My top three

I was weaned on music. I am a child of rock and roll. Music has always been with me. I couldn’t imagine not being able to listen to music. I could give up most things but music is certainly not one of them. And unlike so many of my contemporaries and even those younger than me I’m not stuck in a time warp. I’m always looking for that next great song. Always searching for the next interesting performer.

Having said that when it comes to picking a top x list of songs it tends to be the older ones that make it to the top. I’m guessing that the thing with all time favourites is that they have to stand the test of time and therefore by their very nature are not going to be riding high in the current hit parade as it were.

A top three has long featured in my thoughts. I’m not sure why three and why the concept of a top anything should appeal as it’s all a bit anal and blokish. Okay, perhaps I’m anal but you could rarely accuse me of displaying bloke-like tendencies. In my book to be called a bloke would be highly insulting. Anyway I digress. Back to the music. It’s hard to whittle down the countless number of great songs that there are out there, and with such a short list, there are those that almost make it but don’t quite. Those bubbling under include Hurt by Johnny Cash, Take The Skinheads Bowling by Camper Van Beethoven, Where’s Me Jumper by The Sultans of Ping FC and the evocative Radio Sweethearts by Kate Rusby. I could go on but i’ll cut to the chase and give you what are my all time top three. They are chosen specifically for the music qualities I see in them and not because of any emotional attachment. A list of songs that evoke deep emotions would be a totally different one. So without further adieu my top three:

1. Another Girl, Another Planet by The Only Ones
2. Do You Dream In Colour by Bill Nelson
3. Criminal World by Metro*

*The original and so much better than the insipid David Bowie cover

It’s R&B for me

I was still in short trousers when I was first turned on to R&B. I remember seeing Johnny Kidd and the Pirates on the telly and thinking, nay feeling that ‘this is the most exciting music ever’. The first record I owned, a thing of beauty, jam packed full of 45 goodness, was Hippy Hippy Shake by The Swinging Blue Jeans. R&B was in my blood.

Whilst The Stones can still cut it you may have noticed that they’ve strayed from their roots in recent years. That’s no bad thing. We all need to progress. And since the demise of the original Dr Feelgood line-up we’ve been a tad bereft of a head-and-shoulders-above-the-rest-first-rate-beat-combo. But all is not lost…


…behold The Strypes.

 

This weekend I downloaded Snapshot, the debut album from The Strypes. A bloody good nine quid’s worth of anyone’s money I reckon. For a bunch of young lads they pack a mean punch. R&B has been restored to full health and is back with a vengeance. We in the western world can sleep easy in our beds knowing that music can again save our mortal souls.

These young dudes are the saviours of rock-a-boogie. Not a claim I make lightly.

James - Of Monsters, Heroes and Men - 19th April 2013 - Brixton Academy, London

An oldie but goody from the popular beat combo James. A slightly off the wall and dotty choice, but dash it all.

To rock-a-boogie or not to rock-a-boogie

Some say it’s the devils music but of course I don’t buy that religious shit. But listening to rock-a-boogie can present one with a moral dilemma. That dilemma is ‘should certain artistes be persona non grata’ because of actions in their personal life?

Those seen as undesirable could include Jerry Lee Lewis, Gary Glitter, Jonathon King, Phil Spector and Pete Townsend, not to mention any number of neo-fascists or misogynists that have strewn the ranks of the musical glitterati over the years. To what degree should one shun their music? It’s a question that has often troubled and perplexed me.

I think the answer is that art can be appreciated for art’s sake, no matter who created it, and no matter what the lifestyle or intentions of the artist.

Pure pop for now people

Every so often a new song will come along that I just have to play over and over again. I’ve always done it. In my youth I would rush out to buy the latest obscure fav 7” platter, whack it on my turntable, play it, and then play it again as soon as it finished. And loud! The latest song to do this to me is Tosta Mista by Hooded Fang. Love the guitar sound. It’s the sort of guitar playing that would melt chocolate at well over one hundred paces. This song is the most fun you can have with your clothes on. But for maximum enjoyment get your kit off to it!

Split Enz

"When my baby's walking down the street
I see red, I see red, I see red.
How could someone wicked walk around free
I see red, I see red, I see red.
I see red, I see red
(red!), I see red."

Tim Finn

Trouble at the front

@vintagetrouble 

I’ve seen the future. The future is R&B. The future is Vintage Trouble. Just when you think that there is no longer any heart and soul in music along come the messiahs to deliver us from the wilderness of popular music.

Tonight Vintage Trouble played The Waterfront in Norwich and blew the audience away. Vintage Trouble is a beat combo that I feel sure is going to go places. Well they’ve already been places; since their memorable performance on Later With Jools Holland they seem to have been touring virtually non-stop. They play a mix of up tempo R&B, soulful ballads and good honest blues. The lead singer is hot, the bass player is oh so cool, the guitarist grinds and weeps while the Animal on the drums glues the outfit together. We were given nearly two hours of their distinctive sound delivered with enough energy to light up the whole of Norwich. You can’t keep still to Vintage Trouble; even the dead would get up and dance.

“Lord have mercy on my soul!”

Great Moments In Pop Music

Alan over at Gen X at 40...posed this question.

To Alan I say not a chance, "Cum On Feel The Noize":



And if you want the bestest song in the history of rock-a-boogie then give this a whirl:

Ziggy Stardust Came from Isleworth

There was a great little programme on Radio 4 today about Vince Taylor. I knew of Vince Taylor and his fantastic Brand New Cadillac but very little else.

I was weaned on Rock-a-boogie. Six Five Special and Oh Boy were required viewing by my parents when I was a toddler. I don’t remember too much about the acts on these programmes but I absorbed the music. I don’t remember anything of Vince Taylor from that time though. My first alert to his existence was a song on the B side of a Golden Earring single entitled Just like Vince Taylor. Next up came the Clash with their version of Brand New Cadillac (equally as good as Vince’s version), sheer brilliance! Now I’ve been a fan of David Bowie since Jean Genie but until today I had not realised that Vince Taylor had been the major inspiration for David’s erstwhile alter ego Ziggy Stardust. The Radio 4 programme explains all. Give it a listen, but hurry you only have 7 days to do so.

Be there or be square.

Pete Molinari - Streetcar Named Desire

Top quality tune

Oil City Slickers

I had so been looking forward to Julian Temple’s film Oil City Confidential. I had been looking forward to it since I heard about it on Radcliffe & Maconie last year. It was screened, nationwide, Tuesday night, followed by a live concert from Koko in London beamed to the cinemas showing the film. I was not disappointed.


Dr Feelgood were very much the unsung heroes of British music. They paved the way for punk, but they were more than that. In the early 1970s they looked different, they sounded different and oh boy were they excitingly different. I could just not believe Wilko Johnson, the frenetic and mesmerizingly manic lead guitarist of the distant stare. How could anyone play the guitar that well and move up and down the stage at such speed? The combination of Wilko’s guitar sound coupled with front man vocalist and harp player Lee Brilleaux made it a winning formula. Dr Feelgood were pure unadulterated R&B. That’s real R&B of course, and all played at a pace.


Julian Temple films tend to be a bit oddball and Oil City Confidential is no exception. I don’t say that in a derogatory way. I like his style. The film is basically a surrealist documentary. Parts of it reminded me of early Old Grey Whistle Tests. Not for the musical content but the stripped down presentation and the edited in ageing film clips. The film is as much a celebration of Canvey Island as it is the Feelgoods. It charts their lives from childhood up to Lee’s demise. This informative film is a must for any lover of British popular music. There are interviews with all the band members, music colleagues, family, friends and fans, some from archives obviously, but many made for the film. Anchor man in the film is the enigmatic Wilko, although there were sizeable contributions of some of the other Feelgoods. The film left me feeling very sorry for Wilko. Not 100% sure why, but he did come across as a lonely and troubled individual. Not sure if that’s just a facade for blues authenticity or the genuine man.

 

The film finished and we were told that there would be a twenty minute break. I nipped out for that all important toilet break, much needed on a middle-aged bladder and after a two hour film. Some poor folk took the announcement at its word and probably nipped out to the pub. I say poor folk because the concert started not much later than 5 minutes after the film. It had already started when I returned to my seat, but only just. Wilko was giving it what for on his guitar. Early in the concert, and for three songs, he was joined on stage by Alison Moyet who is now a slim vision of loveliness, but can still add weight in the vocal department. Also on stage was a pretty mean harmonica player. A giant of a man who looked vaguely familiar but at first I couldn’t place him. The first name that came into my head was Charles Shaar Murray, but I kept thinking, ‘Surely not’. Surely not, but it actually was Charlie boy. It was a great concert of Dr Feelgood songs and R&B classics that I wished had gone on longer. The only constructive comment I have to offer is that Wilko should make use of guest singers. He’s a great guitarist, but his vocal style, reminiscent of Pete Townsend’s, is not powerful enough to do justice to many of his songs, but full marks to him for giving it a damned good go.


Tuesday was truly a fantastic music evening!

AC/DC

It had been thirty five years since I’d been to a really huge concert, the last one being Emerson Lake & Palmer back around this time in 1974. I’ve always liked AC/DC although I wouldn’t claim to be their biggest fan, but when a friend asked if I’d like to go and see them at the O2 Arena I jumped at the chance. So on Tuesday afternoon we trogged off to Londinium to see the show.

The support band was The Answer, from Belfast, and I’m sure they’ll go far. The singer sings in a Robert Plant style, nasally, a style that has never done Robert any harm. For all I know they could well be big already, but if they keep it up no doubt they will be filling arenas in their own right one day.

AC/DC were everything you’d expect. They are not the most innovative of rockers but they have a winning formula and they deliver it with great precision. There is no mistaking who the star of the show is and that’s Angus Young. If you don’t know who Angus is then if I say he’s the guitarist who wears the blazer, short trousers, school cap and satchel you’ll know, unless of course you have absolutely no interest in the popular culture of rock-a-boogie.

I remembered why I don’t go to large arena concerts when I got there. Even in the decent seats you are still a long way away from the stage. Most of my concert going is to smaller venues, I like the intimate feel, and I like to see the whites of their eyes! Although distant you could still appreciate the action, and the large screens that flashed with graphics and close-ups all add to the experience and ensure that you miss nothing. The show started with a short animation, staring Angus obviously, about a runaway train and inspired by the latest album. It builds up the tension very well the train crashes, the stage lights up and the band start to play. The set is a mix of old favourites and samples from their latest waxing - something for everyone.

Apart from some lengthy pauses between songs the show was perfect. They are a well rehearsed band with a tight road crew/organisation. The lighting, graphics, pyrotechnics and even the not so tasteful inflatable Rosie were all slotted in seamlessly along the concert timeline.

Brian Johnson, the lead singer struts, well waddles really, around the stage wearing his trademark cloth cap and sporting a six pack that probably owes more to the likes of Newkie Brown rather than any gym. He knows his place. I suspect when the Ex-Geordie singer was recruited to the band after Bon Scott’s death he was told not to ‘hog the limelight’. Meanwhile Angus dominates the proceedings through his undoubted skill and sheer energy. Having said that I don’t think I’m completely sold on the merits of his strip-tease although I did think it was a nice touch when he dropped his trousers to reveal the AC/DC logo on the arse of his pants.

In theory I shouldn’t really like AC/DC but I always have. I bought their first album on vinyl at the time of its release, when they were relatively unknown. They are the musical equivalent of Jeremy Clarkson. Their show is mighty on the macho. Macho by definition borders on the misogynistic which obviously fills me with unease. But on a baser level I thoroughly enjoyed myself. Oh the angst of the white middle-class middle-aged ponderer!

Brand AC/DC is a powerful and lucrative brand to be sure. It does what it says on the label and as a result I suspect that many a happy punter went home that night from the concert. I know I enjoyed it. My hearing didn’t recover for a day and a half. Boy, were they loud!

Further info:
concert pictures
official website

Join the R&B Liberation Front Today

Have you noticed that in your local record shop slushy soul ballads and sugary 'black' pop music is being wrongly categorised as 'R&B' or ‘RnB’? Radio stations are also referring to it by that genre. R&B or more correctly Rhythm and Blues is music with a driving rhythm and back beat akin to rock n roll. Watered down soul it ain’t!

We call upon the faithful to gird your loins and join us in Musical Direct Action

Something I've started to do and I urge others to do the same, make a stand, and join our guerrilla war. Go into your local record shop, surreptitiously remove non RnB from that category on the shelf, and place it in a more relevant section, unfortunately shops tend not to have a section marked 'shite' so my suggestion is 'easy listening'. Next deposit real R&B in its rightful place.

If there is enough of a groundswell we might actually get record shops and the music business in general to stop using this misnomer. And even if it doesn't you've at least got the consolation of knowing that you've irritated and confused some spotty Herbert in the record shop. It’s got to be worth doing just for that.

Join us brothers and sisters. R&B needs you in its darkest hour. Help stop the misery of hapless yoof wandering around dazed, confused and under the misapprehension that worthless acts like Beyonce, Lemar, Mary J. Bilge and Nas are Rhythm and Blues. Let’s restore the true meaning, as personified by George Thorogood and the Destroyers, Dr Feelgood, The Pirates, Muddy Waters, Fats Domino, Dr John, Long John Baldry, Elmore James, Bo Diddley, Big Joe Turner, Chuck Berry, The Yardbirds and early Rolling Stones to name but a few.

Write letters of complaint. Get moving those CDs today. You know it makes sense