When I was aged 14 I asked for David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust album for one of my Christmas presents. It was already quite a few years old at the time, but a friend and I had decided to form a band and were plundering classic records for ideas (I forget what he was getting that Christmas, possibly a Who album). My mother had hidden Ziggy Stardust somewhere in the house and one December lunchtime, the place empty, I decided to try and find it. Although she hid it well it didn’t take me long to find the album, concealed amongst her jazz LPs. This was somewhere I never ventured, hating jazz and the music I was often forced to put up with as a background noise. But there, sandwiched between the Ella Fitzgerald, was Bowie.
Like Simon Armitage, I’ve tried to get a grip on jazz and try to like it over the years but have always failed. Also like him, I’ve always much preferred the music I was told I’d grow out of. But I never did grow out of the likes of The Smiths, and I probably never will. In his musical memoir Gig, Armitage also has an enduring Bowie memory, where his father shows a not untypical reaction to the androgyny of Ziggy:
As I walked through the living room with Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars under my arm, he pointed at it with the mouth-end of his pipe. ‘What’s that then?’ And he’d obviously heard of the man and his music, because when I told him, he said, ‘David Bowie? He’s a homosexual.’
My mother probably had a similar attitude, although ten years after Ziggy Stardust was first released she had at least mellowed enough to buy me the album.
Gig documents Armitage’s enduring obsession with a number of bands that include The Smiths, The Fall, The Cocteau Twins, The Blue Nile and The Wedding Present. Most of them are still going strong today, and he writes about seeing many of them perform live in recent years. He also meets a few of his icons, not always with satisfying results. As a responsible adult and parent, Armitage is like me still excited by the music that inspired him as a youth. He writes very amusingly about the cantankerous Mark E. Smith of The Fall, muses on the brilliance of Liz Frazer of The Cocteau Twins and ruminates rather movingly on a Morrissey concert. Again, it is his father who turns enjoying the music of Moz into a guilty pleasure:
‘So who is it you’ve been to see?’
He knows.
‘Morrissey.’
‘Who’s he then?’
He knows.
‘He was in the Smiths.’
‘And what did they ever do?’
He genuinely doesn’t know the answer to this question, though he does know how much I liked them, and therefore that I’ll protest too much and in all probability collapse under cross-examination. I can’t believe I’m debating indie guitar music with my dad, but I’ve swallowed the bait and I am.
Although a successful and acclaimed poet (he’s on the GCSE syllabus) Simon Armitage laments the fact that he never made it as a musician. His dream is to be or be like David Gedge, the kitchen sink songsmith fronting the thrashy guitared Wedding Present, everyone’s second favourite band as he puts it. I can understand why as well; being an ordinary guy in many ways an ordinary band Gedge is oddly appealing. He’s also an artist who’s kept at it now for two decades with an enduring fanbase and a strange kind of enviable respect. I agree with Armitage. I’d sooner be David Gedge than Bono any day.
But like mine the Armitage electric guitar stayed mostly unstrummed, or unthrashed, eventually being packed off to a buyer on eBay. The dream sort of comes true towards the end of Gig, however, when he forms a musical duo called The Scaremongers although, strangely, I would have preferred it is Simon had remained the musical bystander. He’s best as the commentator and the dreamer.
In addition to the musical ones, Gig follows some of the poetic, describing his role as a literary performer. Armitage also writes about the lengths he goes to to find inspiration. A trip on a mail train to help shape his excellent poem The Last Post, a visit to Surtsey and work inside prisons to produce his series of films for Channel 4. He’s a likeable man with a witty and self-deprecating sense of humour. Most of all, even in a mostly prose book such as this, a strikingly imaginative voice.
As well as collections of poems, Simon Armitage has also written two novels Little Green Man and The White Stuff. Whilst I enjoyed the first the second was a little disappointing, and the essay-structured yet informal Gig is the kind of book he writes best. In many ways it is similar to his All Points North, which is reissued as a companion to this and is also worth catching.
As a footnote, my mother decided to get rid of her vinyl collection a few years ago. She’d completed the transition to CD and was about to move house, so the heavy collection of LPs had to go. I was invited to take my pick from them before they were hurded off to a car boot sale. Alas I found no Bowie there, not even my missing Cocteau Twins albums hiding between the Stan Getz. After flicking through I took away a couple of Frank Sinatra records. But the reality still is: I don’t like jazz.
Digital download is a dangerous thing. Now in a position where I can download music on a whim and can do it very simply I have embraced this position. And although music is relatively cheap (£7.99 for a new album is good in my opinion – cheaper than a vinyl album 20 years ago) I guess that it’s all adding up.
Recently I have downloaded an amazing album which is my current favourite of 2009. Kingdom of Rust is the new release from Manchester’s Doves, and as it has taken them four years to follow up their last, I’m going to use the well worn phrase long awaited. Doves suit my general mood perfectly. If you need to categorise them, then they sit comfortably between Editors and Elbow (and probably do, HMV’s D-E section has never looked finer). The music style stretches much further back though, and owes a debt to Wire and Manchester Gods New Order.
Although their previous offerings were best sellers, Doves always appear to take a shadowy stance, and it suits their introspective style perfectly. Low keys vocals and majestic guitars, just beautifully orchestrated songs. The opener Jetstream signifies immediately that you are in for an excellent ride, Winter Hill is just a stompingly great track whilst Spellbound and the title track both show them as very subtle and clever songwriters. Doves deserve much more attention than they’ve previously been granted. Kingdom of Rust should set the record straight.
The ease of the download has led me to rebuy several albums that I’ve previously owned on vinyl and consequently haven’t listened to in years. For £3.00 I purchased the indie classic George Best by the Leeds band The Wedding Present. First released in 1987, this was a favourite of the John Peel audience. The Wedding Present also came along just as The Smiths had split up, and offered a similar take on life. David Gedge, apparently a favouite of the poet Simon Armitage, wrote songs with titles that threatened to rival Morrissey for originality and oddness; Give my Love to Kevin, Nobody’s Twisting your Arm, I’m not Always so Stupid.
It’s quite refreshing to listen to The Wedding Present again. I like the thrashy guitars and witty lyrics, and Gedge’s voice takes me back a very long time. It’s frightening but I last saw them live in 1988. As they’re still going, it might be worth catching up with them again soon.
Another new album that’s received as many rave reviews as Kingdom of Rust is Two Suns by Bat For Lashes. Natasha Khan has delivered a breathtaking set of songs; there’s echoes of Kate Bush, Tori Amos and Annie Lennox here. I am particularly impressed by Pearl’s Dream, an infectious and haunting song. Two Suns is quite brilliant, and unless anything very special comes along between now and Christmas it will be competing with Doves for my album of the year.
The final part of this personal musicology. Coincidentally this week the Guardian and Observer decided to bombard us with the 1000 songs you must hear, obviously inspired by this meme. Time to get this finished before YouTube delete all of the music videos…
T
My only joke inclusion. Or is it? This is Take That singing Could it be Magic from 1992. I have a theory that the director of this video had taken something very strong on the day of the shoot. Everything is crammed in to make it fun; there’s a couple of pretty girls dancing. Also some urgent car mechanics. Then, suddenly, a settee! A bicycle! It’s interesting that the reformed Take That stand very still when they sing, completely opposite to their early incarnation. Proof that there is a cure for ants in the pants.
I urge you to watch this video! Ooh … doesn’t Robbie look young!
U
Feargal Sharkey has been vocal in the current YouTube rights debate, so I though it only fitting to include The Undertones.
V
This clip of the Velvet Underground could easily be mistaken for a spoof, although student parties never really got much better than this.
W
For an eternity I’ve been trying to decide between Scott Walker and Paul Weller. Sorry Paul.
X
Swindon’s finest, XTC. And Richard Branson in a bizarre acting role.
Y
The Young Knives, Ashby-de-la-Zouch’s finest. I love this League of Gentlemen ish video.
Z
It’s Zager and Evans! Bad miming, but one of my all time favourite singles. And still a very worthy warning, although they didn’t manage to predict the internet and social networking.
More trawling through my listening collection for the penultimate post in this mammoth A-Z music meme.
N
Admittedly I had a lot of trouble with N. I wanted to feature New Order, but thought it Manchester overkill, especially as I’ve previously featured Joy Division and Magazine. I toyed, very briefly, with Gary Numan. Then I remembered Kate Nash with this fantastic song. Miles above the higher-profiled Lily Allen.
O
In the early 80s Top of the Pops didn’t always know what to do with the more unusual chart bands. I’ve already featured the off the wall Associates, and here’s another Scottish band from the period who the BBC decided to surround with dancing girls. During this decade, pop was a party for the BBC. Fun, balloons and gurning DJs. Orange Juice were a great pop band, but somehow didn’t quite gel with the party they were thrust into here.
P
P is for Pink Floyd and my chance to feature the great Syd Barrett. The internet was a dream come true for Barrett obsessives, YouTube even more so, with obscure footage surfacing of his post-Floyd life. I’m going for the traditional, this promo for the Floyd’s extraordinary first record Arnold Layne.
Q
Next to I, Q was my most difficult letter. And I don’t like Queen, so who else to choose from? There’s always ? Mark and the Mysterians with this jolly tune.
R
I’ve had a funny relationship with the Rolling Stones, going through lengthy periods of not liking them at all. But this clip of Gimme Shelter is unbeatable. Notice the ? on Mick Jagger’s shirt? I haven’t just thrown this together you know.
S
It’s got to be The Smiths. Don’t accuse the young Morrissey of being a poser because, for me, The Smiths helped rid the world of the posers of 80s music. Morrissey could look cool in a pair of old jeans – there was no longer a requirement for the elitist fashion of the Kings Road. At last! When The Smiths emerged I’d already been wearing my granddad coat for a couple of years. Now I found a new avenue for my wardrobe – flowery shirts! Quiffs were allowed!
The Smiths were a part of my growing up, and I can align memories of where I was and what I was doing with the release of every one of their albums. I’m glad that Morrissey is still around, still successful and still making records, but he’s a shadow of his former self. He sings a rather pitiful version of This Charming Man with his current band, but here’s the original in all its glory. The business.
Here goes with the second instalment of the bands A-Z. More sorting through old albums, more jotting down indecipherable lists and more time spent listening to obscure indie bands from the early 80s.
G
To begin with, a record I’d forgotten about from the late 80s by Australian band The Go-Betweens:
H
2009 sees the 30th anniversary of The Specials, with the ageing rude boys back on tour. Terry Hall has appeared under a number of different guises since they first split in 1981, including Fun Boy Three and this lot, The Colourfield. This is a one of his shorter lived combos dating from 1985. Later still, I saw Terry Hall live at the Shepherds Bush Empire in 1994, supporting The Lightning Seeds. His solo album from the same year was a big favourite at the time. Usually dubbed as a misery guts, this is an upbeat track that debunks the image.
I
Okay, I was a tricky one. Especially as I detest INXS and don’t really care much for The Inkspots. What else is there to choose? But then I remembered Janis Ian and this song from the mid seventies which I’ve always had a soft spot for.
J
Joy Division were near the top of my list before I’d even started sorting my alphabet. This is a band I’ve listened to through vinyl, CD and digital music. As a very young lad I listened to John Peel’s radio show in the early 1980s under the duvet cover. Literally, with tinny radio and earpiece. I hope my mother isn’t reading this. Those ten to midnight midweek slots were a revelation for me, opening a world of strange and brilliant music quite different and quite superior to the usual chart mush. Best of all was Joy Division.
K
A few years ago I bought the deluxe 3-CD set of Village Green Preservation Society for a Christmas present to myself. Call me an anorak, or more kindly a Kinks completist, but I love the album in any version. Ten or so years ago I saw Ray Davies in concert, still on top form.
L
I have a theory that John Lennon went completely mad in about 1968 and never really recovered from the loony world he fell into. This is one of my all time favourite clips, the only time he appeared as a solo artist on Top of the Pops singing Instant Karma. It’s brilliant, but crazy. Look into his eyes, not around the eyes, but into the eyes. He is mad.
M
To conclude here’s Magazine, featuring the very eerie Howard Devoto. Until next time enjoy this forgotten gem of a band…
But like mine the Armitage electric guitar stayed mostly unstrummed, or unthrashed, eventually being packed off to a buyer on eBay. The dream sort of comes true towards the end of Gig, however, when he forms a musical duo called The Scaremongers although, strangely, I would have preferred it is Simon had remained the musical bystander. He’s best as the commentator and the dreamer.
