The unexplained cancellation of the
6 o’clock fast train from Waterloo to Portsmouth Harbour via Guildford last
night caused me to take a slow train that went round the houses, stopping
everywhere, and as it did I settled back in a hot and crowded carriage that
crawled out of West London towards those Surrey stations where the car parks
are full of posh cars belonging to rich commuters. It was too cramped to
read the paper so I settled back with the iPod and jotted down a few notes on
my iPhone which I’ve just tidied up.
First
up tonight is ‘I Need You’, the George Harrison Beatle song by The Webb
Sisters. I don’t think I’ve heard this before but it’s really nice… from a Mojo George compilation that I must have
downloaded and forgotten about. Lovely little vocal flourishes, especially in
the instrumental break and towards the end.
‘Berlin’
by Kirtsy MacColl. I used
to know the lovely Kirsty MacColl who of course sings the female part in
‘Fairytale of New York’. For a short while in the early ‘80s – before she
eventually married Steve Lillywhite, U2’s record producer – she went out with a
friend of mine who lived near me in Hammersmith. They sometimes came around to
my flat after the pubs shut and Kirsty liked nothing better than to stick my
headphones on and listen to my vinyl Beach Boys albums. She had a gorgeous
voice and sometimes sang along, forgetting that we could hear every word. Kirsty
was killed in a boating accident in Mexico in 2000, drowned after a speedboat
crashed into her as she was swimming with her two sons whose lives she saved.
The driver of the speedboat was allegedly the son of a multi-millionaire who
got off scot free, so it was both a tragedy and a scandal. There is a bench in
Soho Square that commemorates Kirsty, bought by fans in her honour, inscribed with the lyrics of her song
‘Soho Square’: “One day I'll be waiting there / No empty bench in Soho Square.”
Paul
Simon – ‘God Bless The Absentee’, from One Trick Pony, a catchy piano riff, a
nifty guitar break and its central portion seems like a re-write of 'Homeward
Bound'. ‘Black Betty’ by Ram Jam, from a rock compilation. I know this song
well but I’d have been hard pressed to say who recorded it. Were they one hit
wonders?
‘Eden’s
Wall’ by Little Feat, from their box set Hotcakes
& Outtakes, and just the opposite... I know the group well but don’t
recall this song, probably because it’s from a version of the band after Lowell
George died. This is pleasant enough but a bit MORish for LF, and too much
going on for my taste, too long too. They’d never have recorded this if Lowell
had been alive.
‘I
Wanna Be Free’ by The Monkees. Soppy ballad, ’nuff said. Davey Jones was cute
but he was responsible for some real drivel, the one member of that band who
had no allegiance whatsoever to rock’n’roll.
‘Wonderful
One’ by Page & Plant from their No
Quarter album, a slow-paced, slightly North African sounding piece with
downtuned guitars, deep percussion and Robert in good voice. Embracing world
music was a laudable move by these two, in many ways mitigating the rather
questionable blues ‘interpretations’ from their Zep days that could be traced
back to old black dudes.
‘I
Met Her Today’ from Elvis’ Nashville To
Memphis album. Another soppy ballad, seems like a recurring theme in my
iPod posts. And I have so much great Elvis on it too.
Next
up is this evening’s big surprise, Trio Bulgarka, with ‘Mari Tudoro from their
album The Forest Is Crying. I got
this CD because the Trio were mentioned in Graeme Thomson’s Kate Bush biography
Under The Ivy, and the way Graeme
described them really left me no choice. Here’s an extract: “The Trio consisted
of Yanka Rupkina, Eva Georgieva and Stoyanka Boneva, three middle-aged women
who had been singing traditional Bulgarian music both together and apart for a
couple of decades and had contributed to the semi-legendary compilation Le
Mystere Des Voix Bulgares, first released by a Swiss label in 1975 and later
reissued, in 1986, on Britain’s hip indie imprint 4AD. Bulgarian folk had already exerted a
small but appreciable influence on western popular music. In the mid- to
late-Sixties, the State Radio and Television Female Vocal Choir’s album, Music Of Bulgaria, The Ensemble Of The
Bulgarian Republic, was released on the Nonesuch label and reached the
likes of David Crosby and Graham Nash, soaking up the vibes a world away in the
blissed-out, false idyll of Laurel Canyon. They were stunned by its
otherworldly sound. ‘Those
women sing rings around everybody in the world,’ said Crosby many years later.
‘They make the Beach Boys sound loose. And they were a huge influence on Nash
and myself both. We listened to that album probably a couple of hundred times.
There is no question they influenced me, strongly. I thought that was the best
part singing I have ever heard in my life.’ Kate Bush was evidently “devastated”
by its emotional purity, likening their voices to those of angels, although
there was nothing sweet or mellifluous about it. Singing
from the throat rather than the chest, the trio employed diaphonic stylings, the lead vocalist singing the melody while the others
sustained a single drone note, creating an effect much like that of a bagpipe.
Punctuating the dissonant, brittle harmonies in sevenths and ninths with
strange whoops, trills and yelps, the results were raw and powerful, utterly
alien to western ears and yet touching the receptive listener at a profoundly
deep level.” After reading that I simply had to investigate and the Trio
certainly make for an arresting sound, although it’s a bit of an acquired
taste.
Next
up is Paul McCartney singing ‘Here Today’ from his 2009 live album Good Evening New York City, which
largely comprises faithful interpretations of Beatle songs performed by the
young and enthusiastic group he’s employed for the last 15 years or so. I
bought this (double) CD at a Motorway gas station because it was a) cheap, b)
I’d forgotten to bring any CDs on this trip, and c) most of what was available
was modern chart rubbish. ‘Here Today’, of course, is a heartfelt song to his
former Beatle partner, perhaps made all the more poignant in this version as he
is singing it in NY where John died. Unadorned, with Paul facing a huge audience,
it certainly shows he’s got plenty of bottle. Then again, with the crowd on his
side he can’t go far wrong.
It’s
always a treat to hear The Mamas And The Papas’ ‘I Saw Her Again Last Night’,
its harmonies as lovely as ever. The only surviving member of the group, Michelle
Phillips, turned 70 in June and still looks gorgeous.
‘Miles
Ahead’ by Miles Davis from the Complete
Columbia Sessions brought a touch of gentle swing as the train began to
empty, and next up was Albert Lee & Hogan’s Heroes
playing ‘One Way Rider’ from Live At The
New Morning, a Paris rock club. The greatest unsung guitarist Britain has
produced, Albert is one of the best country pickers in the world, a living
legend and a lovely bloke too. We’ve met on a number of occasions and I once
found myself sat next to him in a box at the Albert Hall for a Clapton concert.
I think he’d left Clapton’s band because he was fed up of playing ‘Slow Down
Sally’. A couple of years ago I went to watch him do a master class at hotel in
Guildford. He was showing off really, but when you can play like him you have
every right to show off.
We
were breezing through Clandon now, coming up to Guildford and the last track to
come up was ‘Arc Of A Diver’ by the wonderful Steve Winwood, with lyrics by Vivian
Stanshall for whom the royalties were no doubt very welcome at this time in his
life. Many years ago I interviewed Viv in a Greek restaurant on Charlotte
Street and he was particularly taken with some extra hot peppers that came as a
side dish. He asked the waiter for a handful and when we’d eaten we headed off
to the Ship in Wardour Street for a quick pint. On the bar, in a plastic case,
were some open sandwiches into which Viv slipped a pepper or two when no one
was looking. No doubt some poor sod got a bit of a shock when he bit into it.
The last time I saw Viv was at Kempton Park Racecourse many years ago when the
Charisma Handicap was being run. He looked very strange in those days, strange
clothes, strange glasses, strange hair. Our daughter Olivia, aged about three,
was with us and I introduced her to Viv. “That’s a very funny man,” she whispered
in my ear afterwards. “Yes,” I said. “He is
a very funny man.”
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