"William Burroughs, Ken Kesey, Jack Kerouac, Camus; all books were just as exciting to us as records, there wasn't much difference." - Richey Edwards, 1991
1. Hank Williams – ‘Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain’ (1951)
Although written by Fred Rose and originally recorded by
Roy Acuff this - simplicity of lyric, the aching delivery - still sounds like
pure Hank.
2. Rolling Stones – ‘I Just Want To Make Love To You’ (1964)
New collection The Rolling Stones On Air brings together
the band’s early BBC recordings and for the most part they are curiously polite
performances, as if on their best behaviour, but here, in front of a live audience
rather than studio surroundings, they tear it up.
3. Toni Daly – ‘Like The Big Man Said’ (1966)
Sassy Southend chanteuse warns against dubious men promising
the world.
4. Sun Ra & His Arkestra – ‘Ankhnation (aka Intergalactic
Motion)’ (1966)
From Pictures of Infinity,
this is nine minutes of nutty arkestral elation.
5. David Newman – ‘We’re A Winner’ (1968)
Tenor man Newman takes on The Impressions.
6. Bobby Womack – ‘It’s Gonna Rain’ (1969)
One of Bobby’s best.
7. Ghetto Brothers – ‘Girl From The Mountain’ (1972)
Puerto Rican New York street gang turn to jangly guitars
and irresistible rhythms. Sweet as.
8. Whiteout – ‘Detroit’ (1994)
Scottish moptops really shoulda cleaned up with their string
of splendid singles: ‘No Time’, ‘Starrclub’, ‘Detroit’ and ‘Jackie’s Racing’. No
justice.
9. Kasabian – LSF (2004)
I was taken as a surprise “treat” to see Kasabian this
month. I bought, and enjoyed, their first album back in 2004 but after the disappointing
second one haven’t paid them any attention other than to roll my eyes at their
unconvincing attempt to be rock and roll stars. But, credit where it’s due, the
gig was an enjoyable affair – even in the humongous O2 Arena – and this oldie about
burnt chips from that debut, complete with huge gospel choir, was joyous. Really.
10. Margo Price – ‘Pay Gap’ (2017)
From one of the albums of the year, All American Made, comes this country
protest song urging for gender equality. “In
the eyes of rich white men, I’m no more than a maid to be owned like a dog, And
a second-class citizen”.
Christmas! What is it good for? Now, now, don't say it. There are a few positives: like marvelling at Bob Dylan's treatment of ''Hark The Herald Angels Sing' on his Christmas In The Heart LP; Ma Monkey's Christmas dinner; and the chance to blow the baubles offa this beauty from the Primitives again. Stand by for the bells...
Featured
on Kent’s new Northern Soul’s Classiest
Rarities Volume 6 which is an utterly essential purchase – best soul comp I’ve
heard in a long time. This bunch of army lads cut this lovely ballad for
Romark in Los Angeles.
2. Alton
Ellis – ‘Black Man’s Pride’ (1971)
Title
track from a new Soul Jazz Records compilation “from the transitory phase in
reggae at the start of the 1970s, after the exhilaration of Ska and following
the cooling down of Rocksteady.”
3. John
Gary Williams – ‘The Whole Damn World Is Going Crazy’ (1973)
Williams
recorded for Stax with the Mad Lads, served in Vietnam, then returned to
Memphis. This is what he found.
4. Bottom
and Company – ‘Gonna Find A True Love’ (1974)
Bottom
and Company? Really? Bottom and Company Gonna Find A True Love? Was that the
best name they could find? Fab stab of crossover Motown regardless.
5. Bob
Dylan – ‘Saved’ (1980)
Just
don’t go near that Born Again Christian stuff was the refrain when I first
found Bob Dylan. Was reasonable advice to a young novice but Trouble No More, the latest instalment
of The Bootleg Series, shows what a
rousing period that was. This live version of ‘Saved’ would’ve had them rejoicing
in the aisles.
Released
a couple of years ago on their clunkily titled but impressive The Sweet Pretty Things (Are In Bed Now, Of
Course…), this gets a 7 inch EP release in January on Fruit de Mer Records
along with their version of ‘Renaissance Fair’ plus two late-60’s live cuts:
‘She Said Good Morning’ and ‘Alexander’.
8. The
Galileo 7 – ‘Live For Yesterday’ (2017)
“Today is just tomorrow’s nostalgia,”
sings Allan Crockford. As someone who’s played to packed venues by dusting off
memories in reformed Prisoners, Prime Movers, Solar Flares and cranks out
oldies in Graham Day and the Forefathers you know where Allan’s coming from and
wonder if in years to come his current band will achieve similar
better-in-retrospect acclaim. Based on the Galileo 7’s new pop-psych offering Tear Your Minds Wide Open it’s a
distinct possibility. Crockford has now cracked this song writing lark and with the Mighty Atom,
Mole, moved to his rightful place behind the drumkit, the whole thing swings
with justified confidence. Don’t wait until 2040, check them out now.
9. The
Lovely Eggs – ‘Dickhead’ (2017)
Donning
their new magical cloaks, The Lovely Eggs were on tour this month. Two things
became apparent: they have so many great singles they can afford to drop ‘Don’t
Look At Me’ without it being unduly missed and new songs featured from
forthcoming album This Is Eggland,
including the supersonic, drive-by abusing, ‘Dickhead’ will only add to that
impressive score.
10. Mavis
Staples – ‘If All I Was Was Black’ (2017)
Mavis
tells us she’s got love to give. She sure has. Oh God, this is wonderful.
When
Daniel Romano released Modern Pressure
earlier this year I phoned my local record emporium to ask if they had it in
stock. Sister Ray has been in Soho for decades and have furnished me with
countless new independent releases. “Never heard of him,” was the snotty reply.
“What is he?” Well, in fairness, this was a reasonable question as record shops
like to file goods in easy-to-manage categories but not an easy one to answer.
I muttered something about he used to be country (which I knew was gonna
conjure hideous visions in the already dismissive mind of said employee. I know
it’s offensive to use the C-word in polite company but stay with me, think of
Hank, Merle, Gram) but is now more, er, rocky. Tap-tap-tap into his little computer and “Did
he have an album called Mosey?” Yeah,
that’s him. “Right. I can see why we’re not stocking him, we didn’t sell a
single copy of that.” Oh.
I
share this story, dear reader, so you don’t feel bad if Daniel Romano isn’t as familiar
a name around your family dinner table as it is mine. If “hip” London record
shops are largely ignorant to his oeuvre, and if on a Saturday night in the
West End one can rock up to pay a mere ten quid on the door to witness his act
in the intimate surroundings of the Borderline, then a six-page feature in Mojo
magazine and an appearance on Later With Jools Holland are still , unjustly, some way off.
A
brief history: From Welland, Ontario, Romano was in Canadian punk band Attack
In Black (I still haven’t listened to them), and has released eight albums
since 2009. He began on a folky-country path, went full-on pedal steel and
fiddle country, then swerved into a sprawling hotchpotch of styles he calls “Mosey”,
incorporating elements of Stonesy rock, Americana, new wave, psychedelia, piano
ballads, a mariachi namecheck to Valerie Leon, strings, horns and, if that
wasn’t enough, Romano also trades under Ancient Shapes, his punk offshoot. Oh,
and he plays almost everything on his records, he’s a talented artist, a leather
tooler and can no doubt replace the steering column in a ’57 Chevy while
reciting Les Fleurs du mal by Baudelaire.
Last
year I saw him play two gigs in one night. Joined by a second guitarist, they
sat on stools and played a breath-taking acoustic set where you could’ve heard
a pin drop, then a couple of hours later across town a rock and roll set with almost
every song from an album nobody had heard. For punters (like me) expecting
pedal-steel weepers it was audacious and brass-necked. Brilliantly so. Newport
’65 had nothing on this.
Which
moves us along the dictionary to the D-word. As well as the obvious musical
influences, from Freewheelin’ to Highway 61 Revisited to Street Legal, Romano’s willingness to
change horses midstream, to defy expectation, to change image (he’s had more
looks than Carlos The Jackal, and currently appears to be wearing a pair of his
old sunglasses), and for his songs to remain living entities in that can be
played in a variety of ways, makes him comparable to Bob Dylan. As a Dylan
completist that’s not something I’d say lightly. A squiz at YouTube will throw
up loads of different versions of songs and, such is Romano’s prolific nature,
loads of unreleased songs as his two labels can’t kept pace. For example,
‘Fearless Death Tomorrow’, released on the Ancient Shapes album as a dirty punk
thrash is, months later, played acoustically with tinkling piano and double
bass.
The
Borderline gig last weekend was his last show of the year and executed with the
passion of the last show of his life. Opening with “Modern Pressure”, in which Romano
unleashed a blood curdling primal scream, he was in scarily blistering form. Not
one for looking back, the set was mostly tracks released in little more than a
year, yet the manner they were performed was astounding. The album Modern Pressure has a springy,
elasticated feel, yet here they were played as heavy, tight rockers with a
furious intensity peak Clash or White Stripes might’ve managed. It felt like a
skin-shedding, cathartic exercise with songs from the latest album (‘Sucking
The Old World Dry’, ‘Impossible Dream’, ‘When I Learned Your Name’ etc), and a
few from Mosey including a
spirit-raising ‘Dead Medium’, all given a similar treatment. ‘(Gone Is) A
Quarry of Stone’ was transformed from a mournful ballad into a terrifying exorcism
complete with a guitar solo, effortlessly tossed in, that made my eyes widen and
brow arch in admiration. The foot was taken off the gas fleetingly. ‘Roya’, is
the most beautiful song of 2017, and in a rare delve into the past (2013 is
several Romano lifetimes ago) the tear jerking ‘A New Love (Can Be Found)’ sent
shivers down the spine.
Billed
as Daniel Romano and Jazz Police (his band featured bass, drums and Farfisa
organ), there was zero jazz in a pulverising set (no chat, nary a pause), but
should Romano one day pull a trumpet out of his backside to play a few Chet
Baker numbers no one will die of shock. Where he’s heading next is a fun game
to play and one new song had a 60s garage vibe which then segued into the final
verse of The Who’s ‘My Generation’. Perhaps a cheesy choice but the power was
up there with anything those Shepherd’s Bush geezers ever did and was about as
far from a Porter Wagoner cover Romano could’ve found.
It’s
difficult to gage how successful he is back home in Canada, and I’d love to
know the reaction of purist country fans to recent developments, but the UK
needs to wake up to the mastery of Daniel Romano. As the master of all trades
and jack of none, the man is a damn genius.
Thanks to Michelle Raison for the photos and thanks to Daniel for allowing us to gate crash his dressing room. A few faces of Daniel Romano below. Enjoy.
“Suddenly it was like the whole world hated us. Which I
was perfectly fine with, it meant we were doing something right.” John Lydon
As public enemy number one – attacked in the streets, arrested,
vilified in the press, banned from venues, banned in shops, banned from the
radio, bouncing between record labels, heroin addiction, hepatitis, at war with
McLaren – 1977 was, to put it mildly, a tumultuous year for the Sex Pistols.
The Sex Pistols
1977: The Bollocks Diaries recounts the events, blow-by-blow, in a hard-back
album-sized new book published to coincide with the 40th anniversary
of Never Mind The Bollocks.
Starting the year with the Grundy, “You dirty fucker”, incident
still reverberating from December and Glen Matlock soon replaced by Sid Vicious,
and ending flying to the US for a tour that’ll see Rotten, “Ever get the
feeling you’ve been cheated?”, spilt the band two weeks into ’78, there’s rarely
a dull moment.
Told through photographs, cuttings, memorabilia and interviews
with the band and their entourage, it’s a chaotic tale of no fun. For all the
uproar and agitation they caused – deliberately and inadvertently – at the
heart of the Sex Pistols was a band, and Lydon in particular, who wanted to
make music. The distractions and hullabaloo meant even surviving the year and
recording Bollocks was something of
an achievement, that it still sounds today like a tremendous “grinding
juggernaut” is a minor miracle.
Film and television documentaries, CD box sets, reunion
gigs, mugs, lanyards, coffee table books and whatever else might not be “punk”,
and the Sex Pistols have been systematically homogenised, but sticking on that
near-perfect album and reading through The
Bollocks Diaries is a welcome reminder of when – and setting aside all the
lasting cultural influence for a moment – the simple act of being in a band was
dangerous, thrilling, challenging and a right pain in
the bollocks for everyone.
The Sex Pistols
1977: The Bollocks Diaries as told by the Sex Pistols, is published by Cassell Illustrated.
Out now.
Apologies for the late postponement a couple of weeks ago but the fine folk at Fusion have juggled the schedule so, if the good Lord's willing and the creek don't rise, Monkey's Wandering Wireless Show will return to the airwaves this Sunday.
As usual it'll be an hour of great music (mostly but not exclusively from the 60s) interrupted on occasion by a barely coherent Bailey's-soaked gibbon.
If that sounds like your idea of fun then tune in. Hit the link below in time for a 8.30pm lift off. And if you fancy it, sign up to Mixlr beforehand or during to join the chat throughout the show with fellow Fusion comrades.
