Got quite a few I could go with but plumped for someone I thought might get picked last year.
One of the most striking female artists of all time.
From the album Nightclubbing
Grace Jones - Pull Up To The Bumper
Never heard the album but that will change tomorrow on my drive up to the Etihad as I bought it the other day.Got quite a few I could go with but plumped for someone I thought might get picked last year.
One of the most striking female artists of all time.
From the album Nightclubbing
Grace Jones - Pull Up To The Bumper
Not sure if we've had any discussion on old fashion fan mail at all have we?
It's a real shame she's more remembered in this country for twatting Russell Harty.
On the subject of fan mail. I had a letter printed as the headline letter, in pride of place, on the fan mail page of Melody Maker. Must have been 1971. God's truth! I remember going out, buying my weekly Melody Maker from the newsagent's in Hazel Grove, as I did religiously for about six years, I'd say — ’67 to about ’73 — coming back, settling down in my bedroom to read it, turning to the back page and seeing it there as large as life! Incredibly, I was utterly mortified, and I'm glad I was alone, because I'm pretty sure I went as red as a beetroot. It was very gushy, full of over-the-top praise about Wishbone Ash. (I considered myself the Official World's Biggest Wishbone Ash fan, let it be said in passing).
I'm sure I couldn't stand to read it now. It would make me cringe away from the print on the page. Oh and I'm lucid enough to know it doesn't hold a candle to having been on Eggheads…
And yes, willingly, I'd nominate “New Lace Sleeves” off Trust. There are plenty of good songs on that, though. Was unaware that it didn't sell well. He was starting to move well away from his post-punk “angry” stance, recognising his own and his dad's roots in big band jazz more openly. Lyrics held to the high standard of intelligence and articulacy that has been his, mostly, over the decades.
Some time back I read some people claiming that Paddy McAloon has been the most talented songwriter since Lennon and McCartney. Now I'm partial to a good old Prefab song (I know, I know, we'll get to them), and owned most of the albums, still listen to them with pleasure, but that claim seems to me to be simply risible. For the sheer volume and variety of his work, in all kinds of fields, some successful, some less, Declan seems to me to be the substantial artisan of the three-minute song since the Lennon-McCartney pairing.
You and me both, baby!When I digitally nudged you, I was hoping you'd go with New Lace Sleeves. Result!
I too like McAloon but he is of a specific type, something you could never say about McManus. Even when he covers other people's music like he did on much of the album with Ann Sophie van Otter his tastes are alway interesting and generally impeccable.
Somewhere in my garage I've got a brief correspondence with Billy Bragg, but the zenith of my letter writing experience came earlier with a letter/picture published by Tharg in 2000AD. Borag Thungg Earthlets!!
Wishbone Ash live at the Hammersmith Odeon in 1980 was one of my companions today on the round trip to the Etihad.On the subject of fan mail. I had a letter printed as the headline letter, in pride of place, on the fan mail page of Melody Maker. Must have been 1971. God's truth! I remember going out, buying my weekly Melody Maker from the newsagent's in Hazel Grove, as I did religiously for about six years, I'd say — ’67 to about ’73 — coming back, settling down in my bedroom to read it, turning to the back page and seeing it there as large as life! Incredibly, I was utterly mortified, and I'm glad I was alone, because I'm pretty sure I went as red as a beetroot. It was very gushy, full of over-the-top praise about Wishbone Ash. (I considered myself the Official World's Biggest Wishbone Ash fan, let it be said in passing).
I'm sure I couldn't stand to read it now. It would make me cringe away from the print on the page. Oh and I'm lucid enough to know it doesn't hold a candle to having been on Eggheads…
And yes, willingly, I'd nominate “New Lace Sleeves” off Trust. There are plenty of good songs on that, though. Was unaware that it didn't sell well. He was starting to move well away from his post-punk “angry” stance, recognising his own and his dad's roots in big band jazz more openly. Lyrics held to the high standard of intelligence and articulacy that has been his, mostly, over the decades.
Some time back I read some people claiming that Paddy McAloon has been the most talented songwriter since Lennon and McCartney. Now I'm partial to a good old Prefab song (I know, I know, we'll get to them), and owned most of the albums, still listen to them with pleasure, but that claim seems to me to be simply risible. For the sheer volume and variety of his work, in all kinds of fields, some successful, some less, Declan seems to me to be the substantial artisan of the three-minute song since the Lennon-McCartney pairing.
Wishbone Ash live at the Hammersmith Odeon in 1980 was one of my companions today on the round trip to the Etihad.
I foolishly avoided seeing The Ash in my younger days, in fact I have never seen them. Someone that I considered a prat was a big fan and it put me off, I also avoided Tangerine Dream for same reason. I don’t have many Wishbone Ash albums at all but I got their first live album from a second hand store a few years back and really liked that. And several months back, I took a punt on a newly released BBC box set to their stuff. Still got a few discs left to play but well worth the investment.I saw the Stones, the Who, Floyd, Zep — all more than once. So, some heavyweights. All in all, and in their style of music, I'd say Wishbone Ash were probably the most electrifying band that I ever saw on stage. (Along with, in a completely different type of music and, to be fair, at a completely different level of musicianship: Colosseum. I saw nobody quite like Colosseum, when they were cooking).
Saw them at Sheffield City Hall, then FTH, then the Red Lion, Leytonstone, then London's Lyceum, all during the course of ’71. Lyceum was absolutely euphoric, largely because of a girl I was with. We were both head over heels with each other. I've often wondered what became of that girl.
Great rock music and a girl on your arm that you're mad about —
…mighty were the auxiliars which then stood
Upon our side, we who were strong in love!
Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,
But to be young was very heaven!
Wish she'd decked him completely, left him on the floor. He was fucking rude. Not the only one he was rude to. The Bowie interview is a study in obnoxiousness from him. Bowie, ever the gentleman, remains polite, although you can see him thinking, “Who is this abject no-mark?? I'm David Bowie.”
Unbelievable how Harty ever got the gig for anything.
As for Grace, I can't understand how she hasn't been made a Dame by one government or another. Well, I suppose she already is one.
OK, this is not directly contributing to the music side of this thread — sorry — but now I'll spill the beans on 1981, because it won't come again.
1981 is marked out in my life by two things, one of which I'm very proud of, and one of which I'm incredibly ashamed of.
In 1981 my son was born. I'm very proud of him. No further words necessary, I trust.
I'm not ashamed of many things in life, very, very few. It's not my style to do things I'm going to be ashamed of. But in 1981, I also had a fretless bass hand-made for me by a lute maker in Lyon. The neck — maple, with an ebony fingerboard — goes right through the body. He told me it would be stronger that way. The body is I think walnut. He let the wood sit and dry properly for months before he even touched it. It has two pick-ups: DiMarzio and Bartolini. Again, his suggestion. They make very different sounds, with completely different tones. The DiMarzio is fizzier, funkier. The Bartolini is rich and round, almost plummy. Why did I have it made? I think of myself as a bassist. All my life, I've been singing bass lines, both in my head, and out loud. I can pick out the bass — in fact, I have no choice — on any piece of music you play me. Something I noticed quite late on in life — Bach's bass lines are very, very strong. They are inventive, but they ground his pieces admirably. And what Chopin writes for the left hand is always worth paying very close attention to. In jazz, my admiration goes to Ray Brown, Scott LaFaro, Ron Carter, Stanley Clarke, obviously Mingus, then later people like Alphonso Johnson, and, does it need saying? Jaco, and Marcus Miller. (Although for sheer, pure groove Johnson shades it from Jaco — I know that's heresy in many quarters). In rock I grew up with Entwhistle, and am in awe of the artistry of John Paul Jones. A true rock bassist. There are many others.
I am left-handed, and I wanted a fretless. No such thing available to buy ready-made then (I asked around in music shops). Still probably not now. Here's the terrible admission: I have almost never played that instrument. It sits looking at me reproachfully. As a matter of fact, I dusted off its case just the other day. Sometimes I take it out and cradle it. Tune it up, maybe pick out a few notes. Then I put it back.
The sound it makes when you plug it in to an even half-way decent amp is nectar. (I originally had an HH — you can imagine). Even just acoustically, without amplification, you can hear that it's special. If you hold the note, the natural sustain on it is ridiculous. That thing just wants to sing, but needs a little help from me.
Don't ask me to explain my block on this. I can't.
Even writing this, now, I feel truly lousy about it. In fact, I've got tears in the corners of my eyes. Pathetic, really. It is the one great thing that I should have done, and that I have left undone in life. My son recently suggested that I should let it go. But I can't do that, either. Unthinkable.
This is, incidentally, the first time I've committed this to “paper”. I spent several days thinking about whether to post this.
So… there's my 1981.
You and me both, baby!
Don't forget 'Just Can't Get Enough' by DM.Traffic has quietend down on the 1981 playlist from to I have unapologettically added a shed load of tracks to the coda so you can listen to them or not but almost all of them are mentioned directly in my write-up and many are key songs from the year:
Phil Collins: In the Air Tonight
Ultravox: Vienna
Soft Cell: Tainted Love
Kraftwerk: Computerworld
Thomas Dolby: She Blinded Me with Science
Blondie: Rapture
Duran Duran: Girls on Film
Adam and the Ants: Stand & Deliver
Kim Carnes: Bette Davis Eyes
Daryl Hall & John Oates: Kiss on My List
Kool & the Gang: Celebration
Earth, Wind & Fire: Let’s Groove
Rick James: Super Freak
Stray Cats: Stray Cat Strut
REO Speedwagon: Take it on the Run
.38 Special: Hold on Loosely
Journey: Stone in Love
Foreigner: Juke Box Hero
AC/DC: For Those About to Rock (We Salute You)
Ozzy Osbourne: Flying High Again
Iron Maiden: Wrathchild
Saxon: And the Bands Played On
Rainbow: I Surrender
Rush: Tom Sawyer
I was probably a bit older than you at the time which makes my story sadder!Haha brilliant. When I typed it I thought, I bet everyone will think wtf is he on about!
I’ll add it.Don't forget 'Just Can't Get Enough' by DM.
That bass sounds like a thing of beauty. Any chance you could post a photo of it?OK, this is not directly contributing to the music side of this thread — sorry — but now I'll spill the beans on 1981, because it won't come again.
1981 is marked out in my life by two things, one of which I'm very proud of, and one of which I'm incredibly ashamed of.
In 1981 my son was born. I'm very proud of him. No further words necessary, I trust.
I'm not ashamed of many things in life, very, very few. It's not my style to do things I'm going to be ashamed of. But in 1981, I also had a fretless bass hand-made for me by a lute maker in Lyon. The neck — maple, with an ebony fingerboard — goes right through the body. He told me it would be stronger that way. The body is I think walnut. He let the wood sit and dry properly for months before he even touched it. It has two pick-ups: DiMarzio and Bartolini. Again, his suggestion. They make very different sounds, with completely different tones. The DiMarzio is fizzier, funkier. The Bartolini is rich and round, almost plummy. Why did I have it made? I think of myself as a bassist. All my life, I've been singing bass lines, both in my head, and out loud. I can pick out the bass — in fact, I have no choice — on any piece of music you play me. Something I noticed quite late on in life — Bach's bass lines are very, very strong. They are inventive, but they ground his pieces admirably. And what Chopin writes for the left hand is always worth paying very close attention to. In jazz, my admiration goes to Ray Brown, Scott LaFaro, Ron Carter, Stanley Clarke, obviously Mingus, then later people like Alphonso Johnson, and, does it need saying? Jaco, and Marcus Miller. (Although for sheer, pure groove Johnson shades it from Jaco — I know that's heresy in many quarters). In rock I grew up with Entwhistle, and am in awe of the artistry of John Paul Jones. A true rock bassist. There are many others.
I am left-handed, and I wanted a fretless. No such thing available to buy ready-made then (I asked around in music shops). Still probably not now. Here's the terrible admission: I have almost never played that instrument. It sits looking at me reproachfully. As a matter of fact, I dusted off its case just the other day. Sometimes I take it out and cradle it. Tune it up, maybe pick out a few notes. Then I put it back.
The sound it makes when you plug it in to an even half-way decent amp is nectar. (I originally had an HH — you can imagine). Even just acoustically, without amplification, you can hear that it's special. If you hold the note, the natural sustain on it is ridiculous. That thing just wants to sing, but needs a little help from me.
Don't ask me to explain my block on this. I can't.
Even writing this, now, I feel truly lousy about it. In fact, I've got tears in the corners of my eyes. Pathetic, really. It is the one great thing that I should have done, and that I have left undone in life. My son recently suggested that I should let it go. But I can't do that, either. Unthinkable.
This is, incidentally, the first time I've committed this to “paper”. I spent several days thinking about whether to post this.
So… there's my 1981.