Paul Weller - Paul Weller

I don't think that there is a better album that is just summer. Summer in a plastic disc. But not just any summer. The summer depicted on this album is definitely British; warm, gentle and laid back. When I listen to this album I imagine lying on a grass bank next to a slowly meandering river, birds flying above and a blue sky dotted with white fluffy clouds.....

 ....it's a bloody good job I can imagine a summer like this because we seldom get them! The British summer is a myth. It must be. I'm sure that we can all remember from our childhoods summers filled with long, dry and warm days. Days that never seemed to end; playing football, messing around in rivers or the sea, riding around on bikes with T-shirts tied around our waists. I know I can. But as the years progress and I experience another disappointing summer, weather wise that is, I'm beginning to have doubts. It's not that our summers are a total wash-out, it's just that they are not as good as I remember them. Instead of continuous sunshine with the occasional wet spell, we get the reverse; where sunny days are the exception rather than the rule.

I'm becoming more and more convinced that childhood summer memories are implanted at birth. Matrix style. A national consciousness scam to keep us happy. If this is the case then albums such as this are vital to the national mood.

'Paul Weller' is full of laid back grooves, sunshine, lemonade, warm evenings and clear skies. A quick listen to 'Above The Clouds' and I'm immediately drifting through an azure sky buoyed by it's gentle rhythm. 'Clues' is late summer in the city; open top bus rides, meandering conversations and gentle breezes. Anyone who suggests that pop,music inst an art form should listen to this. It's every bit a British summer as a painting by Constable or poem by Wordsworth. I could go on ("please don't") but I won't.

 So as we embark on another summer together perhaps, just perhaps, if we all play this album we might just get what we want - a nice summer. Not too hot and not too cold neither. And if not? Well we can turn to our memories - it never rains there - and take comfort in the thought that "Never mind, next year will be better. A scorcher!".

Post script - It's just started to rain!

Peepshow - Siouxsie & The Banshees

I've got mixed feelings about this album. Polar opposites you might say. On one hand I admire it's inventiveness, originality and the sheer power of Siouxsie's vocals. And on the other? Well it brings me out in a cold sweat and ties my stomach in knots. In other words simple unadulterated fear. So how can a simple 45 minute pop album give rise to such strong emotions?

Around 1988 we were starting to become mechanically mobile and increasingly independent. That is we had access to a car. Not all of us were so lucky to own a vehicle but one or two of us had acquired a vehicle and we wasted no time in wasting time; driving round the streets of Hartlepool with music blasting out of the stereo. Being self respecting indie-kids the music had to fit the right profile - after all if you're going to inflict your choice of music on the greater Hartlepool population then it had to be 'cool'. And when I say 'cool' I mean loud guitars, indistinct vocals and preferably unheard of.

So we would spend hours and hours driving around listening to music and ..... well deciding where to drive to next. To those who witnessed us pass them they must have reached the conclusion that we had nothing better to do. They couldn't have been further from the truth. Of course we had better things to do......we just didn't know what they were.

And what about the fear? Well this album was on a regular playlist in the car of MR. And MR's car had two speeds. Fast and lightspeed. It was if he was on a crusade to find out for himself whether Einstein's theory of relativity held water using only his sheer fearlessness and a MkII Ford Escort. Ironically, I think he actually disproved it as I noticeably aged during each journey! It was really hard to appreciate the intricacies of goth-pop when approaching the universal constant. So we usually arrived at our nominated destination ahead of time - occasionally before we had actually set off - only to select another and we were off again; passengers at bus stops becoming a blur as we rushed past them and trees denuded of their leaves in our thunderous wake.

But if this sounds like I am being ungrateful it shouldn't. Having a mate with a car gave us access to places that, otherwise, would've been off limits; camp sites, cinemas, chinese take-aways, shops and concert halls were all now in reach. It expanded our horizons immeasurably and gave us a chance to listen to each others music - auditioning albums in our own personal petrol powered hi-fi with the constantly changing view from the outside world as our backdrop. I was introduced to a great many bands in this way; The The, The Soup Dragons, The Mission, The Smiths, Fields of the Nephilim and The Cult amongst numerous others.

....and being in MR's car meant that you were never late to your destination!

Monster - R.E.M.

In September 1994 we went on our first 'big' holiday. It was big in name and size only. Not only would we be crossing the Atlantic but we would also be visiting New York. America, and in particular The Big Apple, had a particular hold on me. It was a foreign country but at the same time so familiar. A home from home even though I'd never been there. Through music, TV and the movies it felt as if I'd been a frequent visitor. Now don't get me wrong, I didn't think for a New York minute that it would be just like an episode of Cagney and Lacy. Nor did I expect to bump into Robert de Niro in Tribecca.... well maybe a little. But I was expecting it to be loud, fast, dirty and exciting. I was also expecting it to be cheap. In particular I had convinced myself that I'd be coming home with a suitcase of CDs, in particular the new R.E.M. album. I wasn't out in the UK but I'd casually assumed that the US would be months ahead.

New York lived up to my expectations and then some. It is a fabulous city. Yes it's loud, dirty, exciting and it didn't let up for one minute. And, true to form, it felt like I'd been there before. So familiar - a living, breathing movie set. But at the end of an exhausting five days, I didn't meet Robert de Niro, didn't have a single CD and not even a sniff of a new R.E.M. record. Disappointed.

We arrived back into the UK and Autumn had well and truly arrived; grey, cold and damp. Tired and jet lagged we crawled into bed with the aim of sleeping until June. Except I couldn't. I knew that 'Monster' was released that very day. How could I sleep when there was a R.E.M. record to buy? So after a fruitless hour of trying to forget about it, I begrudgingly pulled my shoes onto my tired feet and set off into town....

'Monster', it's fair to say, is not a classic R.E.M. album. How could it be when the previous releases had set the bar so high? It divided critics and some, rather unjustifiably, saw this as the end if their purple patch and signalled the start of their commercial and critical decline. Absolute nonsense but it is the curse of a hugely successful band that everything they do will forever be compared to past achievements. To do so, though, is to miss the point. By a New York mile. How can an album with such great guitar tracks be a disappointment? 'What's The Frequency Kenneth?' and 'Crush With Eyeliner' are up there with Peter Buck's best riffs and 'Strange Currencies' is every bit an equal to 'Everybody Hurts'.

I've not been back to America since but when I do I'll set my sights a little lower. Maybe I won't bring back a suitcase of CDs but it would be nice to meet Robert de Niro!

Nevermind - Nirvana

It's not often that I've been able to say this - hardly at all actually - but I was once ahead of the fashion curve. By about five years. Of course it was a one off, but how on earth did this momentous achievement come to be? Well pull up a chair, sit down, relax and I tell you the tale....

Around 1985 me and my mates started going on holiday together. This usually involved being cold, wet, tired and hungry in the Lake District. In fact it got to the point where if one of those elements were missing then we would go out of our way to make sure that it was put in place as soon as. Not soaking wet yet? Well falling out of a dingy into a lake should do the trick. Not tired yet? No problem - just ride your bike up this mountain carrying a video camera. Sorted. What? You're not cold enough? Well let's go and sleep rough on an island in the middle of Coniston Water. Without food. If all of these states could be met at the same time then it was Nirvana.

Preparation for these adventure holiday usually occupied our time for several months beforehand, as if we were planning an assault on Everest. But with more compilation tapes. Anyway for one particular trip we had decided that it would be a good laugh if we were to leave the comfort of our tent in Coniston, jump into inflatable dingies and row down the lake to the island at the opposite end from where we were staying. There we would..... well sleep in a plastic bag, eat some crisps and come back. What was not to like about that? Recognising that perhaps a little more warmth was needed from our usual attire, in preparation for the trip we went out and bought check lumberjack style shirts. Unfortunately the choice in the indoor market in Hartlepool was limited....to one style. So dressed in identical shirts we set off for our island retreat. We must've looked like a particularly adventurous rowing team. But, sensing that these were not going to offer the warmth I needed, I was also sporting a double knit arran style jumper. Handmade of course. By my Nana. There was no way that I was going to freeze on a pile of rocks in the middle of Coniston Water. I had this trip sorted. Fate, though, had other ideas. As we were stepping off the craft onto dry land, I saw the gap between the boat and dry land grow and, as my left foot waved goodbye to my right, I started to lose my balance. Eventually I got to the point where straddling the dingy and land was no longer a serious option.........SPLASH!

If you ever wondered exactly how well a double knit wooly jumper and lumberjack shirt would act as a bouyancy aid I have done the research. Not at all. They floated exactly like a brick doesn't. My jumper, rather than act as a buoyancy aid, instead sucked up water from miles around. I've heard that the locals five miles up the lake in Coniston Village still wonder to this day what caused the water level on the lake to drop by so much. I dragged myself onto dry land and realised exactly how a beeched whale must feel. Pinned to the floor by gravity I managed to wrestle myself out of the jumper and lay panting and shivering on the rock. But on the plus side I'd done it! I'd met all of the criteria; cold, wet, tired and hungry.

The checked lumberjack shirt became a permanent fixture; almost as if it had become fused to me. Eventually it wore out but was soon replaced by others. Oh so many, many others. So by the time grunge came along I already had a wardrobe of suitably fashionable attire.

'Nevermind' is one of those album that entered the public consciousness and became a benchmark for future rock albums. Sure the Pixies template was borrowed but since when did that stop a landmark rock album from being made. 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' is a great single but to stop at the first track would be missing the point. And some of the best examples of grunge. Check out 'On A Plain' which is, in my opinion, Nirvana's finest song. Hell, the album even has a closing ballad (of sorts) in 'Something In The Way'.

And what about the knitwear? The jumper could no longer accompany me on trips; its submersion in the cold Cumbrian water of Coniston was brief but fatal. Enlarged beyond recognition, it was least seen being used as a blanket - for the entire England cricket team!

Tusk - Fleetwood Mac

How do you follow one of the best selling and most cherished rock pop albums? Fleetwood Mac had a unique answer; retreat to the studio and sink over $1m into a double album, and make one of the most expensive records in the history of music. Simple really.

If 'Rumours' was the sound of a band breaking up, then 'Tusk' is the fragments of that band; disjointed, erratic but ultimately fascinating. Despite contributions from Stevie Nicks and Christine McVie, this is very much Lindsay Buckingham's record. Although it's business as usual with the tracks from Nicks and McVie, these are interspersed with experimental, almost punk rock, tracks from Buckingham. Flipping between beautiful ballads such as 'Storms' to left of centre tracks such as 'Ledge' can be a bit disorientating. But when you have pristine pop tracks such as 'Sara' you can forgive an awful lot. Everything in fact.

'Tusk' contains some of Fleetwood Mac's best lesser known songs. Take 'Brown Eyes' for example. It's a stunning lament and is even more so for the guest appearance of Peter Green.

After repeated listens, however, the quirky songs that act as a buffer between the more Mac-like tracks start to make sense - melodies appearing out of the fuzz. Fleetwood Mac have gained a reputation for being a bit middle of the road and.... well boring. Some of this criticism is justified but in these odd songs there is evidence that would suggest otherwise.

It's also conveniently forgotten just how much the post-Peter Green Mac have influenced guitar pop music. Don't believe me? Just listen to 'Think About Me' and imagine it bring played by someone like Teenage Fanclub. Spookily close to their style of music don't you think?

So 'Tusk' is a flawed masterpiece and an unlikely but worthy follow up to 'Rumours'. Approach it with an open mind, don't expect to like it all first time round and you might just be surprised.

The Head on the Door - The Cure

I'm not sure if this genre exists, but of there is such a thing as indie-guitar-goth-pop then 'The Head on the Door' is the best example.

It's also The Cure's poppiest, and therefore most accessible, album. Now there are some Cure fans who would disagree. But they'd be wrong. In my opinion. There are some Cure fans who like to wallow in the misery of 'Pornography', relish the dourness of 'Faith'; as familiar and comfortable as a pair of old baseball trainers. Without laces. That's not to say that these albums don't have a place. They do. It's just that that place is not a sunny Saturday in May. More like a miserable, drizzly, grey day in November.

'The Head on the Door' opens with my favourite, and what has to be the best, Cure track. 'In Between Days' is a perfect pop track and a great first track for a goth-pop album. That's not to say that the album doesn't have it's darker moments, it's just that these are offset by brilliant pop gems such as the claustrophobic 'Close To Me'.

All this adds up to a great album and the first proper Cure album that I liked. It's an easy way into the dark, fun, pop world of Robert Smith and Co. Mmmm maybe indie-guitar-goth-pop is right after all!

Reading Too Much Into Things Like Everything - The School

Ahhh so the curse is alive and well in 2012. You would've thought that at the age of forty *cough - ahem* that I would now know better. I had a plan. And it went wrong.

It all started so well - getting tickets to see The Primitives but not before checking the train times. Last train 22:45. No problem. Meeting up with a mate for some drinks and arriving at the venue for the doors opening at 8pm. Planned with precision and executed with precision.

Unfortunately what I didn't plan on, and what my years of gig going still didn't prepare me for, was that the support band weren't due to start until 9pm, and that The Primitives and their pristine pop until 10pm. Blast! It was like The Sundays in 1989 all over again; having to do a runner halfway through the set to catch a train....

So at the allotted time The School took to the stage. I'm still impressed that they managed to fit their seven person line-up onto the tiny stage, let alone find room to play. Any smaller and they'd have been sitting on each others knees. Before they'd even played a note, however, I was becoming incredibly frustrated. Calmly seething - on the inside.

"I hope they don't play for too long", I thought to myself, "the shorter the better".

"For pity's sake - start already", I thought as they tuned up.

Support bands have it tough enough without one element of the crowd seeing them as an obstacle. But it only took a few bars of their first song to make those thoughts disappear. Well mostly! The School delivered their songs such energy and fun that it took the edge off the fact that I was going to have to miss nearly half of The Primitives' set. And bearing in mind that I've been waiting for nearly ten years to see them, there is no higher accolade.

So having got home at the 'reasonable' time of 12:15, slept and then woken at 05:45, I did the only decent thing.... downloaded this album from iTunes. I should've been dog tired but a quick blast of 'I Never Thought I'd See The Day' I was up and ready to face the day. It's good to know that pop is alive and well.

In some ways it's comforting to know that after twenty six years of gig going I still can't get myself to the venues and back. Or maybe I'm too sensible now? I'll come clean. You see there was another train. One final throw of the dice if you like, but getting that would've meant that I wouldn't have got home until 2am. Which, when I needed to get up before 6am for work, was not really a consideration. Not so much rock and roll but rock and then roll over and go to sleep.

Sign O The Times - Prince

I now consider myself to be a well travelled individual; well as long as I don't have to include the southern hemisphere. Or eastern Europe. Or Wales. But if you ignore those areas I am the modern equivalent to Phileas Fogg. That is now - not then.

In 1987 I hadn't been that far - northern France was about the extent of my known world at that stage. So the arrival of an American onto our little town caused quite a stir. Apart for the usual differences; saying 'sidewalk' when he meant footpath, talking in a funny accent and not understanding irony he also lived in a house on the side of a hill. This was considered to be quite an achievement as Hartelpool was not exactly the alps. Hills were definitely in short supply, especially if you discounted the slag heaps left begins from the industrial era. But on a hill his house was. To add to the mystique of this architectural anomaly, it was upside down. The living areas were upstairs and sleeping quarters on the bottom. Sheer lunacy if you ask me.

I can't remember an awful amount else about Brett. Cool house, strange accent and funny name. But as a stranger in a strange land people were keen to get to know him. Us included. His arrival coincided with my 'discovery' of this album and dance-funk music. Well....OK....my dad had bought it so it wasn't that difficult - it was on the CD rack. But, hey, I still had to find it! There were several parties at Brett's topsy-turvy house during that summer and tracks from this album featured heavily. Or at least that is my recollection. But memories are like that. Maybe it was just my internal soundtrack.....

I also can't remember exactly why Brett fell out of favour with our gang. We were among the first to befriend him but, as he settled into life in a northern town, others came to know him and we drifted away; never unfriendly but certainly at a distance. As is often the case with friendships from school days, people drift apart and without knowing it become just faces at the opposite end of the school yard.....

'Sign O the Times' is arguably Prince's best album and yet marked the watershed in his decline in popularity; his increasing erratic and eccentric behaviour taking the headlines rather than his music. 'Symbol' anyone? As befits a double album, 'Sign O the Times' offers up a myriad of styles; funk, soul, R&B, rock, pop and hip-hop and covers an equally diverse range of topics; love, religion, world affairs and of course, as it's a Prince album, sex. But if you are only going to pick out one song from the album, the singles aside, go for 'The Cross'. It's about as rock as Prince gets and it's great - all distorted guitars, rock drums and a relatively restrained vocal.

Being world travelled I've got to know a whole lot more people from a wide range of backgrounds. Some are even from outside Yorkshire. But back then it was positively exotic; getting to know a foreigner, houses on hills, parties and living rooms upstairs. Heady stuff and a sign of the times indeed!

Ballad of the Broken Seas - Isobel Campbell and Mark Lanegan

I don't think there is any other art form were seemingly incompatible musicians are thrown together. It's almost as I some mad scientists are dabbling and experiments with musical atoms: haphazardly combining them in the hope of creating a new element whilst the atoms, oblivious to the fact, do their best to oblige.

It doesn't happen anywhere else. We don't see artists collaborating on a painting; Damien Hurst and David Hockney would make a strange artistic pairing. As far as I know Picasso didn't lend a hand to Matisse saying, "I'm really good with noses,
you do the ears and mouth".

Take The Eurythmics, for example. The sweet and mellow voice of Annie Lennox mixed with electronic synthesised music. On paper it sounds awful. In practice..... well the sales speak for themselves. But these aren't the only ones; Tom Jones and Cerys Matthews, Kylie Minogue and Nick Cave, David Bowie and Bing Crosby, Robbie Williams and Nicole Kidman, Paul McCartney and Michael Jackson. If these weren't do famous you'd think I was making them up.

So if you have ever wondered what it would sound like if you took a whisky soaked rasp of a voice and combined it with that of an angel it probably wouldn't sound a million miles from this album; one moment it's dreamy almost ethereal and then in another it's raw and emotional. I'll let you draw your own conclusions which part Isobel and Mark bring to the musical brew. Again, on paper at least, it sounds like it shouldn't work but it does. Magnificently. These melancholic tales really benefit from the duo's contrasting vocal styles; 'Saturday's Gone' has a light and airy feel whereas 'Ramblin Man' has a distinct 'Man in black' sound. When the thin veil of sadness is lifted, such as on 'Honey Child What Can I Do?', the music soars.

It's comforting that such partnerships are tolerated and indeed encouraged. So if indeed there are mad chemists at work in the musical gods then I wish them well on their next experiment. In fact, here are a couple of suggestions for them; Michael Stipe and Bjork, John Lydon and Adele, Bono and Madonna, Morrissey and Marr.... now I'm just getting silly!

Lessons to Be Learned - Gabriella Cilmi

I'm a sucker for a good pop song. It's my Achilles heel. One minute I'm a cool (don't argue) and collected individual and then, after a few bars of a catchy pop song, I turn into a blithering idiot. Common sense jettisoned. My CD collection is littered with the casualties of my affliction; Martika, Tiffany, All Saints, Metallica.

The only thing that has changed is that I now have access to the internet. Whereas there was an albeit slim chance that I would come to my senses before the opportunity to buy a record presented itself, I can now simply log on and buy or download the song, album or entire recording career. Thankfully the latter is likely to be relatively short as the performer has usually only just been allowed into pubs.

But it's not hard to see what tempted me to buy this album; simply type 'Sweet About Me Jools Holland' into your favourite web browser and watch the clip. It's a great song and in its acoustic form very effective. That's not to say that the rest of the album is bad..... just a bit ordinary. Well OK, it's dull. And after a while her voice, which sounded so distinctive on Jools Holland, becomes grating. Too much. Loud. What was I thinking? Ah well. Another casualty to add to the growing list.......

The Defamation of Strickland Banks - Plan B

You may not think it to look at me, but I very nearly ended up following a life a crime. You see I was caught red handed with stolen goods. Admittedly it looked bad but there were mitigating circumstances. Honest!

It all started when, minding my own business on the playground, I was offered some dust caps. Well they always come in handy so I handed over some of my pocket money....... and unwittingly took ownership of some teachers' dust caps. I was eight years old and had been subjected to my first hustle. I wasn't very streetwise, or indeed playground-wise. I should've known as they were a bargain. A steal. A knockdown price for knocked-off goods. It wasn't long after the transaction was competed that the crime was uncovered and a full search of the pupils started. Being naive I reasoned that my dust caps weren't stolen; just a coincidence that I happened to take part in a deal the very day that someone helped themselves to dust caps in the car park. So rather than stashing them, swallowing them or planting them on someone else like any decent boy would've done, I took the heat.....well I would've done had I not been offered a deal. The terms were simple; give up the name of my supplier or have the whole sorry incident entered onto my permanent record. Permanent. Record. Immediately I had visions of going for my first job, only to have my Permanent Record brought up and the dust cap scandal laid bare for all to see. Tarnished and outcast from society I'd have to take any job that I could get. Probably on the black market. The underbelly. Sure I had a choice but was it a choice really? So I did the only thing I could and sang like a canary. I'm not proud of it but it's a dog eat dog world. No, it's worse thsn thst - dog doesn't return the other dog's emails.

So Dust-cap-gate was resigned to history and my Permanent Record remained unblemished...... that was until I burst into a fit of uncontrollable giggles in the middle of The Lord's Prayer in school assembly several months later. But that's another story.

'The Defamation of Strikland Banks' is a concept album of sorts and marks a departure for Plan B. Mixing rap with soul music and using it as a vehicle to tell the story of a singer who's sent to prison for a crime he didn't commit. I was initially very suspicious of this album as, having heard snatches of his previous album, I'd marked him as a rapper. Which is almost a crime in itself. So on hearing his soulful voice and the string backing to the lead single 'Stay Too Long' I sensed a rat.

But there wasn't one and the album slowly grew on me. Maybe it was the effectiveness of the songwriting and backing music or maybe it was because, as a victim of wrongful detainment, it struck a chord with me? Whatever the reason, it's effective and should I ever get round to writing and recording an album my brush with the authorities in 1978 surely would make for an emotional and powerful subject matter? It might just work. 'The Dust Cap Dillema' has quite a ring to it don't you think?

The 50/50 Tour EP - Gus Devlin & The Resistance

I'm nothing if not adaptable - I consider it to be one of my strengths. It has been, it must be said, tested on many occasions; sometimes over trivial matters and othertimes over huge, life changing decisions such as those relating to the choice of decorating materials. It's not uncommon for us to spend hours of heated debate and indecision whilst looking at colour charts, only to arrive in the shop and find another paint on special offer; changing tact in a blink of an eye and ignoring hours of discussion. Well a bargain is bargain.

So I was planning to write a blog about The Housemartins today. That was my plan. It was a good plan and not without merit. I'd even planned, albeit roughly, what I was going to talk about. My plan was planned. But, like all good plans, it changed. The reason behind this plan was that I knew that we were going to see Paul Heaton in concert and, therefore, a blog about his first band seemed wholly appropriate. Obviously I was hoping to insert some humorous anecdote from the concert into the writing..... but you can't beat relying on something happening for it to not happen. I'd even pre-loaded my iPod so I could select an album on the journey home to write about. So I was all set. I knew where I was going and how I was going to get there and what I was going to do when I got there. A perfect plan.

That all changed though when the gig, in the small village of Clovenfords, started. You see I wasn't prepared to be bowled over by the support band. But music is a strange mistress and leads you into unexpected territory, diverts you from your route and generally leads you on a merry dance. Although only two of the band members had chosen to accompany Paul on his 50/50 tour (one where they are cycling between gigs and reaching as far north as Ullapool in celebration his 50th birthday), they created a great sound. Just a voice, double bass and acoustic guitar. Part blues, part folk and part bluegrass and a whole lotta fun. And they ran the merchandise stall. Is there no end to their talents?

So I came away from the gig with two of their EPs, tired feet and a slice of Paul Heaton's birthday cake. Yes cake! There's not many gigs where you can claim that now is there? I am aware, however, that I still need to write the Housemartin's blog but I'll save that for another day. Or at least that's the plan.

Greatest Hits - Billy Idol

In a quite a few blogs I have discussed our sometimes haphazard and blasé planning of getting to gigs. This usually stemmed for the lack of personal, and an over reliance on, public transport which is sort of understandable. Especially as the transport system in the UK goes into hibernation around 10pm - far too early for gigging youngsters. So it would have been reasonable to assume that, once we had access to cars, our journeys to and from gigs would become problem and stress free.....

I forget the circumstances, but on a cold and wet afternoon in December 1990 I found myself being picked up by Rid as we headed off to see Mr Idol in concert. In Birmingam. Not a short journey then but one that was relatively simple - dual carriageway all the way. A19 - A1 - M62 - M6. Cruisin'.

The bonhomie and euphoria lasted until we turned onto the A1 and headed south and gave way to getting the journey done and, as it was nice and warm in the car and we had a long night ahead of us, I did the only thing that a loyal travelling companion could do..... I went to sleep. This rock and roll lifestyle was tiring stuff. After what can only be described as a decent snooze, I awoke to see the blue of motorway signing flash by.

"Where are we?", I enquired.
 "On the M62", came the reply.

Ahh, we were making good progress, I noted to myself and tried to doze off again; the rhythm and rumble of rubber on concrete as my soundtrack. Well that and the loud rock music booming from the car stereo. Sign after sign passed the car window as the junctions counted down to our destination. But something was bothering me. I couldn't, in my dozy stupor, put my finger on it....but why did that last destination sign have Hull on it? Strange that they would chose to sign Hull on a road towards Manchester. I must've misread that last sign. And then there was another one, this time with Hull as a closer destination. It didn't make sense.

"Neil?"
"Yes mate?", came the reply
"When you turned onto the M62 did you go left or right?"
"Errr left I think.... no wait it was right. Definitely right....or maybe it was left"
"Mmmmmm I think I was left"
"How would you know - you were fast asleep!", scoffed Rid
"True, but it might explain why we ARE HEADING TOWARDS HULL!!"

And so after a short discussion about the relative locations of the great cities of Hull and Birmingham, we agreed that we were indeed heading east instead of west and turned around at the next exit. Now the pressure was on - there was every chance that we'd miss the start of the gig. But Rid was determined and he pushed is car to speed that was not only highly illegal but also threatened the very fabric of the time space continuum. Thinking about it there must have been some time travel involved because we got to the gig in plenty of time. Miraculous.

It is fair to say that I was not a huge Billy Idol fan as I always thought that he came very close to becoming a characterture of himself. Having said that, the gig was fantastic. And very theatrical. He'd recently been in a motorbike accident so he came on stage with the aid of a walking stick. The band started up and with a shout of "I don't need this to rock!", the stick was thrown into the crowd. We were off and, if you pardon me the expression, we had a rocking good night.

You only really need to own one Billy Idol album, and that is this one. Yes it's a greatest hits album but are there any better songs on his other albums? I know at least one person who would disagree, but with 'Rebel Yell', Mony Mony',  'White Wedding' and 'LA Woman' in one place why look any further? I thoroughly enjoyed hearing the album this morning and I'd forgotten just what great songs they were.

My travelling partner that day is getting married this morning so as the final notes of 'Don't You (Forget About Me)' drift off I raise a cup of Earl Grey and say "Congratulations". I only hope that his sense of direction has improved (or he has a better co-driver) so he doesn't get lost today! Although I hear Hull is nice this time of year......

Union - Toni Childs

The pattern was oh so familiar. I knew the score. Watching ITV's 'The Chart Show' was an expensive preoccupation. Just a slight glimpse of a song that I liked would usually end up with me spending money. In particular I was a sucker for a well produced, black and white, slick video, of which there were plenty in the late 80s. If that video then featured a handsome woman belting out a blues-tinged pop song like her life depended upon it then I was already at the counter in Woolies handing over the dosh.

And so it was with 'Union' by Toni Childs. The song that did the monetary damage was 'Don't Walk Away'. It's not subtle - it's sung at full volume - but what a voice! It was accompanied by an artful black & white video featuring, in no particular order; an electric fan, burnt toast, goldfish, a suitcase and of course Ms Childs. I know this because I've just watched it, as mesmerised as I was when I first saw it in 1988.

At first I only bought the CD single - it was one of those that was released as a 3" disc so came with a plastic adapter - I never really trusted those as I was convinced they were going to explode in the player. But it was not long before I'd bought the album on cassette and it became my latest obsession. One that no-one else I knew shared. But that was OK. I was secure in my obsession.

Looking back at the late 1980s period, it was a confusing time for me... musically that is. I was slowly making the transition from AOR / MOR music towards guitar driven indie bands. I'd already had for some time bands like The Smiths and New Order in my playlist but these were in the minority. Just a year later, however, I would be in the full grip of 'Madchester' and albums such as 'Union' were consigned to the shelf indefinitely. They were no longer 'cool'. Probably never were.

I'd still not met anyone who had even heard of the album let alone actually heard it well into 1993. Then I moved into a shared house in Leeds and to my surprise my new housemate had a copy. I picked it off his shelf amazed to see another copy. It was like meeting a long lost friend. We were going to get on just fine!

Listening to the album again, having recently bought it on CD due to a lack of a cassette player, I was expecting to be disappointed - as is often the case when revisiting once cherished albums. But I wasn't. Yes it's definitely MOR / AOR but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Music is a broad church and certainly wide enough to include a well written, played and produced album such as this. Oh, and what a voice!

Power, Corruption & Lies - New Order

Never has an album title summed up the times were are living in..... and this was released in 1983!

Anyway I'm not here to start a discourse on politics in pop music. Quite the opposite. Instead I want to talk about image. And as we know politics and image don't go together....

New Order are the coolest brand in pop music. I don't think there has been any band that has maintained a consistently cool image; whilst the quality of the music may have dipped occasionally, the image has stayed resolutely strong. It could no doubt be argued that this is primarily due to the work of Peter Saville, the designer for the group's sleeves, but it is more than than; the image and the music seem to compliment each other. A certain detachment by the band whilst maintaining a strong image elsewhere maybe? Whatever it is, it works and I still can't think of anyone else who can match it. So there!

'Power, Corruption & Lies', the group's second album, is no exception. It starts from the outside with the usual striking cover, a reproduction of a painting in the National Gallery. Coupled with a lack of any obvious lettering or band name it's a bold move especially for a group who are at a critical junction in their career. It's a great cover and probably why it was chosen in 2010, along with nine others, to grace the Royal Mail's classic album cover series. Not that I am a stamp collector or anything.

Beyond the cover, however, the music gives off an even stronger message. It's the sound of a band finally coming to terms with the loss of Ian Curtis and emerging from his shadow. It's the sound of a band finding their feet. And it's the sound of a rain-soaked industrial Manchester filtering through synthesisers, baseline hooks, angular guitar riffs and off-kilter vocals.

It opens with 'Age of Consent' and one of Peter Hook's poppiest baselines and Bernard Sumner asking "Please let me go". Dark, synth heavy tracks sit alongside sunnier moments. But amongst the nine tracks on offer, the headlines belong to two. In '5-6-8' you get an embryonic Blue Monday and at 7min 31sec it's every bit it's equal. And then there is the sublime 'Your Silent Face' - the aural equivalent of a shaft of light beaming straight into your mind... or something like that... its energetic synth arpeggio offset against the lush chords which give way to bass and guitar melodies. To top this it has what must be one of the best closing lines to a song. It's a bit childish but I'll sign off with it. "You've caught me at a bad time, so why don't you piss off".

See you tomorrow!

Fuzzy - Grant Lee Buffalo

It is a sign of modern times that we measure the passing of time, not by the phases of the moon or by significant personal events, but by the passing of technological phases. Some of these are so massive that it's a life changing event whilst others are so slight that it's not always obvious at the time. Music has seen its fair share of technological advances; vinyl, cassette, DAT, DCC (remember those), CD, Minidisc and of course MP3. Each one brought with it leaps forwards and steps backwards.

Although it's taken for granted now that we can 'plop' (I think that is the correct term) a CD into a computer and almost instantly a track listing will appear, along with other pertinent information. At the click of a mouse that CD can be ripped into a computer file. Fantastic, almost fictional stuff. If it had been on 'Tomorrows World' only twenty years ago it would be be consigned to the same box as jet packs, robot servants and tea pots that pour properly.

But before Gracenote and it's ilk became reality did we really have to wander in the information wasteland? Sure we could play a CD in a computer but what was the point in that? And what does this have to do with Grant Lee Buffalo? Get to the point. OK. Sorry.

Well for some reason a gap in the market was identified. And solved. You see some clever spark released software that would recognise which CD was in the PCs drive and then would display the track listing. "But didn't you just say this was before Gracenote?" Yes it was but there was a simple and ingenious way around this minor problem. All you has to was type in the track listing by hand. Song by song. You only had to do this once and the clever software would remember it for the next time. Hurrah for the software boffins. Another one of humankinds problems solved. And, as it was my latest purchase at the time, 'Fuzzy' became the first entry into my fledgling CD database. It was a momentous occasion. With my PC plugged into my hi-fi I was all set to rule the world.......well the living room anyway.

Needless to say this grand experiment did not last long. About thirty CDs in it dawned in me this was a rather massive and, it has to be said, pointless exercise. So I stopped. Thankfully. I say thankfully because, through Gracenote (CDDB), a database of over one billion pieces of information has been built from submissions from users. One billion. That would've taken me a while.

As far as this album goes, I bought it on the recommendation of Michael Stipe and wasn't disappointed. It's a fine album, although a little serious in places, with some fine tunes; 'Fuzzy', 'The Shining Hour' and 'America's Snoring' being three of the memorable tracks - despite not having heard this album for many years these immediately sprang to mind when I slipped the MP3 file into the PC software...... my haven't times changed. I still went to the trouble of reading the CD liner notes whilst the file was decompressed, converted into analogue and played through my surround sound system. Some habits die hard. If at all.

So the next time you 'plop' a CD into your PC and a track listing appears before your eyes don't take it for granted and just wonder, even if it's for a little while at least, at the marvel of the internet and the power of collective effort. The things that we can achieve if we all work together are only limited by our imagination. Now if we could only sort out a decent tea pot design we'd be onto something.....

Revival - Gillian Welch

Being off work ill is a strange sensation. Putting to one side the actual illness, which in my case a virus has decided to visit for a while, and there remains an odd feeling - a feeling like I have temporarily withdrawn from the everyday. Sitting in bed, sipping water, listening to music and observing. Observing everyone else going about their routine; taking kids to school, delivering letters, cleaning windows, working in the garden, coming home. Everyday activities. Normal. Being off work ill is not normal. And I'm thankful for that.

The alternative would be that being away from work is instead part of the routine and the everyday. Without the framework of work then what would be the alternative. Yet this is the reality than more and more of us are having to face.....ahhh listen to me - that's the virus talking.

Pretty soon I'll be back to full strength and ready to return to work. It's someone else's turn to be off work ill. They can sit in their beds, staring out of the window, listening to people passing by and wondering "where are they going?", "where have they been?" and "I wonder if it's cold out?". Still, there's some time yet. Enough time to give 'Revival' another listen whilst the everyday world turns a little more without me.....

Doubt - Jesus Jones

In Indie-land in the late 80s and early 90s people, the music press mainly, were obsessed about bands selling out - becoming popular and..... well being successful. The very cheek of it.

The self appointed Indie Police, however, were on high alert; scanning the airwaves for any sign of cherished bands having the audacity to try and sell some records. Then, at the first sign of breaking ranks, they would begin the joyful task of knocking them down. Putting them back in their box where they belonged. To them being popular was a heinous crime.

And so it was with Jesus Jones and their second album 'Doubt'.  The buzzing rock guitars and heavy samples from their debut were pushed into the background and instead were replaced with dance beats, pop grooves and hit singles. Three hit singles; 'Real Real Real', 'International Bright Young Thing' and the magnificent anthem of optimism 'Right Here, Right Now'. The Indie Police were not happy. Not one bit. Jesus Jones had, in their eyes, sold out when in reality the only thing that was sold out was their records. But if they cared to listen properly the indie aesthetic was still there; no-one can tell me that a storming track like 'Stripped' with it dense guitar heavy sound and screaming vocals was recorded with a place in the top 40 in mind.

It is quite a strange view to hold when surely, if you like a band or musician, then you want them to do well - to be successful so every one can share in your passion. Instead the Indie Police preferred a band to be their little secret - a group with a select following who they got to pick. They wanted to be in control and determine who should and shouldn't be a member of their gang. Being popular, or selling out, changes that as 'anyone' could start to buy the records. Whatever next!

Despite the attempted misdirection of the Indie Police, 'Doubt' is a top album and deservedly sold well both in the UK and the US. It spawned hit singles and made Jesus Jones a household name. As a real fan I was, in the parlance of our time, truly made up for them.

Spooky - Lush

In yesterday's blog I bleated on in my inimitable style, wandering and without any real point, about the relationship between the name of a band and their music. I may have had a point or, as is much more likely, been wide of the mark. What mark? Exactly.

Anyway, before I spaniel off topic once again, here's another example. 'Lush' are the onomatopoeia of indie-pop music; they sound exactly that.... lush. If you've not heard them before imagine a band with genes spliced from The Cocteau Twins and The Sundays. If you haven't heard of either of them then quite franky there's no hope for you. Multi-chorused guitars sweep around the dreamy barely decipherable vocals. Unfairly criticised for sitting in the shoe gazing camp, the album creates a wide blanket of sound which is all too easy to get lost in. Its not difficult to see why the shoegazing tag was added with such regulatity - once a song begins there is not a whole deal of dynamic shift. A blanket of sound rather than peaks and troughs. But does that really matter? No-one called The Cocteau Twins shoegazers and not all music has to be verse-chorus-verse or quite-loud-quiet. Sometimes a beautiful lush blanket is just what you need.

Do You Like Rock Music? - British Sea Power

What a great name for a band. If you had no idea who they were or what they sounded like, the name alone would make you want to investigate further. Wouldn't it? Well it did me which is how, several albums into their career, I ended up getting hold of this one.

And I wasn't disappointed. Part Cure, part New Order with a smidge of Kaisers or Franz thrown in for good measure, they make music which is every bit as interesting as their name. Which is good. Otherwise they'd be known for having a cool name but naff music. Which is not a good place to be.

Here's larks; which of these bands would you at least be curious about hearing?; Mustard Thumper, Curious Factory, Mind Over Muffin or Droopy Monster.

Actually I made all those up but admit it - you were interested? It certainly beats having a boring band name. I can't even begin to imagine what type of music Droopy Monster would play but it sounds like it'd be fun. In the history of popular music there have been some shockers; Heart, The Music, Mister Mister and Coldplay to name but a few. A tiny fraction.

Maybe there is a correlation between boring names and boring music? The bands above would certainly add weight to that theory. Especially Coldplay. Never in the history of popular music have so many bore crimes been perpetrated.......
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....sorry I drifted off to sleep just at the sheer thought of Coldplay's music. So maybe by having a boring name for your band pre-disposes you to make boring music. But then again there are a few exceptions to that rule; The Smiths being one that immediately springs to mind.

It's a poser alright. Maybe I'm talking out of my hat and it makes no difference whatsoever. But I have my suspicions. After all if you can't even think of a decent name for your band what chance do you have of writing some decent music? Someone should write a paper on it.

British Sea Power. What a great name for a band. Only bettered by the name if their debut album. Avoiding the usual eponymous debut they instead opted for 'The Decline Of British Sea Power'. Wonderful. Odd. Imaginative. Self mocking. And very, very interesting!

Honey's Dead - The Jesus and Mary Chain

You can't beat the banning of a track to increase it's circulation and ultimately sales. I've often wondered if morale crusaders realise this when objectivng to a movie/song/whatever* (*delete as appropriate). The pop and rock music genre is not short of examples of tracks or videos that have been banned. Yet in attempting to wipe them for the airwaves and TV sets it gives them increased vigour and energy. Punching through the paper thin barrier of the ban.

I remember dozens of hushed conversations on school playgrounds and in the corners of corridors. Out of the ear-shot of teachers - you see teachers represented in our minds the establishment. Clearly we didn't know what 'The Establishment' was. Not a clue. But we knew instinctively that they wouldn't understand. How could they? They didn't listen to music, watch TV or movies...... One such momentous and notorious banned song was Frankie Goes To Hollywood's 'Relax'. OMG! To be honest, I didn't have a clue what it was about until a much street-wiser friend (I'm looking at you Mr. R) brought me up to speed. He had a habit of doing that - revealing things that I didn't know needed to be revealed. Take Madness' 'House of Fun' for example. I was happy in my naive knowledge that it was about a ..... well a house of fun until he informed me that it was actually a coming of age song - about someone trying to but contraceptives from a chemist. Well who knew? Clearly not me as I was shocked, albeit belatedly. But would 'Relax' have been such a massive hit if it hadn't been banned? I doubt it.

So that brings me, in a roundabout way, to 'Reverence'. The opening track of 'Honey's Dead'. An absolute monster of a song; dark, menacing and brooding. As soon as the BBC chiefs heard the opening salvo of "I wanna die like Jesus Christ. I wanna die on a bed of spikes. I wanna die like JFK" they must've nearly choked on their Earl Grey. So they did the only 'logical' thing and banned it from Top of the Pops. The nation was safe once again. But you can't keep a lid on a song as bold as that. And that is what I suspect worried 'The Establishment'. The loss of control. Banning something is a knee-jerk reaction but futile - it doesn't work and never will. More so now YouTube is spreading around the globe.

Besides I could never understand the hypocrisy of what would constitute the banning of a song. References to religious icons is frowned upon whereas rap songs and their misogynistic lyrics slip by the censors unnoticed. Religious imagery. No. Violence towards women. Absolutely fine. But I'm digressing.....again. And besides this soap box is getting too wobbly.

I bought 'Honey's Dead' on the back of 'Reverence'. I'd not bought anything by JaMC before but I loved this track; the loud fuzz of the distorted guitars, the slow rhythm of the drum machine and... yes the lyrics. I knew it would get up people's noses so I wanted to help give it a push. But the rest of the album is just as good and thankfully lighter in tone. Find me a better guitar pop song than 'Far Gone And Out' and I'll happily bare my bum in Binns window. Maybe.

So let's hear it for banned songs. But ssshhh. Don't tell the teachers!

The Doors - The Doors

If God really did create the universe in seven days, then this must surely come a close second in the creativity stakes. Taking just over a week to complete, The Doors emerged from the Sunset Sound Recording Studios having recorded what must be one of the most stunning and original debut albums.

'The Doors' is part psychedelic pop, operatic rock and blues. A heady mix but this was 1967 after all! Dark, fun and sexy music.

Most of the attention on this album was deservedly drawn towards the Oedipal closing track 'The End'. A twelve minute opus that in less skilled hands could've become an overblown rock tragedy. But this is The Doors so thankfully nothing they produced could be as straight forward. Disaster averted then.

But as well as attention challenging marathon tracks there also some great pop songs on here. The most famous of those being 'Light My Fire'...... but I'll come clean. I don't actually rate it that much. The album version is a flabby seven minute jam whereas the single, trimmed down by producer Paul Rothchild to a more radio friendly 3 minutes, is a much tighter proposition. If I had to pick a favourite track then that accolade would go to 'Twentieth Century Fox'. It has the classic Doors sound; Ray Manzarek's distinctive organ playing, Robbie Kreiger's Gibson SG guitar and the jazz tinged rhythm section.

It all makes for a fantastic debut and all recorded in a frantic seven days. A frantic seven days that changed the course of 60s rock music.

Gold - Ryan Adams

Firstly, let's make one thing absolutely clear. Crystal preferably. This is not an album by Bryan Adams. I've done one of those and that's enough of that thank you very much. No this album is definitely not one of the Canadian ballad-meister's suspect latter releases. Phew! Never in the history of rock music has a single letter meant so much. It may be a humble 'B' but it makes the world of difference.

The other thing that needs to be be cleared up, before we go any further, is whether this is a rock album or an alt-country one. It's difficult to tell. Certainly it has the energy of a rock album but then again in it's tenderer moments it has a definite sadness to it - a country twang that would make Hank Williams proud. So what it it? Maybe it's alt-rock-country? Or for that matter alt-country-rock. Either way it's a cracker.

Destined to be a double album, the record company in their infinite wisdom, disagreed and chopped five songs from the running order. Adams was insenced. Well you would be wouldn't you. Whether this was the right thing to do or not, what remains is one of alt-country's (or alt-rock's) great albums. The electric opening track 'New York, New York' sets a high standard, it's lyrics delivered like bullets from a machine gun. The song sets a high standard for the rest of the album to live up to. And it does. There is everything you could want on here. Rock anthems to tender ballads and everything in between, the fanatastic 'Rescue Blues' having one foot in both camps. Fantastic stuff. It really is.

So if in the future you ever enquire about a potential gift, perhaps for a misguided sister or uncle, and get the reply "oh, anything by Bryan Adams" do them a favour and buy this instead. You can claim it as an innocent mistake and retreat knowing that you have done them a huge favour.

Cosmic Thing - The B-52's

I was a bit of a latecomer to the B-52's. I'd heard, like probably every other self-respecting music fan, 'Rock Lobster' and had dismissed it as a bit of a novelty. Then rest of their releases passed me by.

That was until I heard 'Love Shack' for the first time, or rather saw trh video on MTV. Day-glo pop. And boy was it fun. I was also became a floor filler at the alternative night at the Gemini in Hartlepool and in doing so confirmed my suspicions that Goths really prefer being happy. It was also a great excuse to dance wildly, hand and arms flailing around. Not that I needed an excsuse mind you - I had be known to do this to this to every other song. It didn't really matter if it was appropriate or not. 'Losing My Religion' was one of my favourites as if Michael Stipe had been temporarily relocated to downtown Hartlepool.

Yes 'Love Shack' remains a firm favourite. They would prove that it was no fluke in a follow up single 'Roam'. Another slice of 50s inspired alt-pop. Although these two are by far the best tracks on the album, the rest follows in a similar vein; putting the 'fun' back into fun-tastic (sorry!). Even now, many years on, 'Love Shack' still has the ability to fill the dance floor, be it at weddings, social gatherings or birthday parties. Surely that is the mark of a great song. And yes you will find me there - just make sure to give me plenty of room!

Park Life - Blur

On the 24 November 1994 I was on my way home from watching 'Pulp Fiction' at the cinema. I stopped at some traffic lights on Kirkstall Road in Leeds when there was a knock at the car window. I wound down the window, was grabbed by the collar, repeatedly punched in the face and from that moment on my outlook on life changed for good.

As the assailants got back into their BMW I began to wonder what I'd done to deserve that? Maybe they were not happy with my driving? Had I cut them up at the last set of lights? If only I'd gone a different way home? Why did I open the car window? How could I have been so stupid? Scenarios were played out in my mind. Questions posed. The scene replayed again and again. Over the course of the next few weeks these thoughts amplified, twisted, mutated until I didn't know up from down and right from wrong. I hated driving, being with strangers, being alone. Any of these situations brought on physical symptoms of nausea, fear and ultimately anger. In short I was suffering from post traumatic stress syndrome.

Of course I now know that I didn't do anything wrong; nothing that any normal person does should illicit that kind of physical abuse. They were in the wrong, not me. I was the victim, not them. But it took me a while to get to that point. Thankfully I had good friends, family and work colleagues to help me through it. One colleague even swapped jobs with me so I wouldn't have to drive. When I did start to drive again, it was a horrible experience. I hated it but I knew that I had to do it. Every journey, no matter how short, was an ordeal. But I had a trick up my sleeve - to play music and sing at the top of my voice. From A to B I sang my heart out. It must've looked strange to other drivers and pedestrians. But I didn't care.

 In just this simple, very human act, I would feel confidence course through my veins, destroying any doubts, insecurities and fear. 'Parklife' was my chosen weapon of choice. Without this album I don't think that I would've conquered my fear of being alone in the car. I'm glad I had 'Parklife'. I'm also glad that I didn't choose Kylie Minogue or Take That. The humiliation of me trying to belt out 'Relight my Fire' whilst stood at traffic lights would've been too much to bear.

I couldn't have picked a better travelling companion. At times confident, loud, tender, eloquent, cool and funny. It is classic indie brit-pop. As well as the better known hit singles, 'Girls & Boys' and 'Parklife' there are some other truly great songs on here. 'Badhead', 'Tracy Jacks' and 'End Of A Century'. Then there is the beautiful 'To The End'. Quite possibly the best sort-of-love-song ever written. Then there's 'This Is A Low' and it's name checking of shipping forecast locations; "On the Tyne, Forth and Cromarty there's a low in the high forties"

But I'll save the last word for 'Bank Holiday'. A wonderful 1m 42s thrash through the culture of the British Bank Holiday;

"Bank Holiday come but six times a year

Days of enjoyment to which everyone cheers

Bank Holiday come with a six pack of beer

Then it's back to work. A.G.A.I.N."

Indeed!

Vent 414 - Vent 414

On paper this should be a cracking album. But therein lies the problem. How many times have things seemed to make total sense on paper only to find that during the transformation into a physical form something goes wrong? History is littered with them; communism, the England football team, pop tarts and stringy cheese..... the list goes on.....

So what happened? Everything seemed to make sense; Miles Hunt, from the recently disbanded The Wonder Stuff, forms a rock orientated band and enlists Billy Duffy and Pete Howard to help out. So far so fantastic. Then get Steve Albini to produce the debut album (by which time Duffy had left). What could go wrong? Nothing as far as I was concerned as I rushed out and bought the album on day of release. 

I knew from reading articles in the press that this was going to be a rock album so I was prepared. Anyone who was expecting cow sized antics would've been totally baffled. But I liked The Cult, Nirvana and other 'rawk' bands so it should've been well within my listening spectrum.  It wasn't. It came across as raw, loud, tuneless, angry and ..... well quite frankly rubbish. What on earth was Miles playing at? To rub salt into the wound, Miles went on record stating that "This is the best band I have ever been in", or words to that effect. To the thousands of loyal Stuffies fans this was a bit of a kick in the teeth. Vent 414 were about as far removed from indie pop as I was from becoming the Queen of England.

How could this be? Perhaps it was me? Maybe I just didn't get it. Surely I can't have wasted my £13.99 of an Miles Hunt album that I didn't like? Yes that's it - I just need to adjust to this new sound. But after several attempts to listen and like the album I gained nothing but a headache and a growing sense of disappointment. So I did what any decent person would do and recommend it to a friend. Well I needed a second opinion didn't I. With my glowing review passed on to NR I waited for his opinion. If anyone was going to appreciate the album it was him; he had a penchant for loud rock, was a fan of The Cult and The Wonder Stuff.......

....he was not impressed; with the album but particularly with me for making him waste is money. But at least I now had my opinion. It was official, the debut album from Vent 414 was rubbish and could be consigned to the shelf for ever.....

....until today that is. One of the reasons I started this project was that I knew Vent 414 was languishing on the bottom shelf (I have my record stored in alphabetic order obviously) in the attic. The time would come when I would give it another go. Maybe with more mature/deafer ears this might not be the ordeal it was in 1995. Well....... it's not as bad as I remember. There are some half decent songs on the album, 'Fixer', 'At The Base of the Fire' and 'Laying Down With You' but they are so LOUD THAT YOU CAN'T HEAR YOURSELF THINK. But I didn't hate every minute of it. So I'm starting to wonder if it is me. Again. Right what I need is a third opinion. Any takers? 

 

Five Guys Named Moe - Louis Jordan

One of the deals that you make, whether you know it or not, when you move in with a partner is that you take an interest in their hobbies or activities. Or at least feign interest - but I have never done that. Never. No-way.

One of the interests that I inherited was going to the theatre. Now I don't want you to get the impression that I was some sort of un-cultured northern heathen. I had been to the theatre before but this was usually at Christmas time and involved blokes in tights. Or was that women in tights? No idea. It was very confusing and if I'm being honest unsettling. So I was no stranger to the theatre but it was indeed a novel idea that you would choose to go rather than be instructed. The other revelation was that you could order drinks for half time - not that getting drunk was encouraged - but being a little tipsy was acceptable. This also had the added advantage that if the performance was poor then it helped ease the pain.

But perhaps the biggest revelation was that it was actually enjoyable. Fun. A good way to spend your evening. My eyes were well and truly opened. Sure I have seen some right stinkers but these are far outweighed by the good performances I've seen. 'Five Guys Named Moe' was one such great night out. I sounded horrendous; the jazz music of Jouis Jordan transformed into a musical. A sort of Mama Mia from the 50s. Before we sat down I went through my usual pre-performance ritual; a gumble about theatre being a poor persons cinema, tut-tutting at the cost of the drinks and whinging about the duration of the show. But once the curtain was raised and the singing started I was hooked. Right-to-the-end. I was cultivating an appreciation of culture.

My development almost took a nose dive when we saw a performance of 'The Seagull' by Chekhov. A bit high brow I know, but it was put on by a small theatre group and I was persuaded to go. I was confident that I'd be OK. I'd been in training; taking in some Shakespeare and doing some background reading on the internet. I was ready. Then the play started and it all got pretty confusing pretty quick. You see, as it was a small group, the players took on different roles. And they were short of women. I couldn't keep up. The actors changed roles more often than I changed my socks. And the changes were not always that distinct; sometimes only differentiated by a different hat. Or accent. People came on, said some lines and left. But I survived - leaving the theatre exhausted, confused with my head buzzing. A bit like after a night out on the beer but without the kebab.

Even if you are not a fan of the theatre, 'Five Guys Named Moe' is a great album, mixing jazz, blues and rhythm & blues. And absolutely fantastic trumpet playing. I'm still not a theatre lover, not really, but if the right performance is picked it's a top night out.  I'm still very suspicious, I still have my pre-performance ritual, I'm still wary of blokes in tights and get well confused if women play mens parts and vice versa. But hey I'm learning. Now where did I leave my copy of Variety. I simply must find my next performance.....

The Beatles (The White Album) - The Beatles

"They say it's your birthday
Well, it's my birthday too yeah
They say it's your birthday
We're gonna have a good time
I'm glad it's your birthday
Happy birthday to you"

I'm not one to critisise The Beatles, especially in the songwriting department, but whilst I totally agree the sentiment above I must take issue with its inaccuracies. "They say it's your Birthday. Well, it's my Birthday too yeah". What is all that about? Taking this at face value Macca seems to be suggesting that he shares a birthday with the subject of the song. Well I find that hard to believe. I mean what are the odds? I'm all for probability in song writing but this is going too far. Maybe we are expected to believe that he only seeks the company of those who share the same birthday? Mmmm doubtful at best.

But it wasn't just The Beatles who got into the musical mathematical musings with equally inaccurate results.

It has often been said the Kate Bush could sing the contents of the telephone book and make it sound sensual. Putting this, and here mathematical knowledge to the test, she sang PI. Surely this must be a first? Putting the famous transcendental number to music. I can't help but think this was a futile attempt. She only got to about thirty decimal places. If she true to her art then she would still be un the studio now, voice dry as the Sahara desert and kicking herself for starting the song in the first place. Mind you if she'd done that we'd have been spared '50 Words For Snow'.

Then, sensing that there was a gap in the market, Big Audio Dynamite had a go at explaining Einstein's famous mathematical equation E=mc2. It was a sterling effort and I'm sure the intricacies of the equation are much clearer for their effort;

"Ritual ideas relativety
Only buildings no people prophecy
Timeslide place to hide nudge reality
Foresight minds wide magic imagery"

.....yes that's much better. Glad we got that cleared up

Then, entering the world of astronomy Katie Melua decided to enlighten us with her musings on the size of the universe singing in 'Nine Million Bicycles';

"We are 12 billion light-years from
the edge,
That's a guess,
No one can ever say it's true,
But I know that I will always be
with you."

Thankfully her error was pointed out and she corrected the lyrics and therefore increased her accuracy.

"We are 13.7 billion light-years from the edge of the observable universe
that's a good estimate with well-defined error bars
and with the available information
I predict that I will always be with you".

Yes it doesn't scan as well but at least it's accurate. Or as accurate as we can be. With the current available information.

And maybe that's the whole point? Anyway I have digressed somewhat from my starting point. Don't blame me. Blame bad science in song writing.

Just as it's pointless trying to sing PI in a song, or explain complex physics equations in a three minute pop song, it's equally futile to point out the short comings of this album. Yes it's flabby, overlong and too introspective in places. But in between, like sun bursts on a cloudy and dim day, it shines. Gloriously.

So that just leaves me to say 'Happy Birthday' KC!

Off The Wall / Bad - Michael Jackson

Question: Top five musical crimes perpetrated by Michael Jackson 80s and 90s. Subquestion -- is it in fact unfair to criticise a formerly great artist for his latter-day sins? Is it better to burn out than to fade away?

I'm paraphrasing from 'High Fidelity' there but it is a good question and one worthy of further investigation. The artist in question in the original quote is actually Stevie Wonder but there are numerous other recording artists and groups to which this question could equally be applied. But the top of that list is surely reserved for only one person; the self acclaimed 'King of Pop' Michael Jackson. 

Where do you start? Well I'm going to start with ten pin bowling..... You see Michael Jackson, for me, is inexplicably linked with ten pin bowling. Not monkeys, fun fairs, money or scandal but a harmless game involving wooden skittles and on overly large ball. As soon as I started to play 'Bad' I was reminded of a wet Monday in 1987 when some friends, myself and my dad went to Sunderland to go ten pin bowling. "Huh, where's the link dude?" Well it happened to be the same day that the 'Bad' album was released and we made a quick stop at HMV to buy it. A tenuous but persistent link.

These two albums really demonstrate the dilemma; 'Off The Wall' from his earlier solo career and 'Bad' from the start of the decline. One is a superlative disco pop album and the other is.... well patchy at best. By the time 'Bad' came along each and every single release had become a media frenzy - usually because it came with an overly long music video with Hollywood blockbuster production values. Shame the same couldn't be said about the script. Following 'Bad' the albums became slicker, more produced but with a definite sense of decreasing returns for the listener.

But let's not dwell on the negatives. 'Off The Wall' and to a lesser extent its successor 'Thriller' are true pop classics. Not entirely my cup of tea but I can appreciate the artistry that has gone into them. Not since The Beatles has the role of producer and songwriter gelled together so well. 70s disco-pop may not be your thing but I defy anyone not to smile when 'Don't Stop 'til You Get Enough' blasts out of the speakers.

So back to my original question. Should we forgive Michael Jackson's latter-day sins? That's not really for me to say - but it's a difficult question to answer. Maybe it should be put another way? Should the question really be this: is the pop genre a worse or better place for the music that he created? Now that is way easier to answer.............

The Bends - Radiohead

Remember when Radiohead were a normal alt-rock band? No me neither. It was probably a time pre-decimilisation, when England won at cricket and when the sun never set on the British empire. A lifetime ago.

It was also a time when I was managing several site jobs for Leeds City Council; travelling from one side of the city to the next - normally crawling through traffic. But it didn't matter. As one wise Site Agent told me "When you're marching you can't be fighting". Wise words indeed. And I had 'The Bends' for company on many of those cross town trips; window down, shades on. What a great way to pass the day and get paid for it! Well it wasn't my idea to give me jobs at the opposite end of the city. Blame the management. It always helps.

It all seems so long ago but Radiohead were once a U2 busting, Nirvana bettering band. Remember yet? A quick listen to 'The Bends' should help bring those memories flooding back. A monster of an alt-rock album; powerful, loud when it needs to be, quiet when it is appropriate and with storming songs.

This is very much a guitarists album. There can't be a more explosive start to a song than 'The Bends' with a crescendoing distorted guitar chord. Then there is the solo on 'Just'. All tangled notes and screeching harmonics. Johnny Greenwood has never sounded so good.

'The Bends' is as straightforward as Radiohead ever got. And it was a blast whilst it lasted. Little did we know that the band were already programming their computer for alien territories. Boldly going where no other rock band dared to go. Life would never be the same again.....

Songs to Learn & Sing - Echo & The Bunnymen

Attitude is born not manufactured. And, at the risk of sounding like an grumpy middle aged man, there is just not enough gobby pop starts in the charts these days; pop stars who just can't help but open their mouth and express an opinion, often even though one has not be sought. Always ready to say something controversial or arrogant. Go on - name me one pop star who fits this description? See you can't. At least not one who is a genuine gobshite. Sure there will be some who fake it - adopting a sullen rock attitude when eyes are upon them or if the cameras are rolling. Phony attitude that comes across more like a petulant child than a true opinionated, loud mouthed bone fide pop star. You can't manufacture it. You have it or you don't.

Miles Hunt, Liam Gallagher and Paul Weller all have it in spades. Love them or loathe them they are definitely worth a listen. Quotable and unpredictable. Ian McCulloch is probably the leader of the gang and over the years has taken the sound bite to unparalleled levels. Motormouth McCulloch. And the pop world is much better for him. Here are just a few selected quotes;

"I'm not a great mingler – I think most bands are rubbish."

"We've never had that gimmicky 'how you doing?' attitude to playing live because, to be honest, I'm not that arsed. I'm more concerned with how I'm doing."

"From when Oasis first started I thought, 'Thank Christ someone has picked up on that simple technique of saying they're the best thing on the planet and just fronting it.' Liam is a part of a great ancestry of lippy, insecure bastard frontmen."

On working with Chris Martin: "I remember one day at the studio he turned up in a T-shirt and trainers, but with his socks pulled right up to his knees! I felt sorry for him. He hasn't got a clue when it comes to style."

On highbrow culture: "It's not to be feared. And it's all laced with humour. Shakespeare wrote for the man in the street. Instead, we get Simon Cowell peddling this hopeless dirge in the name of talent TV."

By comparison, current pop stars are boring. Either trying too hard to impress or feigning disinterest and detached coolness. The result of talent shows and a get famous quick culture.

Apart from a few of his solo singles, this is the only Echo & The Bunnymen album I own, which in itself is a terrible admission. And it just happens to be a greatest hits compilation, bought on the back of the single "Bring On The Dancing Horses". I'd love to say that I've been a fan since the beginning and that I have all of their classic 80s albums. But I'd be lying. So I have to make do with this compilation album. Not at all cool. I can only begin to think what Motormouth would have to say about that. Not that I would dare ask him....... but I'm sure he'd have an opinion!