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THE SMITHS LTD @ Sale Waterside

 

Like The Smiths, The Smiths Ltd formed in Manchester. Their promotional material says: “If you never saw The Smiths then this is your chance to experience the thrill of those great songs played live.” Well, I never saw The Smiths live, being so very young, but true to their word, The Smiths Ltd brought me closer to the real thing than I would have thought possible. The Smiths Ltd are the Smiths. The lead singer is Morrissey – that’s all I need to say. I was expecting a theatrical pastiche of someone doing a bad Mozzer, but we got the real deal. His voice was amazing, every word and vocal inflection was perfect. The look is less important in a tribute band, but this could have been Morrisey in the ‘Eighties; the face, the movements and mannerisms were mesmerising; an arrogant self-belief trapped behind a slight fey awkwardness.

 

The guitarist/Johnny Marr was similar in appearance to Smiths’ Marr, while the bass player and drummer could be Rourke and Joyce as they are now. As high-lighted in recent years in The Smiths high-profile royalties court case, the two members of the rhythm section were “parts of a lawn-mower who could be replaced”. No disrespect to these two talented musicians, but it’s Morrisey and Marr who the public know and recognise.

 

The standing venue was crowded with people of all ages, some younger people who were certainly born post-Smiths and some who were clearly old enough. And some older still.  

 

Surprisingly, The Smiths only had four studio albums of new material, but their discography is cluttered with a mess of compilations which gather up their many non-album singles and odd tracks for different world markets. They shone for only five brief years, 1982 to 1987, and had split up before the release of their final album, Strangeways, Here We Come, but in that time they dominated the music scene and are considered today to be one of the most inspirational and memorable bands of the ‘Eighties and indeed of British music. Ever.

 

The set opened with rousing single, Sheila Take A Bow which confirmed without doubt that this band were the closest to the Smiths we were ever going to get. William, It Was Really Nothing followed – allegedly written to the late – and sometimes great – Billy MacKenzie of the Associates. The audience sang and danced along, though too many of them photographed and filmed the event instead of enjoying the moment.

 

Panic elicited an electric reaction from the crowd and Morrisey twirled a noose as he insistently incited the crowd to “hang the DJ”. (At least one of his estranged bandmates is now a DJ, so this has become amusingly pertinent.)

 

For me – and probably most people – The Smiths output falls into two categories; the singles and singalongs that could have been singles versus the slower, introspective album tracks, which on first listen can sound like droning dirges. It was noticeable, but not surprising, that the crowd loved the former. The likes of non-single-singalong Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others, had the audience singing along and dancing, while the slower, angst-ridden tracks saw people turning and chatting or heading to the bar. This is not a criticism of the Smiths Ltd, nor of the Smiths as musicians and songwriters, but perhaps the majority of these slower songs are better suited on vinyl * or CD# than at a gig.

 

* An outdated recording medium.

# An almost outdated recording medium. 

 

At their best, the Smiths produced beautifully-crafted pop with influences from ‘Sixties rock and post-punk. You need a pinch of salt to appreciate many of Morrisey’s lyrics. “Behind the hate there lies a murderous desire for love.” Here is a troubled young man who craves love and is seemingly afraid of it in equal measures, who courts homoeroticism but admits to nothing, who is arrogant but also uncomfortable and anguished; a tortured youth who spent too much time alone, but loved music; intelligent, well-read, with a love of films and filmography and imagery from the past.

 

On stage in Sale, Morrisey held court with perfectly-captured sub-dad-at-a-wedding dance manoeuvres, sometimes effete, hands on hips, posturing, aimlessly swinging or flailing his arms. Someone in the audience handed him a bunch of gladioli, which he later used to swing around his head.

 

On Girlfriend in a Coma, the crowd joined in, every person knew every word, and rather than a football-crowd-like chant it was beautifully tuneful. This happened on The Boy With The Thorn In His Side, Ask and What Difference Does It Make? Someone called out for This Charming Man. “Do you know any?” Morrisey replied. The request was denied as they were saving this classic for later.

 

It was a brave choice to play Meat Is Murder, but it paid off; it was chilling with red lights flooding the stage, a back-projection conjuring images of blood droplets. “This beautiful creature must die.” It is poignant and powerful. “It’s death for no reason and death for no reason is murder.” Poetically beautiful and profound.

 

Johnny briefly moved from guitar to keyboards – or rather ‘Eighties-style Roland synthesizer, for a couple of tracks, but then returned to guitar, as the Smiths were famously a guitar-based band, an antidote to the electronic excess of the manicured ‘Eighties music scene. (For videos Morrisey rode round Manchester on a bike, rather than splashed about in the sea in Antigua – and her name was never Rio, it was Sheila – and she didn’t dance in the sand, she kicked the grime of this world in the crotch, dear.)

 

Singles alternated with album tracks, the high points being the singles: Shoplifters of the World Unite and at last This Charming Man, as requested earlier. Finally, Bigmouth Strikes Again – with the crowd joining-in and the initial set was complete and the band exited to rapturous applause.

 

They returned shortly for an extended and value-for-money encore of the Queen is Dead, with a long rock play-out during which Morrisey waved a placard bearing the title. Then he asked: “Would you like something miserable?” Well, yes… or we wouldn’t have come to see The Smiths. Heaven Knows I’m miserable now was brilliantly performed, followed by album track London and the hypnotic How Soon Is Now, which ignited the crowd, as Morrisey pined for consummation and an end to his youthful loneliness: a truly brilliant moment. Finally, the evening concluded with the perfect song to end on, There Is A Light That Never Goes Out, in which Morrisey cynically declared undying love: “If a double-decker bus crashes into us, to die by your die – what a heavenly way to die.” The crowd were instructed to sing the repeated title-line at the end, which was again done beautifully and then show was sadly over and I just wanted more.

 

Many tribute acts are bad cabaret: The Smiths Ltd are brilliant – a class act. They are indistinguishable from the Smiths. My only criticisms are around some of the song choices not being to my taste and a couple of crowd-pleasing tracks being omitted, (especially That Joke Isn’t Funny Anymore) but that’s just my taste. I can’t fault the musicianship or the performance. Like all truly great concerts I wanted to see it all again and was so sorry it was over and heaven knows I’m miserable now.

 

As they promise on their flyer: The Smiths Ltd ARE the ultimate tribute. “The Smiths meant everything to a generation… To us they still do.”

 

 

Reviewed on: 15th September 2017

Reviewed by: Gray Freeman for North West End.

Star rating: ***** (4 stars)

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Blondie – Pollinator review

 

BLONDIE IN BRIEF

 

Blondie formed in the ‘Seventies as part of the New York punk scene that grew out of infamous club CBGBs. Debbie Harry and guitarist Chris Stein met at the club, both in other bands at the time, and decided to form a group together. They became partners – in every sense of the word. They recruited Jimmy Destri on keyboards – at the time it was a rudimentary organ, and Clem Burke on drums.

 

Debbie and Blondie were ridiculed in the punk/CBGB scene, because they dared to experiment with music styles and go off-genre, and because of Debbie’s naturally glamourous looks. Being attractive, she was seen as an un-punk sell-out.

 

Later augmented by bass player Nigel Harrison – from Stockport! And lead guitarist Frank Infante, this became the classic line-up. Blondie produced six studio albums and had success all over the world. Blondie-mania though was starting to cool off and there was increasing in-fighting amongst the band, but the final nail in the coffin was when Chris contracted pemphigus, a potentially fatal disease, which signalled the end of the original Blondie. Debbie gave up her singing and acting career to care for Chris. Chris survived, but their relationship didn’t. They remain close, inseparable, and have often been quoted as saying “Together we make up one great person.” Chris is married with children, but he and Debbie remain intuitively connected soulmates.

 

After a hiatus of sixteen years, Blondie reformed. The four original members regrouped and had a number one hit in 1999 with Maria, becoming the only US act to have a number one in three different decades. (Excluding Michael Jackson, who had early hits with the Jacksons.) The accompanying album, No Exit, was a huge hit, though subsequent success was less forthcoming.

 

Blondie’s current line-up is back to a six piece, with three remaining original members and three additional musicians. Original keyboard player, Jimmy Destri was sacked after the 2003 album, The Curse of Blondie, due to his drug addiction causing issues. He has since begged to come back, was refused and went on to become a drugs counsellor. Along with Debbie and Chris, he was one of the principal songwriters and wrote many of the hits, including the comeback single Maria, so it could be argued that his input is sorely missed on the albums following his departure, which may have led to the situation on 2017 release, Pollinator…

 

 

POLLINATOR

 

I find every Blondie album contains some great songs, but since the reformation I usually find there are some fillers, some not to my taste and they are generally somewhat over-produced. With Pollinator, the plan was to collaborate with other songwriters and musicians and record several cover versions, not – as Chris was quick to point out – because they were running short of inspiration, but because they find music at the moment very exciting and they wanted to tap into it. This is possibly a positive spin on a bit of a desperate plight. I didn’t like the previous album very much, (Ghosts of Download). It’s not that it’s bad, but it was dance orientated and it’s not the kind of music I want to listen to. Or touch with a barge pole.

 

There are only three tracks on Pollinator that the original members have contributed to, and another two written by the “new” keyboard player. (He’s only been there 14 years.) The rest are all covers. There are, however, many catchy melodies. The music alone I would say is a triumph; it is the way the music is realised that I feel is a let-down. The over-reliance on non-descript, run-of-the mill keyboards quickly becomes irritating. The lyrics are almost universally banal. There is more meaning in my sock drawer.

 

I realise everything changes, but I want more than eleven songs about relationships. I feel increasingly that Blondie are trying to find an audience and be what they think the public want, when most Blondie fans want Blondie to be Blondie; not stick to any formula by any means, as they were always changing and their music was very eclectic. The original albums were by a band who knew who they were, but their output in recent years does seem somewhat contrived and the higher register that Debbie has started using comes across as generic-lightweight-pop.

 

Purchasers on Amazon are comparing this release to Blondie’s classic albums, generally meaning the first five. I find that incredibly offensive to those innovative, energetic and compelling releases. In the past, Blondie wrote about diverse and interesting things; their first album alone features subject matter as wide-ranging as arrest for statutory rape, surfing, Westside Story and giant ants. Their music was solid and stood the test of time. It isn’t the tunes here that disappoint me, but the unimaginative lyrics and the radio-pulp pop anonymous muzak. However, despite not liking the songs very much when looked at individually, I do like the album as a whole. If I don’t think about it too much Pollinator passes by in an enjoyably shameful, up-tempo burst of energy. It just isn’t the sort of music I would choose to listen to most of the time.

 

 

TRACK BY TRACK – IN BRIEF

 

Doom or Destiny.

Good. An immediate track to open with; one of the few tracks written by Blondie themselves. It isn’t ground-breaking, but it’s fun and fast. I like the throbbing bassline. The lyrics, though, are drivel. It features Joan Jett as guest vocalist. Not that it’s very obvious. Or necessary.

 

Long Time.

The album’s second single. People have likened it to Heart of Glass and in the backing, especially the intro, there are definite traces. Debbie had input into this track. It’s catchy and fun and sounds like classic Blondie.

 

Already Naked.

Written by “new” keyboard player, Matt Katz-Bowen, so predictably it is swamped with keyboards. The bass and guitar are excellent but almost drowned out. Despite that, it is instantly likeable.

 

Fun.

The first single. This seems to have been favourably received, but I detest it. The backing vocals that start the song annoy me from the offset and set the pace for the song. An insipid dance track with disposable lyrics. “You’re my fun. Too much fun, isn’t fun.” The high register vocals are irritating. Awful disco/karaoke lift music.

 

My Monster.

Written by Johnny Marr. There is a guitar hidden somewhere under all the keyboards. The chorus is quite infectious, but I’m not blown away.

 

Best Day Ever.

The repeated lyrics for the verses are rather annoying. “Heartache…. Heartache…. Heartache…. From the best day ever.” Plodding, irritating at first, but not overly offensive once it gets going.

 

Gravity.

Quirky keyboards and an electronically- treated vocal from Debbie. The chorus though kills it: “Is it love? Oh! Is it love? Oh-oh!” Repetitive, shallow and annoying.

 

When I Gave Up On You.

A stripped-back ballad, not drowned in electronic rhythms. A pop country song with a melancholy edge. The lyrics aren’t up to much, but I think it all works acceptably and at least it is different and provides a welcome change of pace.

 

Love Level.

Funky brass, a smattering of rap and a guest vocal at the end by John Roberts, actor, voice artist and comedian. A carnival vibe to it. Interesting, cheerful and catchy. Bigger than the sum of its rather odd parts.

 

Too Much.

All-consuming keyboards, melodic in a repetitive and disposable way with some appallingly juvenile lyrics thrown in for good measure: “You locked me inside my room of gloom” and “You locked me outside my heart”. This is only acceptable in Sixth Form poetry. I love Debbie’s voice at certain points and the years just slide away. The song has a mildly plaintive tone in the verses and a light, bright, bubblegum-pop chorus.

 

Fragments.

I find this interesting and another welcome change of pace. There is swirling, languishing music in the background: it isn’t hook-driven. The vocal isn’t the greatest and the song is fragmented (no pun intended) with a sudden change of tempo, but it’s refreshing and mature. This officially closes the album.

 

Tonight. (Hidden track on CD release.)

This sells itself as a duet with Laurie Anderson, though I wouldn’t call it a duet, any more that the first track is a duet with Joan Jett – which it isn’t. It’s a shame this is hidden at the end, uncredited, as it is – like the previous track -  different, interesting, haunting, mysterious, sinister. It sounds fresh and eerie and shows that there is much more to Blondie than three-minute electrocuted, repetitive pop snatches.

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The Bootleg Beatles at The Buxton Opera House

 

The Bootleg Beatles are on a magical mystery tour and visiting the Edwardian splendour of the Buxton Opera House, for a hard day’s night to remember.

 

The original Bootleg Beatles formed in 1980, a decade after the Beatles split up. Later that same year John Lennon was gunned down by Mark Chapman, (who last year was denied parole for the ninth time). The dream that many harboured that the Beatles may one day reform was over, making the existence of the Bootlegs even more pertinent.  

 

The show is arranged in roughly chronological order, with newsreels and images projected onto a screen as a backdrop, introducing the audience to each particular era. So we start off with four fresh-faced Liverpool lads, smartly turned out in matching suits and Beatles' mop tops. The resemblances and mannerisms are uncanny!

 

Adam Hastings has been playing John since 2011; he has the look, the stance, the voice, the sardonic wit and the Scouse drawl. Steve White is Paul McCartney’s double, even playing his bass left-handed. He joined in 2012. Stephen Hill is a dead-ringer for the talented George and an accomplished musician. He joined in 2014. Newest member, Gordon Elsmore, has been playing Ringo for just a year; he perhaps bears the least physical resemblance, though he is an excellent drummer.

 

The show opens with I Saw Her Standing There and immediately the Bootlegs have captured the audience with their sheer “Beatlesness”. Hit after hit follows:  Help, She Loves You, Eight Days A Week...until John announces: “One more number before we go off and get older” which receives a chuckle from a knowing audience. They play a spirited rendition of Twist and Shout, then leave the stage as the newsreels start again.

 

It must’ve been longer than it seemed, because when they return they’ve all grown moustaches. This is the Sergeant Pepper/psychedelic section of the show and accordingly, the Bootlegs wear the colourful long suits that famously symbolise this period of Beatles’ History. Opening with the title track, Sergeant Pepper and going straight into Ringo’s solitary contribution on lead vocals, With A Little Help From My Friends, which is admirably performed, then Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds, rather bizarrely dedicated to some young children in the audience.

 

This section is augmented by a six-piece orchestra of very talented multi-musicians, on strings, reed instruments and percussion. Most entertaining though, is their choreographed clapping and sheer gusto.

 

When I’m Sixty-Four follows, then Sergeant Pepper (Reprise) leading into A Day In The Life. Sergeant Pepper is considered by many to be the most influential rock and roll album of all time and is one of the best-selling; this truncated version of the album does it suitable justice.

 

There is still a trace of psychedelia in the Magical Mystery Tour songs, including I Am the Walrus, which is always a crowd pleaser. John introduces Penny Lane and Strawberry Fields Forever: “Paul’s going to sing you a song… Then I’m going to sing you a better one… The A-side.” (This was a double-A-sided single, which bizarrely only reached number 2 in the UK charts.) Everyone is then encouraged to their feet for a rousing, audience-participation version of All You Need Is Love.

 

The final section is the twilight years, but there are still many classics, such as Come Together, Get Back and The Ballad of John and Yoko. Ringo seems to have been replaced on drums by a flamboyant Jason King, with big hair and ruffles down his front, but he can still drum.

 

The stage is very effectively used throughout, with constant projected images in the background to illustrate the songs, though the performers are so captivating that I barely noticed the visuals. Also, the lighting is subtly used and doesn’t seem anachronistic in a show that is unashamedly about the past. And what a great past!

 

As the evening draws to its inevitable end, John drily says “We’ve been on tour for four days… and I can honestly say, Buxton, you’ve been in the Top Four audiences.” Which gets a hearty laugh.

 

Hey Jude finishes the main part of the show, followed by rapturous applause, which leads to an encore of Let It Be and then Revolution.

 

It has been a fantastic show. These four stars get five stars from me.

 

If you like the Beatles, then this is seriously the closest you’ll ever come together. If you don’t like the Beatles, you need Help.

 

***** (5 stars)

 

Reviewed on 2nd April 2017

Reviewed by Gray Freeman

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Hazel O’Connor, Breaking Glass. The Quays Theatre, the Lowry
 

This is an evening celebrating 35 years since the release of the iconic film, Breaking Glass, the story of a new wave (post punk) band in the early Eighties, from their humble beginnings to their fifteen minutes of fame, to tragedy, break ups and inevitable break downs.  Hazel O’Connor starred in the film, as Kate, and was nominated for a BAFTA award. She wrote and sang the soundtrack album. The evening is to feature the film in its entirety (I wasn’t expecting that!) followed by a short question and answer session (or that!) and then the live show: the whole of the breaking Glass album, in its entirety. (I was expecting that. The title of the tour sort of gave it away.)

1980. I remember the buzz around the film and its attendant singles when I was at school. Am I really that old? Let's move on...

Hazel comes out to introduce the film; she's now sixty and looking good... I know this because I put on my glasses to get a glimpse of her in focus. Short blonde hair, her most familiar look, but softer and more feminine than many of her early photographs.

The film also stars cheeky chappie, Phil Daniels, so young he's virtually a foetus. It's also literally peppered with soon-to-be-famous faces. Everyone you see is someone. Or will be. I’m surprised by how funny it is in parts, such as the snapshots of band auditions, (“This is my sixty-third audition!”) but it also presents a stark vision of Thatcherite Britain, fascist riots and violence against a backdrop of urban decay, strikes and unemployment with a recurring theme of oppression. The lyrics to the songs capture the feeling of the times and are delivered with a sneering passion and aggression.

The film reaches its climax with the shattering Eighth Day which works brilliantly and is shot in a visually stunning manner, after which it ends quietly, but not for long, as there is a roar of applause and the house lights go up. Brilliant!
 

After a welcome toilet stop (we’re not as young as we used to be) the evening resumes with the question and answer session. Hazel sits on the stage and comes across as very warm, approachable and funny. She reacts to the questions with humour and bares her soul. She was choked when she just watched the end of the film, she says, because it was prophetic; it later happened to her. Though the very end, she explains, is actually supposed to convey a glimmer of hope, which I missed. The lyrics were written mainly within a week; she was accused at the time of being nihilistic, but yes she believes the lyrics are sadly as relevant today as ever.

 

Then it’s time for the gig. Now, if you’d come here wanting the live music to replicate the film then you may be disappointed. Breaking Glass is locked in stasis; it speaks of and sounds like the very early Eighties: harsh post punk sounds with fledgling and experimental electronica. What we have here tonight is something quite different: a woman with a deep and matured voice still belting out these songs but in a pared back, reinvented, jazzy way. She is accompanied not by a full male electric band, as you might expect, but by two female musicians, Sarah on keyboards and Claire on sax, so they essentially form a Jazz Trio.

They open, as the film does, with Writing on the Wall, a spirited performance, strong vocals with Hazel affecting an aggressive, somewhat simian, strutting dance style. Let’s call it distinctive. The other songs follow, in film order, all different, but all good. When they’re half way through the list there is an interlude while they perform a moving song not from the album, I'll Give You My Sunshine, which Hazel explains, was written for her best friend, Joyce O’Connor: her mum, who died of cancer.

Back with the programme, the remaining songs follow, and with Hazel explaining some of the lyrics (Government White Papers and the killing of Blair Peach) they have even more resonance. The last two songs from the film are the two big hit singles. Will You is a melodic and beautifully nervous love song, perfectly performed and ending with a stirring sax solo. Last of all is Eighth Day, climactic and manic; the story of the universe in four minutes. Perfect. Some pop stars get sick of the songs that made them famous; Hazel O’Connor is best remembered for these two songs, her biggest hits; they are pretty good songs to be remembered by. 

 

An amazing evening.
 

Reviewed on:  30th November 2015 for NWE

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BIG GIRLS DON’T CRY at SALE WATERSIDE

 

“Oh, what a night!”

 

Big Girls Don’t Cry is a tribute show to the Four Seasons, pop/doo wop/close harmony singing group who began in New Jersey in 1960 and became one of the best-selling musical acts of all time, with so many hits under their belts, it’s difficult to count and many more familiar as having been covered by other artists. The show is performed by the East Coast Boys and their four backing musicians, the East Coast Band.

 

Sale Waterside is an excellent venue, modern and bright and comfortable. The auditorium is modestly full. There is no announcement, the music starts and the lights go down. When the black curtains draw back, the four seasoned performers are already on stage, wearing red, green, blue and lilac jackets and ties and they launch into the title track, Big Girls Don’t Cry. The red suited front man sings in distinctive falsetto in the style famously used by Frankie Valli and the harmonies by the other three are incredibly good. The East Coast Boys look the part, they sound the part, but best of all are the tightly choreographed, perfectly timed dance moves that are captivating and easily conjure up the genuine Four Seasons. Immediately they have won the audience over.

 

Between songs they chat easily with the audience. They are in character as the original Four Seasons, Frankie Valli, Bob Gaudio, Tommy DeVito and Nick Massi and speak in an Italian inflected transatlantic drawl. They are immediately likeable and strike up an easy rapport with a very appreciative audience. They tell us they’ve played all over the world: “Boston, Chicago, New York… and Sale” which gets a hearty laugh.

 

Many hits follow: Let’s Hang On, Working My Way Back To You, Rag Doll and a stunning rendition of Silence is Golden. There are also obscure, older songs thrown in, such as Peanuts, which they released under the group name of The Wonder Who?  with frenzied squeaky backing vocals and a fast, furious and hilarious dance routine.

 

They tell the audience they had a walk around Sale and went into “a beautiful little bar owned by J.D. Wetherspoon” and into “a nice little deli called Greggs”, which elicits laughter and cheers from the audience… and to “the deer park, Dun-ham Massey” At each of these places they miraculously met women, who all shared names with their songs, as a tenuous but funny linking method.

 

One of the boys picks a lady in the audience and asked her name. “Jane” she says. “Marlena?” he replies. “No kiddin’! What a coincidence.” The poor woman is dragged up on stage and they sing Marlena at her; she responds incredibly well as they proceed to vie for her affections. Dawn and Marianne follow, then Sherry “our first number one”. All too soon it’s the end of the first half. As everyone files to the bar and the toilets there is a hum of conversation and everyone is impressed with the show, and the general consensus seems to be: “I didn’t know that was one of their songs.”

 

The second half opens with the boys in white jackets and black ties, renewed after a half of lager, perfectly performing more hits, including Walk Like A Man… with its incongruous falsetto lead vocal and hilariously camp routine… Why Do Fools Fall in Love and Beggin’. After a quick change they reappear in leather jackets and perform Grease, the title track from the film, which Frankie Valli performed originally as a solo artist, which is accompanied by another amazing dance routine.

 

As one audience member heads out to the bar, the guys cheekily ask him if he’ll get them a drink. Obligingly he comes back with a tray and four pints of lager which earned him a round of applause. (At the end of the encore he returns with four pints for the boys in the amazing backing band, which was a really nice and generous touch.)

 

The falsetto vocals of Frankie Valli aren’t to everyone’s  taste, in the same way that the Bee Gees aren’t. For me, the best moments are when all four are singing together and their voices blend perfectly. This isn’t just a front man with his three bland backing singers; they each sang perfectly and brought so much visual style, warmth and character.

 

The last song of the main part of the show is, appropriately, Bye Bye Baby, more associated with the later cover by the Bay City Rollers; the audience are encouraged to join in; people are dancing down at the stage and the whole auditorium is in raptures.

 

The encore features a medley of songs, with more tight vocals and captivating dancing. Then finally to end the show the classic December 1963 (Oh What A Night) which had everyone standing, singing, clapping and dancing. A truly memorable song, a truly memorable finale to a truly memorable show. Everyone came away buzzing.

 

If you like the Four Seasons you should go and see this show. If you don’t like them you should probably go anyway, because it’s a great night out, the dancing is mesmerising and you probably know a lot more of the songs than you think. If it was on again tonight I’d go straight back, because this show has a feel good factor of ten.

 

Reviewed on:  10th June 2016 for NWE

Star rating: FOUR

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Julian Cope – World Shut Your Mouth (1984)

(This review is about WSYM the album, not WSYM the single, which confusingly appeared on an album several years later.)

 

Julian Cope was the lead single, songwriter and multi-musician (but officially bass player) with the Teardrop Explodes, a Liverpool-based group at the end of the ‘Seventies/early ‘Eighties, as punk was turning into New Wave and then New Romanticism. Cope wasn’t a Scouser himself, he was far too posh-speaking, from Tamworth in Staffordshire, but he attended University in Liverpool and became embroiled in its burgeoning music scene.

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At one point, he had a brief dalliance with big local names Ian McCulloch and Pete Wylie (later of Echo and the Bunnymen and Wah! respectively). They became the Crucial Three. They were three frontmen and – predictably – there were at least two too many egos involved. Probably more.

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Instead, Cope formed the Teardrop Explodes, the name taken from a comic strip. (He collects comics and children’s toys. Worried yet?) Their first official album, Kilimanjaro, sounded dated on the day it was released – in a good way – what we would now called "retro"; a mixture of ‘Sixties psychedelia, indie and new wave, with the occasional addition of punchy brass. There were no drugs involved with this album, despite the psychedelic influences.

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This was followed by huge hit single, Reward, which was hastily added to further pressings of the Kilimanjaro album. The second album, Wilder, was a completely different affair, more mellow in places and introspective, plaintive and beautiful, but with many an unstoppable beat thrown in. Drugs were involved in vast quantities at this point and it was the beginning of the end.

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During the recording of what would have been their third album, the Teardrops Exploded. Julian Cope wasn’t. Coping, that is. Drugs were having a very negative effect on him and he could no longer function within a group. He disbanded the Teardrops – which was a crying shame. Cope took some time out, moved near to his childhood home with his soon-to-be second wife, an American met on tour, and eventually began recording his first solo album. 

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World Shut Your Mouth is like nothing that went before it. Again, it sounded not-so-much dated upon its release, but from another time altogether. It comes across in many ways as an acoustic album, but it isn’t, as it features electric bass and guitars, but at the forefront are organ, piano and mournful cor anglais. It is quite a stunning piece of work. As I owned it on vinyl first, I still think of it as side one and side two. Side one is simply perfect.

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Opening with Bandy’s First Jump, with immediate, energetic acoustic guitars and urgent drums, an infectious song. The title may be about sex, but I don’t think the lyrics are.  Perhaps Bandy is Julian himself, as he’s tall and slim build? The lyrics are very obscure, but enthralling; with Julian Cope the lyrics never bother me, as he’s a one off and I’m sure they make perfect sense to him, wherever he was at. This could have been a single – but wasn’t.

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Track two, Metranil Vavin, has a completely different flavour, but is no less compelling. It was written as a Teardrops song and a demo was prepared, but this is so much better. I learned in recent years that Vavin was a Russian poet. Constant two-note organ and thrashing drums. Ends with bluesy piano and the words: “How am I gonna get to heaven, when I’m just balanced so precariously?”

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Strasbourg is a town that is half German and half French (“Always fighting, always fighting with yourself/If I were France – and you were Germany, What an alliance that would be.”) Frenzied acoustic guitars and the background organ again. Another contender to be a single, which wasn’t.

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An Elegant Chaos is a haunting, melancholy track of immense beauty, from a lost and lonely Cope. The lead guitar is in one speaker, the mournful organ in the other. It could have been a single – no one would have bought it, but it could have been. I love the lines, (about life): “70 years is neither one thing or the other/My big fear, is to dig it at last and have it taken away”.

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Quizmaster is driven by the ever-present organ and frenzied drumming, while the cor anglais leads the instrumental chorus. It is instant and very up-tempo. I’ve no idea what it’s about, but the lyrics are never less than compelling.

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The final track on Side One is Kolly Kibber’s Birthday. The title references the reporter at the beginning of Brighton Rock It opens with a seemingly speeded-up electronic pulsing beat, which should seem out of place here, but nothing is out of place on this album. The lead guitar takes over. Cope’s voice is sincere, innocent, naïve, like a choir boy as he sings cleverly witty lines: “Like lions we cling to our pride”. This has another musical chorus shared by lead guitar and stadium drums. An excellent and powerful way to close side one.

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To me, it is one of the most perfect sides of music ever. If I had to choose my favourite track it would be all of them.

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Side two isn’t bad though, it just feels less coherent somehow. It starts with first single, Sunshine Playroom, a track again written during the Teardrops period and tipped to be a single for them, but it never appeared. It is entrenched in childhood memories and is a strong and powerfully evocative song, as Cope yearns for the simplicity of his formative days with a fear of growing up and moving on. “The sun in her hair, the sun in her eyes, something that makes me want to go back.” There is child-like innocent vocal delivery of the verses and the grungy runaway-train of the choruses. 

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Head Hang Low is a beautifully melancholic song, led by the mournful cor anglais.  “All is lost in bright confusion”, would seem to sum up his state of mind at the time.

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Pussyface was another Teardrops track which they actually recorded, though it was called Sex then. It was in a not too dissimilar fashion to this, though this has the edge. It is unlike any other track on the album, though most of Side Two is quite different to Side One. It is piano led, with strange drum patterns, unusual bass and strange noises. It reminds me of an advert for a fruit drink many years ago; the drink was famously “too orangey for crows”.

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The second single, Greatness and Perfection, is probably my least favourite on the album. There is nothing wrong with it, it’s just that I think every other track is better. It’s the most lightweight and poppy song on the album and the most disposable.

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The album closes with Lunatic and Fire Pistol, which summons images of the First World War, of a young soldier in the trenches wishing he was back on the village green. It has a reflective beginning with cor anglais and organ. It is very simple, stripped back, until then end when the drums kick in and various layers of the same instruments come in, layer after layer, building very powerfully, finally joined by a military trumpet.

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For me, Side One is perfect and Side Two is good. Julian Cope seldom captured this intensity or uniqueness again. On a few occasions over the years he actually became a pop star, then faded into obscurity again. He then transformed into self-styled “Arch-Drude” and went all new age and environmental. Emphasis on the mental. He also started adding to the lyrics booklets to his albums things like: “I forgot the words to verse three, so I sang verse one again.”  

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He also became an expert on British prehistorical sites. I met him at one, Avebury, the stone circle village in Wiltshire, where he lived with his second wife and two daughters. I stood behind him in Stones, the café. He was gangly (or Bandy?) and smelt very odd. He ordered “Hey, two cream teas, please.” in a slow, almost-American drawl, which is odd for someone from Staffordshire. I went back outside and told my friend, Paul. Paul couldn't contain himself and ended up chasing Julian’s car down the road. I was so embarrassed!

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The Kaiser Chiefs – Stay Together (2016)

 

After four albums – four good and very varied albums – but with seemingly waning singles success, founder member and drummer, Nick Hodgson, decided it was time to move on. Instead of leaving the Kaiser Chiefs though, he announced publicly that they were disbanding. According to interviews at the time, this caused some consternation; the remaining four Kaisers weren’t ready to quit and decided to find a new drummer instead. The press reported that there was some speculation about how they would manage, as Hodgson was their sole songwriter; this upset Ricky Wilson; he admitted that most of their songs came from ideas by Hodgson, but then the rest of the band took them up and made them into fully-fledged songs, so it was generally a combined effort.

 

In 2014, they released their first post-Hodgson album, Education, Education, Education and War – the title taken from and mocking Tony Blair. This reached number one in the UK chart, though the singles didn’t fare that well. Education seemed like a very coherent album – the design and the songs and even the videos all fitted together and followed on. The lyrics mainly have a political edge and revolve around various aspects of war. Drummer Hodgson had gone, been replaced and artistically the Kaisers had moved onwards and upwards. Education is my favourite Kaiser album and the most cohesive.

 

Their most recent offering, Stay Together, is very different. I can’t help feeling the title is, at least in part, two fingers to their former band mate. The reviews for this haven’t been good at all. The cover is appalling and disposable, jazzy, colourful, annoying, tacky. They haven’t got the greatest covers anyway, but this is just generic trash and seems designed to appeal to young people. In fact, it looks like it was made by young people, experimenting for the first time with their new felt tip multi-pack.

 

Most of the previous Kaiser albums are a mixture of indie music with retro leanings – especially in the keyboards – with lyrics revolving around relationships, social comment, memories, friendships and even Alzheimer’s. They have usually been very accessible, without being disposable. That’s possibly where Stay Together differs most.

 

On putting the album on – yes, I “put it on” because it was a CD not a download – my first impression was that it was awful. The opening track, We Stay Together, begins with some decidedly shaky vocals, which I just don’t get. Ricky Wilson is a great vocalist, so I can only assume this was intentional. But I don’t like it. After the vocal introduction, the electronic beats come in… and stay for the rest of the album. Despite the dance rhythms, it turns into a good song and the vocals become very Bowie-esque for the verses, while the choruses are upbeat and infectious.

 

Two singles follow, which for me are by far the weakest tracks and in no way showcase the album at its best. Hole in My Soul opens with pop rhythms and some truly appalling juvenile rhyming couplets: “Strike up the band/Give yourself a great big hand” and “Whip up the crowd/Get ‘em going nice and loud”. Words aside it’s catchy enough, but very disposable.

 

Parachute is more laid back, with mellow verses leading to a rather vapid chorus. So far this all seemed like generic and very lightweight pop… and whatever had made the Kaisers different and special and Indie had gone… And I think that’s a statement I’d stick by, except that by track 4 (Good Clean Fun) I had – like the Kaiser Chiefs – changed my tune. It has a reggae groove and great vocals. It’s not lyrically adept, but for me it just works.

 

Several palatable tracks follow, with mainly relationship-based lyrics, catchy and poppy and lightweight, but likeable enough. It is the last three tracks that really left me on a high. High Society is very experimental… and odd. A high register vocal puts me in mind of Prince, or the Artist Formerly Known as Prince, or rather the Former Artist known as Prince. I didn’t like Prince. I didn’t like his songs or his vocal delivery… but this… this really hooked me, with its falsetto and slightly camp vocal and its non-stop cyclic rhythm. Despite my better judgment, I just love it. It does what music should do – it cuts through preconceived opinions and draws you right in.

 

Sunday Morning is chirpy and immediate and I like the words, especially the repeated refrain at the end, regarding a typical Sunday morning. Finally, closing track Still Waiting opens with a beautifully melancholic guitar line. Ricky Wilson employs a croaky, lazy, half-asleep vocal. The choruses soar and it sounds like the old Kaisers and is all the better for it.

 

On paper, there is a lot to dislike about this collection of songs. It isn’t the type of music I would choose to listen to, yet I find myself really enjoying it when I put it on. It’s very immediate, there are hooks all over the place. It is fun and infectious. My only concern is that eventually it may lack the depth to keep me liking it, but I hope I’m wrong.