Author: grahampk

Mark Hollis – Mark Hollis – Round 37 – Graham’s Choice

Keen to stick to the theme (ahem…), I surprised myself by purchasing a copy of this album just a week before this week’s meeting. I’ve had copies in various forms for over 10 years, but never had a physical copy of the icing on the cake of my Talk Talk, post ‘Colour of Spring’ collection.  I also felt somewhat obliged to offer something by the way of an antidote to the distress I had caused in Round 36.

I pretty much ignored Mark Hollis and his Talk Talk colleagues until the early/mid 90’s. I had them typecast as New Romantic wannabees, though I had heard a couple of singles off their second album which sounded a bit more interesting. Still, not enough to persuade me into investigating further. I then started reading various articles which were heralding the band in a far different light.

I began by buying their third album, ‘The Colour of Spring’ (1986), which immediately ripped up all my preconceptions about them. Probably a bit too mature a sound for me to have fully appreciated in 1986, but it I loved it and found it immediately accessible. The direction they had begun with ‘The Colour of Spring’ continued on their last 2 albums which are amongst my favourite records of all time. When I consider why I don’t feel the need to buy much music anymore, maybe it’s because after hearing ‘Spirit of Eden’ and ‘Laughing Stock’, I simply didn’t need to. However, as my wife hates these 2 albums and is sent in to a rage by Mark Hollis’ one and only solo album, I don’t get to listen to them that often!

Until the very recent emergence of some new work, this album seemed to be the conclusion of Mark Hollis’ journey from ‘The Colour of Spring’, and his final offering as a solo artist. After ‘Laughing Stock’ it seemed unlikely that Mark could produce an even more stripped back and sparse sounding album, yet still make it sound beautiful and immersive. It took 7 years, but in 1998 he more than achieved that with this album. There is not quite the ‘drive’ and short-lived drama to some tracks which we heard on the last two Talk Talk albums, but that allows a more restful vibe to run throughout the album. There are some real raw jazzy moments, but nothing too “noodley”. As for the rest, just as you think it’s folksy, it’s classical, it’s ambient etc., etc. It’s probably easier to say what it’s not in some circumstances. If I did yoga, I’m sure this would be a great soundtrack.

I’ll admit that ‘A Life (1895-1915)’ is a track that I’m not in love with. It strays too much in to conceptual territory for me, and we all know where that can lead. But the stark beauty of the opener ‘The Colour of Spring’ (a very loose reprise of April 5th, from, confusingly, the album ‘The Colour of Spring’), is so disarming, I’ll put up with anything after that.

Nick listened: It’s fair to say that I know late-period Talk Talk pretty well: I’ve written about Spirit of Eden extensively, and I even pitched a 33 & 1/3 book about it a few years ago (and got through the first couple of rounds of applications). I’ve described Laughing Stock, Talk Talk’s final record, as the only truly “profound” music I’ve ever experienced, but that was in a heady moment. (Nothing, ever, anywhere, is truly “profound”. Possibly.) So, predictably, I know Mark Hollis’ solo album very well, too.

Like Graham, I don’t actually listen to Spirit of Eden or Laughing Stock all that often, and I listen to this album even less. They’re all powerful, austere creations that I feel demand a certain amount of reverence and attention and ritual. I feel vaguely silly saying that, but it’s true. Plus my wife doesn’t like his voice!

Hollis’ eponymous solo album does indeed go further into considered minimalism than even Laughing Stock. Hollis apparently took himself off for several years and taught himself formal composition (and presumably went to the cinema and walked his dog and went to parents’ evenings etc etc etc too), so his solo album, unlike SoE and LS, which were edited together digitally from dozens or hundreds of hours of improvised explorations as far as I understand it, is actually a very different beast, despite similar timbres and ambiences. It never truly roils and thunders and screams like its older siblings, never surrenders to drama and noise and chaos, and it doesn’t wallow in the darkest recesses of human emotion. It also, consequently, doesn’t ever quite reach the absolute peaks of transcendent beauty either (beauty being, as with so many things, so often, largely a relative thing – exposed only to beauty and never to ugliness, how would you know what was beautiful?). Instead, its content to just exist to float, to be beautiful sans context. The minimal, heart-stroking piano of the opening track, the tap-tapping jazz percussion waves later on, the spaces, the ages, the woodwinds that sound like The Clangers, the lyrics about (obliquely, possibly) moving back to London so your kids can go to the cinema more often, or about dying just before the Great War, or about… what are they even about?

Apparently this album was recorded entirely live, in one room, with two microphones for stereo imaging, the instruments and their players positioned just so in order to avoid needing overdubs. It’s quite remarkable, and crystalline, and delicate, and strange, and precious. But I probably only play it once ever few years.

Tom Listened: In some ways I admire Graham’s chutzpah! To suggest his theme and then bring this was either a move of complete genius or utter contempt for the rules. If nothing else, he is certainly unpredictable.

Mark Hollis is an album I have owned since it was released and I am a huge fan of late period Talk Talk. But I have hardly ever listened to this particular album, and after hearing it again the other night, I remember why. It’s a beautiful, stunningly composed record by a wonderful song-writer. It is also, for me, the most claustrophobic record I have ever heard…it seems to suck all the air out of the room and, in much the same way as These New Puritans or Sunn O))) (I kid you not) the atmosphere it inhabits is just too unsettling for me to truly enjoy the experience. I think I’ll stick to Spirit of Eden, Laughing Stock and my Clangers box set for the time being and maybe go back to this when I am over-the-moon happy or suicidally depressed!

Rob listened: I don’t get Talk Talk. I want to, or at least i’m prepared to, but despite trying reasonably hard, it’s never happened.  I’d go so far as to say ‘Spirit of Eden’ is the most consistently disappointing record I own. Time after time i’ve gone back to it hoping to find the profundity, the worlds within worlds that others find therein, but I get less and less each time. I’d never heard ‘Mark Hollis’ before and, i’m pleased to say, I liked it more than any of the Talk Talk records I’ve spent time with. I found its baroque beauty and almost stifling intimacy quite entrancing. SInce hearing it i’ve been back to ‘Laughing Stock’, which seems to me much closer to this than to the Talk Talk records that preceded it, and I think perhaps somewhere between this and that lies the Talk Talk I may be able to get along with.

Marillion – Misplaced Childhood – Round 36 – Graham’s Choice

When Nick set us the challenge of finding a concept album, my immediate reaction was where to begin with the options I had lurking in my collection. Then the reality dawned that I had not purchased anything resembling a concept album since 1987.

By then I had learned to leave such things well alone as there were far more interesting things to be listened to.

I referred fellow members to the sleeve notes which accompanied my copy of ‘Radio K.A.O.S.’ (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Radio_K.A.O.S.) should they need any further evidence that my not having bought a concept album since 1987 was a very good thing. That still left me with a problem as to what to play. Rather than dip out, as I had done on debut album round, I assembled my dozen or so Floyd/Genesis etc. options and set off to, at least what I regarded, as the second novelty round (see round Round 17) of DRC.

My final choice above was inspired by a number of factors. I knew that Nick had had this inflicted on him at a vulnerable age and was interested to see how he felt about it now. I also retained a little bit of affection for Marillion having watched them live and seen them being savaged by the music press at the beginning of their career. Looking back, it almost feels like the music press had to invent the “neo-prog” genre just to explain them away. The suggestion was that they tapped in to a group of fans that had been in hibernation since the mid 70’s and were to suddenly reawaken when Marillion appeared in 1982. They didn’t fit the scene, they weren’t good looking, had questionable album cover art, but had a huge following and sold millions of records.

Anyway, with this 1985 album they managed a pretty neat trick by delivering their first full concept album and managed to produce a couple of AOR singles which charted both sides of the Atlantic. A challenge for fellow members would be to find another album which had such a significant impact on the naming of children, as in late 2005, 96% of Kayleighs living in the United Kingdom were born after 1985 (though maybe a few parents couldn’t spell “Kylie”). Anyway, while some of us sang along, recounting lyrics word for word after a 25 year break, others shifted nervously in their seats, while some bordered on spontaneous combustion. The album features the commercial singles at the beginning which then settles you in to a proggy/rocky ride to the triumphant U2’esque closer.

A lot of ground was covered in discussion and it was even speculated that in 1985 the logical implication, LM  NG was true, (where LM was expressing a liking for Marillion and NG was having no girlfriend). Some seemed to enjoy the ride, but I suspect not all.

Nick listened: When I was 10 I was a contestant on a BBC kids’ TV quiz show, and I won a Sony Walkman. Around about the same time, I inherited a box of albums on cassette from my older brothers (they’re 9 and 11 years older than me). One thing leads to another, and three of those cassettes got listened to a lot. An awful, awful lot. So much so that, probably 20 years since I last heard Misplaced Childhood in full, I could remember almost every lyric, every musical fill and riff and turn, every spoken-word passage about poetic Scottish spiders.

(If you’re wondering, the other two were Open Up And Say… Ahhhhh! by Poison, and Appetite for Destruction by Guns ‘n’ Roses.)

At 33, I have no idea whether I like Misplaced Childhood or not; there’s too much time, too much baggage, too much association to make a genuine value judgement. I never really investigated Marillion any further – I think Script For A Jester’s Tear was in that shoebox too but I didn’t take to it – probably because it was lacking Kayleigh and Lavender as frontloaded hooks to lure in the pre-adolescent me. I’ve threatened several times to buy it on CD, but never done so. Not because of Emma’s threats to divorce me, but out of some sense of learned guilt – this music is bad, is wrong, is pompous and decadent and all that bad stuff that punk washed away.

But it’s also, occasionally, incredibly catchy, melodic… and beautiful? Exciting? It was absolutely fantastic fun singing along the other night, pulling faces, throwing comedy prog-shapes, watching Rob squirm uncomfortably. I’d say, if pushed, that I don’t believe in “guilty” pleasures (I’m not religious and certainly not Catholic): Misplaced Childhood comes pretty damn close to being one, though.

As an aside, I used to moderate a band’s forum, and whenever arguments broke out, as they tend to do on forums, I would post the complete lyrics to this album as a way of making people shut up and leave the offending thread. I’ve not done that in years and years and years. So, in that great tradition, here are the lyrics to Kayleigh. Please feel free to pick your cheesiest remembrance from amongst Derek Dick’s words…

“Do you remember chalk hearts melting on a playground wall
Do you remember dawn escapes from moon washed college halls
Do you remember that cherry blossom in the market square
Do you remember I thought it was confetti in our hair
By the way didn’t I break your heart?
Please excuse me, I never meant to break your heart
So sorry, I never meant to break your heart
But you broke mine

Kayleigh is it too late to say I’m sorry? But Kayleigh could we get it together again?
I just can’t go on pretending that it came to a natural end

Kayleigh, oh I never thought I’d miss you
And Kayleigh I thought that we’d always be friends
We said our love would last forever
So how did it come to this bitter end?

Do you remember barefoot on the lawn with shooting stars
Do you remember loving on the floor in Belsize Park
Do you remember dancing in stilletoes in the snow
Do you remember you never understood I had to go
By the way, didn’t I break your heart?
Please excuse me, I never meant to break your heart
So sorry, I never meant to break your heart
But you broke mine

Kayleigh I just wanna say I’m sorry
But Kayleigh I’m too scared to pick up the phone
to hear you’ve found another lover to patch up our broken home

Kayleigh I’m still trying to write that love song
Kayleigh it’s more important to me now you’re gone
Maybe it will prove that you were right
or it will prove that I was wrong”

Tom Listened: This was undoubtedly one of Graham’s more inspired choices. Just to see the look on Rob’s face when Marillion was compared to Low (the band not the album). Don’t believe me? Go listen to Lavender, imagine it slowed down to a funereal lilt, chuck in some mumbled lyrics and an acoustic strum. It’s a dead ringer. And the best bit? That little look in Rob’s face when he suddenly realised that this comparison was not so wide of the mark after all. Priceless! Now, he will of course deny it but it was there, just for a split second admittedly, but definitely, undeniably, there.

Of course the record itself is preposterous, the production of the music is almost as horrible as the production of the cover art…and the lyrics?…Well, just see Nick’s post. However, some of the melodies are sweet and I reckon I may just get in touch with Mimi and Alan and suggest that they follow through.

Rob didn’t listen: 

“Awful, awful” – Nick Southall

“I may just follow through”  – Tom Rainbow

“I retained a little affection for them being savaged” – Graham Pollock

Reactions can easily be taken out of context. If Tom saw a look which he interpreted as acceptance crossing my face when he talked about ‘Lavender’ sounding like my beloved Low it could have actually represented any of the following fleeting thoughts: ‘Why am I in a room listening to Marillion?’ ‘Why aren’t these people who I thought were my friends smashing this record to pieces?’ ‘Did someone just mention Low and does this mean i’m being talked down to safety?’ Amusing as the point is, in the interest of accuracy I have to say that I did not even fleetingly give it credence. Here’s why: Imagine ANY rock song, in fact ANY SONG AT ALL, slowed down to an acoustic brush and hum and it will sound like Low. Here’s one: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_nVrwzptNVc. So, it’s like observing that the sky appears to be blue or suggesting that the Pope shits in the woods, or somesuch.

Secondly. Oh god, do I have to go on? When I was fifteen I decided that the music I liked was Public Image Limited and this begat The Smiths which begat The Fall. In making this choice, I set myself against a number of the opposite positions I could easily, accidentally, have adopted. These included any records made pre-1977. I have softened on this. Most importantly I adopted an ideological repulsion for prog rock and, particularly Marillion and Genesis. I have not softened on this. I never listened to their records, but some of my friends did. Hating those records was one of the things I did as a teenager to create my adolescent self. I see now that this was, essentially, just blind luck. I could have gone the other way. But I didn’t. To go back now, or at any point over the last 25 years, would be to strike at the very foundations of the person I’ve become. Everyone likes a revolution, and addressing preconceptions about oneself has to be healthy, but some keystones need to stay in place or else the asylum beckons.

Prior to this evening I didn’t give a fuck what this record sounded like, it was kryptonite as far as I was concerned. That’s a poor attitude, I know, but it explains the largely physical reaction I had when confronted with a record I had never heard but which I had arbitrarily yet passionately set myself against.

Now, against my will, I’ve sort of heard it and I was right all along.

The Sisterhood – Gift – Round 35 – Graham’s Choice


The Sisterhood - GiftInspired by listening to Fever Ray in previous round I decided to probe the darker regions of my album collection. Given my difficulties with modern day dance/electro I thought I should also explore something from when I used to frequent the New Wave “club scene”, as I’m far too old to have anything to do with that sort of thing now.

I brought this little curio along, prompted to some extent by the back story behind the album itself. I suppose I should have saved this for the theme night of “spiteful albums released as a commercial weapon”, but what the heck!

I bought this in 1986, because basically I would have bought anything related to the Sisters of Mercy at that time. Behind the dry ice and the darkness, there was a great live show and a few decent tunes. However the original band imploded leaving Andrew Eldritch the rest of the band (which later became The Mission), with fans baying for output and financial commitments to existing record and publishing deals. It all gets a bit complicated there and the full story is here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Sisterhood.

Simply put Eldritch managed to retain the original Sisters name, stop the rest of the band calling themselves The Sisterhood and meet his financial commitments with the release of this album. I can’t say I noticed it was apparently proto-techno/dark wave when I bought it. But when some of these tracks, like this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tpW8JOXr-Hc&feature=related, were playing in nightclubs,  I was probably too drunk to care. There are vague hints of the sound of the Sisters debut, ‘First and Last and Always’, though the harsh electro sound is a mile away from their original sound. Eldritch’s wish to move away from guitar based songs led to the original band’s demise. Listening to this again 26 years later (yikes!) I’m thinking Mr Eldritch was experimenting with something quite interesting. However one listen to the official Sisters follow up, ‘Floodland’, was enough for me to drop them immediately, as what had been initially interesting had transformed itself into some pumped up and bombastic nonsense inspired by Jim Steinman (or was it Todd Rundgren?).

From that point on I reverted back to The Mission and became a part-time ‘Eskimo’. Anyway if nothing else, my fellow members are now thoroughly familiar with the operating manual for an AK47 and they have me to thank for that. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vkrs6SEMcUk

Nick listened: About half of this was absolutely fantastic; really dark, compelling synthetic grooves that segued perfectly on from The Knife and which reminded me of so many things, from 90s-onwards dance music to 70s krautrock and kosmische to post-millennial indie-goes-electro. The other half of it wasn’t particularly different or bad, it just didn’t quite find the beats or moods that the best tracks achieved (the opener was splendid, as was the one about building an AK-47). Really glad I’ve heard it – I had absolutely no idea it existed before the other night.

Rob Listened: Graham’s uncanny knack for picking a record none of us know but which sits on the equidistant between two of our other choices continues. None of us had heard of The Sisterhood and the petty hilarity of its origin, yet it sat as an almost perfect buffer between ‘Silent Shout’ and ‘The Money Store’, giving us pause to reflect on similar records created as fillers, tests or contractual get-outs, which are now held up as high art or futurist classics. ‘Gift’ isn’t quite in that league but, tonight at least, it was a fun listen.

Tom Listened: The trouble with getting to know a group at the bum end of their career is that the rest of their catalogue can get tarred with the same brush….’better to burn out than to fade away’, as Neil Young (ironically as it turned out) put it. So when Graham produced something with the word ‘sister’ on the cover my immediate instinct was to dive for cover. However, Gift turned out to be more interesting and palatable than I initially feared – sonically it was a complete surprise to me, lengthy grooves, not too much doom and gloom and, although a couple of tracks towards the end of the album dragged a little, I enjoyed the listen in the main.

As Rob has stated, Gift was an inspired companion to Silent Shout and The Money Store and comparing them made us wonder as to whether it’s present day technology or musical vision or a combination of both that is leading to work that is so much more complex, busy and intricate than that of 25 years ago. Whatever, Gift sounded like the musical equivalent of the ZX81 in comparison which is not necessarily a bad thing per se…just different.

Skids – Scared to Dance – Round 33 – Graham’s Choice

“Britain’s answer to Jimi Hendrix”. That quote drew nervous looks from fellow members when I began my introduction to this round. Luckily that was John Peel’s opinion when he first heard Stuart Adamson’s guitar work and we were all spared a possible ‘fret-work – noodle-fest’.

In 1983 I just loved Big Country. I was bored with U2 and Big Country came along with some great tunes and weren’t too weird.

After ‘The Crossing’ I quickly lost interest as the albums never seemed to capture the power and intensity of their live shows, which were simply phenomenal.

Around the same time I started rooting out Adamson’s earlier work with Skids. Although I was familiar with the well known singles like ‘Into the ….’ and ‘Working for the ….’, the band had pretty much passed me by in 1979 (I was convinced that ELO’s Discovery was the best album ever during most of 1979). Of the 3 albums featuring Adamson before his departure, this is my favourite and probably neatly captures all the good things Skids had to offer. It is probably only me, but while I have never really thought of Skids being influential, I keep hearing things at DRC that still remind me of them.

‘Into the Valley’ and ‘The Saints are Coming’ are brutal and not the most sophisticated offerings, but still have great energy today. Proof that when Adamson kept his guitar work focussed and Jobson kept a lid on pomposity, they could really deliver.

Much of what they deliver on the rest of the album is a mix of post-punk experimentation, over excited ego trips and naivety, depending on the mood of the listener. There is a fair selection of quirky on this album. The crashing guitars on ‘Of One Skin’, that start and stop as if the band were being cranked by hand and  the fantastic ‘Big Countryish’ riffs on ‘Charles’, while Jobson rants about the modernisation of industrial manufacturing.

The same heady mix of pomposity and naivety led to the repackaging of the band’s second album as a result of overtones of right wing/fascist imagery.  Any fears of such leanings could be quickly dispelled by listening to my track choice of the night, Skids ‘TV Stars’. Any band that have a song with “Albert Tatlock” (Coronation Street 1960-84 ) as a chorus, can’t be taken too seriously. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qZY54ryj0eQ&feature=related

The tensions between Adamson and Jobson led to the band’s demise, but equally helped brew some little gems on their first 3 albums.

Rob listened: I too was a teenage Big Country fan, albeit one album later than Graham. Hearing tracks from ‘Steeltown’ on Piccadilly Radio led me to the album, probably one of the first 3 or 4 I owned. That in turn led me to U2, the opposite of Graham’s short journey and, ultimately, turned off by Bono and chum’s empty bombast I bounced back towards the Smiths, the Fall and the deal was done.

Great to finally listen to the Skids properly. When Adamson’s guitar starts to yowl like possessed electric bagpipes it’s a wonderful thing, one of the best sounds in rock. ‘Scared To Dance’ seemed to hold all the power and posturing that made the band so electrifying as well as much of the tension and pretention that may have ultimately brought them down.

Nick listened: I was not a teenage Big Country fan, because I was a toddler, so I had no journey to or from U2, no memories of Big Country on the radio. I was sent a Skids compilation by a friend many years ago, though, and quite enjoyed it. I quite enjoyed this, too, but Richard Jobson, in my world, is a TV presenter, and Stuart Adamson is just another guitarist, rather than Britain’s answer to Hendrix (Hendrix wasn’t a question, was he?).

Spin Doctors – Pocket Full Of Kryptonite – Round 32 – Graham’s Choice

There is so much more to enjoy at DRC than just the music. The regular wrist-slap I receive for tardy blog posting, counting the minutes until Danny Baker gets name checked and how many times ‘Spirit of Eden’ can be mentioned in one meeting. My favourite feature recently has been the increasingly haunted looking expression on my more cultured colleague’s faces, as I prepare to reveal my selection.

Such foreboding can only really be generated by a combination of confidence and ignorance on my part and I would like to think I didn’t disappoint this week!

I have always really liked this album for the energy, enthusiasm and live ‘vibe’ that comes through on it. Yes, the band get carried away when they could have kept things a little more open and not so busy. Yes, there are moments when they decide to show off a bit too much, but I’ve always found a little bit of irresistible charm and exuberance here.

Like the millions who bought this, I heard “Two Princes” first, before buying the album. Strangely the album had been out for over a year before anything happened for the band. While genning up on this week’s selection, I am reliably informed that there was a  pseudo-hippie, jam-oriented blues rock scene in New York in the early 90’s. Can’t say I was aware, and certainly hadn’t noticed  this scene crossing the Atlantic over to Exeter. This album certainly doesn’t have any urban sophistication I might expect from a New York sound, though there are some jazzy touches here and there. As I said on the night, maybe I like this so much as it fills so many gaps in my collection.

Leaving  the better known singles, “Two Princes” and “Little Miss….” aside, the rest of the album is a mash-up of blues/funk/boogie/jam etc., etc…., with bits of hillbilly/redneck thrown in for luck. Too much for some I’ll agree, but with energy of a band who had honed their live show before commercial success, I think they get away with it (with the notable exception of the last track on the original release, ‘Shin Bone Alley..”, which verges on Tappish “freefall jazz odyssey” territory).

My personal favourite is ‘Refrigerator Car’, which sounds like it could have been a demo from ‘Second Coming’, or a lift straight off “Physical Graffiti’.

If the single, ‘Cleopatra’s Cat’, didn’t put anyone off their follow up album, the reviews would have done. In the space of 3 albums the band went from selling millions to 75,000 and being dropped by Epic. Their last album in 2005 has had some good things said about it and I may give it a try one day. After a few break-ups and line up changes, the original line up were still touring last year.

Still sounds great to me and I’m sure my colleagues have a view (retires safe in the knowledge he has 2 rounds of comments to catch up on….)

Nick listened: I never know whether Graham’s going to play something I know and love (Dust by Screaming Trees, Scott 4, The The, Hendrix), or something I’ve subconsciously avoided (Roger Waters!). To be fair, his hit-rate is considerably better than he suggests above!

Spin Doctors, I’m afraid, probably fall into the latter camp, though. Whilst Two Princess is an all-time great pop single, a whole album of ostentatious funky guitar upstrokes, super-sharp 1991-vintage snare sounds, borderline slap-bass-playing, and wannabe-soulful vocals was a bit much to take. Especially when they went 12-minute funk odyssey at the end. There’s something over-eager, and thus “not quite tasteful”, about the whole thing. The strange thing is that, superficially at least, what Spin Doctors were doing wasn’t a billion miles from Jane’s Addiction, who are equally over-eager and “not quite tasteful” (not tasteful at lal, in fact), but somehow there’s an edge to JA which makes it acceptable to the music snob. I imagine Spin Doctors would have been a thoroughly rollicking live party band, but I’m not loving the record.

Interestingly, after The Modern Lovers last time out, Spin Doctors felt like the least “New York” band to come from New York ever. I have no idea why, but something about them screamed California at me.

Tom Listened: Sometimes music appreciation (or lack of appreciation) defies logical consideration. As I listened to Pocket Full of Kryptonite, I couldn’t really work out what it was about it that I found so unappealing. The guy’s voice is fine, the bass lines are funky and fun, the playing in general is accomplished, certainly in terms of what the band is setting out to do, but mashed together I found the whole to be much less than the sum of its parts (kind of the opposite of Spirit of Eden, which happens to be one of Graham’s favourite albums in case you didn’t know). Maybe the context didn’t do The Spin Doctors any favours – if it came on at a party I would probably have an enjoyable (and acutely embarrassing) boogie to it, but then I rarely get invited to those sorts of parties (or any parties come to think of it).

Rob listened: First things first. If any of the comments above, and obviously I can’t be bothered to read them, imply that the group found ‘Pocket Full of Kryptonite’ anything less than toe-tapping, then those what wrote them are damned liars. I was there and toes were tapped. Other than that, I agree with everything Tom and Nick said. I guess The Spin Doctors were, ultimately, victims of their own constraints, or limitations if you prefer. Nowhere to go from here except tighter or weirder and neither of those sound like interesting moves. Still, it sure sounds like they had a heap of fun making this record, and that’s something.

Janis Joplin – Janis Joplin’s Greatest Hits – Round 31 – Graham’s Choice

A late change of mind on selections led me to this choice. To be fair to Ms Joplin I didn’t give her the best of introductions as I set fellow members the task of identifying the other 3 members of the 27 Club (artists who have died at that age) who I had so far brought to DRC. That guessing game then continued over the opening track (her version of ‘Piece of my heart’) which on hearing it for the first time, inspired me to buy this album.

Playing this again, really reminded me that I need to be in the right frame of mind to enjoy this album. Zooming down the motorway with this a full tilt can be an exhilarating listen, but to be frank, sometimes in a more intimate listening environment, what she does with some of these songs can be a very acquired taste.

When I first heard her version of ‘Piece of my heart’, the rawness of it just blew me away. Until I bought this I was aware of her iconic status but couldn’t really name a tune to identify her with. She clearly broke boundaries in her day as a female solo singer that led to her being revered in the period following her death, but I’m not all that sure if her recorded output does her justice. In her short life she managed to bridge psychedelia/soul/blues and inspire female singers to take centre stage. Her reported heavy use of drugs and alcohol, even before any sort of fame and recognition, meant she was unlikely to survive the late 60’s unscathed. Her death at 27 in 1970 brought to an end only a four year period since the release of the Big Brother and the Holding Company debut album.

Still, Columbia Records did quite nicely out of it as the “interweb” tells me that this album has sold 7 million copies since release in 1973.

This was the first ever CD I ever bought, minutes after purchasing my first CD player in 1990. The purchase may have been driven by the fact that not only did I want to hear more of what Janice had to offer, but also that it was part of Sony’s “Nice Price” range and I was probably short of cash!

Spending an hour or so on YouTube is probably a better introduction to her, as her waifishness and vulnerability, combined with raw emotive power give her an level of impact that easy not easy to get across on CD. In my opinion, my other icon selection, Mr Hendrix, leaves a recorded legacy that more than matches his legend.

There are only  2 of her own tracks,  ‘Down on Me’ and ‘Move Over’ which along with ‘Piece of my heart’, ‘Try’ and ‘Me and Bobby Mcgee’, are the highlights of the album for me. The tracks chart her progress through being lead singer of  Big Brother and the Holding Company, moving on to her  solo career, backed by  The Kozmic Blues Band and The Full Tilt Boogie Band.

As a result of the power of advertising, if you buy the 1999 reissue of this album you’ll also receive  ‘Mercedes-Benz’ and you can delight in the irony of how a song about the shallowness of materialism finished up selling its namesake http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AjTuRDW2NHY

Tom Listened: Although I can barely remember listening to Janice Joplin’s Greatest Hits album, I’m going to have a go at writing up my thoughts on it anyway.

Once again, Graham has taken me way outside of my musical comfort zone and whilst this is music that I wouldn’t gravitate towards of my own volition, I like the fact that my judgement as far as Janice Joplin is concenred is now a little more informed than it was before (seeing as it was previously based (almost) exclusively on ignorance). Like some of Graham’s other recent choices, this struck me as being a very musically crowded offering…it seemed as though the volume knobs were turned to 10 on every instrument and Joplin’s voice carries enough power to run a small town…and she doesn’t hold back! It’s kind of the opposite of Spirit of Eden (one of Graham’s faves I believe) which I listened to the other day and was mesmorized by, especially the way it consistently shifts from quiet to loud/intimate to threatening in such a subtle and effective way. It says a lot about Graham’s ecleticicsm (and my lack of it) that both these records reside happily in his collection…me I’m glad I’ve heard it but once was probably enough!

Nick listened: Janis’ is a name I’ve known… forever, or so it seems. But, as Tom and Graham both suggest, it’s not for the most positive reasons. Her notoriety as a poster-child for the hippie excesses of the 60s and the voice of Woodstock, and, sadly, as a member of the horrific non-club that is the “27 Club”, has almost completely overshadowed her music. I’d never heard of Big Brother and the Holding Company, or The Full Tilt Boogie Band, and I couldn’t have named you a song by her or told you what she was like as a musician. I think I’m faintly guilty of conflating her with Joni Mitchell in my mind… So I was actually pleased to hear her music at last, and I enjoyed it, but I agree strongly with Graham’s reservation regarding whether she was actually doing something great with every song she interpreted, or just plain murdering some of them. Her sound is amazingly prototypically-late-60s, acid-fried rock, groovy and soulful, and her voice very much fits with that, but I wonder if this of-its-timeness has perhaps been part of why her legend, rather than her songs, are what I knew before the other evening?

Simple Minds – Sons and Fascination – Round 29 – Graham’s Choice

File:Sf-front.jpg

 After the last meeting, I felt a more quirky offering may be due. I consulted my carefully compiled list and factored in listening environment, temperature and wind conditions (pre-takeaway).

Pulling this out of the archives was really inspired by Nick, following his Harmonia selection and mentioning he had picked up a couple of early Simple Minds albums. We may have already banned the word “journey” from DRC, but before we do, it’s a subject that keeps coming up for discussion as to how artists/groups progress, and the how and the why they ended up sounding (and sometimes behaving ) the way they do. Listening to any Simple Minds album post 1982, is a very different experience to anything prior to that date, and certainly not something I have done for 30 years. There is not much to connect the bombastic stadium rock “la,la,la,la’s” of ‘Don’t you forget………’, to the work of their first 4 albums.

I  bought New Gold Dream (5th Album) in 1982 when released. Thought it was great and still give it a listen now and then. Not sure it is quite the “classic” that some seem to revere it as now though. That inspired me to go through their back catalogue and see what else the band had to offer. From that period, this album is probably my favourite, but ideally I would like to borrow a third of their third album (or is that a ninth?), ‘Empires and Dance’.

‘Sons and Fascination’ was originally issued in 1981 with a bonus album ‘Sister Feelings Call’. I still have both, and ‘the American’ and ‘Wonderful in Young Life’ are probably the stand out tracks from the bonus offering. The tracks on both albums are heavily influenced by krauktrock/European themes/post-punk dance styles, producing an album which, while not truly original, still sounds interesting.

The first and last tracks on the main album, hint at the more sophisticated sound that would appear on ‘New Gold Dream’, but through most of the album there are driving bass lines and drums, along with edgy/aggressive guitars and vocals laid over a synth sound which vary from lush to sparse. ‘Love Song’ is the only really commercial sounding track on the album, but its more of a 80’s dance club song than any sort of  stadium sing-along. I’ve read some reviews which suggest the band lost their way/overstretched with this album, but to me, along with ‘Empires and Dance’, it represents their best and most interesting work, producing a sound sometimes reminiscent of a highly polished Joy Division, blended with a large dose of Kraftwork.

How they got from this to ‘Alive and F****ing Kicking’, is a blinking mystery to me, but one hell of a “journey”.

Tom Listened: One of the biggest surprises for me since DRC kicked off. I came to Simple Minds at the exact point when they went bad. The first Simple Minds song I remember hearing was Waterfront which was stodgy AOR at best (having just reminded myself of it on youtube, it is still as horrible as ever…those drums!!!). At the time, I remember various fellow sixth formers urging me to go back to the earlier albums claiming they were nothing like the bloated nonsense of their mid 80s output. I never did. But now that I have heard Sons and Fascination I have to concede that my SMs loving peers were right.

Interesting from the off, a little cold for my tastes perhaps, but a revelation in terms of how different this sounded to the stuff I am familiar with. How can a band eliminate all the positive influences from their sound (Joy Division/Krautrock/early Bunnymen) in the space of a couple of albums? Why they would do it is depressingly obvious – look at how the sales of their work rocketed – but how could they bring themselves to do this when they were previously producing music this vital is beyond me.

Rob listened: I’d like to associate myself with the comments of the member above, with the exception of his experience with sixth formers. I’m a year or so younger and by my time in sixth form the earnest young men were urging me to listen to Prefab Sprout, rather than early Simple Minds. I ignored them, naturally.

Otherwise what I found most interesting in the discussion of ‘Sons and Fascination’ were the notions of why Simple Minds changed so drastically after ‘New Gold Dream’. I have no idea, but I think it’s at least possible that rather then striking out for new territory as a deliberate move, they simply ran out of the sort of spiky ideas and diverse influences that make this record interesting, started making blander, and to compensate, louder, music thereafter and thus found themselves drifting onto the mainstream radar. If there’s even a grain of truth in that, then I think it makes their ‘journey’ even more interesting in it’s second half, even if their records were most definitely not.

Nick listened: As Graham mentioned, I’ve bought a couple of Simple Minds albums this year, following a piece in The Guardian about a box-set of their first five records, which greatly talked up their postpunk, krautrocking credentials. Intrigued, only knowing them at all from Don’t You Forget About Me, I picked up Real To Real Cacophony and Empires and Dance. I wouldn’t say I had my mind blown, being pretty familiar with all the ideas and influences that Jim Kerr and friends were mining, but I was pleasantly surprised. Sons & Fascination was at least as good as Real To Real or Empires.

Regarding Simple Minds’ career path, I find it vaguely amusing / intriguing that they appear to have taken an exact opposite arc to Radiohead / Talk Talk, in moving away from experimentalism into brash stadium-isms. I’m not as disenfranchised as Tom in their decision to do this in the first place, but I am always intrigued by the way that bands who seem to arrive at success after a few albums then seem to be victims of their own (and maybe record label) expectations in terms of how they then shape their music; i.e. once you’ve sucked the devil’s cock, it seems difficult to stop gulping and go back to where you were beforehand.

Led Zeppelin – Led Zeppelin – Round 28 – Graham’s Choice

This had been my original choice for round 26 at Tom’s round when 1969 fell my way. I shied away on that occasion feeling that the deployment of such a monolith would be safer on home turf. A short debate on the issue of home and away albums ensued on the night and if I can find the right form, perhaps I could suggest a new rule that ‘away’ albums count double in the event of a equally split review?

Having featured only as a single track (unsurprisingly from me) I felt it was time Led Zeppelin got a proper entry in the DRC archive, even if it was my last act before expulsion. A band that polarize opinions and whose legacy has been unfairly tarnished by being held responsible for the genesis of heavy metal, surely deserve a more open-minded hearing?

Led Zeppelin, saved me as a spotty teenager. I had begun dabbling with heavy metal/rock and had even been to see Ronnie James Dio live. It could only be downhill from there and soon I would be making a pilgrimage to Donnington Park.

But then I started to explore Led Zeppelin, initially for the power and pomp I was looking for at the time. As I devoured the albums I found what I was looking for but surprised myself with the folky/bluesy/eastern sounds that were there as well.

That variety is all there on this debut album. Some of the blues tracks do drag on but there is plenty to relish here. Side 2 is probably my preferred side, though ‘Dazed and Confused’ from side 1 could still be my favourite track on the album.

‘Communication Breakdown’ still sounds to me as riotous as anything punk ever produced. ‘Your Time Is Gonna Come’ has a great introduction and follows on with interesting transitions throughout. Finally, ‘How Many More Times’ is simply a barnstormer of a closing track.

Tom Listened: To my mind Led Zeppelin came along twenty years too early. You see, if they had had the chance to be influenced by Robert Pollard, they may have sold some records (this is irony as Led Zeppelin did actually sell some records anyway). More to the point, they may have produced albums I wanted to listen to. I’ll explain…..

I was once given a tape of Led Zep IV. I enthusiastically played it. For a few times. But I tired of it very quickly and, now that Graham has played I at Record Club, I understand why. The musicianship is undeniably top-notch (especially the drumming), the songs have amazing riffs, they explode out of your speakers and demand your attention…..and then they go nowhere….for a long time. So whilst I invariably really enjoyed the first minute of pretty much every song (with the exception of the bluesy one), there seemed nothing to explore beyond. If someone can do a compilation of the intros, first verse and chorus of the non-bluesy Led Zep songs, I’d be up for it. Otherwise, I’ll go back to Alien Lanes and it’s 2,000 ideas crammed into one side of vinyl.

One final point…I thought the second track was wonderful, all the way through, so that’s an unexpected bonus!

Nick listened: Contrary to popular belief, I don’t actually hate Led Zep – and in fact I own five Zep albums – it’s Emma who enforces the ban on listening to them in our house. (It’s Pink Floyd that I agree with her on 100%.) I do, however, share Tom’s opinion that much of what they do is boring, long, and predictable; I’ve no time for elongated blues heavy workouts, for the most part. But when they crack out something monstrously riffing and fun like Babe I’m Gonna Leave You or Dazed and Confused or (especially) Communication Breakdown (which is as much proto-punk as Kick Out The Jams), they’re great fun. But ultimately they’re a band of “moments” to me rather than albums – on each of the five albums I own there are only 2-4 songs I’d keep, and I sometimes wonder if I wasn’t better served by the double-disc Remasters compilation (with the crop circle cover) that was my introduction to them as a teenager.

Rob listened: Led Zeppelin were one of the rock dinosaurs I rebelled against without ever having heard them. When I finally did go back to them, I wanted them to melt my face. If they had been able to maintain the intensity and sheer heavy groove of ‘Whole Lotta Love’ and ‘Immigrant Song’ for an album then they may well have become one of my biggest reversals. Instead, on the evidence of I and III, which are the only albums I’ve listened to, they just noodle way too much. I guess I wanted a cross between Black Sabbath and AC/DC and what I got was a long-hair in spandex who smacked me around the head with a guitar and then, instead of finishing the job, did a pixie dance on the spot for 6 or 7 minutes.

Stop noodling. I know millions of people out there like noodles, but I don’t like noodles so please, please, stop noodling. No noodles. Please. Enough of the noodling already.

The Wonderstuff – The Eight Legged Groove Machine – Round 27: Graham’s Choice

Cover (The Eight Legged Groove Machine:The Wonder Stuff)

Following some of the choices in previous round, I was feeling nostalgic about 80’s student days. The end result inspiring my selection for this round. Though I could have kept this album for when we get round to the theme night of bands you have quickly fallen out of love with.

Being a student in Brum, I spent a good deal of 1988/89 following this lot around the midlands. Given it’s the only Wonderstuff (or “Stuffies”, as we referred to them back in the day) album I possess, I guess that shows how briefly the relationship lasted.

Overly nostalgic on the night, I recalled how accessible live music was at the time and we simply went out and turned up a local venues and caught up with bands like Ned’s Atomic Dustbin, Crazy Head, Carter USM, Pop Will Eat Itself etc, etc,. We even discussed the “grebo” scene on the night, a word that I can’t say I heard much of since the late 80’s.

I always thought of this album as indie-pop and listening again its aggressive and arrogant tone is still pretty sharp. Live the band ranged from euphoric to chaotic, but always gave a good show.

Miles Hunt combined both catchy lyrics and riffs to produce great singles like  “Unbearable”, “Give Give Give, Me More More More”, “A Wish Away” and “It’s Yer Money I’m After Baby”. There are  some more reflective moments on the album, but not many. Most of the tracks are crashing guitars and loud drums, “in yer face”, exactly where Miles wanted to be. Unfortunately that approach can become tiresome fairly quickly. A band that I loved for their initial irreverence and arrogance, quickly felt to me like a band with an over-inflated sense of self importance and attitude issues.

I’ll forgive them for now and wallow in a bit more of a nostalgic moment, pint of Snakebite anyone?

Rob listened: I spent my fair share of afternoons singing along to ‘The Eight Legged Groove Machine’ back in the day, so I was happy to hear it again for what must be the first time in 20 years. Still some great songs, and unlike Graham, I persisted with them until ‘Hup’ which I think also has a smattering of goodness to offer. We talked much about Miles Hunt’s ego and whether it’s possible to like an artist who is quite possibly horrible. For me it’s summed up by the title of The Wonderstuff’s greatest hits package ‘If The Beatles Had Read Hunter’. Now, i’m not interested in the Beatles, but I have read almost every word Hunter S Thompson published. He was monstrously arrogant, but he channeled his arrogance into a style that was sufficiently bombastic and over-inflated to contain him. Arrogance is fine in an artist if they can back it up. Hunter could but Miles Hunt couldn’t, and thus he resorts to using his record titles to desperately assert his false superiority. Come to think of it, ‘Wonderstuff’ is a bit of a stretch too…

Tom Listened: It has struck me in the fortnight or so since Graham played this that The Wonderstuff were a bit like an early prototype of Oasis. Which is probably why I listened to them for about a term at the start of university and then dropped them like a stone. Because lurking not far beneath the straightforward pop tunes of 8LGM is a boorish laddishness that, if our conversation on the night is is any way accurate, seems to be a pretty true reflection of the lead singer. Whether I stopped listening to The Wonderstuff because of this or whether I just rapidly tired of the songs I’m not sure but, having recently been reacquainted with Miles and the gang (Uncool and the Gang anyone?), I’m pretty sure our relationship is now dead and buried.

Nick listened: The Wonderstuff are an odd one. Miles Hunt seems to be a prime example of apt rhyming slang, judging by all the stories that easily trot out about him in the context of musicians who are also insufferable %$&*s. Despite Hunt’s obstreperousness, I actually really quite like his band, as a singles artist at least – the only record I own by them is the aforementioned If The Beatles Had Read Hunter, which I think is pretty much terrific, song-for-song. So even though this was the first time I’d listened to a whole studio album by The Wonderstuff in one sitting, I knew (and liked) about a third of the songs already, and though the others didn’t jump out at me, they seemed alright. And that’s the thing about The Wonderstuff; they’d be alright, too, if Miles Hunt hadn’t poisoned many people’s attitudes towards them by being such a massive knobhead. Instead they’ve been consigned to the dustbin of critical history.

Scott Walker – Scott 4 – Round 26: Graham’s Choice

It would be far too easy to rise to the comments about my selection in Tom’s review of this round. And therefore I will.

My lucky dip left me with 1969 and 1994. The easy choice for me was Led Zeppelin 1 and Jimmy Page and Robert Plant’s 1994 Unledded. Out of pure compassion for fellow members (never to be shown again!) I ‘parked’ these options and dug down a little deeper.

I used Blur’s To The End, from 1994’s Parklife, to provide fellow members with a stylistic clue to my album choice, linking the artists via Damon’s appearance in 30th Century Man (documentary charting Walker’s career and recording of The Drift) and involvement in Drifting and Tilting (2008 live performance of songs from the 2 albums). After a good deal of wild guessing, we got there.

My introduction to Scott Walker was the Radio 2 song playlist and Jimmy Young and Terry Wogan in the 70’s. Before I started seeking out my own music, I can recall being drawn to the big sound and vocals of the Walker Brothers. Their 60’s hits “Make It Easy on Yourself” and “The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine” were etched on my brain at an early age.

After this album Scott Walker (depending on what you read) struggled, toiled, lost himself, found himself etc, etc. until he reunited with the Walker Brothers in the mid 70’s. Originally released as a Scott Engel (his real name) album, Scott 4 had poor sales and was quickly deleted.

Out of his first four albums, this is the highpoint as far as I’m concerned. I enjoy the others, but the manic mix of Jacques Brel and overblown strings wears me down on occasion. This album features all his own work and just seems to get the right balance between his vocals, lyrics and supporting,  but not over dominant, orchestration. Opening with the Seventh Seal (a kind of Ingmar Bergman/Ennio Morricone “mash-up” if you can imagine what that sounds like?) it then moves on to the more melancholy, On Your Own Again.  My own favourites include the Worlds Strongest Man and Old Mans Back Again (with a fantastic bass guitar line). How Get Behind Me is not as well known as his Walker Brothers hits is a mystery to me.

As music journeys go, I guess Scott Walker’s is long and up there with the best of them. Playing this again reminded me to re-familiarise myself with 1984’s Climate of the Hunter. Who knows, I might just bring it to Record Club to annoy Tom!

Tom Listened: Coincidentally, having owned it for a long time now, I’ve been going through a Scott 4 phase recently being as it is one of the few CDs I own that I have in the car and the more I listen to it the better it gets. Scott 4 is one of those DRC albums that we refer to occasionally and (I think) all revere. It’s Scott Walker’s most straightforward well known album (I don’t know his stuff from the 70s) and, to my mind, it stands alone as the one album of his that has a straightforward sound – Scott 1, 2 and 3 are all lush strings and have a Spectorish Wall of Sound thing going on (and are also very European) which can make them seem a little daunting at first listen. From Climate of Hunter onwards, his albums are labyrinthine and ultra-challenging (which almost certainly makes them very daunting on a first listen) but Scott 4 sounds like Scott being…well…a singer songwriter I suppose, and I don’t mean that pejoratively. It’s a brilliant collection, clipped and concise, sweet yet melancholic, alternatively contemplative then dynamic. I know why Graham linked it to Blur’s To the End but Scott 4 is probably the least likely of his 4 60s album for that particular track to end up on, and whist Brit Pop drew very heavily on Walker’s solo albums, there isn’t much on Scott 4 that recalls Pulp, Blur or The Divine Comedy (thankfully). A great listen…and Old Man’s Back Again is just genius (and that is not a subjective statement).

By the way Graham, it’s not me you have to watch out for!

Nick listened: Not much to add, I’m afraid – this is a really good record, I’ve owned it for years, and I really like it! It seems strange now that it bombed when it was first released, but I guess releasing it as Scott Engels explains that. I think of Tilt and The Drift as ‘better’ records but this is easily more listenable. Still haven’t got round to listening to Climate Of Hunter!

Rob listened: ‘Scott’ and ‘Scott 3’ are the two that fell from the Walker tombola when I spun it a few years ago. I know a few of the songs from ‘4’ from compilations but this is the first time i’ve sat through the album in full. It’s great. Amazing to trace the career of an artist who has moved from heartthrob to tortured torch singer to seventies washout to avant garde expressionist. How on earth did he do it, and has anyone taken such a wild road to such a strange and wonderful destination? This remains on my shopping list, and now sits just above ‘2’.