christina Rosetti’s ‘In the Bleak Midwinter’ is possibly my favourite Christmas song of all. 

Nevada was a short-lived group led by Michael Dunford and Annie Haslam from Renaissance. Following their Azure d’Or tour in Israel and the departure of Terence Sullivan and John Tout from the band, Annie Haslam and Mick Dunford formed Nevada as an alternative he believed could grow alongside Renaissance. The group did some demos and had one appearance on a TV show in the UK.

Nevada released just two singles during the period between Renaissance’s Azure d’Or and Camera Camera albums. Peter Gosling, who played with Renaissance for their final two albums performed with Nevada and co-wrote three of the four songs released. The first single, “In The Bleak Midwinter” / “Pictures In The Fire” (Polydor UK POSP 203) was released in 1980 and charted in the UK in early 1983. The second single “You Know I Like It” / “Once In A Lifetime” (Polydor UK POSP 229) was released in 1981 and never hit the charts.

These four songs, quite different from the those of the Renaissance albums released before and after, reflect an exploration of the artists in alternative music ranging from the English ballad “In The Bleak Midwinter” to the popular sound of “Pictures In The Fire” and “You Know I Like It” to the contemporary sound of “Once In A Lifetime” which one can hear seeds of sounds incorporated into Renaissance’s last two albums. Annie Haslam’s stunning wide range vocals are featured in the first three songs and she sings backup in the fourth. Michael Dunford has confirmed that the lead vocal track on the very different “Once In A Lifetime” was performed by Peter Gosling. These rare singles were pressed only in small quantities and should be part of any serious Renaissance fan’s collection. Used copies can occasionally be found.

I remember as a teacher in the Winter of 1981 scouring the second hand record shops of Brighton to acquire all the old favourite Christmas songs to compile into an all time best Christmas album on C90. I then duplicated 100 at the University language centre and proceeded to pay for my indigent Christmas with the proceeds of a hunderd two quids gathered in from the students in my care. This was pre ’That’s what I call Christmas’ days – so this probably represented a bargain.

Southern Comfort

These were the band that made up the others behind Iain Matthews in Matthews Southern Comfort, famous for their version of Joni Mitchell’s ‘Woodstock’ in 1970. After Iain left to go solo the band carried on and had a very minor hit with ‘I sure like your smile’. On the B side of this was this track – ‘Return to Frog City’ from the Harvest album ‘Frog City’ with a great slide guitar erformance from the legendary Gordon Huntley who sadly died in 1985. I played this into the ground in 1971 which may explain its white blitz sound.

The Records

Living as I did in Southend in the Seventies, it was an exciting time to be a music fan. Will Birch was at the centre of the scene as drummer with Eddie and the Hot Rods which he had quit to form The Records with fellow Essex man John Wicks. The Records were far more impressive in potential than fellow bands such as the Kursaal Flyers and even Dr Feelgood – they had pure pop class. By fans of the genre, they are considered one of the most seminal British power pop acts of all time. They are often referred to as The British Big Star. They are best remembered for the hit single and cult favourite included here: ’Starry Eyes’. In the 70s and 80s, the only constant members of The Records were John Wicks, Will Birch and Phil Brown. Today, former members of The Records record and perform as solo artists. Lead singer John Wicks tours in his group John Wicks And The Records, while guitarist Jude Cole continues to record and perform as a solo artist.

Although the original version of UK rock group The Records disbanded in the 1980s, their music continues to be a major attraction in the world of rock and roll. Their hit single ‘Starry Eyes’ is still played on classic rock and college rock radio stations throughout the continents.

John Wicks currently works as a producer/songwriter and has formed a new all-star lineup known as John Wicks And The Records. Wicks performs classic songs from his days with The Records, which he co-founded with drummer/songwriter Will Birch in the 1970s. At a John Wicks And The Records concert, expect to hear classic songs from his years in The Records in addition to all-new material.

John Wicks And The Records continue to play sold out shows around the world, having performed with the likes of Guided By Voices, Dramarama and the Electric Prunes among others. Although they played CBGBs in the past, it seemed only fitting when John Wicks And The Records chose to perform as part of the CBGBs farewell concert series when the legendary rock and punk venue prepared to permanently close it’s doors in 2006.

Guitarist/singer, Jude Cole, was the only American to play in The Records. Today, Jude Cole produces numerous artists and co-owns Ironworks Studios with actor Kiefer Sutherland. Hailing from London, England, The Records performed with such acts as Elvis Costello, The Cars, The Jam with Paul Weller, Robert Palmer and Joe Jackson. The Records formed at the height of rock and roll in the 1970s and recorded three major label albums for Virgin Records. They released several singles including Starry Eyes, Teenarama and Hearts In Her Eyes. Albums included “Shades In Bed,” “Crashes,” “Music On Both Sides,” “Paying For The Summer Of Love” and “A Sunny Afternoon In Waterloo.”

The songs of John Wicks/Will Birch have been covered by artists such as Mary Chapin Carpenter, Michael Monroe from Hanoi Rocks, Blackpool Lights, Too Much Joy, The Methadones and British beat group The Searchers.

The Farmers Boys

The Farmer’s Boys were from Norwich. They formed in the early 1980s and were briefly called “Bang Goes My Stereo” before changing their name to The Farmer’s Boys. The band’s first single, “I Think I Need Help”, was release in April 1982 with a few more releases in the same year. In January 1983 “More than a Dream” was reissued as their first single for EMI. Several more singles including this Shadows cover and two albums were released before the band split in 1985.

Baz and Mark went on to form The Avons in 1985. Mark later joined The Nivens, Stan formed Dr Fondle and Frog joined The Higsons and played keyboards on a Julian Cope tour in the late eighties. Original guitarist Andy left early on to join Serious Drinking. In 2000, Baz, Mark & Stan got back together as The Great Outdoors.

These songs have been rescued from the very depths of Stannard’s Library, converted digitally from their original vinyl state and lovingly brought to your attention. Some of these artists will never record again and have not been washed up on the beach of any long forgotten compilation. I humbly offer them here for your edification and delight. You may never see their like again.

http://rapidshare.com/files/308992682/Roy_s_Library_5.zip

1. Rock Bottom
2. Shleep
3. Ruth Is Stranger Than Richard
4. Cuckooland
5. Theatre Royal Drury Lane 8 September 1974
6. Dondestan (Revisited)
7. Old Rottenhat
8. Comicopera
9. Nothing Can Stop Us
10. The End Of An Ear

NP: Robert Wyatt – Rock Bottom. Dit album staat in m’n top 5 aller tijden, het is zowat de mooiste muziek die ik ooit gehoord heb.

Remembrance Sunday and the eleventh of November are days that evoke conflicting emotions in me. I’m pretty much an absolute pacifist, so you’d expect me to disapprove of them, but at the same time the *reason* I’m a pacifist is because I don’t like seeing people go and get killed (or kill others), and I have nothing but respect for those who fought (and often died) for causes they thought were right, even when (as has so often been the case) they’re led by psychopaths. Those people DESERVE remembrance, and respect. They went through things that none of us who haven’t been in a war can possibly imagine, and many of them behaved with far more decency than their commanders (I’ve read studies that show that in war, even when afraid for their own lives, 85% of soldiers unconsciously shoot to miss, because even in that position they can’t bring themselves to kill – something borne out by stories of people like Harry Patch, the last British soldier from WWI who died earlier this year, who had made a pact with his friends never to shoot to kill, but to aim for the enemies’ legs.)

I also don’t wear poppies, partly because I don’t wear anything like that – no breast cancer awareness badges or make poverty history wristbands, but also because the poppy as a symbol has become incredibly politicised in Britain recently, and it’s increasingly become a symbol of support for a particular right-wing form of patriotism. That said, I do think it’s hugely important to remember the sacrifices people went through for causes both noble and otherwise, so I’ve put together this spotify playlist. A lot of these songs are angry songs, because people should not have to travel thousands of miles to kill or be killed unless there’s a good reason, and often there isn’t. I find it very hard to remember those who died, or those who were maimed for life, without also remembering those who put them in that position. Never again should mean that…

One song I wanted to include was Armistice Day by Paul Simon, which he titled that for reasons much like those in this Vonnegut quote:

I will come to a time in my backwards trip when November eleventh, accidentally my birthday, was a sacred day called Armistice Day. When I was a boy, and when Dwayne Hoover was a boy, all the people of all the nations which had fought in the First World War were silent during the eleventh minute of the eleventh hour of Armistice Day, which was the eleventh day of the eleventh month.
It was during that minute in nineteen hundred and eighteen, that millions upon millions of human beings stopped butchering one another. I have talked to old men who were on battlefields during that minute. They have told me in one way or another that the sudden silence was the Voice of God. So we still have among us some men who can remember when God spoke clearly to mankind.
Armistice Day has become Veterans’ Day. Armistice Day was sacred. Veterans’ Day is not.
So I will throw Veterans’ Day over my shoulder. Armistice Day I will keep. I don’t want to throw away any sacred things.
What else is sacred? Oh, Romeo and Juliet, for instance.
And all music is.

However, Armistice Day appears to be one of the few Paul Simon songs *not* on Spotify. So it goes.

The songs I have included are:
Veterans Day Poppy by Captain Beefheart (mislabelled as Apes-Ma – all the songs on this album are mislabelled). Sometimes Beefheart’s lyrics are difficult to understand, so here’s a transcription:

I cry but I can’t buy
Your Veteran’s Day poppy
It don’t get me high
It can only make me cry
It can never grow another
Son like the one who warmed me my days
After rain and warmed my breath
My life’s blood
Screamin’ empty she cries
It don’t get me high
It can only make me cry
Your Veteran’s Day poppy

Butcher’s Tale (Western Front 1914) by The Zombies is written and sung by Chris White, and his more fragile voice suits this deeply disturbing song much better than Blunstone’s would have.

Any King’s Shilling by Elvis Costello is a reminder of some of the more recent conflicts. “Stay at home tonight, if you know what’s good for you/I can’t say more, it would be telling/But if you don’t, what will become of you/Just isn’t worth any King’s shilling”.

Shipbuilding by Robert Wyatt is another Costello song (co-written), and possibly the saddest song ever written, about the hope a war brings to an economically depressed town – “It’s just a rumour that’s been spread around town/A telegram or a picture postcard/within weeks they’ll be re-opening the shipyard/And notifying the next of kin once again”.

Some Mother’s Son by The Kinks is from Arthur, the last of their incredible run of straight masterpieces in the mid sixties. “Some mother’s son lies in a field/Someone has killed some mother’s son today” I’d have liked to pair this with the other WWI song from the same album, Yes Sir No Sir (“Give the scum a gun and make the buggers fight/just be sure to have deserters die on sight/If he dies we’ll send a medal to his wife”) but that’s not on Spotify.

Song For The Dead by Randy Newman does a pretty good job of this though – a song from the point of view of a soldier in Vietnam burying his dead comrades and saying ‘a few words on behalf of the leadership’. At once utterly vicious and cynical about the motives of the leaders who start wars, but still recognising the real horror their decisions cause to those who have to carry them out.

Rich Man’s War by Steve Earle continues along these lines – “Somebody somewhere had another plan/Now he’s got a rifle in his hand/He’s wandering Baghdad wondering how it got this far/He’s just another poor boy off to fight a rich man’s war”.

Little Boy Soldiers by The Jam – “These days I find that I can’t be bothered/To argue with them, well what’s the point?/Better to take your shots and drop down dead/then they send you home in a pine overcoat/With a letter to your mum/Saying find enclosed one son/one medal and a note/to say he won.”

Where Have All The Flowers Gone? by Pete Seeger is often thought of as a rather twee song. It really isn’t.

And to finish, we have The Last Post.

Here’s the latest batch of Music Musings and Miscellany’s unapologetically subjective selection of the twentieth century’s best 1000 singles.

FLAMING LIPS – She Don’t Use Jelly / Turn It On (Warner Brothers 18131 1994)
Simple and surreal, “She Don’t Use Jelly” was Coyne and cos first singalong song which, unlike many, never seems to pall with repeated listenings. It’s just gleefully absurd, simple fun.

POP GROUP – She Is Beyond Good and Evil / 3.38 (Radar 29 1979)
Perhaps the Pop Group’s most accessible song, this is still evil sounding Faustian funk that lies somewhere between Chic and free jazz. They were a band whose tension between deep dub-funk and stellar jazz was stretched to breaking point, and topped with the borderline madness of Mark Stewart’s paranoid vocals, created a distopian soundtrack to societal, political and personal breakdown. The tension that drove them inevitably destroyed them as the group was pulled in too many conflicting directions, but their small ouevre is a truly great legacy.

PJ HARVEY – Sheela-na-gig / Joe / Hair (Too Pure 8 1992)
Part Pixies part riot girl, Polly Harvey stripped out the fat and fancy from her music, but still sounded a world away from the basic rock template. She infuriated and thrilled people in equal measure for her steadfast refusal to be labelled, or dragged into ’scenes’, and still does. Her secret is a paradoxical combination of self-doubt and self-confidence that leaves her restless and continually inventive, but at the same time, never capriciously flitting from style to style.

RAMONES – Sheena Is a Punk Rocker / Commando / I Don’t Care (Sire 746 1977)
They sounded dumb but were never stupid. The first three albums fire off crackers like this every couple of minutes without ever sounding weary. That they ultimately became a cliché was inevitable. They either progressed and lost the raw simplicity, or stayed the same and became a self-parody.

HALL & OATES – She’s Gone / I’m Just a Kid (Atlantic 3332 1974)
In the eighties they became pop giants, but their music became plastic and soulless. In the seventies they couldn’t get arrested, but came out with some amazing Philly soul-drenched pop. “She’s Gone” is a powerhouse of impassioned vocal interplay.

YELLO – She’s Got a Gun / The Evening’s Young (Do It 18 1982)
While a lot of Yello’s early music was fairly brash, electro-influenced synth pop, my favourite side to the duo was always the atmospheric noir-ish stories relayed in tracks like “Lost Again” and this one. Dieter Meyer’s image fits the world of darkened railway stations, femmes fatales with guns and the fading decadence of a Europe living under the burden of its own catastrophic history.

HOUSE OF LOVE – Shine On / Love / Flow (Creation 43 1987)
About as good as indie guitar music gets. The House of Love’s first single was emotional, exciting, crisp and concise. It sold diddly squat, despite being on a fashionable label. Some things are just unfathomable. Over the last two decades, they’re a band I’ve introduced to people more than any other I think, and the reaction is always glowing. And I’ve met other people who rate the band’s short tenure at Creation as highly as I do.

ROBERT WYATT – Shipbuilding / Memories of You (Rough Trade 115 1982)
Elvis Costello’s brilliant response to the Falklands War isn’t a angry polemic, but a confused reflection of a character whose livelihood has been secured by it, and feels guilty about that fact. I have no problem with Costello as a singer, but he has a rather sarcastic tone that really can’t carry off the emotional conflicts of the song. Robert Wyatt, however, has the right mixture of pathos, vulnerability and deep unease to convey it perfectly. A masterpiece.

BOYS NEXT DOOR – Shivers / Dive Position (Mushroom 7492 1979)
Before they discovered their true mettle as the Birthday Party, the band’s previous incarnation peddled a kind of jerky, spiky pop. This Rowland Howard song sounded nothing like either. It’s a brooding ballad that oddly has far more in common with some of Nick Cave’s later work even though it wasn’t his song. It’s appearance in the film Dogs in Space is a perfect cinematic moment.

MIRACLES – Shop Around / Who’s Loving You (Tamla 54030 1960)
Along with Barrett Strong’s “Money”, “Shop Around” is one of the two major hits of Motown’s first year that has one foot in doo wop and rock ‘n’ roll, and the other in the future, world-dominating Motown sound.

MAGAZINE – Shot By Both Sides / My Mind Ain’t So Open (Virgin 200 1978)
With a riff so good that former Buzzcocks partners Howard Devoto and Pete Shelley both used it (see “Lipstick” by the Buzzcocks), “Shot By Both Sides” introduced Magazine with a bang. It was a winning combination punk’s excitement and sharpness and the more expansive, almost prog, sound of bands like Roxy Music.

JUNIOR WALKER & THE ALL STARS – Shotgun / Hot Cha (Soul 35008 1965)
Motown anomalies in that they owed as much to Booker T & the MGs and James Brown as they did to the sound of the Motor City, Walker’s All Stars were a funky rhythm and blues outfit who were as much about the groove as they were about the song. “Shotgun” is a blast (sorry).

THE CARDINALS – Shouldn’t I Know / Please Don’t Leave Me (Atlantic 938 1951)
The Cardinals were one of the great proto-doo wop ballad groups, but one who seem to have fallen through the cracks of history. The only available compilation is a stingy 10 song collection that appeared on the Collectables label in 2006 and is only available on import from the US for a silly price.

STEELY DAN – Showbiz Kids / Razor Boy (ABC 11382 1973)
“Showbiz Kids” is another one of those great Steely Dan tunes that subverts the kind of smooth, self-regarding, nouveau riche types who probably listed the band as one of their favourites. Only this time they did it with a brazenness that only an idiot could fail to see: “They got the house on the corner, with the rug inside / They got the booze they need, all that money can buy / They got the shapely bodies, they got the Steely Dan T-shirts…” and as a final coup de grace: “Show bus’ness kids makin’ movies of themselves / You know they don’t give a fuck about anybody else“

More soon

Mannen med rösten, Robert Wyatt kommer ut med en väldans fin box som samlar alla hans album: Rock Bottom (1974), Ruth Is Stranger Than Richard (1975), Nothing Can Stop Us (1981), Old Rottenhat (1985), Dondestan Revisited (1991/1998), Shleep (1997) , EPs (1998), Cuckooland (2003), Robert Wyatt & Friends, Theatre Royal Drury Lane 8th September 1974 (2005) and Comicopera (2007). Den ges ut av Domino men jag har inte lyckats hitta någon info om releasedatum etc där. Bilden kommer från MBV. Vi får se om den stämmer med verkligheten.

The Raincoats (London, UK)
The Raincoats
Rough Trade, 1979

Discovery: This one sort of found me today. My favourite blog ever ever ever is probably Carrie Brownstein’s Monitor Mix. Not only is she super knowledgeable about music but she’s also super intelligent and super funny, and always manages to write about things I find interesting. The first paragraph of today’s post read:

“What is it about The Raincoats? If you haven’t heard of the band, now is the time. (It will be of help to you that Kill Rock Stars has just reissued the band’s first LP). If you have listened to The Raincoats’ music, then you know that the London-based late-’70s post-punk group — which has re-formed intermittently over the years and is currently playing another round of shows — has always inspired a sense of wonder and a sense of worship.”

I’m not going to paste the whole thing, which you can find here, but here are some of my favourite extracts:

“The Raincoats didn’t so much intrude on my world as make it shimmer. To hear the band’s songs for the first time was to light a sparkler in a room, each song a tiny, magnificent and uneven torch. The music had shape and then was shapeless, wonky edges with pure, glowing centers. I would listen and think, “How?”"

“It wasn’t until 1999 that I found the first Raincoats LP for myself [...] I was so excited, so very much in a state of shock and elation, that I ran back to the 40 Watt and called Calvin Johnson back in Olympia to tell him the news. Let it be known that I have never called anyone before or since to tell them that I’d purchased a record.”

History: The Raincoats formed whilst they were students at Hornsey College of Art in London in 1977 – they went through various line-up changes, but by 1978 they were an all-female group. This album is best known for their cover of Ray Davies’ ‘Lola’. It was re-released by Rough Trade in 1994 with liner notes written by Kurt Cobain, and again yesterday (13 October 2009) by Kill Rock Stars.

The follow-up to this album featured appearances from Robert Wyatt and Charles Hayward of This Heat.

Review: As I listened to this, I was thinking, “I’ve made a huge mistake.” – this is literally so difficult to put into words. One of the best things I’ve seen written about it was by aplasticfeast on RYM:

“And it’s so ramshackle. There’s none of that bullshit equilibrium you get so much of in other music. Whereas in some songs every instrument is perfectly in time with the others, and so creates the illusion of a fixed point moving in time, the fixed point here is entirely virtual. It is a strange attractor that all the voices struggle to reach or struggle to slow down towards. As such, all the instruments are always clamoring for that supreme unity but never attaining it. No one member of the band defines it, because there is a fierce egalitarianism in operation. Now isn’t that a much better metaphor for life than all the other music you’ve been taught to appreciate because of its simulated perfection?”

It’s entirely true. Everything here is messy. There’s rarely a great guitar tone or a strong beat or an uplifting melody (‘No Side to Fall In’ being a notable exception.) And yet everything sort of caves in from all sides to create this great overall sound- it’s fun and it’s playful but it’s also creepy and unnerving. The drums are produced in the oddest way- on some songs they pound from only one side of the speakers like they’re trying to stay disconnected and at other times they’re the only thing that sounds normal, with everything else freaking out in and around the beat. There’s this sincerity and pain in the vocals that mirrors the fact that all of these songs continue to fall apart, verse after verse, but it’s also a strong sound (you can see where Carrie got a lot of her vocal style from) which helps keep the crazy piercing violin (yes, violin!) and gut-wrenching guitar tones from tearing these songs apart. It sounds amateurish, yes, and it has charm because of that, but it’s all done with intent.

Practical information: Watch an awesome live version of ‘No Side to Fall In’ here.

It took only two songs for me to realise I was in this kind of much-hailed, seldom-reached territory: the album you want to listen to again and again without skipping tracks or hitting pause because you’re off to grab refreshments.
I didn’t know much of Robert Wyatt’s solo stuff. I do now know his genre is marked as “progressive” on the myspace page not because he enjoys a coma-inducing prog-rock guitar solo, but rather for his progressive predisposition. As a plus, he’s the spitting image of Moses, at least as I picture the dude.

I’m quite glad to be starting with the end, because I feel I know more about Mr. Wyatt’s music now, listening in silent reverie, awash with these beautiful interpretations by a range of diverse yet like-minded artists. Their respective dots are neatly connected by the subdued, almost silent cohesion of the orchestra – which, might I add, actually orchestrates a permeating light that takes both background and foreground, like playing hide and seek.

– only in French

After the sense of squeaky-cleaning my spirit through the power of music -rejoice!, I had to collect myself and light up a fire of recognition around Wyatt’s original work. The process of listening to cover songs and then originals – it’s like playing a piano and then taking it apart bit by bit, chords and keys left adrift in the air around you (photographical evidence coming soon); actually, when both are good- the copied and the “copiee”- it’s all about the interplay, with one song not eclipsing, but shoving light on, the other. And it works both ways.

Alifib (feat. Rokia Traoré) mp3

Shipbuilding (feat. Yael Naïm) mp3

Check out the Orchestre National de Jazz site for live dates

Listen to the WNYC show presenting highlights of the album

Get the album. Wherever you want to.

La rentrée est pleine de bonnes surprises alors voila quelques pistes à explorer.

 Déjà, à la fnac, il y a beaucoup de bonnes affaires en ce moment, notamment une excellente sélection électro et puis la quasi totalité des Floyd à moins de 10€. The Intro Collection de Louis Armstrong, un coffret 3 cds à moins de 10€ aussi.

Sinon, dans les disques qui me plaisent beaucoup dernièrement :- True Romance

• Golden Silvers
• The Hickey Underworld - The Hickey Underworld
• Jamie T - Kings and Queens
• Rodrigo y Gabriela - 11:11
• VV Brown - Travelling like the light
• Raphael Saadiq - The way I see it
• M - Mister Mystère
• Coeur de Pirate - Coeur de Pirate
• Passion Pit - Manners
• General Electriks – Good city for dreamers
• Cocoon - Back to Panda mountains

http://8tracks.com/jacknapier87/sguayatt-2

Robert Wyatt (Bristol, 1945) é um músico inglês. Foi baterista e vocalista da banda Soft Machine, um dos mais renomados grupos da “cena de Canterbury” do final dos anos 60, com uma mistura de rock psicodélico, jazz e vanguarda. Seus companheiros originais de banda eram Kevin Ayers (baixo, guitarra e voz), Daevid Allen (guitarra) e Mike Ratledge (órgão) (com o baixista Hugh Hopper chegando logo depois). Depois de quatro discos lançados entre 1968 e 1971, Wyatt deixou o Soft Machine e formou o Matching Mole, espécie de “adaptação sonora” inglesa para Machine Molle (nome francês de Soft Machine, que vem a ser um romance de William Burroughs), com quem gravou dois discos. Em 1973 teve uma queda e ficou paraplégico. Sua carreira solo começou com The End of an Ear, de 1970. Seu segundo disco é Rock Bottom, de 1974, o primeiro depois do acidente. Depois de Ruth Is Stranger Than Richard, de 1975, passou a lançar discos de forma mais bissexta. Shleep é seu oitavo álbum. Essa década viu os lançamentos de Cuckooland (2003) e Comicopera (2007). Entre os músicos convidados de Shleep estão Brian Eno, Phil Manzanera, Paul Weller, Evan Parker, Chucho Merchan e Annie Whitehead.

* # *

A capa de Shleep inevitavelmente me lembra a de Disco Voador, de Arnaldo Baptista. Nem que seja pelo azul doce, convidativo, aliado a uma singeleza de traço e obviedade na iconografia que remetem diretamente ao naif. Estendendo a comparação, são dois artistas marcados por tragédias que redefiniram suas carreiras, e que fizeram de sua arte um instrumento vital na recuperação de suas vidas. As comparações parariam ali, não fosse a intensa sensação de uma arte que flerta com a morte para agarrar-se desbragadamente à vida, apegando-se ao mais simples e encontrando nele a beleza que em geral os outros esnobam. Só isso é capaz de explicar toda a verdade e toda a beleza das melodias entoadas por Robert Wyatt, ou criadas em instrumentos, que aparecem em Shleep. Uma emotividade à flor da pele que, lapidada por um soberbo senso de economia e por construções rítmicas e melódicas incomuns, evita qualquer excesso meloso e se dirige impiedosamente ao coração do ouvinte.

Shleep começa doce e frugal com “Heaps of Sheeps”, canção dominada por uma levada de guitarra e pela bateria que, juntas, criam uma espécie de efeito galopante que cativa de início. Brian Eno está lá para adicionar uns toques de sintetizador e o coro que é sua cara desde Remain in Light, ao menos. Por fim, há a voz de Wyatt, aguda e vulnerável, quase se dissolvendo diante de nossos ouvidos, e por isso mesmo pungente. “Heaps of Sheeps” é uma música sobre contar carneirinhos até pegar no sono (ou não), e serve bem de música introdutória. De fato, é a faixa mais vibrante e direta do disco, a única com uma pegada em linha reta. Não sei se depois disso é que entra o “shleep” propriamente, mas a partir daí o disco alternará momentos sinuosos, tortuosos, líricos, cubistas, evocativos, sombrios, mas cujo modus operandi parece ser o mesmo: dosar a experimentação com inserções jazzísticas e batidas quebradas que transmitem uma intensa sensação “dormente” mas mantendo um limite de acessibilidade, tendo como oriente a voz de Wyatt. É um disco que trabalha com andamentos lentos e atmosferas evocativas. Além de composições inspiradas e por vezes grudentas (“Maryan”, “Free Will and Testament”) de tão perfeitas, Shleep ainda conta com um exército de colaboradores para encher suas faixas de detalhes ricos em intervenções delicadas porém determinantes.

O approach jazzy do disco é bem representado por “Was a Friend”, um de seus destaques. Um prato de acompanhamento marca um tempo velocíssimo junto com o baixo, enquanto piano e voz evoluem em ritmo de balada, e a ausência de uma marcação forte de tempo faz com que cada intervenção pareça pincelar som à maneira de um pintor numa tela em branco. “Blues in Bob Minor”, quase no final do disco, vai quebrar a série de músicas de baixo andamento para homenagear “Subterreanean Homesick Blues” de Bob Dylan (por isso o “Bob” do título da faixa) com uma faixa que se apropria do ritmo inusitado da melodia vocal faixa de Dylan e, sobre base de teclado e pequenas intervenções de guitarra (cortesia de Paul Weller), produz no modo quase falado da original uma música que não só consegue um charme todo próprio, mas consegue-o através da música de Dylan (“Faust Arp” do Radiohead bebe da mesma fonte mas sem referir-se claramente à matriz na melodia). E não poderíamos terminar o texto sem falar nas belíssimas intervenções de sopro, especialmente em “The Duchess” e “September the Ninth”, cortesia de Evan Parker (nas duas) e Annie Whitehead (apenas na segunda), e da belíssima parte final da melodia principal de “Maryan”, que sobe mais quatro notas ali onde a tensão já parecia impossível de manter. Enfim, Shleep é um desses discos cuja audição completa é perfeitamente fluida e coerente, e que ainda apresenta inúmeros destaques pontuais em faixas e momentos de faixas. Alguns ainda podem preferir Rock Bottom como melhor disco de Robert Wyatt (há, aliás, uma referência ao disco de 1974, com um trecho de “Little Red Riding Hood Hit the Road” interpretado pelo grupo The More Extended Versions), mas  Shleep tem todas suas onze faixas cheias de destaques para postular a honra de ser chamado a obra-prima de Wyatt. E eu sei que eu, ao menos, chamo. (Ruy Gardnier)

* # *

Esta indicação me pegou de surpresa, por fugir da rotina mais ou menos combinada de contemplar basicamente lançamentos e discos da década. Mas, sobretudo, por tratar-se de duas obssessões que rondaram minhas audições nos últimos cinco anos: Shleep e seu autor, Robert Wyatt. Desprevenido, tive que retornar a este álbum que além de proporcionar deleite estético, possui para mim um forte significado pessoal . Mas isso não importa. Convém simplemente enaltecer as qualidades de ambos, álbum e artista, sem se deixar levar somente pela sensação de melancolia e profunda beleza que ele transmite.

Wyatt é um artista raro, que conseguiu criar um universo instrumental e um senso melódico que poderíamos chamar, sem exagero, de “original”. Suas canções são facilmente identificáveis, seja pelo timbre inconfundível de sua voz, seja pela habilidade inacreditável em sintetizar jazz, folk, música latina, samba, pop e avant-garde em muitas de suas vertentes. E quando citamos a palavra jazz, não nos referimos àquela apropriação ordinária que os astros da música pop estilo Sting fazem do gênero, vampirizando os timbres, a levada do prato de condução e o trumpete “à meia luz”, que vem a ser as standardizações nefastas do cool jazz criado por Bill Evans e Miles Davis. Wyatt segue por outro caminho, criando sua música à luz de questões e procedimentos do jazz, agindo “de dentro”, não como um artista meramente influenciado, mas como legítimo e dedicado artífice. Muitas de suas melodias, por mais que tenham um forte apelo pop, estão calcadas em uma estrutura nitidamente jazzística, constituindo-se, como um solo de Rollins ou Coltrane, por desenhos erráticos e imprevisíveis, aspecto favorecido pelo alcance inacreditável de sua voz. Trata-se, portanto, não de um jazzista, mas de um artista que cria sua música a partir de um vocabulário ativamente ligado ao jazz. Assim ele também procede com o que chamamos de avant-garde, o que de certa forma ecoa no modo como lida com o jazz. Mas quando me refiro ao aspecto avant-garde de Robert Wyatt penso mais no espírito criativo da obra do que em certos artistas e tendências, embora esta característica seja evidente em todos os álbuns e não somente nesse. A qualidade das texturas, dos timbres, do modo como ele combina diversíssimos instrumentos, como cria os naipes de metais, como utiliza a percussão de forma tão peculiar, como estas são pesadas e “melódicas” ao mesmo tempo… E para completar este quadro impressionante por si só, destaquemos o homem: compositor, instrumentista e cantor, Robert Wyatt executa quase todos os instrumentos, arranja, inventa arranjos vocais e o escambau, produzindo o som que descrevi acima. Sua voz é um capítulo a parte que, para além da beleza indescritível, possui um alcance fora do comum: solfejando a escala, Wyatt alcança cinco ou seis oitavas, o que estimulou Björk a criar o “Wyattron”, utilizado na faixa “Oceania” no recém-camarilhado Medúllla.

Imaginem agora todo este talento e arrojo em sua forma mais poderosa. Shleep demonstra toda a grandeza de artista que Wyatt destila desde que apareceu, há quase cinquenta anos. Destaco a faixa que abre o disco, “Heaps of Sheeps”, composta por Wyatt e sua esposa, Alfreda Benge, com seus acordes compostos por vozes, nítido sotaque de seu produtor, Brian Eno. Reparem também na palhetada suingada do violão e na elegância funcional do baixo. A faixa seguinte, “The Duchess”, traz a sobreposição dos saxofones improvisados de Evan Parker pontuando a melodia, culminando em um fascinante intermezzo no qual Parker e a percussão multifacetada de Wyatt dialogam com estranha beleza. “Was a friend”, a quarta faixa, talvez a melhor do disco, traz um sampler improvável (v. texto do Ruy) e uma melodia tensa e penetrante, daquelas que fazem o ouvinte recostar na cadeira e, como que encantado, passivamente aguardar o fim – nesta faixa, inclusive, todos os instrumentos são tocados por Wyatt, comprovando sua extraordinária habilidade em criar momentos extremamente climáticos. Belíssima também “Alien”, com sua pegada latina que não se esgota na mera referência. Explico: ouçam e reparem que ele não cria exatamente uma salsa, mas recorta as células rítmicas da salsa para criar uma terceira coisa, que não é nem a salsa, nem a releitura da salsa, mas um ritmo que serve perfeitamente às modulações harmônicas da canção. E, para fechar, a dupla dylaniana “A Sunday in Madrid” e “Blues in Bob Minor”, onde Wyatt explora um modo de composição fortemente marcado pelo schizo-folk de Bob Dylan, tendo por companhia a guitarra de Paul Weller e, novamente, Parker e Eno. Cabe ressaltar também o conteúdo político das letras, faceta menos brilhante do autor, mas ainda assim interessante por não resvalar no ativismo simplório e vazio de um… Sting.

Shleep é, sem dúvida, aquilo que chamamos obra-prima. O melhor disco de Wyatt, junto a Rock Bottom, de 1974. Ao escutá-lo do início ao fim, tenho sempre a certeza de que é também uma espécie de summa do autor, por sintetizar suas características mais fortes com inspiração ímpar. De qualquer forma, fica a certeza de que seu talento está para além da habilidade de misturar “simple and effective keyboard melody lines with poignant lyrics, often filled with personal and political references”, como atesta com excesso de modéstia o que parece ser seu site pessoal. (Bernardo Oliveira)

Playlist:

1. Robert Wyatt “Heaps of Sheeps” (Shleep, Hannibal, 1997, Reino Unido)
2. Nei Lopes “Chutando o Balde” (Chutando o Balde, Fina Flor, 2009, Brasil)
3. Otto “Agora Sim” (Certa Manhã Acordei de Sonhos Intranquilos, Nublu, 2009, EUA [Brasil])
4. Lucas Santtana “O Violão de Mario Bros” (Sem Nostalgia, YB Music/Diginóis, 2009, Brasil)
5. Coco de Mazuca “Traje Meu” (inédita, 2009, Brasil)
6. Romulo Fróes “Pierrô Lunático” (No Chão sem o Chão, yb, 2009, Brasil)
7. Os Paralamas do Sucesso “Quanto ao Tempo” (Brasil Afora, EMI, 2009, Brasil)
8. D’Angelo “Untitled (How Does It Feel)” (Voodoo, Virgin, 2000, EUA)
9. Raekwon “10 Bricks” (Feat. Cappadonna & Ghostface) (Only Built 4 Cuban Linx… Pt. II, Ice H2O/EMI, 2009, EUA)
10. Maxwell “Pretty Wings (BLACKsummers’night, Columbia, 2009, EUA)
11. Deathprod “Orgone Donor” (Morals and Dogma, Rune Grammofon, 2004, Noruega)
12. Mika Vainio “Roma A.D. 2727″ (Aíneen Musta Puhelin/Black Telephone of Matter, Touch, 2009, Reino Unido [Finlândia])
13. Passion Pit “Little Secrets” (Manners, Frenchkiss, 2009, EUA)

Björk Gudmundsdóttir (1965) é uma cantora islandesa. Esteve envolvida com música desde criança, lançando seu primeiro disco em 1977, com doze anos de idade. Participou das bandas Tappi Tíkarrass e KUKL, mas foi com os Sugarcubes que atingiu fama internacional, a partir de 1988. Com a dissolução do grupo em 1992, seguiu carreira solo e transformou-se numa das artistas mais renomadas da música pop internacional, com 13 prêmios Grammy e até uma Palma de Ouro de melhor atriz no Festival de Cannes de 2000 pelo filme Dançando no Escuro, de Lars von Trier. Début, o primeiro solo pós-Sugarcubes, é de 1993. Seguiram-se Post (1995), Homogenic (1997), Vespertine (2001), Medúlla (2007) e Volta (2007), além das trilhas sonoras Selmasongs (2000), do filme Dançando no Escuro, e Drawing Restraint 9 (2005), filme dirigido pelo marido da cantora, o artista visual Matthew Barney. Em Medúlla, Björk quis explorar a expressividade e as potencialidades da voz humana, gravando quase todos os sons do disco com e a partir dela. Entre os convidados estão Mike Patton, Tagaq, Rahzel, Robert Wyatt, Dokaka e diversos coros.

* # *

Medúlla é o típico disco cuja avaliação crítica só tende a melhorar com o tempo. Não “melhorar” no sentido de passar a achar o disco melhor, mas de encontrar uma certa distância para avaliá-lo a partir do que ele pede, e não das “novidades” propostas e propaladas pela mídia, a saber, o uso quase que por completo de vozes na feitura do álbum, as participações especiais e a nefasta circunscrição do disco no território do “a capella”, como se fosse essencialmente esse traço o que tornaria (ou não) artisticamente legítimo o álbum. Porque é um pouco a maldição de Medúlla: o fato de uma cantora com a envergadura e a repercussão pública de Björk – naquele momento com um perfil vanguardístico já devidamente constituído, mas pairando no universo da eletrônica, via Mark Bell, via Matmos – fazer um disco “só de voz” passou a dominar toda a discussão em torno do disco.

E, claro, as intervenções são impressionantes. Uma parte do encantamento causado por Medúlla diz respeito às texturas, aos timbres e às emulações criadas por exímios executantes – em especial no caso de Mike Patton, do criador de beatbox Rahzel e da throat singer Tanya Tagaq. Mas apesar do lado “workshop” do disco ser exuberante, há nele muito mais que um workshop. É o disco de uma cantora conhecida por um timbre singular de voz – e que além do timbre mostra alcance vocal e domínio impecável – que faz seu tributo aos poderes da voz de criar emoção e sons inusitados. E nessa cruzada (ou nessa viagem ao fundo de si e de sua técnica) ela não busca a expertize dos virtuosos, e sim o sentimento: prova disso é a inclusão da voz de Robert Wyatt, dono de um registro não muito grande, mas com uma voz intensamente emotiva e vulnerável

Então, a questão do disco não é em que medida o disco soa ou não soa como um disco a cappella – ele vai soar a cappella demais para aqueles que não suportam ouvir corinho harmonizando e gente fazendo vocalize, e vai soar infiel àqueles que consideram ser este uma premissa do disco (quando é apenas um ponto de partida). Mas o essencial, como em todo bom disco, é o que se faz com aquilo que se decidiu utilizar. E o resultado é do mais alto quilate, com momentos de alta intensidade: a ver, por exemplo, o momento de “Where Is the Line” em que um efeito eletrônico incide sobre a voz e reconfigura sua relação com o beatbox e o “acompanhamento”, ou a linda e algo fennesziana cama de sintetizador que serve de fundo para a delicada “Desired Constellation”.

Se Vespertine abria o terreno para uma Björk mais singela e encantatória, em oposição a furações como “Army of Me”, “Hunter” ou “Bachelorette”, Medúlla dá uma nova guinada para a versatilidade, alternando instantes calmos com momentos mais agitados. Mas se Post e Homogenic se aproveitavam da diversidade das faixas para dar uma dinâmica soberba à audição, e Medúlla se aproveitava da maior homogeneidade entre o feeling das faixas a fim de criar a sensação de intimidade com inegável força, Medúlla parece relativamente mais travado nesse sentido, não achando totalmente seu caminho na progressão das faixas. Os momentos confessionais arriscam a redundância numa faixa menos bem sucedida como “Ancestors”, e a faixa mais pop, com direito a refrão pegajoso à la Madonna, simplesmente não chega lá (“Who Is It”). Não que chegue a comprometer; Medúlla é um disco cheio de belezas e pulsando de vitalidade. “Submarine”, “Triumph of a Heart”, além de algumas já citadas, garantem a imprescindibilidade de mais um disco de Björk. E se não é um disco essencial, isso pouco tem a ver com o conceito trabalhado, e sim com a articulação dele ao longo da composição e da duração. (Ruy Gardnier)

* # *

A partir de Homogenic, a imprensa passou a inferir conceitos fechados dos trabalhos de Björk, ganchos que no fim das contas mais indicavam experiências localizadas do que resumiam a estrutura do álbum. No caso de Homogenic, ressaltaram-se os aspectos tecnológicos dos timbres e dos clipes, reforçados pela imagem nipo-robótica da capa. Em Medúllla, disseram estes mesmos críticos – sob os auspícios da própria cantora – que tratava-se de um estudo acerca da voz humana, o que por si só já seria fascinante! Imaginem: a dona da voz mais singular da música da virada do século, experimentadora de primeira cepa, rende homenagem à voz humana sob uma dupla perspectiva, uma gutural e primitivista, outra reprocessada por equipamentos eletro-eletrônicos. Neste sentido, ela já havia realizado um excelente trabalho em Vespertine, mas é de se supor que a pujança do “órgão” de vozes de “The Pleasure is All Mine”, mas também a celebridade do casting, que incluía desde Robert Wyatt a Mike Patton, tenham contribuído para reforçar o foco na exuberância do trabalho com vozes em Medúlla. Uma pá de audições para além da pressa irracional dos noticiários revelam que o conceito deste álbum extrapola tais limites. Em direção a que caminho exatamente?

Se me pedissem para eleger um marco na carreira de Björk, eu citaria Medúlla por uma razão não tão simples, mas facilmente detectável. É a virada de uma carreira pop-avant-garde já brilhante, mas ainda atrelada a certas fórmulas de mercado (“Army of me” como exemplo…), para uma musicalidade essencialmente dramática, tingida por nuances e conceitos retirados de fontes mais complexas e, portanto, mais difíceis. Sim, a partir de Medúlla o trabalho de Björk se tornou mais difícil, e aqueles que já não toleravam seus modos bizarros, passaram do ódio ao desprezo, devido sobretudo a ausência de um single forte o suficiente para invadir suas casas a fórceps. Ou “Where is the Line” (com Mike Patton e Rahzel) e “Oceania” (com Nico Muhly e Robert Wyatt) são lá faixas do porte das que invadiram a MTV nos tempos em que gostar da Björk era meio de inserção social? Medúlla não tem single com cara de single. É música desobrigada de seguir os limites da audibilidade média, é o que atesta a pluralidade de ritmos e timbres, a quantidade absurda de climas que perpassam todo o álbum.

Até hoje, anos depois, me sinto tocado por esta introdução acachapante, lírica e fantasmagórica, que é “The Pleasure is All Mine”; pelos golpes surdos do beat box de Rahzel, pelo coro mal-assombrado e pela beleza da melodia irregular em “Where is the line”; pela riqueza apolínea de “Submarine”, com a preponderânca do timbre inconfundível de Wyatt; pela melancolia desesperada de “Desired Constellations”, pelas síncopes rítmicas de “Who is It?”, pela limpidez da voz de Björk, pela beleza pura e selvagem de “Ancestors” e pelo excesso de cuidado e apuro com que todas essas faixas foram elaboradas. Apuro, que junto a imprevisibilidade dos timbres, faz de Medúlla um álbum impressionante, um legítimo OVNI, como nos referimos recentemente a outras duas magníficas aberrações da década, Asa-Chang e The Books. (Bernardo Oliveira)

The Beatles have been my soundtrack for the daylight hours, however as darkness engulfs us and midnight passes the tortured soul has to to be soothed and to this end there is no better than Chet Baker

Chet Baker was somewhat unique in the world of jazz as he was renowned both as a vocalist and as a trumpet player.

Here he is in his vocalist role with a sublime version of “You’re Driving Me Crazy” from the 1950’s album “It Could Happen  To You”

“You’re Driving Me Crazy” – Chet Baker

Here he is with just his trumpet for solace with “You’d Be Nice To Come Home To’ from his 1959 album “Chet”

“You’d Be Nice To Come Home To” – Chet Baker

As I am sure most of you are aware Baker was cursed with the side effect of many a talented genius and paid the ultimate penalty via an early death on May 13th 1988.

Although he recorded an album of Christmas songs, “Silent Nights” in 1987 his last real contribution to the world of popular music was recorded at the behest of Elvis Costello who asked him to contribute the soulful trumpet solo on Costello’s own version of “Shipbuilding” recorded in 1986.

“Shipbuilding ” – Elvis Costello

The song with lyrics by Costello and a melody by producer Clive Langer was of course originally recorded by Robert Wyatt in 1983, Langer having written the melody to reflect Wyatt’s own interpretation of Billie Holiday’s “Strange Fruit”

Before his death Baker repaid the Costello favour by recording Elvis’s “Almost Blue”

Goodnight……………and sleep tight.

Hoy lunes 7 de septiembre es el Labor Day, el día del trabajo en los EEUU. Es una de las pocas celebraciones a las que quien esto escribe le encuentra todavía algún sentido. Por esa razón, he pensado en dedicar una pequeña serie de entradas esta semana a la cuestión del trabajo hoy en día, y de esa manera poner aquí un par de cosas con las que he dado últimamente.

Así que la celebración del día del trabajo llega primero a la canción del lunes. Y llega de la mano de uno de los referentes principales de este blog, Robert Wyatt, y este clasicazo de 1982 escrito especialmente para él por Elvis Costello.

Shipbuilding

Is it worth it?
A new winter coat and shoes for the wife
And a bicycle on the boy’s birthday.

It’s just a rumour that was spread around town
By the women and children, soon we’ll be shipbuilding

Well I ask you
The boy said ‘Dad, they’re going to take me to task
But I’ll be home by Christmas.

It’s just a rumour that was spread around town
Somebody said that someone got filled in
For saying that people get killed in
The results of their shipbuilding.

With all the will in the world
Diving for dear life
When we could be diving for pearls.

It’s just a rumour that was spread around town
A telegram for a picture postcard
Within weeks they’ll be reopening the shipyard
And notifying the next of kin
Once again.

It’s all we’re skilled in
We will be shipbuilding.

With all the will in the world
Diving for dear life
When we could be diving for pearls.

Aparte de presentar un breve retrato de la vida cotidiana en los barrios obreros británicos, (algo en lo que el pop y el rock no andan muy sobrados, aunque aquí pueden encontrarse algunas excepciones) la canción describe un contexto histórico muy preciso. Habla de la reapertura de un astillero para construir barcos militares que serán enviados a las Malvinas. La alegría por la vuelta al trabajo se combina con la certeza del uso que se les dará a los barcos, y del hecho de que muchos jóvenes de los mismos barrios donde las naves son construidas serán enviados a esa misma guerra.

Por si alguien tiene curiosidad, aquí están las versiones de Costello, Suede o Tasmin Archer.

Pasad un buen Labor Day (los que leéis esto desde EEUU). Para los lectores de otros lugares: ánimo con el lunes.

Artiste d’avant-garde, génial, et touche à tout. Il a fait ses études aux Beaux Arts de Winchester où il participe à plusieurs collectifs musicaux.  Après un passage derrière les synthés au sein de Roxy Music,  il entame une carrière solo. Comme producteur, on lui doit la trilogie berlinoise de Bowie (Low, Heroes, Lodger), trois grands albums de Talking Heads et plusieurs albums de U2.
Je vous propose d’écouter ou de réécouter ses quelques disques, pour que vous puissiez voir l’étendue créatrice  de ce musicien.

“Here Comes the Warm Jets” : 1973. Premier album après l’aventure Roxy Music. Tout en faisant un album encore implanté dans le glamrock, il s’affirme assez franchement avec un titre comme “Driving me Backwards”. Pour ce disque, il est accompagné de membres de King Crimson, de Hawkwind et de Roxy Music sans Bryan Ferry bien sûr.

“Another Green World” : 1975. Son premier pas vers une musique plus abstraite, grosse majorité d’instrumentaux. Il est entouré de Robert Fripp, John Cale, mais aussi Phil Collins. Un disque qui a ouvert des portes pour les musiques futures.

“Ambient 1 – Music for Airports” : 1978. Après avoir créé son propre label “Obscure” il se met à composer des musiques atmosphériques, décoratives. Il est à l’origine du genre “Ambient music” avec ce cd qui a été réalisé en Allemagne avec l’aide de Robert Wyatt au piano. Malgré une qualité déplorable, je vous propose l’ interview de Eno à propos des ces musiques.

“My Life in the Bush of Ghosts” : 1980.  Il s’associe avec David Byrne (Talking Heads) pour ce disque tellement riche et indémodable sur lequel ils mélangent chansons pop avec de la musique ethnique (voix de Om Kalsoum par exemple) et surtout ils utilisent des échantillons de disques glanés çà et là. Technique quasi inutilisée avant ça.

“Nerve Net” : 1992. Depuis l’Angleterre, l’ambient dance se met à fleurir un peu partout en Europe à partir de la technique du sampling que Eno a en partie initiée en 1980. Il sort ce disque electro sur lequel il y a aussi de “vrais” musiciens  dont Robert Fripp. Un disque tout à la fois ambient, dance et cinématique.

Again, a case of accidental discovery via iTunes.

I’m increasingly of the opinion this is a fine and noble way to discover music, if you can manage it. I’ve spent several fruitless afternoons in Rocking Horse Records, trying to think of an album to buy – discounted Death, cos I’d been promised that: discounted Monks, cos Light In The Attic still send me stuff: discounted Lily Allen, cos that’d be plain stupid and I’ll be able to pick it up for $5 or less in a year’s time – and, blam! Find a couple in the space of days. (Note to self: really must investigate Lady GaGa.)

This one is fab: laidback, considered, indiscreet, involved, full of playful silences and short songs, Gallic pronunciation and the odd bazouki-style guitar, segments and snippets and mandolins and sporadic dubstep and blares of car horns. It’s witty, dryly so. (I’m guessing from the juxtaposition of instruments to instruments to vocals, because I can’t understand sung French, and don’t listen to sung English.) Speaking as a Deadnotes fan, I’m loving the fact no song on the album I apparently own (I’m OK) is over 2.17 mins long. I’m reminded of that great stuff on that peculiar Bay Area, CA label that came out several years back – Why?, Odd Nostrum, Themselves. Now, what was its name? Ah, Anticon. You can call this hip-hop if you want, but that’s like calling Ništa Nije Ništa rock. Totally, if not entirely, missing the point.

For example. “Biko” is pure Robert Wyatt. Oh wait. It is Robert Wyatt – my iTunes skipped a track or two. But that only goes to further serve my point: it could so easily have been Gablé. And “I’m OK”… well, I had to check it was Gablé before proceeding. It’s spooky and surreal and a little bit Ivor Cutler, and clatters like Lone Pigeon or Clive Pig. This so easily could be an early movie by – um – I need to stop throwing these meaningless comparisons in.

Kid Koala, that’s the one I’m sticking with today. What I mean is… how wonderful is this video, for starters? You could call this pastiche, but only if you were prepared to label Syd Barrett (or Kid Koala, or Ivor Cutler) the same way.

I’m still as in the dark about this jaw-dropping playful cross-fertilisation as when I started. And I really do prefer it that way.

We’re off work for a week, in a fortnight or so, and the first thing planned is a cloud spotting event on Sunday 16th August at the National Trust’s Tattershall Castle with Ian Loxley of the Cloud Appreciation Society. Ian Loxley is known for his many fine cloud based photographs including the legendary ‘Cumulopiggussextoleggus’.

Lincolnshire it seems is becoming the county to watch clouds in – perhaps no great surprise given the wide never ending skies – with the opening of the world’s first ‘Cloud Bar’ on the beach at Anderby Creek. Officially sanctioned by the Cloud Appreciation Society the Bar was opened in April of this year on a day wholly free of clouds.

Whilst we’re out that way I may suggest a detour to Louth – after all a town that boasts both John Shuttleworth and Robert Wyatt as residents must be worth investigating. And the piece below from the Observer at the weekend surely seals it – “It’s a steady place, where old men wear straw panamas without affectation, and you feel a day without at least two scones with strawberry jam is a day wasted”.

When people pressure me into stating what my ‘favorite album of all time is’, I always tell them it is this (well, not always; it alternates between this and White Light/White Heat, and I might add Metal Machine Music to the list). I don’t like to answer that question because I find it extremely arbitrary, but this album never fails to amaze me, never mind how many times I listen to it. It is one of the most original records ever made.

For those who don’t know (context is really important here, so please read if you’re going to listen to this!), Robert Wyatt started off as the singer and drummer for the Soft Machine, i.e. the only important British psychedelic band of the 1960s; if you haven’t heard their first two albums, get them immediately. He left the band after their fourth album because they were moving further and further toward clinical jazz rock, which isn’t what Wyatt was interested in making; to his credit, their sound became significantly less interesting and distinctive after he left, which essentially proves to me that his direction would’ve benefited the band more than Mike Ratledge’s.

Anyway.

After leaving the Soft Machine, he formed a new band called Matching Mole with a few members of Caravan and some lesser-known Canterbury scene musicians to pursue the direction Soft Machine should have gone for. Needless to say, all of their albums (I think they recorded two) are far more interesting than the contemporaneous Soft Machine records, and they’re essential if you like Wyatt. The only problem is that Wyatt fell out of a third-floor during a drunken party in 1973, and permanently lost the ability to use his legs. Naturally, that led to the dissolution of Matching Mole; I think the other members formed a coalition with a few other Canterbury musicians and went on to record as Hatfield and the North. They’re pretty good.

As a drummer, the implications of such an injury are fairly obvious. While it is obvious a shame that one of the most interesting drummers of the era lost the ability to play again, it forced Wyatt to find a new musical direction instead of the weird psychedelic jazz he’d been working on with Matching Mole and Soft Machine, and this album is the result of that. You’d expect it to be extremely melancholy because it is essentially the sounds of a man coming to terms with paralysis, but I think the album is very hopeful, and it’s filled with as much humor as his earlier works.

The main distinction between this and Matching Mole is that the lyrics are far more personal here, whereas he was motivated by his political convictions with Matching Mole (their second album was even named after Mao Zedong’s Little Red Book). I’m not even going to attempt to describe the sound, but I will say that if you don’t think Little Red Riding Hood Hit the Road is completely fucking awesome, you’re never going to agree with me about any music.

It’s quirky, original, personal, jazzy, bizarre and dreamy. There are so many more things to say about this album, but I won’t bore you by going on about it any more. I’ve already written too much.

(Also, Fred Frith appears on the final track playing viola, which naturally makes the whole album even cooler than it would otherwise be. The same track has Mike Oldfield on guitar, and his tone is absolutely fucking amazing.)

[Link borrowed from here.]

- Ruggero

El alcoholismo y otros fantasmas acechaban a Robert Wyatt durante la concepción de su último disco, el soberbio Comicopera. El batería de los legendarios Soft Machine, piedra angular del sonido Canterbury -mezcla de pop, psicodelia, jazz y otras hierbas- habla en una entrevista  del disco, del accidente que en 1973 le dejó paralítico y de su incesante búsqueda de la belleza.

PREGUNTA. No veo mucho de cómico, ni de operístico en su último disco.

RESPUESTA. Pues a mí me da risa. Y algunos pueden pensar que hoy meter una canción sobre el Che [Hasta siempre comandante] podría ser un chiste.

P. ¿Niega la cualidad melancólica que se atribuye a su obra?

R. Lo que digo es que nunca hago nada conscientemente triste. Ni siquiera Rock Bottom, que se asume nacido del trauma de quedarme parapléjico [fue en parte concebido en su convalecencia]. Lo siento, no es cierto. Algo debe de haber, sin duda, cuando tanta gente lo ve así. Pero en aquellos días no me sentía especialmente triste.

P. ¿Y cómo se sentía?

R. Salir del hospital fue como abandonar la prisión. El estímulo físico del aire fresco y el tráfico en las calles después de meses de reclusión fue una experiencia casi psicodélica. ¡Vida! ¡Árboles! ¡Gente! ¡Música! Fue un día increíble. Por supuesto que había ansiedad, pero no sentí rabia. Todo era por mi culpa. Por borracho e idiota. Sólo teníamos 15 libras en este mundo, nos fuimos a un pub a celebrarlo. Pero hablábamos del disco, ¿no?

P. Claro. Lo ha dividido en tres actos, como ya es costumbre en usted.

R. Me gustan los episodios musicales de 20 minutos. Porque soy un tonto anacrónico. Adoro la vieja distribución de los elepés. No ordeno las canciones en términos musicales, sino de la secuencia de las letras. La primera parte va sobre el amor y la pérdida. La segunda, sobre sentirse incómodo como inglés. Y la tercera, sobre reconciliarse con las ideas políticas que siempre me conmovieron. Veo mis canciones como un jardín salvaje. Soy un jardinero que está enamorado de la belleza orgánica de lo que se trae entre manos. Por eso me siento fascinado a mis sesenta años con alguien como Nat King Cole. De joven no lo apreciaba porque no era lo suficiente crudo para mí. Ahora, en cambio, tras cuarenta años de tocar instrumentos y cantar, he acabado valorando lo difícil que es dar una nota correctamente. Sólo una bella nota. Escasean.

P. ¿De qué va Just As You Are, el dueto con Mônica Vasconcelos, es una de las flores más conmovedoras de su último jardín?

R. No lo sé, se lo tendrás que preguntar a Alfie. Ella la escribió. Alfie…

“Vamos Robert, sabes perfectamente la respuesta”, responde ella misteriosa. La aclaración llegará más tarde, cuando, en un aparte, diga: “¿Quiere conocer el verdadero significado de la canción? Hace unos meses Robert estaba empezando a tener un serio problema con el alcohol. Y comenzó a mentirme. Este tema es un mensaje de mí para él. Estás bebiendo demasiado, amigo. Ya basta. Decir: mi amor, tras todos estos años, sigue siendo condicional”. Después, Wyatt corroborará la confidencia. Lleva un par de meses asistiendo a reuniones de Alcohólicos Anónimos y maneja la clase de dialéctica del rehabilitado. Cuando, a la hora de la cena, la entrevista continúe en un restaurante, Wyatt rechazará el ofrecimiento (“sólo un limoncello, Robert”) de una camarera algo ajada. “El trago que marca la diferencia no es el último”, dirá solemne. “El que lo cambia todo es el primero”.

P. El alcohol es una constante en sus letras desde aquel “eres maravillosa cuando estás borracha” que abría Rock Bottom.

R. Ya entonces estaba camino de convertirse en un problema. Hay quien dice que si empiezas a saltar por las ventanas es un mensaje de que algo marcha mal. Como soy un poco retrasado, me cuesta llegar a las conclusiones. Hace 34 años de la ventana.

P. ¿Qué sucedió esa noche?

R. No lo voy a contar [largo silencio] aunque lo recuerdo perfectamente. Puedo revelar lo que pasó, pero no por qué.

P. Bien… ¿Qué pasó?

R. Me caí de una puta ventana porque estaba demasiado borracho [golpea su plato contra la mesa]. ¿Vale? Me pusieron sedantes durante seis meses. Luego estuve consciente en el hospital hasta cumplir un año.

P. Disculpe si le he irritado. ¿Escribe Alfie las letras porque usted prefiere no hacerlo?

R. Me es difícil. Tengo mucha más música que palabras. Escribí letras durante años, pero solían ser sonidos guturales .

P. O letras como aquella en la que se limitaba a describir lo que sucedía musicalmente. Éste es el primer verso, éste es el puente, sigue el estribillo…

R. En un momento pensé, oh, no sé lo que pensé… ¿Sabe qué? Siento haberme enfadado de ese modo antes. Si no puedo decir algo totalmente fresco sobre algo me crispo. Porque las entrevistas me parecen interesantes. No hay dos iguales. Y aquel episodio no es que sea doloroso o dramático, es sólo que no hay nada nuevo que decir. Aunque suene chocante, yo no contemplo aquel accidente como algo malo. Fue un nuevo comienzo. Puesto que mi vida es mejor después que aquello, mucho mejor, de hecho, no lo veo como una tragedia. Es sólo un cambio. Y en mi caso, a pesar de las dificultades obvias, soy una persona más feliz. La gente que no se ha roto nunca la espalda piensa: qué terrible vivir así. Pero es algo que sucede. ¡Bang! y a otra cosa. Parecido a un animal salvaje cuando está en la jungla. Llega un helicóptero, le atrapa con una red, y al poco está en una reserva en Tanzania. Y piensa: cojones, dónde están mis amigos, mis árboles… y al final se da cuenta de que está en un lugar más seguro. Si fuese religioso, diría que fue un don. Esto me recuerda la mejor mala crítica sobre mi trabajo que nunca leí. “Como mucho nos temíamos, Wyatt se cayó aquel día sobre su cabeza” risas].

P. ¿Cómo era antes de aquello?

R. Un batería borracho que aprendía trucos tan útiles como el método más rápido posible para acabar pedo: tequila y whisky a intervalos. Me lo enseñó Keith Moon [batería de The Who]. No sé… Debía de ser un cabrón porque me echaron de Soft Machine.

P. Fue por razones personales.

R. No lo sé, no dijeron nada. Somos ingleses. No expresamos sentimientos. Seguramente toda la conversación se redujo a: “Que te follen, tío”.

P. Aquella primera formación hacia 1967, con Mike Ratledge (teclados) y Kevin Ayers (bajo), siempre pareció más una reunión de individualidades…

R. Nunca fuimos un grupo normal. Pero en cierto sentido fue culpa mía. Yo conseguí que esos músicos que nunca habrían tocado juntos se pusiesen a ello. Mike dejó la universidad por mi insistencia. Incluso cuando Kevin abandonó el grupo y se fue con sus maravillosas canciones, metí a Hugh [Hopper, bajista]. No habría funcionado sin mis indicaciones. No era un líder. La batería no lidera, como tampoco el motor conduce el coche.

P. ¿Ha mantenido la amistad con ellos?

R. No siempre. Hace poco vi a Kevin Ayers. Estuvo muy bien. Aún siento nostalgia de aquellos días en Deià [Mallorca]. Los dos solos. Éramos jóvenes, entusiastas, estábamos borrachos y era maravilloso.

[www.elpais.com]

Robert Wyatt – Just As You Are (Comicopera, 2007)

Vineshoot

Paddy McAloon se autoproclamaba en su día como uno de los mejores compositores del mundo. Y lo cierto es que era un arrogante sin abuela. Pero también es cierto que una vez pasan las modas, con la perspectiva del tiempo, las canciones se despojan de casi todo su envoltorio para permanecer su esencia. Las producciones nos pueden parecer rancias. Los abusos de tecnología en música chirrían al cabo de una década. Por las mezclas de un tema puedes localizar con bastante precisión la época a la que pertenecen… Pero las composiciones permanecen. Son como el esqueleto que puedes vestir de múltiples maneras ¿Cuantas versiones se han hecho de Yesterday? ¿Cómo puede ser que Chris Cornell pudiese ser un compositor de estándares de jazz?

Conforme me hago mayor me intereso más por la composición. No se si será un síntoma habitual de la edad o -como suele sucederme- se me pasará con el tiempo (lo más probable). La cuestión es que cuando escucho a Donald Fagen (o Steely Dan. El paradigma del ChordMan. Me cuesta cansarme con el paso del tiempo), a Fito Páez, Ben Folds, Sean Lennon, Elvis Costello (una de mis composiciones favoritas de todos los tiempos), Djavan, RadioHead, Herbie Hancock, Todd Rundgen, Milton Nascimento, Robert Wyatt, Stevie Wonder (este hombre lo tenía todo), Miles Davis, Jobim (que delicia. Cada acorde es una sorpesa del atrevimiento), (…) Me rindo ante las estructuras que han sido capaces de construir, probablemente ellos solos en un cuarto y con tan solo un instrumento. Y eso que no presto apenas atención a las letras.

Aún así no deja de fascinarme de cuando en cuando alguna producción, aunque no como antes, en especial las de los pioneros como Curtis Mayfield o Brian Wilson; técnicas que se empezaron a desarrollar en los años 50-60 con la distribución a nivel popular de la música, bien a través de la radio o el disco; justo cuando el artista es consciente de que su canción va a escucharse multitud de veces permitiendo su análisis minucioso. Bach no pensaba en la producción sino en la composición y los arreglos ya que sus temas apenas serían reproducidos varias decenas de veces por una orquesta durante su vida. Pero la música es hoy día un producto y como tal es “producido”.

Todo porque me he encontrado con un disco extra de versiones acústicas -guitarras acústicas, voz y algún detalle más- del Steve McQueen de Prefab Sprout que deja al desnudo las excelentes perlas que componían uno de los que a mi parecer, forma parte de los mejores discos de Pop.

pd: Buscando una portada me he topado con este blog donde se recopilan algunas de las peores portadas de discos habidas: http://www.2spare.com/item_92946.aspx
Sin desperdicio.