Like A Rolling Stone

"Like A Rolling Stone" is the single defining song of the rock'n'roll genre. With this one song
a lacerating set of imagery was sitting at the top of the US singles charts. The song strips all pretentions and artifice away and challenges the listener to confront the raw, basic realities of existence. It reminds a lost materialistic Western world that "when you ain't got nothing, you got nothing to lose".

In Dylan's definitve studio original the song is a defiant claim of victory on the part of the disenfranchised, contemptuously stripping away the defences of the worldly. Napoleon In Rags cannot be ignored. Dress codes and fine schooling are irrelevant in the face of our true natures. Ultimately there are no secrets to conceal. This is powerful stuff in a world which is even more repressed and materialistic now than in 1965.

Dylan himself never bettered the studio original. Jimi Hendrix took it on at Monterey, adding the cry of black America to the cry for honesty. It continued to sound confrontational and triumphant, set ablaze by his searing guitar. He was to do even greater things with "All Along The Watchtower" in 1968, bringing the Biblical apocalypse alive in sound.

The next major cover of "Like A Rolling Stone", by the remarkable Spirit, gave a whole new slant on the song. It comes at the end of Side Two of "Spirit Of '76", a double album which celebrates the forthcoming bicentenary in terms of a rock'n'roll retrospective. It features covers of Hendrix and The Stones which outstrip the originals while kicking off with a heartbreaking "America The Beautiful / The Times They Are A Changin'". In the midst of all this "Like A Rolling Stone" is presented as a sad contemplation of the battles which have been fought, and a weary acknowledgement of just how hard a road it is for those of us who want to follow the promise of rock and live more honest lives. The mood is poignant and the guitar solo is heartbreaking. This is an elegy for the hope that things could be better.

California repeats the feat on Side 4 with an epic, slow, brooding version of "Hey Joe". The sadness is eeked out via a hush, reverent vocal and a series of lingeringly lyrical guitar solos which lament the dying of the light. What else can follow this apart from "The Star-Spangled Banner", this time done not as per Hendrix but straight and sincerely. This brings to a close an album which is massive in scope and a vital post-sixties statetement.

So Dylan cut the peerless original, but Randy California made it meaningful all over again. Just one of the many workd of genius by that great artist.

"That's my life you're singing about !"

Robert Christgau's great book "Any Old Way You Choose It" contains an article wherein he's driving across America in the wake of a broken relationship. As he goes along he admires various songs on AM radio which have similar themes. "So what happens,", he muses, "when that piece of well-constructed schlock on the radio is actually your life ?". A question I often find myself asking right now as I listen to various songs by, in particular, Richard Thompson and Neil Young.

Rock'n'roll has always been based upon a notion of authenticity. When you hear a popular song from the pre-Elvis era you know that it's insincere and fake. When you listen to an orchestra playing classical music you know that to the players it's just a job. Elvis blew all that to pieces; he merged two forms, black r'n'b and white country, to form rockabilly and then rock'n'roll. Both forms are ethnic musics where the real experiences of people on the wrong side of the American Dream are expressed. Authenticity is a given. We believe that Robert Johnson really did suffer "stones in my passway".

Elvis planted this raw honesty onto the stages, TV screens, and radio stations of an affluent 1950s America. It changed the Western world. In Britain a generation brought up on Victorian moral values by parents who still in large number paid lip-service to being Christians heard something in American rock'n'roll which struck chords of truth and liberation. We were taught when we were young to bury our feelings (Richard Thompson :-  "where I come from feeling is a crime"), tow the line, and be respectable. Elvis spoke to malcontents like John Lennon whose hearts were screaming to escape the repression of the time. Muddy Waters and Jimmy Reed made sense to the likes of Mick Jagger, Keith Richard, Eric Burden etc. Authenticity was the key.

That is why it is genuinely problematical when songwriters try to claim that the characters in their songs are not them. They are writing and performing in a medium based on the singer really meaning what they're saying. That's not to say that every single line has to be taken as strict autobiography - there's no need to reprimand Randy Newman because he actually isn't God - but there has to be a basic trust between performer and audience. If a singer is "acting" when performing a song then it really isn't rock music.

Throughout the 1960s none of this was an issue. People in their millions identified with the joy and sarcasm of the Beatles, the raw aggression of the Stones, the naked anger and honesty of Bob Dylan, the intensity of The Who, the questing spirituality of the Grateful Dead etc. The problems started during the singer-songwriter boom at the end of the 1960s, when a group of artists develop an entire aesthetic around their personal sufferings.

So were they for real ? Exhibit no. one : Neil Young. His breakthrough album was "After The Goldrush", containing lines such as "I am lonely but you can free me" as well as a cover of "Oh Lonesome Me". The next album, "Harvest", cemented the image of what Nick Kent calls the "world's most lonesome boy" (e.g. "Out On The Weekend", "Old Man"). But we know that Neil Young's own life has never been anything like that. Does that make him a fake ? It's very hard to say anything against probably the most talented single performer and writer in the entire genre, but I think it does make him a little suspect. The credibility of seminally raw, insightful albums like "Tonight's The Night" and "On The Beach" is undeniable - these records establish a whole new vocabulary of untarnished, direct rock music. But when he gets sad and pretty he does sound phoney.

By contrast there is Lou Reed. Lou has consistently adopted the persona of a journalist "saying the unsayable" about the urban world around him. No-one thinks he was a heroin addict in 1966, yet that, of course, is the title of probably his strongest song. Ellen Willis captured it brilliantly in her article in the "Stranded" book - the song makes you simultaneously sorry for the poor guy and want to reach out for the needle. The addict's perspective is used to make genuine statements about the corrupt, impersonal world outside and the singer's attitude towards it. Since then Lou has made a lot of trashy, disposable music ("Transformer" is a dreadful album), yet he has never been a phoney.

Exhibit no. two : Richard Thompson. The man as portrayed in the BBC's "A Solitary Life" documentary is a mild, affable, and humorous chap married to a lovely warm lady, tending his garden, and happily playing with his young son. He writes songs when he has to, working from nine to five in a room away from the family. His wife cannot reconcile the writer of such bleak, dark material with the gentle and cheerful man she knows. This is disturbing. Thompson's work has been consistently bleak througout his career, filled with sentiments such as "the world has no comfort to bring", "the world's no place when you're on your own", and "there's nothing at the end of the rainbow". There have been many times recently when these sentiments have directly echoed my own feelings. 

And there's the rub. Feelings such as these don't do anyone any good, least of all the disenfranchised and isolated people who experience them on a regular basis. Isn't there something rather cynical about a happily-married man with a stable career writing all these bleak songs which feed off and reinforce the negative emotions of people less fortunate than himself ? Of course it's absurd to maintain that you have to be miserable in order to write a sad song, but to create an entire portfolio of bleak, dark, bitter songs which have nothing to do with your own life - isn't that a bit suspect ? Thompson is an amazing guitarist, an acute lyricist, and a very great song-writer, but isn't there something a bit cynical about the whole deal ? All I know is that I've actually been to the world which his darkest songs inhabit and it's not a place to visit often.  

It's rock'n'roll. You've got to walk it like you talk it.   

    

Exile On Main Street - The Best Ever

Like a lot of music fans I'm constantly making lists in my head of "greatest ever" albums. My top two are, pretty consistently, "Blonde On Blonde" and "Exile On Main Street". Throughout most of my life Mr. Dylan's opus was my no. one, and I've probably played it more than anything else in my collection. However in recent years I've gravitated towards "Exile".

On this album the Stones cover all the fundamental basics of post-Elvis music. It is a totally American album, embracing rock'n'roll, R'n'B (by which I mean hard, souped-up blues, not the soft porn which goes by that name now), blues, gospel, and country. It is unlike any other Stones album in that each track has the raw, basic, yet intricate Stones groove. There's no "Angie" or "I Got The Blues" to soften it up. Nor are there knockabout tracks in the "Country Honk" vein. Instead there are hard rockers ("Rocks Off", "Soul Survivor", "All Down The Line"), outright rock'n'roll ("Rip This Joint"), classic Stones lurchers like "Tumbling Dice" and "Soul Survivor", and wierd, angular blues riffs such as "Casino Boogie" and "Ventilator Blues".

In amongst all the great rockers is a "slow side" which is an absolute gem. "Sweet Virginia" is the best country Stones track ever and is genuinely encouraging and uplifting. "Torn And Frayed" is, on one level the story of the Stones in the early Seventies, yet also applies universally to anyone who's been through the mill.
"Sweet Black Angel" is an anomaly for the Stones - an explicit piece of political comment - yet stays current through its refusal to make propaganda. It's also kept musically simple and has an element of Stones humour on it. "Lovin' Cup" is an older song but fits right into context, and also has a sense of relief and euphoria about it which balances the darker mood of much of the album. Nicky Hopkins' playing here is a musical highlight of the album.

Four other tracks merit particular attention - "Rocks Off" is a song of boredom and desperation, and a simply brilliant arrangement. The blaring horns carry the cry of the chorus; the middle section is full of murk, matching the confused tone, before we jump out into "The sunshine bores the daylights out of me". "Happy" and "Turd On The Run" is an incredible sequence of songs; the former is a pure Keith rocker with nods to Creedence and carries one of the album's key messages ("I need a love to keep me happy"). The latter has a raw blues riff with braying harp and picks over the scars.

Finally there is "Shine A Light", probably the most compassionate song in the Stones repertoire along with "You Can't Always Get What You Want". The lyrics tell of a drugs casualty and hold a prayer for Grace. They could be about Brian Jones, Gram Parsons, or Janis Joplin, but more importantly they show Jagger at his absolute sharpest in terms of surveying the culture around him. The music is uplifting in the manner of the very best gospel music, and features Billy Preston's finest contribution to the Stones. The track pulls together all the key themes of the album - decay, stoicism, the need for love but also the hassle - into a prayer for strength for a 60s generation entering the fragmentation of the seventies. After this track, "Soul Survivor" is a defiant expression of the will to press on.

There's one further factor here - the sheer rythmic complexity and subtlety in the music makes the album endlessly playable. It works in all contexts - the many brilliant rockers make it great driving music, yet it also rewards close listening on headphones. There is not an inch of sentimentality or sloppy thinking on this record, and not a wasted moment. Even "Blonde On Blonde", for all its lyrical wildness and virtuoso Dylan vocals, has the sloppy "Sad Eyed Lady" on it (albeit the performance rescues the song). "Exile On Main Street" is hard stuff - pure, essential American-based music with a twist. And that's rock'n'roll.      

      

2012 - What A Great Year !

I have enjoyed loads of new albums this year; some by established artists and some by new ones. It has been a long time since there's been so many great albums released in a year. So my "picks of the year" are :-

"Hair" (Ty Segall and White Fence) - this is full of garage-y, Beatly pop gems. The sound is raw and fuzzy, and the playing urgent and arresting. Not always easy to hear the words as the vocals are mixed back, but this wins through on songs and spirit.
"Slaughterhouse" (Ty Segall) - another top CD, this one heavier with lots of noise ! The man keeps coming out with great stuff, and there's a third CD out which I haven't heard yet...
"Temple Beautiful" (Chuck Prophet) - an album about San Francisco, the most beautiful city on earth. Each song features a strong lyric and notable playing. The vocals are full of character and there isn't a weak track. Probably gets my vote as the year's best.
"One Day I'm Going To Soar" (Dexy's) - after 27 years we finally get a follow-up to the towering "Don't Stand Me Down". If anything this surpasses it - a very coherent and committed album with a number of themes running through it. Kevin Rowland opens up more than just about anyone else in his music. Will there be another ?
"Life Is People" (Bill Fay) - another "comeback", this time after 41 years ! This is a very solemn, wise, and peaceful album. It's the sort of thing that can pull you through troubled times. There's a track on there about being thankful for what God has given you that lifts me up every time.
"Tempest" (Bob Dylan) - a deep and dark masterpiece; Bob's best since "Street Legal". The song about John Lennon gets me each time I play it. The music is raw and driving, the lyrics so sharp and real, and the vocal performance is full of expression.
"The Leaving Of London" (Bevis Frond) - his first since 2004 and his strongest since the epic "North Circular". The lyrics are bitter and incisive as usual, the melodies amongst his best, and the playing is fresh and exciting, with a minimum of the aimless sludge that he can sometimes descend into. One of his very best  albums.
"Psychedelic Pill" (Neil Young) - Jerry Garcia aside, who else would do an album of long jams this late in his career ? The whingeing about digital media on "Drifting Back" is a pain (note to Neil Young : for people who don't have the very top-grade stereo gear, digital sound is way superior to anything you could get for a similar spend with vinyl). However the playing is as arresting as ever, and you simply get lost in the inimitable Crazy Horse groove.

Three live albums recorded ages ago but only released now have also given me much pleasure :-

"Europe 72 Vol 2" (Grateful Dead) - the European tour in 1972 saw the Grateful Dead at their absolute peak. The playing is just so bright and crystal-clear, and Keith Godchaux's rippling piano runs work so well alongside Garcia, Lesh, and Weir. All the performances are very strong and focussed here; Disc 2, with "Dark Star" and "The Other One", goes to the sorts of places which only the Dead at the top of their game can reach.   
"Live At The Fillmore 1969" (The Move) - this is such a rare gem. It reveals the great Roy Wood as a blazing, lyrical guitar player. The improvisation in the middle of "Fields Of People" is one of those golden pieces of music that stops you up short whenever you hear it. It must have been incredible to see this performed. But this is also the album which shows how great a frontman Carl Wayne was, and has some moving comments on the sleeve from his widow Sue (Diane in "Crossroads", for those of you old enough to remember such things).
"Live At The Carousel Ballroom 1968" (Big Brother and the Holding Company) - Janis was the greatest singer ever, and Big Brother are such an untutored and adventurous band. James Gurley's guitar blazes in spontaneous bursts of fire. I never tire of hearing live recordings of this band as they are always so fresh and engaging. Music lost so much in the 1970s when it became "polished". Give me Big Brother or Quicksilver any time !

So 2012 has been a terrific year and rock music stays alive despite the dulling forces of post-Thatcher hyper-materialism and X-Factor shallowness. Wouldn't it be great in 2013 if people finally started fighting back against the Bankers, the Lawyers, and the oppression of global capitalism - with music at the centre of a blazing inferno of protest and idealism ! We must all WAKE UP AND FIGHT - in the meantime we've got great rock music like the albums mentioned above to keep us going.

Songs I Hate by great artists no. 1

I absolutely loathe Neil Young's song "Change Your Mind" on the "Sleeps With Angels" album. This is odd as it's a long jam with Crazy Horse and I normally lap those up. And Neil Young is just about my favourite artist of all. So why ?

Firstly, it's musically lame - it plods along with no tension or variation in either the rhythms or the soloing. The singing is soppy and insipid, with none of the bite which he normal brings to his vocals.

Secondly the subject-matter. This song is telling the listener that nothing matters in life apart from having regular sex. Well, Neil, I've got news for you - some of us have relationships and some don't. Many of those relationships don't always have a high sexual content. And many people who don't have relationships desperately wish that they could and don't want this shoved down their throats.

Thirdly the clincher - this songs has the sheer gall to tell me to "Change My Mind". It doesn't evoke anything, doesn't try to justify or persuade, it just tells me. Mr. Young - you might be a genius but you have no right to tell me that my life is not valid in some way. I happen to think that your views on God are wrong, but I'll happily listen to such atheistic ditties as "Love In Mind". Just don't tell me how to run my life.   

P.S. Psychedelic Pill is amazing, containing incredible jams and not a smug or patronising lyric to be found anywhere ! 

Jim Morrison's Grave

Last week I was lucky enough to spend three days on holiday in Paris. With the financial settlement from my divorce imminent, involving as it does the ripping apart of the company pension I worked so hard for thirty years to obtain, I needed to get my head straight. Paris did the job - the sense of history is overwhelming, and there's a relaxed urbanity about the place. As you walk through the different areas you pick up all kinds of variations in tone, atmosphere, and architecture.

The highlight was a trip out to visit Jim Morrison's grave in Pere Lachaisse cemetry. It was a more profound experience than I was expecting; the humble nature of the grave is appropriate for Jim, who was always true to his bohemian nature and did not fall for all the material trappings which other rock stars have surrounded themselves with. Jim Morrison genuinely lived out the life implicit in his art; I think he is happy in his final resting place.

Being at his graveside was an ideal prompt to reflect back on my life and The Doors' part in it. I grew up in a post-war era where working-class children with sufficient ability were lucky enough to gain access to an excellent education. My father and mother both left school at the age of fourteen and had to go straight into the world of work, with no opportunity to explore any academic leanings they might have had. So when I came along and started to get extraordinarily good marks at school it was a major talking-point; like many working-class children who flowered in the 1960s, I became a sort of symbol of progress for the family.

As a child I was fine with this; I had a very strong mathematical side, worked hard to please my parents and teachers, and played a lot of sport. I was bullied a lot at school, but fortunately I was quick enough verbally to keep people off my back. I learned that my function in life was to deliver the goods and just get on with it.

I had enjoyed the occasional single as a child in the Sixties and had a couple of early Beatles albums. I learned to skip the McCartney mush and focus on great John Lennon rockers such as "Please Please Me" and "Money". Then in 1970 I started buying current albums. When I discovered people like Cream, Hendrix, Zeppelin, The Who, and Deep Purple I realised that there were albums around which didn't have any garbage to skip; records like "Led Zeppelin 2", "Wheels Of Fire", and "Deep Purple In Rock" were crammed with exciting rock throughout.

I then branched out a bit from heavy rock, getting into people like The Nice, ELP, Yes, and the Pink Floyd. But at this point I was still very much focussed on the musical side of things; the lyrics didn't mean much to me (probably a good thing when I was listening to lyricists like Robert Plant and Jon Anderson). As a person I was still that hard-working, sport-loving, mathshead schoolboy and I didn't read much. Also, the music I was lapping up was almost exclusively English.

All this changed dramatically when I first heard "Riders On The Storm" in 1972. The spell-binding mystery of the vocal and the cool intensity of the music were gripping. And the lyrics ! "There's a killer on the road / His brain is squirming like a toad". I was completely and utterly taken up by the unique atmosphere and coherence of the music, and the compelling persona of Jim Morrison.

From there I acquired all The Doors albums and love them all to this day. Jim Morrison's lyrics introduced me to the whole idea of literary appreciation; I could see just how brilliantly they flowed along with the music and conveyed the finer nuances of Jim's peculiar and compelling pre-occupations. He changed my life - from there I started getting into other great lyricists such as Dylan, and also began reading novels. Since my mid-twenties I have been an avid reader, and Jim Morrison is largely to thank for that.

I can also see now how his vision spoke to my suppressed feelings of "performance anxiety" and "otherness". As I was growing up I was starting to see that my own values did not correspond to many of those of my parents; the world of appearances and formality just didn't speak to me. Jim certainly did :- lines such as "women seem wicked when you're unwanted", "cancel my subscription to the resurrection", "the future's uncertain and the end is always near" (to quote just a few) tapped right into the core of my frightened, lonely, and anxious being. They have continued to speak to me throughout my life; circumstances and pressures have changed, but always Jim has been there to excite, intrigue, and comfort me. The darkness at the essence of his work has always been very real to me.

As I look back on the Doors' work I am amazed at how consistent and coherent it is. They are virtually perfect; there are maybe two or three weak tracks on the seven albums released during Jim's lifetime. The subsequent "American Prayer" album, various live sets, and assorted outtakes have largely maintained this standard. The Doors music was tight, structured, carefully-planned yet dramatic. Jim's persona as lead vocalist remained a constant from "Break On Through" to "Riders On The Storm".

The first Doors album is the most fully-formed debut album ever released. Some critics such as Greil Marcus believe that the group never went any further; I disagree as I think each of their albums has a unique atmosphere. Nevertheless, the debut album is a full-on masterpiece; mainly consisting of short, sharp, explosive songs but with the release of the side-closers (yes, albums had sides in those days) "Light My Fire" and "The End". The latter track conveys a sense of sheer dread and apocalyptic drama which speaks to us as much today as it did back then. The album has such a unique sound; the evocative, unique organ-playing, Robbie's slinky slide guitar, and the tight, rolling, sensitive drumming of John Densmore. And the singing ! No other singer is as compelling and exciting as Jim, and his persona emerges fully-formed on this astonsishing debut album.

Then came "Strange Days", which I see as one of their two masterpieces along with "LA Woman". Unlike the dramatics of the first album, this album holds itself in check for most of its duration. Songs like the title track, "You're Lost Little Girl", "Moonlight Drive", and "People Are Strange" are controlled, tense, and classic short-song popular music. This, if anything, amplifies rather than dampens down the darkness and power of Morrison's words and atmosphere. "Horse Latitudes" is a brief glimpse of the horror of humanity. Then it all comes pouring out in the overwhelming closer. "When The Music's Over" is eleven minutes of power, drama, and desparation. This time, rather than evoking apocalyptic fatalistic doom as per "The End", the focus is strictly on an urgent, last-ditch plea for a way out. "Cancel my suscription to the resurrection", Jim growls in rejection of conventional belief (nevertheless he later screams "Save us ! Jesus !"). "We're getting tired of hanging around", he laments, before the final outpouring of "we want the world and we want it....NOW !". Yes, we still want the world, and thirty years of raw-toothed capitalism and "I'm ok" have not dulled the urgency for those who still believe that things could be otherwise. "What have they done to the earth ?" indeed.

After two such major albums, and with all the pressures of touring and stardom, it was inevitable that the group would run out of steam. Jims increasing alcohol intake wasn't helping either. Nevertheless, "Waiting For The Sun" certainly has it's moments - the strangeness of "Hello I Love You" and "Love Street", the power and (possibly) irony of "Five To One", the horror-show of "The Unknown Soldier", and the extraordinary acapella work-song of "My Wild Love". The group may have been digging out older songs to cover a lack of new material, but there still isn't a track on the album which is less than strange and compelling. And what a record this would have been if that central, seminal Doors track "Celebration Of The Lizard" had been completed !     

The next album, "The Soft Parade", divides people. Like Mark E. Smith I love it. "Wild Child" is such an archetypal Doors song; the distinctive riff, the bluesy guitar, the dark vocals, and the "remember when we were in Africa ?" outro. "Touch Me" showcases Jim as an alternative cabaret star. Most notably of all the title track begins with the powerful "When I was back there in seminary school" introduction and then goes into the most creepy evocation of Los Angeles. This is a highly-structured, peculiar, and compellingly-poetic piece which ranks amongst the group's finest achievements. And what does "the monk ate lunch" signify ? I don't know, but the line sure sticks in your mind.

"Morrison Hotel" takes the group into their version of pure rock'n'roll, featuring uptempo classics such as "Roadhouse Blues", "Peace Frog", "Land Ho !", and "Maggie M'Gill". The former of these is such a great way to open up an album; the compelling riff, the instrumental touches (in particular Kreiger's solo), and the penetrating, memorable lyrics. The other above-mentioned rockers on the album are similarly striking - and what a great opening line "the human race was dying out" (Peace Frog) is. But side two does have a couple of weak moments on it - "Indian Summer" in particular is about the only piece of pure filler the group ever recorded. The strains of the Miami aftermath were perhaps taking their toll, although the group's creativity was still massive as confirmed by outtakes such as "Rock Is Dead".

"Absolutely Live" is, quite simply, the most exciting live album ever made. We get the most creepy and ominous version of "Who Do You Love" ever cut as a starter, the drama of "When The Music's Over" with Jim's "SHUT UP ! Now is that any way to behave at a rock'n'roll concert ?", the thunderous preaching of the "Seminary school" verse, the poetic improvisation at the start of "Break On Through", and the new song "Build Me A Woman" (albeit with the frutier content excised). Best of all, we finally get a version of "Celebration Of The Lizard", Jim's most complete exploration with the group of his poetic symbology. And what a mysterious, atmospheric, and totally convincing piece this is ! The closing "tomorrow I return to the town of my birth; I want to be ready" leaves the listener enraptured and completely swept away by the bizarre visions and sheer authority of this amazing singer and poet.

Then the finale; "LA Woman". All I can do is issue forth yet more superlatives. This is a blues-based album which never lets up for a moment; from the poppy "Love Her Madly" and "Hyacinth House" through to the eerie peace of the closer. And the title track ! Nothing in music can match the sheer propulsion of this song - the way the bass drives along with such elasticity, underpinned by the subtle but constant drumming. The apparent indolence of the guitar phrases is matched by the grizzled intensity of Jim's vocal. The observations Jim makes are stark, mordant, and oddly compassionate - "never seen a woman so alone", he observers. LA is summed up as "motel money murder madness". And what does the use of the "Mr Mojo Risin'" anagram mean ? Is this a hint that the sensational "Jim Morrison" media persona is about to disappear ? Whatever, it is so amazing that a group as intense and consistent as the Doors could go out with (in my view) their second-strongest album.

I've relished the stuff that has come out since - "An American Prayer", the live sets, the outtakes - but the basis of my lifelong love for this group is in the body of work released during their active career as discussed above.

Jim Morrison - thank you for everything; your courage, your verbal dexterity and sensitivity, and your integrity. Your work will last forever. May you continue to rest in peace. 

    



  


          




  

    

Lou Fellingham - Live Album "Review"

A Lou Fellingham live album is something to look forward to as she and Phatfish are dynamite in concert.  However this is an interesting time for such a release as her gigs have been somewhat unusual of late. I haven’t heard the CD yet, but the following review came to me in a dream….

Introduction : “Is everybody ready ? Please give a welcome to the greatest worship band in the world LOU FELLINGHAM AND PHATFISH !!” Silence…no band…the audience is getting impatient. “I said is everybody ready ? Let’s hear it for the greatest worship band in the world LOU FELLINGHAM AND PHATFISH !!”

The band starts tuning up and goes into the intro to “Promised Land”. Still no Lou. Nathan and Luke exchange weary glances; Lou’s Sly Stone obsession has made her punctuality somewhat erratic of late. The intro carries on and on; still the crowd noise bubbles away. Finally applause breaks out as Lou lurches on stage dressed in black trousers and a purple jacket, and swigging from a bottle of Jack Daniels.  Nathan looks up in despair and drops the beat slightly – “it’s going to be one of those nights”, he’s thinking, but even he isn’t prepared for what follows.

Lou staggers up to the mike and eventually goes into the opening verse.  But as she gets to the “What a Saviour !” chorus the vocal suddenly stops; the band play on, Lou swigs from her bottle, and eventually returns to the mike. The tension is unbearable. She declaims “I’M NOT TALKING ABOUT A REVOLUTION !! I JUST WANNA HAVE A GOOD TIME.  I’m kinda tired of all this evangelism crap. Tonight I just want everyone to love their neighbour !”. The band picks up the chorus again and Lou eventually completes the song. She reaches for her bottle, but before she’s able to take a swig the group launches into “Step Into The Light”.  Lou dances around manically as she proclaims the verses, and the song is given a relatively tight and competent performance.

Lou steps away from the mike again, takes a swig, and returns :- “I think I’ve lost a button on my trousers”, she says , “you wouldn’t want my trousers to fall down now would you !”. A few “whews !” are heard from the audience. Someone shouts “show us your bum Lou”. Lou turns away, takes a hit from the bottle, and eventually launches into a few perfunctory renditions of songs from her latest album. The band is subdued but the music is hypnotic – their nervousness is putting a coiled restraint and erratic, offhand intensity into their playing reminiscent of the music on Neil Young’s “Time Fades Away”.

Then she goes into “If I Don’t Have Love”. Lou slurs her way through a couple of verses, and then picks up her bottle and stares at the audience. She starts talking in a broken, confessional voice “You know I always thought this song was kinda bullshit. I’m always given the wimpy girly love song on the albums. But I wanna  tell you that 1 Corinthians 13 was written by someone who just didn’t know what he was talking about. What does a Saint know about love ? Let me tell you about love. When I come home at night after a hard day’s worshipping I want someone’s arms around me. I’m sick and tired of coming home to an empty flat and an empty bed” (Nathan had found her recent behaviour so hard to handle that he’d taken the kids back to Mum and Dad).  “I’ll sing you a real song about love…”. Incredibly she goes into a pain-wracked rendition of “Ball and Chain” – “IT AIN’T FAIR !”, she screams as the band backs her up with an impromptu blues vamp. The guitarist even makes a fair stab at a James Gurley solo. The crowd are struck dumb. There are even a few boos.

The band, in desperation, kicks off the intro to “Heavenbound”. This continues for a couple of minutes, and we hear someone yell “Paint it black, you devils”. The vocal comes in, wild and rasping, before the chorus suddenly slows down and the band quietens to a single repeated note backdrop. The crowd grows more and more agitated. There hasn’t been this much excitement on a live album since the late sixties. The crowd noises grow and grow…still the single bass note…on and on it goes until you worry that the CD has got stuck. Then “SHUT UP !!” followed, more quietly, by “Now is that any way to behave at a worship session ?” Back to the almost-silent bass note. The tension builds again…the quiet is unbearable …on and on it goes…we hear a disturbance in the crowd. “Well that’s Spring Harvest for you”, Lou slurs, “the only people who rush the stage are girls”. Laughter breaks out in the audience; the band members look at each other wearily – sometimes this song has dragged on for half-an-hour recently. But eventually Lou swigs from her bottle, turns back to the mike, and picks up the chorus. The band crashes through the rest of the song as fast as they can.

A couple more recent songs, then it’s time for the closing stretch of crowd-pleasers. “How Good It Is” stumbles into life like an old man’s erection. The vocal suddenly stops and Lou speaks again. “You know I’ve never understood how you can enjoy being loved by a spiritual being. I’m lonely. I need a man.  I need real love”. Nathan stares up from his drum kit in astonishment. Lou really is going too far tonight. “Forget all that crap about marriage. Forget celibacy. Forget homophobia. I don’t care whether you’re straight or gay, if you meet someone who wants you then this is what you’ve gotta do…this is what you’ve gotta do…”. She launches into “Get It While You Can”.  As her wracked, hysterical voice pours out like a river of whiskey, the band (who can barely remember the song) strikes up an edgy, tentative, stumbling backing.  The song builds to a chaotic, tearful, screaming finish. You can sense the collective gasps of the audience. They have never heard a worship session like this.  

Another hit from the bottle. Then this “YOU’RE ALL A BUNCH OF FUCKIN’ IDIOTS ! HOW LONG ARE YOU GONNA LET PASTORS PUSH YOU AROUND ? HOW LONG ARE YOU GOING TO SIT THERE AND DO NOTHING ?  LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT FREEDOM ! NO FEAR, NO BARRIERS, NO LIMITS !”. Nathan glares up again – he knew he should never have let Lou go to the Edinburgh festival. Before she can take this rap further the band hurtles into “Holy Holy” and “There Is A Day”, and the concert lurches towards the finish.

Time for the last number…the band starts jamming as Lou turns away, slugs from her bottle, and lurches back towards the mike. A yell from the crowd :- “JUDAS !!”. Lou staggers away, turns around, and leans back into the mike. “I don’t believe you”, she slurs, “you’re a liar”. Then she turns to the band; “Play fuckin’ loud !”, she instructs. The intro strikes up, and Lou turns in an impassioned version of “Stained Glass Masquerade”, all rasping and slurring now gone from her voice as she delivers a crystal-clear, controlled, and heartfelt performance. The band builds up and up at the end; Lou turns back to the mike for one last message “If you take anything from tonight we pray that it’s the song you’ve just heard”.

Silence. The crowd does not know how to react. Some sporadic cheering breaks out along with a few wolf-whistles. Gradually the booing starts, and builds and builds. The CD ends. 

(Writer’s note : Lou Fellingham is a Christian singer and writer as well as the lead singer with Phatfish, which includes her husband Nathan and his brother Luke. They are one of the few Christian bands whose work stands up as great rock music. Lou’s live album should be brilliant and I do anticipate it with genuine pleasure. The news of its imminent release got me thinking about great moments on live albums in the past, hence the above set of surreal ramblings. I mean this for amusement only, with no offence to Lou, Phatfish, God, or anyone else intended, although there are some serious messages in the piece. Eric)