Four great motorcycles moments from the movies

The motorcycle elevates an average human to a higher plane.
Whether this be masculinity, virility, allure or just plain ‘coolness’, astride two wheels, mundanity is banished.

The motorcycle’s relationship with the big screen has been a positive one. Rarely (ever?) is the villain of the piece a motorcycle owner. The bike is the 20th+Century’s noble steed and the rider the bold knight and true. Mostly.

So no ‘Easy Rider’ here. This is a list of the movie moments where the bike made an appearance rather that a starring role. However, like many cameos, these can stay longer in the memory….

So – in no particular order…Get your motors running…..

‘The Great Escape’
It had to be the first one.:
Steve McQueen; a Triumph pretending to be a BMW and a barbed wire fence.

McQueen made machinery look good and the machines returned the complement. ‘Bullitt’ re-defined the car chase – but made an icon of the Ford Mustang in its own right, equally sharing the spotlight with the actor.

In this instance, it’s the human issue that catch the attention. As the audience roots for McQueen to outsmart and outrun his captors, his bike is simply a method of escape – literally a vehicle for him to effect his purpose. The Mustang was right for ‘Bullitt’ but in this case, he could have been riding anything. In that pursuit, it is the car as much as McQueen that is doing the chasing and is an equal partner in the glory. Not so for the bike, here the machine is a prop – necessary for the scene – but hardly cinematic eye-candy.

So if this example is actually a pale imitation, why it’s inclusion?
Simple: iconography and mythology.

Picture the scene. What are you seeing? Chances are your mind is showing the actual jump – or that still where McQueen sits on the bike about to turn it around. Either way – are you actually focussing on the bike? Now think ‘Bullitt. You are definitely seeing the car.

So the iconography is a true combination of man and machine. One without the other just doesn’t work. McQueen, on foot, taking a running leap at the wire….no. McQueen sat on an upturned bucket as he ponders his next move. No? Well, maybe… Truth is, that on this occasion, the man was definitely more photogenic than the metal he was in charge of.

The bike itself was not as it seemed. Or, in fact, was the jump – more of that later.

The bike used was a 1961 Triumph TR-6 Trophy.

The irony that McQueen should have been sat on a product of he Bavarian Motor Works (an R75, to be exact) but the bike part was being played by a British actor (and one called “Triumph’) is pretty obvious. It really doesn’t matter anyway because the mechanical impersonation is not the most important thing.

Recognise the guy below?

Course you don’t. It’s Steve McQueen – or at least it was when the bike left the ground. What should have been a BMW was piloted airborne by Bud Elkins, a stuntman who also featured in Bullitt.

So this first example is about iconography, rather then mechanics. The classic shot of McQueen in ‘The Great Escape’ as he stands astride the bike desperately considering the next move is all about the man and his situation; the fact that he’s on a bike is actually incidental – and it really doesn’t matter what kind of bike it is. It’s nice that it’s there it and it helps the scene – but definitely doesn’t steal it; it belongs to McQueen.

Terminator 2 Harley Davidson FLSTF Fatboy

I have been riding motorbikes for 35 years. For the first 30 of the, I was rather sniffy about the whole HD thing. Every time I saw a Harley, it had a paunchy middle aged bloke on it – often as part of a high choreographed owners group rideout as they righteously carved their way through the suburban highways of my youth. Along with Honda Goldwings, I thought they were a bit shit.

That was until two things happened. Maybe it was because I became middle-aged and paunchy myself, but the real revelation was the first time I rode one.

Every bike owner knows that nothing sounds like a Harley – and in some ways, it is their most distinctive and endearing feature. Even when I thought HDs were a bit shit, I couldn’t help but envy the noise one made, wishing that whatever I was riding at the time could sound so sweet. And then when I first rode the 1200 Sportster that is now mine…Dear Lord…Such grunt, such torque, such fun….sooooo coooool.

This section could have been about ‘Easy Rider’, but it isn’t. It isn’t because the bikes in ‘Easy Rider’ were customs, one-offs. That’s fair enough – nothing wrong with that – but if you had the licence and the money, you could have walked out of the cinema and straight into your friendly HD dealer and you could be Arnie. And that’s cool.

T2 is a bloody great film. Just in the same way that the moody grime of ‘Alien’ became the epic shoot-em-up of ‘Aliens’ ‘The Terminator’ gets the art / film noir plaudits, and once again, it’s James Cameron’s sequel that takes a great idea, gets a huge budget and smashes the box office.

Whether Cameron sent a prop-buyer out to find an Arnie-friendly motorbike, or whether Harley gladly provided in the name of product placement, who knows? Whatever the story – it certainly did the job on me.

The bike first appears as Arnie leaves a biker bar having entered, naked after a bout of clothes-shedding time-travel. He leaves shortly afterwards having obtained a hairy bloke’s clothes, and crucially, ignition keys.

To the epic strains of George Thorogood’s ‘Bad to the Bone’ Arnie swings his leg over the machine. After a brief interruption, he relieves the angry bar-owner of his shotgun and sunglasses and then the soundtrack gets even better as the engine is revved – and Arnie seems to find a purpose-built on-board holster for the shotgun (surely not….) And then… he’s off – and he’s off in style.

Top Gun : Kawasaki GPZ900R

Let’s put it out there immediately: Tom Cruise is a very good actor, maybe even one of the greats. He’s made some excellent films across a long and varied career. Whether that longevity and versatility was obvious as he pulled on his flight suit for ‘Top Gun’ is highly debatable.

‘Top Gun’ was, in effect, a two hour US Navy recruitment advert, there were a number of mechanical co-stars – and they didn’t all have wings. TC was really little more than two-legged eye-candy. That he would still be box office gold over 30 years later is (based on the evidence of ‘Top Gun’) quite a surprise.

Released in 1986, ‘Top Gun’ is arguably the archetypal 80s movie. Brash, pretty mindless and a Kenny Logins theme song. So when Tom needs to get on a motorbike, there could only really be one choice. For many, the archetypal 1980s sports bike; the peerless Kawasaki GPZ900R.

Evolving from the ‘Zeds’ of the 70s, the GPZ range were an absolute revolution. Sleek, faired (some half, some full)beautifully painted and fast…so, so fast if you were a mid eighties teenage bike fan and you didn’t want a GPZ, there was something wrong with you.

The 900R is where the marque found perfection. The 600R was a beautiful mid-range sports bike with compact looks ahead of it’s time, but it was the 900 that combined grace, poise and power to fuse sport with genuine GT potential. And fuck me, it was quick.

There was a smaller brother in the shape of the 750 and, of course the 750 Turbo which turned the A3 London to Portsmouth at night into the scene from Star Wars when the Millennium Falcon goes into hyperspace. Both beautiful machines, but lacking in the bulk and brawn that big brother provided.

In the film, ‘Maverick’ (Tom Cruise) is trying very hard to shag form a romantic, meaningful relationship with his instructor / love interest Kelly McGillis. After some highly charged romance and a bit of soul-searching, Cruise guns the 900R down a motorway while (I’m my imagination at least) the sun sets, F-14s scream overhead at zero feet and ‘Take My Breath Away’ plays over it all.

As it turns out, the bike makes a number of appearances – and finding a decent clip is tough. I’ll just add the one below for fun – and ask the question about just how likely it wold be that any runway, let alone an active military one would let aircraft operate while some random was racing up and down it on a motorbike….

There was a rumour put going around at the time that Cruise’s teeny-tiny stature meant that the bike he rode wasn’t a 900R at all, but a 750 with fake stickers. Not at all. One of the beauties of this bike was that a relatively low saddle height made it accessible to many that other marques denied. Even diddy Holywood icons.

The bike definitely makes Cruise look good. As the two-wheeled pin-up of the day, it compliments the man, but also stands out on its own. European cinema-going bike fans could only wonder at the helmet-less freedom of the Maverick GPZ experience, but whether or not they envied that safety option, they definitely envied the bike.

Mad Max Kawasaki KZ1000

In a semi-dystopian Australian semi-outback world, outlaw bikers terrorise the law-abiding. The rule of law may be slipping, but it is maintained by the leather-clad police force who do what they can to protect the innocent despite the brutality of the bad-guys and the indifference of their superiors.

Among these heroes stands Max Rockatansky. While his colleagues drive cars marked ‘Pursuit’, his is marked ‘Interceptor’. Max is cool, Max is hard. He’s not mad yet – but he’s working on it.

Max Rockatansky (Mel Gibson) drives his Ford Falcon X8. The first one – the ‘uniformed’ one looks like this….

…and the mean one, the ‘plain clothes’ version, looks like this:

Both of these cars look….mean. Even the yellow and blue one. In fact – I’d say it is actually the better looking of the two. Engines sticking out of the bonnet? Nah. Just too much.

However iconic they may be, we are not here to focus on cars. You will recall that biker gangs are the baddies here. Well – if you want to take on bikers – get yourself a bike. Enter Jim Goose.

Max has a wife, a kid and – despite society going to hell in a handcart – a nice house. He’s tough and hard – but basically a settled, family man who drives cars professionally.

Jim Goose, on the other hand, is just as tough, just as hard – is funny, popular and shags nightclub singers who go to bed with him just because he looks at them. Jim Goose is a free-spirited lone-wolf – a team player, but his own man. Men want to be him, women want to be with him. Jim Goose rides a bike professionally.

And what a bike. We’ve already mentioned the GPZs – but before them, it was the original ‘Zeds’ that ruled the roads and from the range, it was the Z1000 that in the desirability and cred-terms, reigned supreme.

By modern-day sports-bike standards, this really is a dinosaur. The design has 60s and 70s DNA compared to the fully-faired 80s shape thrown by the GPZ. When the GPZs, you could see the future (and you can certainly see their influence today) but with the last of the original Zeds , it was like the current thinking and design limits had been pushed to the limit. But if you are going to end and era – you might as well do it with style.

Goose’s KX has a couple of after-market additions that set it apart from the herd. The fairing is an interesting nod to aero-dynamism, if not especially to aesthetics and the rear sections in which his radio gear (and some weaponry – probably) get stashed, lend the bike an extra angular, workmanlike vibe.

We’ve all seen ‘Mad Max’ so we all know the Jim Goose story. Without too much of a spoiler, the KX definitely needs some time in the repair shop by the end of the film. In ‘Mad Max’, a lot of machinery takes a beating. Sometimes, that’s OK ‘cos it belongs to the bad guys – but when something so pretty (see above) gets bent, it’s definitely a very, very bad thing.

The End. Maybe.

So – That’s it. 4 classics from certainly many more.

If your favourite wasn’t featured – let me know – maybe I’ll expand the page.
For now – safe riding / happy viewing.

Selected references…

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Triumph_TR6_Trophy

https://www.digitaltrends.com/cars/terminator-2-harley-auction/

The Motorcycle from The Great Escape

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harley-Davidson_Fat_Boy

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kawasaki_GPZ900R

https://www.madmaxmovies.com/mad-max/mad-max-cars/goose-kawasaki-z1000/index.html

As an untravelled kid growing up in 1970s /80s Southern England, everything I knew or imagined about America was encapsulated by the opening credits of The Rockford Files. Fast, flash, exotic and….big. I was fascinated by the minutiae of US life; the roadsigns and traffic lights on those wide, wide roads, the cars, the advertising billboards, the bar, the phone booth, the huge supermarket ,the lot. I didn’t want to be Jim Rockford – but I’d have been quite happy to have lived in his town.

The USA was also represented by a couple of old (late 60s) National Geographics that we had in the house. It wasn’t so much the articles – it was the advertisements. There were a window into a kind of life that just wasn’t what mine was. A whole way of living that seemed to actually describe what the American Dream was in reality…And there were some great pictures of whales and stuff too. Obviously,

Getting older, America was Blondie, Coke (the soft drink, again, obviously) and the taste of what the land of the brave must be like when McDonalds starting opening UK restaurants.

The Monkees, Scooby-Doo, The Banana Splits, Mork and Mindy, M*A*S*H, Starsky & Hutch, The Dukes of Hazard, Happy Days, Cheers, Hill Street Blues, The A-Team, Fame, all variously left their mark. Never watched Dallas. Well – only once. It was Kristen.

Once ZZ Top, Van Halen, The Blues Brothers, Beverley Hills Cop, Apocalypse Now, Platoon, Pulp Fiction, Taxi Driver & Bill Hicks had all added to the mosaic – and then some – I finally got to see it for myself.

In February 1998 I arrived at Boston Logan. It was dark and so very, very cold. The wind was painful on the face and numbed the toes. I’d love to say that I then Jack Kerouac’d my to a nearby bar before meeting interesting, exciting and dangerous people. Fact was, I was staffing a school ski-trip to Vermont. Hardly ‘On The Road’.

As the kids were being gathered together prior to boarding the onward coach, I slipped out of the door and onto the street. I just wanted to somehow relive a little bit of those Rockford Files moments. There was a black and white police patrol car parked across the street. Perfect.

In praise of my first US experience…Ever taken a bunch of school kids skiing? Ever had to take a kid with a broken ski-binding to a ski-hut to get it fixed? Try that in France or Italy and you get ‘the shrug’. The international gesture of ‘I don’t give a shit’. Don’t get me wrong, if it wasn’t for school ski-trips (and the increasing affluence of the working class parents of offspring I taught) I would never have gone. But it was in my holidays, it wasn’t a holiday – and if you’ve never had to ring a parent from a foreign country to inform them that their child is about to go into theatre in an Alpine hospital because they’ve broken their leg in a gazillion places and you have just taken full responsibility for their health under a general anaesthetic..it’s not all a jolly.

Back to the point. Ask anyone at a US ski resort for help and you are instantly their only priority. Broken binding? No problem, Sir. Wrong skis? Take this pair; have a good day. Everyone – literally everyone who was paid to in some way look after us – literally did all they could to help. Have a good day? Don’t mind if I do….

Since then, I flew to NYC on 31st December 1999 because thanks to ‘Millennium Bug’ lunacy, I got a return ticket for £100 and welcomed in the new millennium in Times Square and was the first tourist to travel to the summit of The Empire State Building of the year 2000. No bullshit – it was me.

I’ve done The Florida thing. Two weeks of the theme parks with the family. One afternoon, I left them all at the villa and took the Chevy Suburban hire car to an shop alone at an Orlando mall. Hit the freeway just after a storm. The asphalt steamed, cruise control on and the FM station blasted out The Eagles. Take it Easy? Don’t mind if I do,,,

A grown-ups only trip to Cape Cod & Matha’s Vineyard (because despite being adults, we’re obsessed with ‘Jaws’) Full on diner breakfasts in Boston, defying the Great Whites and the warning signs by paddling on a Cape Cod beach and in a clapper boarded souvenir shop in the genteel town of Chatham – the whole focus of this piece…

So we are walking through the town and keen to shop. We had already loaded-up on Red Sox gear in Boston – and had got as many Great White Shark momentos as could be considered reasonable. We entered a store that wasn’t really our natural habitat – more soft furnishings and tasteful lamps than T-shirts and ornamental fish, but when in Chatham…

On a table was a US flag. Heavy cloth, beautifully made – and just the kind of thing that one might expect to see gracing a suburban front lawn or civic building. It seemed to be the perfect souvenir – but surely, this would be an item beyond the budget and, as I was about to leave..’May I help you, Sir?’

It was something like $60 and I couldn’t believe I could take something so quintessentially American home for such a modest cost. I took it home.

What to do with it on return? The glass Great White sat (and still sits) on a table in the living room – but then it’s only 10cm long. This flag would not be so easy to place. Initially, I wanted it in my office – but no wall was big enough to accommodate it, so after a little consideration it went on the wall in my ‘Man Cave’ and it’s still there 6 years later.

But only just…

Here’s the thing. By the end of 2017, the Trump administration was casting a longer, darker international shadow than perhaps many Americans realised. Trump’s election victory was never disputed – he won it fair and square but the rules and protocols of international diplomacy and the way the America’s traditional role of a legitimate leader of the Free World was being ripped-up.

I understand that change in itself was an attraction to Trump voters as is would have been to those supporting Brexit in 2016. That’s fair enough – a legitimate reason as any to exercise your democratic right. The problem was that it seemed that in Washington, liberties were being taken with the power of the office and the aggressively insular, ‘America First’ policy was destabilising the west and doing little else but stir fearsome rhetoric from the likes of North Korea and Iran.

It wasn’t just geopolitics that were the issue, though. Attitudes to the environment, the marginalisation of minorities and the enabling of the intolerant was starting to have an unhealthy impact abroad.

I was beginning to think that my own star-spangled banner was beginning to represent a country I could no longer be happy to be associated with. It got to the point that I was genuinely worried that if my house was burgled, I wouldn’t just lose my prize possessions, but the thieves would see my flag and then take a giant shit on the floor in protest.

November 2018. Trump is mid-term and I’m in mid-Europe at a trade convention in Vienna and the delegates are invited to a plush reception at the Opera House. If I’m honest, I find these things hard work from a social point of view. I’m not great with small talk and while I am honoured with the environment and grateful for the food and drink, I’m not the networking type. So a bunch of us somehow gravitate to a quieter spot. It’s like the start of a bad joke: ‘There was an Englishman, a Scotsman, a Belgian and an American – and there were all drinking free wine and eating canapés in an opera house talking about stuff’.

Almost inevitably, the conversation turned to Trump. It was the day of the Kavanagh Supreme Court vote and it seemed that another act of political chicanery was afoot. I told the group about my flag and my growing antipathy (as I had just met them, I didn’t mention the shitting burglars anxiety) and then this guy said…’Leave it hanging there for the democracy it represents.’ I have no other memory of the man. Literally nothing – but the words stuck a profound chord.

Of course it represents democracy. It represents freedom. It represents the growth and maturity of a great nation and the union of fifty states, all magnificent in their own way.

And yet…

Everything above, up to the first mention of the shitting thieves was written before so many of those flag were held in contempt toward the values it holds as the were carried to The Capitol by people who, no matter what they say, so not believe in freedom, do not believe in the rule of law – have no respect for the rights and freedoms enshrined in the US Constitution.

I’m not naive – I get it. Flags are ultimately just another symbol and it can be claimed by pretty much anyone or any group and its meaning subverted for whatever purpose you like.

Amongst the Trump banners, the MAGA flags and the ‘Fuck Your Feelings’ T-shirts, was the Stars and Stripes. It was undignified – wrong, inappropriate. It had no place at that act – it was above such things.

Fortunately, today – as Biden takes office, it literally is above such things. It flies, proudly and we can only hope, securely.

My flag will still hang on my wall – and the fact that it so nearly was removed seems a very small scale metaphor for recent events.
There will be much that the world expects and hopes for from the Biden administration. Trump’s term of office may have achieved stuff, but his own hostility towards truth and honesty makes his claims that much harder to believe.

What is sure is that he leaves America worse-off than January 2017. If there is something that can unite a fractured nation, if there is a symbol needed, something to rally around – the flag seems a decent place to start. Every US citizen is on it by virtue of those 50 stars; the challenge is now how to learn to share the space and remember that it is democracy that it represents – not self-interest and hatred and the sooner this can be re-established and it’s beauty fully reclaimed the happier we all shall be.

Visiting my house? Leave nothing but footprints…

Music can beguile as well as surprise. It can seduce over time or overwhelm in an instant.

Sometimes one’s initial instincts can be wrong and confused. The first time – and many times after, that was exposed to the Prodigy’s ‘Firestarter’, I thought it was shit. I was wrong. The first time I heard ‘You Can’t Hurry Love’ by Phil Collins, I thought ‘what a great cover’. I was wrong. It’s shit – an epiphany which, I am happy say, took very little subsequent time to reveal itself – and, to be fair, your honour, I was only about 12 at the time.

There are slow-burners that worm their way into your consciousness over weeks or months. There are pieces that somehow strike a chord and our apparently forgotten, but yet they remain, rattling around in one’s musical memory until some unconscious trigger releases them to the waking mind. And…

On some occasions, there has been a first listening that has literally been life-changing.

‘First times’ are important. ‘First times’ are seared into the memory – yes, ha ha very funny – let’s move quickly past the sexual clichés – but damn it all – they’re important. In fact, that first teenage snog might have been the most highly-charged moment of your emotional life up until that point, it was, eventually, eclipsed. Unless of course it was a fucking amazing snog.

The point here is that the first time you hear an amazing piece of music, the significance of that moment  is never surpassed. Whenever you subsequently hear it, you can’t help but be partially transported back to that first listening; it’s part of your musical DNA.  Have a snog 30 years after your first one – is a bit of you remembering your first one?

If it is, you need to have a word with yourself – or better yet, have many words with a psychotherapist, but like all those coming-of-age-growing-into-ourselves, self discovery moments – we can all think of some musical firsts.

These three short essays are dedicated to the tunes that were heard, in their entirety for that special first-time moment. This is not about hearing a snatched line or guitar-riff and then discovering the track later. I first heard ‘Solsbury Hill’ in a newsagents in Bournemouth. I heard the opening guitar / keyboard part – and loved it – but didn’t hang around for the rest – because I really needed to be elsewhere quickly, so while I might have the memory of the tune, it wasn’t the whole track so it doesn’t count.

We’ve all got these little complete beauties; here are mine…

Blitzkrieg Bop (from ‘Ramones’ by The Ramones)

There is no better place to start than this. Seriously – This is the one…

Woking Football Club has a very small footnote in musical history. The Jam played an early gig there (in the Social Club – not on the pitch) and a few years later, Weller returned with The Style Council and the club served as the setting for the video for ‘Solid Bond in Your Heart’.

Neither of these moments come close in their significance to a jumble sale that was held in the same room as featured in the video above sometime in the mid-1980s.

I was aware that ‘The Ramones’ were a thing – but in the same way that Iggy Pop and The New York Dolls were a thing too ; part of the whole punk genesis and evolution but actually not that important to actually listen to. Today, all it would take would be a quick search in YouTube or a Spotify – but on that day, the commitment was much greater; it was 50p.

I lived half a mile from the football club and I was walking home past it. Fate ordained that I had nothing better to do than investigate the jumble sale – and lucky chance had it that I had 50p on me.

What is actually extraordinary is that someone had grown tired of their (original pressing) copy of The Ramones first album that they had given it away. This still blows my mind. Someone held this item in so little esteem that they gave it to someone to sell to strangers – for 50p.

As it happened, I bought two albums that afternoon. I also bought a copy of ‘Exercises’ by Nazareth – and honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever played it – because when I got home, it was like I’d bought all the music I would ever need.

You know ‘Blitzkrieg Bop’. You know how it starts – you know how those drums, bass and guitar crash-in together in perfect disharmonious harmony- you know how those three chords just…work.

You know those thumping drums – the “Hey-Ho’ call to action – how the bass rumbles in like a biker gang and then the guitars – you know how great that is and how it fits together just right…

But imagine if you didn’t. Imagine if you had walked home, having spent a quid on two albums and just put the first side of the first one one your record player. Imagine….

At that time, I had a guitar – and a bass guitar too. I could play a few chords on the former and had no clue how to use the latter – and here were a band with the same musicianship as me – and sounding….perfect.

‘Blitzkrieg Bop’ proved – really proved – that , like that Sniffin’ Glue fanzine cover (that you never had a copy of) you learn three chords and form a band. For many, Punk was epitomised by The Sex Pistols, but just about any Pistol track is streets ahead in musical complexity – and here was the proof that’ just getting up and doing’ it worked. Really worked.

Five minutes after the first listen, I could play ‘Blitzkrieg Bop’. If I’d owned a drum kit, I’d have learned the drum parts too. And this is why it had such a profound impact. I didn’t need to vogue in front of a mirror with a badminton racquet – I could actually perform this song and the confidence that gave was immense.

Years later I bought Ramones Greatest Hits double CD – but I wasted my money. I didn’t need it. No one needs any more Ramones than that first album – and arguably Side One of it would be enough. The Ramones are / were an inspired one-line joke. A knock-knock routine that spanned three decades. (Knock-Knock. Who’s there? The Ramones. The Ramones who? 1,2,3, 4 Raaarrggghhhhhhh glue, baseball bats, Judy is a punk etc)

Don’t misunderstand me, The Ramones were sensational – but so is cheesecake and after 3 or 4 slices of even the best cheesecake, you’ve had enough, for a while at least.

I discovered something great in that jumble sale that day. Nobody – not one, solitary person had ever said to me ‘You heard that Ramones album?’ This was a selection based on no recommendation and therefore it was truly mine. And despite it’s subsequent ubiquity, it always will be. Sorry folks, it belongs to me. Just me. It’s mine.

I Wanna Be Adored (from ‘Stone Roses’ by The Stone Roses

I have never been cool. Ever. I have never spotted an emerging trend and adopted it before everyone else’, I have never influenced a single goddamn person in my life.

But that’s OK because music is a mass-media thing – or at least once it gets recorded and commercially released, it is – and certainly if your local ‘Our Price’ has copies of it all over their shelves.

It’s 1989. It’s the last year of college and I am studying about as far south in the UK as it’s possible to go, right down on the Sussex coast. A couple of hundred miles north, Manchester is busy changing the world and who knows, maybe if I’d got better A Levels, I might have been at the Haçienda wearing enormous flared jeans and a Joe Bloggs T-shirt cultivating an interest in Detroit house , while wide-eyed on E. Possibly….

It’s actually a highly unlikely scenario – I wouldn’t have known I was at the epicentre of a phenomenenon – I would have kept my straight trousers and have ingested nothing stronger than Stella Artois. I naturally reject the crowd anyway – If I’d been at Manchester Uni in 1989, I’d have seen the next 30 years telling anyone who’d listen how amazing it was – when in all probability, I’d have sat out the whole affair.

Anyway – It’s 1989 and the aforementioned branch of Our Price has copies of this album featuring cover art of citrus fruit. This was, of course the Stone Roses’ eponymous debut. Even though I was a student I very rarely listed to music radio – not even Peel – and with no other contact with anything like an underground scene – I’d heard about the Stone Roses – but never actually heard them.

So, like with ‘Blitzkrieg Bop’, fate intervenes. While passing Our Price, I had nothing better to do than have a browse – and having nothing better to do with £5.99 – on impulse and out of curiosity, I went home with a, no pun intended, stone-cold classic.

The all important first listen was, in it’s own way, a classic too. I got back to the halls and was joined in my room by a bloke called Mick; he’d never heard ‘Stone Roses’ either – and this fact is important.

Mick was sat on the bed as I sorted out a drink and the needle dropped on a frantic heavy bass-line soon followed by a busy, spiky guitar line. We nodded to each other at mutual appreciation of the speed and economy; these Mancunians might have some questionable fashion choices – but they’d not lost their post punk edge; we could have been listening to Wire ten years earlier.

We were, of course not, not listening to Wire copyists (we did when Elastica happened) but were listening to the Stone Roses… at the wrong speed.

The. Wrong. Speed. If you’re John Peel – fine. If you’re not; not cool.

CDs put an end to this and you can’t play a download at 45rpm. Maybe with vinyl’s recent resurgence, it’s no way as much of a thing as once it was – but it could have severely burst the bubble.

Fortunately Mick was not one to judge. Even more fortunately, neither of said anything that would have betrayed even more uncoolness. Even more fortuitously – ‘I wanna be adored’s intro provided enough time for the mistake to be realised before the vocals. If my first introduction to Ian Brown had been ‘I don’t need to sell my soul / he’s already in me’ sung like Alvin & The Chipmunks, the moment would truly have been irretrievably lost.

This intro is also going on a bit…. The story here is another of discovery. ‘I wanna be adored’ is a perfect opening track; it is enigmatic, memorable (of course…) and instantly shows the musicians’ abilities as clearly as the direction and statement they are making.

That opening bass-line – another ode to low-frequency simplicity – that leads to the guitar line that slashes into the track but with the controlled finese of a Samurai’s blade rather than that of the crazed marauder. It wasn’t long before the axiom that John Squire was the first non-macho guitar hero was not just a clever piece of word-smithing, but somehow a design for life. If ‘Toxic Masculinity’ had been a thing in 1989, he would have been the very antithesis and it fitted the loved-up mood of the country perfectly. The Stone Roses helped to make many young men of the time much, much nicer people.

These words are perhaps more about the album than the track. ‘I Wanna Be Adored’ is indeed a great opener – but nowhere near as good a closer as ‘I am the resurrection’. ‘Waterfall’ enchants, ‘She Bangs the Drum’ has a suggestion of insouciant violence – and ‘Elizabeth My Dear’ has violence in no way veiled – shooting The Queen? Christ, The Pistols sung about saving- who are these people?

The answer is written in history. Another Four Lads who Shook the World. Each member of The Roses were properly cool. Ian Brown’s vocal ability may not have matched Squire’s virtuosity. The singing wasn’t as great as the perfectly delivered looseness-within-structure of the Reni/Mani rhythm section, but Brown’s overall image perfectly personified the emerging Manchester scene and forever put them as the avant-garde, the new to be aspired to; it gave them founding-father status something that has quite righty not been forgotten as decades later, the history of the times is told.

30 years plus later, I would still contend that ‘Stone Roses’ is the greatest debut ever – and possibly the greatest album ever made.

So ‘I Wanna Be Adored’ opened a door. I never wore flares, I never took E – and in my whole life, I’ve only been to Manchester once (4 days sofa surfing there and in Liverpool with added football: MCFC 2, WHUFC 0 / TRFC 2, BRFC 2, Easter Weekend 1992, if you’re interested…) It was alright as it happened, good laugh. I I saw an E that weekend. The person who owned it, the flatmate of one of the sofa-owners was going to drop it in the Hacienda queue. Not that I’ve had got in, dressed as I would have been – but I sometimes wonder where my life would have gone if I’d asked to go with her…*

The opened door allowed me to appreciate The Mondays, The Charlatans et al. It also helped me to separate the wheat from the chaff. While some embraced anything with 18 inch bottoms and a baggy jumper, I’d joined the scene at the top – and therefore was able to spot that, even though ‘Weekender’ is a tune (and an even better video) the likes of Flowered Up were shit in comparison.

So what started as a metronomic fast-paced frenzy, one it was slowed-down, turned out to be something much more interesting and engaging. Once it was slowed down…

Slow stuff down to experience things better; what a great metaphor for life…

*she would have definitely told me to fuck off. She was cool – I’ve covered my own relationship with that human quality/attribute earlier.

Everyone Thinks He Looks Daft from ‘George Best’ by The Wedding Present

This one happened in the same room as the Stone Roses one – and not too far apart time-wise. Something else was happening in ‘The North’ someone from those parts gave me a cassette and said ‘listen to this’.

Who could not be intrigued by a cover like this? Perfect iconography – everyone, literally everyone who sees it knows the name – and in the true sense of an icon, the added meanings and associations just come flooding in. Perfection.

The fact that the was on tape is significant. I didn’t have a tape deck, so the noise came out of a little tape player – stereo – but certainly no ghetto blaster. But what a blast….

In fact, not a blast – but an intake of breath…. and then it began. Listen closely – you’ll hear what I mean…

I wasn’t in a band at the time. But if I was, I would have just heard exactly how I wanted that band to sound. It was like my imagination had been stolen and set to music. An absolute revelation, but couldn’t help a slight sense of disappointment that I was going to have to start a whole new set of daydream projects – there was no point in carrying on with this one; it has been made real. By someone else.

The people concerned? The Wedding Present. Them that had previously been only a passing glance in the NME or perhaps a curious second look at a someone’s T-Shirt in town were suddenly in my room.

I knew exactly what would happen as the track played. The bass undulating solidly underneath the scratchy guitars and at the chorus, when scratchy becomes jangly, it really was if my subconscious was controlling what was coming out of the speakers.

The tune fades out with the guitar left alone to play out it’s delightfully simple-but-effective three chord and thrash. And then the silence. Until Track Two (What Did You Last Servant Die Of?) and we’re off again.

Three chords? Thrash? We’ve been here before – and yes, there are similarities. Like The Ramones, The Weddoes (as they were often referred to) had a template that they pretty much stuck to. It took me a while to realise that while Dave Gedge’s lyrics of love, loss, jealously, betrayal and inadequacy might have summed up my teenage love-life pretty succinctly – it does a get a bit much pretty quickly.

I shared a flat that summer with a friend – who, after not very long decided he hated The Wedding Present because of their negative take on relationships and offered Frank Sinatra’s ‘You Make Me Feel So Young’ and an antidote. I thought he’d lost his mind, but actually it was a pretty good counterpoint.

Gedge’s lyrics really were pretty bleak. All about being dumped – or never getting a chance to be dumped. Always the bridesmaid – ironically. He perked up a bit as time went on – he even had his girlfriend in the band for a while…but, unsurprisingly, it didn’t last.

Just like ‘Blitzkrieg Bop’, ‘Everyone Thinks He Looks Daft’ defined what I wanted to be musically at that precise moment. I knew I had no hope of emulating John Squire’s guitar playing – but Peter Solowka’s way of doing things was much more within reach and in fact I can do a pretty decent acoustic version of ‘Give My Regards to Kevin’. Maybe I’ll put it on YouTube. Maybe…

The Wedding Present payed a Brighton gig not long after and they delivered well enough. They then went ‘this is the last song – we don’t do encores’ , played said song and then really did just leave. I had only ever seen this with New Order (Leaving Blue Monday on the drum machine and buggering off) and frankly felt cheated on both occasions.

‘What’s with the no encores?’ I asked a more long-term Weddoes veteran. ‘Just their thing’, he said. ‘Tossers’, I thought.

Well – they do come back, occasionally – but these days I can see though the misery for what it is. Sometimes a bit of Dave Gedge’s desperate love life is just what is needed, but in smaller doses. Despite the gloom – the whole album is a real transport to a different time where one part of my life was coming to an end and another to begin…..all together now…‘You make me feel so young’…

Footnote:

While writing this, I discovered that there’s a documentary about the Wedding Present & George Best.
Here’s the trailer. I wrote the above before watching this. Honestly.
Once again – someone has gone and said it all for me…and no doubt said it so much better.

May 8th 1984 saw not only the first broadcast of Episode 1 of the much anticipated second series, but although we didn’t know it at the time – it was the day that ‘The Young Ones’ properly ‘crossed over’ from cult-classic into comedy legend and hit a high-water mark of production value, script and satire.

The story of ‘Bambi’ is that of the link between the two generations of comedians that came together in its production. Legend has it that while the ‘Not The Nine O’Clock News’ team were editing their final series – in a studio close by, the final touches were being put to the first series of ‘The Young Ones’. NTNOCN producer John Lloyd speaks of how the experience illustrated the end of an era – and how a new way of doing things was about to break.

When Mel Smith and Gryff Rhys-Jones famously parodied The Two Ronnies with their tedious and juvenile word-play and execrable, witless and sexist song and dance numbers¹, Ronnie Barker was apparently incensed, hurt and angry. Barker was furious that the BBC were sanctioning those that dared to mock a (in his own estimation) a national treasure beyond any kind of criticism².

The same sense of the purifying fire of punk sweeping away the old guard was now apparent as the two editing suites were preparing the swan-song in one, and the grand entrance in another. Surely now, the new-old guard would suffer the same indignities and scorn poured on the new angry young men?

You might be forgiven for making this assumption, but it was not to be.

The actors that made ‘The Young Ones’ flesh, with the exception of Christopher Ryan (Mike) were all stand-up comedians on the alternative comedy circuit. Mike’s part in fact was originally to be played by Comic Strip leader Peter Richardson and it was only after a falling-out with director Paul Jackson that Ryan was hired.

As the team was put together, the star was very much Alexei Sayle. While working as the first MC of The Comedy Store, Sayle had risen to a level of fame and notoriety that initially eclipsed his co-stars. According to the second volume of his memoirs³, Sayle had insisted that he did not want to play a single character for fear of typecasting and his currency at the time persuaded the original writers, Rik Mayall and Lise Mayer to create a range of roles.

Sayle’s importance to the rise of alternative comedy can’t be understated, however during ‘Bambi’ he was to find that those that he had perhaps seen as his proteges were about to eclipse him in terms of fame, success and celebrity.

Bambi begins with Rik, Vyv and Mike in the kitchen discussing Mary (AKA ‘Yellow Pages’) as the payphone by the front door rings. The shot cuts to Neil as be runs back home. Exterior shots are relatively rare and as he approaches the front door, we see the road sign for Codrington Road, giving the keen eyed viewer a clear clue as to the Bristol location for the house. ⁴

While the kitchen conversation continues, Neil hurtles homework, stopping only when he collides with a rubbish bin and then retrieves a suitably hippie-esque bag form the scattered trash – into which he puts a dead pigeon – unless he is planning to give it a formal burial, it’s an odd detail for an avowed vegetarian.

Neil finally gets home and announces he has amazing news. However, before he can announce it he is sent back to the hallway by Rik who orders ‘Answer the telephone, Neil’. It’s the first big gag of the episode and, if any reminder was needed , tells us of what an absolute wanker Rik is.

The lads soon determine that they need to visit the Launderette – and those another location is featured.⁴ The machines rebel at the prospect of washing the steaming clothing – and spit the loads our. After Vyv tricks the washing machines into opening-up again with a reference to ‘Felicity Kendel’s underwear’ – a line that would definitely annoyed Ronnie Barker – the scene returns to the house.

And it is here that the magic really begins, In order to secure a bigger production budget, ‘The Young Ones’ was listed as a variety show – and as such had to include a performance number as part of the programme.⁵
Neil suddenly remembers what he had to tell the guys all the time he was running home…’We’ve been picked – to go University Challenge!’ Cue: ‘To the station – cue Motörhead…

The next 3 minutes are certainly one of, if not the finest ‘Young Ones’ musical moment and arguably one of the best sequences of either series. While Motörhead perform ‘Ace of Spades’ we are treated to another location as the lads cause mayhem at Bristol Temple Meads. This was the last time that drummer Phil Taylor performed with the band and had already left the group – although Lemmy recalls in his autobiography⁶ that Taylor agreed to honour the booking without rancour. The band perform as a four piece (actually for the first time) with both Phil Campbell and Würzel  and if anything is wrong with the segment it is that the director orders close-ups on the wrong guitar while solos are being played. Other than that, Lemmy gives good value with mirror shadesand Iron Crosses – warts and all.

There’s a series of sight gags as the song plays out – but there is no better moment that when Vyv takes a donut from the cake store colunter, stuffs the entire thing into his mouth and gives the ‘V’s to the (clearly very amused) assistant. Beautiful…

1:58-2:05. The Doughnut Moment

The musical interlude marks the natural end of Act One and segues neatly into Act Two as the scene shifts to the interior of a TV studio-bound train.

‘The Young Ones’ wasn’t a full-on visual offering; it relied on a solid foundation of high-quality script writing, and here is a good example.
Rik bullies Neil into quizzing him on his O Level History notes, instantly making ‘crop rotation in the 14th Century’ an instant cult-classic line for fans.

Vyv returns from the buffet car. His copy of ‘The Daily Mirror Book of Facts’ is apparently the source of the forthcoming questions. Toxteth O’Grady’s prowess at sticking marshmallows up his nose is again an immortal phrase – and another nod to some kind of topicality; Toxteth being the area of Liverpool recently the scene of serious rioting.

Bored, Vyv goes looking for amusement and curious to learn why the notice on the the train door says ‘Do not lean out of the window’, he does and he is decapitated. Special effects on the series were fairly basic. You want an explosion? Use explosives. Lots of explosives – and then take the actors to hospital. The headless Vyv pulls the communication cord, finds his head and then kicks it down the tracks…and 36 years later, I still can’t quite work out how it was done…

Alexei Sayle’s appearances usually interacted with the narrative of each episode. However, on this occasion, his train driver held up by Mexican bandits had been filmed previously in Bristol. This meant that he was on set with nothing to do but observe – and as the scene shifts to Act Three, a lot of what he saw caused him great unease.

Arrival at the ‘University Challenge’ studio and Act Four begins. The immediate appearance of Mel Smith as a security guard soon followed by Gryff Rhys-Jones as ‘Bambi’ is truly the ‘nexus moment’, the instant where the rising and the falling entities meet in a DNA helix manner.

Under the direction of the new order, the old guard are in minor roles and the latter are surely there for the pure value of observing their demise. But then come the teams…

Here’s the thing.Emma Thompson….posh.

Funny? Maybe. Decent human? Almost certainly. Married (at some point) to Kenneth Branagh? Definitely – but should that be held against her? But why here?

Hugh Laurie….Cambridge? Probably. Posh? Sounds like it. National Treasure after Blackadder Goes Forth? No – Not yet – not by a long chalk; And Ben Elton? -Yes, you get to be in it because you wrote it and Stephen Fry lampooning the uber-posh of Cambridge as Lord Snot. This can’t be happening – and yet it is, right here. If the prospect of three comic generations colliding blew the audience’s mind – Alexei Sayles’ was positively scrambled.

Having arrived at the studio in purely observational capacity, Sayle was staggered at those who he found performing together. When told that Hugh Grant had ‘made some cake’ and that Mel Smth was going to take them for a ride in his Rolls-Royce- Sayle felt a searing sense of betrayal. ‘These people are the enemy’ he reportedly told his colleagues to receive the reply ‘No, that’s just what you thought…’

The popularity of ‘The Young Ones’ had come to a point that legends of times past – and those of a time to come were able to perform on the same stage without it actually, at the time, seeming incongruous. ‘The Young Ones’ was a work of sufficient quality to allow all concerned to take part without any party feeling that they were there to anything else than play their character – and, crucially, not there to be lampooned for their presence as people.

The characters in question – those played by the posh kids were sufficiently self-aware to make Fry, Laurie & Thompson complicit in their own satirisation. While Alexei Sayle would have had nothing to do with them as people, their recognition of their privilege, their education and wealth through a satirical lens meant their presence was acceptable to the radicals through this portrayal of themselves – and as equally acceptable to those more to the middle of the road because of the performance and their a perception that these people were sufficiently comfortable in their own skim to subject themselves to such ribaldry.

‘Bambi’ is, therefore a fascinating confluence of comic as well as societal values. While Rhys-Jones’ portrayal of Bamber Gascoigne highlights the beigeness of the man as well as his somewhat simpering deference to the contestants on his show (something that Paxman’s tenure immediately consigned to history) the whole episode (in fact, the whole series) sought to expose students and their lifestyle as narcissistic and feckless.

Of course, the irony is that without universities (specifically Manchester (Elton, Edmondson, Mayall and Lise Mayer) ‘The Young Ones’ would simply not have existed. Without self-indulgence and living off either a grant, or parents – the work-shy, pseudo-intellectual and down-right gross stereotypes created for the show would have no kernel of truth on which to build their grotesques.

In which case, does ‘The Young Ones’ seek to spectacularly bite that hand that fed it? No. ‘The Young Ones’ audience had not been to university yet. Of course, some viewers had and some were no-doubt watching this in their student halls or houses – but the audience was the 13-17 year olds who had no knowledge or experience to dismiss Rik, Vyv, Mike and Neil (and their living conditions) as outrageous exaggerations, and were willing to accept the surreal parts of the show without any question to the wider narrative.

For these privileged few, ‘The Young Ones’ was their generation’s ‘Monty Python’. There was no explaining it’s appeal to parents or teachers – it was funny because it just was. There was no discussion or analysis to this because none was necessary. If other people didn’t get the joke, then not a problem – just don’t ask for it to be explained – because it couldn’t be done.

History now shows that ‘The Young Ones’ was just as much part of the tradition of TV comedy as any other – i.e the creators meet at university and thanks to the barriers cleared away by the previous generation, they access the BBC. Yes, there is more to it – for every work of comic genius submitted for production there are dozens of absolute non-starters; but making university your starting point doesn’t do you any harm.

Of course, there are exceptions to the rule – but even Alexei Sayle did a Fine Art degree at Chelsea. There are those that have made a success in the comedy field from a genuinely working class background – but even those mostly seem to have letters after their names.

So – to the end of ‘Bambi’. A giant chocolate eclair falls on to the set, squatting the Scumbag College team. Of course it does. At the time, the previous mentioned audience accept it and move on. A touch of the ‘deus ex-machinea’ isn’t unusual for the series (this one does at least have a thread back to Robbie Coltrane appearing in the Elephant Man bit earlier on) but simply ending an episode with little more than ‘the end’ is the one criticism that could be levelled at the scripts as a whole.

‘Bambi’ is the ‘Young One’s’ pinnacle because it was the first time it dared to to widen the circle of performers significantly beyond the central five. It ditches puppets for people, sets for locations and yet still finds away to find important moments for both Alexei Sayle and SPG the hamster. ‘Bambi’ is a writing team firing on all cylinders and full of confidence. Its inclusion of the ensemble cast is evidence of great self-belief in the quality of the series as a creative endeavour and a knowledge that it stands-up against anything created by those included.

It’s the best episode because it allows all the main characters to demonstrate their key elements (and briefly break the fourth wall with this during the laundrette inspired costume change). It is the best because it has distinct acts which flow together and build to a memorable finale (sticky bun excepted…)

It’s also the best because it is funny and damn-fine entertainment.

The credits run with an elephant. A real elephant. Somehow, the presence of an actual elephant seems to reflect the new ambition that the show had found: Emma Thompson, Stephen Fry and an elephant, not a puppet, a real, live elephant… The Young Ones really had come of age.

Notes

1: ‘The Two Ninnies’ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6oVG4_k7Hbc
2: ‘Not Again’ The Story of Not The Nine O’Clock News’ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hXxVSMD2pwA (Watch from 1:13:43)
3: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Thatcher-Stole-Trousers-Alexei-Sayle/dp/1408864541/ref=sr_1_1?crid=3QBGWVJCCMPZV&dchild=1&keywords=thatcher+stole+my+trousers&qid=1606930854&sprefix=thatcher+%2Caps%2C171&sr=8-1
4: http://news.bbc.co.uk/local/bristol/low/people_and_places/newsid_7683000/7683587.stm
5: Each episode featured a musical act – as well as an lion tamer who featured in ‘Nasty’ https://the-bottom.fandom.com/wiki/The_Young_Ones_Guest_Musicians
6: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Simon-Schuster-White-Line-Fever/dp/1849834318/ref=sr_1_2?crid=N9IC109O1HE5&dchild=1&keywords=white+line+fever&qid=1607373291&sprefix=white+line+%2Caps%2C171&sr=8-2

No fancy introduction – no attempted clever word-play. This is another list – and few are bigger than this one in terms of their musical importance and influence.

Between 1963 and 1970, The Beatles released eleven studio albums in the UK. They are listed below in ascending order of merit, with some kind of commentary justifying their relative position.

Naturally – I do not know what I’m talking about and claim no greater insight than my opinion. Maybe you’ll agree with some of it – most likely, you won’t – but maybe you’ll consider the views a bit before leaving in disgust.

Enjoy….

Yellow Submarine (January 1969)

To start (almost) at the end…

Throughout their career, The Beatles were often at, if not the, cutting edge of popular culture, the weren’t just a part of the zeitgeist, they were the  zeitgeist.

This album finds them, at best, chasing their own psychedelic tail and at worst, simply cashing in on the grooviness.

 ‘All You Need is Love’ stands out alongside the title track in terms of the songs that have endured –  but it’s impossible to take ‘Yellow Submarine’ out of its time of creation and see if it stands on pure merit. It doesn’t.  Even weirder is the title track – originally appearing on ‘Revolver’ three years earlier. No-one would have thought for an instant that a throwaway ditty of sub-aqua existence could have taken on such a life – but then again, LSD wasn’t quite so popular in 1966

So -released in January 1969 –  at the tail end of psychedelia’s sway over certain hearts, minds and central nervous systems, it arrived too late.  Whether it needed to arrive at all is debatable.

It’s certainly better than ‘Magical Mystery Tour’ which truly marks the nadir of the Fabs’ career – but as this was released as a double EP in 1967 and not as an album (although purists will argue that an 8-Track option was available) until 1976 – we’re going to discount it from the list. And rightly so.

The Beatles didn’t voice their own characters in the film.  This lack of engagement seems to reflect  how time and the critical gaze views the album.  The late sixties were not devoid of  those touched by genius, but it was also populated by chancers who thought that lots of primary colours, swirly animations and Afghan coats were enough to claim validity. This falls into the latter category.

With The Beatles (November 1963)

The ‘difficult’ second album didn’t seem so hard. Released less than 7 months after ‘Please Please Me’, the sophomore LP came quickly on the heels of the debut – but with significantly less quality.

The road to a second album must have been a busy one.  One can only imagine the pressures being put on the band to capitalise on their success and perhaps this shows as from the 14 tracks, 8 are original (7 to Lennon & McCartney, 1 ( ‘Don’t Bother Me’) to Harrison.   Fortunately for the band and their management, the choice of covers showed their range. ‘Money’ and ‘Roll Over Beethoven’ provide the rock edge with ‘Till then there was you’ showing their softer side.  However – in the unoriginality lies the flaw.  This is a 50% cover album and has the whiff of a boy band being shamelessly fattened-up and rushed to market.

From those 8 original numbers, ‘All My Loving’ is the standout – perhaps alongside ‘ I wanna Be Your Man’ – and actually these are not great. The knockabout jolliness of the former and the raunchier punch of the latter being little more than pastiches of the covers already mentioned.

Trading on more than songwriting talent was nothing new in 1963 and maybe one should judge this album less harshly. However, with a little more time and nurture, who knows what might have been?

Beatles For Sale (December 1964)

A scan down the track listing of ‘Beatles for Sale’ throws up ‘Eight Days a Week’ as the household name and poses a few questions for the casual fan.

The accepted practice of padding out the tracks with cover versions continues in the form of tunes from amongst others, Chuck Berry, Carl Perkins and Buddy Holly. 8 of the 14 tracks are originals and ‘Eight Days a Week’ aside, the others seem to show their influences rather too much with elements of skiffle and tell-tale Holly-esque guitar parts combining to create tunes that don’t really transcend the level of pastiche.

What does set them apart though is the manner in which these versions are presented. The vocals maintain a rawness as well as their emerging beauty and the overall musical quality is clear to see. If anyone had any doubt at the time, that The Beatles were going be a flash in the pan, there’s enough here to point to longevity.

Considering the ridiculous touring schedule that the band were subjecting themselves to at the time, it’s actually impressive that eight original tracks got written at all. These may not be the best the ever made but being made they were,

Abbey Road (September 1969)

Although this album contains so much iconography and seems to have a great deal of public affection, by the time of its release the writing was on the wall and The Beatles were on the slide.

The opener ‘Come Together’ has taken on an FM radio favourite life of it’s own – and does feature some of Ringo’s best work. Track 2, ‘Something’ is a tender, delicate love song – but it’s better known as a George Harrison track as is ‘Here Comes The Sun’ a tune that can not help but lift the spirits.

‘Abbey Road’ has probably the second most famous Beatles LP cover and the enduring ‘Paul is dead’ myth has given it an extra dimension. It is a great piece of album presentation – but when an album cover is better known than what it is covering, this raises questions.

The problem with Abbey Road is that there is so much filler amongst the gems.  May 7, 1969 had seen the Altamont festival’s descent into brutish murder and the end of the sixties had been announced. No one seemed to have told The Beatles – and the non-consequential whimsy of ‘Mean Mr Mustard’, ‘Polythene Pam’, ‘Octopus’s Garden’ and the unspeakably awful ‘Maxwell’s Silver Hammer’ seem rather ‘last year’ (if not a whole era away) from The Stones’ ‘Let It Bleed’ which followed in December. Compare always anything on ‘Abbey Road’ to ‘Gimme Shelter’ and the former seems somewhat…flimsy.

The times were certainly a-changin’ – things were on the move. Having driven the bus for so long – The Beatles had now seem to have missed it entirely.

Let it be (May 1970)

‘Let it be’ or, in other words, ‘stop; give it a rest – leave it alone, now’. It’s strange to think that in April of 1970, The Beatles existed and then, shortly after the release of this record, they didn’t. The Beatles were no more, they have ceased to be. They were an ex-band.

Unfortunately for them, their constant presence and enormous influence and legacy served to make not only the music, but the key-players immortal. How can it possible that The Beatles are no more? Look – they’re everywhere – how can they not… ‘be’?

The solo / group projects that followed are for another list – but no one – no-one – ever, bought any post-Beatles release from any of them and viewed it purely on its own merits. They were always compared to what had come before – and nothing ever came close.

‘Let it be’ is, therefore, the sign-off. ‘We’re not The Beatles any more, we’re going to be ourselves now. Wish us well’. Fat chance. We, the public – the whole world in fact, are just not going to let that happen. And that, at the moment when they just wanted to get on with their lives and not be a Beatle anymore, must have been a miserable feeling for them all.

‘Let it be’ is the musical journal of a malaise, a decline in the human spirit, a record of how tight, beautiful and heroic friendships formed from 1957, a bond of determination and creative flourish has become a sluggish, extended, bickering pseudo-family who were clearly getting progressively sick of the sight and very presence of each other.

Only 4 of the 12 tracks feature dual vocals. Maybe not an issue, but difficult not to see that in the context of the imminent split. Side one’s ‘Across The Universe’ stands out – even if the lyrics do struggle a little under a post-millennial / post-hippie bullshit-lens. With the title track, we have an example of another Beatles track adopted by the primary schools and youth clubs. An anthem to peace, calm and unity – which is in fact somewhat trite, repetitive and bland. There. I said it.

Side Two has McCartney’s ‘The Long and Winding Road’ which has endured as a decent love song. Compare this to ‘Across The Universe’ and it’s clear how the two writers were really living in entirely different world in terms of imagination, theme and lyrical scope. It all ends with ‘Get Back’. Decent enough way to go out – but so much less exciting than they way they came in.

Help! (April 1965)

Five months separate the release of ‘Help!’ and ‘Rubber Soul’.  Five months. Twenty weeks, 140 days. That….Is……Ridiculous.

It is not simply the speed of production, it is not just the quality – it is that the difference in tone is so profound that they could have come from different decades and from different bands. If a common indicator of musical creative quality is the ability to re-invent and move on, then the jump from ‘Help!’ to ‘Rubber Soul’ is arguably the best Beatles example.

Whether ‘Help!’ is the soundtrack to a film, or whether the film was inspired by the music is a point for debate. It is tempting to look at the career of the band as a purely artistic exercise, however it would be naive in the extreme to think that a large number of eager company executives were looking at all kinds of ways to exploit the band for every possible penny – and what better way to do it than the cinema?

In filmic terms, consider the difference / contrast between ‘Hard Day’s Night’ and ‘Help’. The former, monochrome, shirts and ties, a one-joke romp through the emerging teen-driven landscape of the sixties. The latter is technicolour – vivid and bright. Surreality combined with an old-fashioned romantic story line – and ultimately…pointless. As an artefact of it’s time, ‘Hard Day’s Night’ is so much more interesting. ‘Help!’ despite tank battles on Salisbury Plain and a trip to The Bahamas has no real legacy and serves to be remembered as little more than a cashing-in exercise by the money-men.

Musically, ‘Help!’ is a way, way better product. The title track combines John and Paul’s vocals perfectly and very much shows them as a creative team pulling together and further on, ‘You’re Gonna Lose That Girl’, ‘You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away’ and the gorgeous ‘Ticket to Ride’ make Side One a breathless success.

Breathless too is the pace. The 14 tracks come in at a total of 33 minutes 44 seconds. This is punk era brevity – and side two, which features the decidedly non-frantic ‘Yesterday’ is actually the high point on a side that is actually pretty forgettable. Somewhat a ‘game of two halves, perhaps; but within the 17 or so minutes of Side One one can find more than enough to satisfy and admire.

Rubber Soul (December 1965)

This album marks and reflects a career at a crucial turning point and a society  at the nexus between youth cultures. The time prior to the release sees a fashion and life-style essentially formed as a sexed-up reflection of their parents’ generation and shortly after, the counter-culture that was set to change the world – not right then – but it was coming. ‘Rubber Soul’ serves as an example of how consistently ahead of the curve The Beatles were. In fact, there is a decent argument to be made here about whether ‘Rubber Soul’ was the most forward-thinking and prescient album of them all.

It’s the drugs. Of course, it’s the drugs. The Beatles had already been introduced to marijuana, supposedly via Bob Dylan but this is the musical equivalent of  the band’s first acid trip.

And it was a good one.

The cover shots has the band still sporting mop-tops, but mops that a growing that much longer. The main image is skewed off-centre and the typeset, much imitated (well, copied actually) perfectly reflects the moment.

The influence of LSD was not always for the better on many users but ‘Rubber Soul’ makes it seem innocent, harmless and gentle.  The most important thing here is then, right at that instant, The Beatles not only recognised the moment but simultaneously saw the future and showed the rest of the world the way. Everything and everyone else after this was just trying to catch up.

Zeitgeist-defining credentials aside,  there’s also the music. ‘Drive My Car’ opens in jaunty fashion; (beep-beep-beep-beep-yeah reminding us of  a simpler lyrical time) – but with ‘yes I’m going to be a star’ giving a kind of knowing wink to their rising global influence.

For many, Track Two is the standout. ‘Norwegian Wood’ is the epitome of the idea that this album is the template for UK psychedelia. George Harrison had been studying the sitar with Ravi Shankha and although by Eastern standards, its use here is perhaps simplistic – it is the very fact that hearing this would have been the very first sitar experience for most listeners – certainly in popular music. And you never forget your first time…

Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band (June 1967)

There are many that will dismiss the notion that Sgt Pepper could be anything less than The Beatles’ greatest work – or, indeed, anything less than the greatest album of all time.

Its listing in this placement isn’t some example of contrary iconoclasm looking for an edge. It certainly has it’s merits, it certainly is a work of what could be described as genius, but it has its flaws.

The biggest problem with ‘Sgt Pepper’ is that shared by ‘Yellow Submarine’; psychedelia and that somehow, for a time , it was a case of ‘anything goes’. There was a brief period in the mid 90’s in which saw some awful ‘Britpop’ exponents given mayfly careers (and huge advances) for almost nothing of artistic merit.  From that time, came the third Oasis album,  wrongly lauded on release  to be a masterpiece, but quickly realised to be the result of what happens when far too much cocaine becomes part of the creative process and no-one has the balls to say ‘this is shit’ to the creators.

In a similar way, ‘Swinging’ London’, Groovy Britain and the global embracing of psychedelia at both mainstream and underground levels allowed this album to be made. The difference is between ‘Be Here Now’ and ‘Sgt Pepper’ is that despite both being absolute products of their time and both looking slightly ridiculous in retrospect, the latter does have some properly memorable tunes. ‘Sgt Pepper’ came at the start of an era and defined it, rather than the somewhat sorry overblown and over-indulged fag-end.

And – amongst the diamonds (literally, in the case of ‘Lucy in the Sky…’) there is the dogshit. ‘When I’m Sixty-Four’ is the kind of nonsense that primary school kids get taught to sing for end-of-term concerts. ‘Lovely Rita’ and ‘Good Morning, Good Morning’ equally vacuous and eminently disposable.

Credit where it’s due though. EMI insisted that two tracks: ‘Strawberry Fields Forever’ and ‘Penny Lane’ would not feature on the album but were instead released on a double A single. This, in itself creates some kind of history and one of the greatest single releases of all time – but including them would have made this album so much stronger with both tunes certainly, somehow, fitting the overall vision.

With ‘A little Help From My Friends’ at one end, ‘She’s Leaving Home’ in the middle and the epic ‘A Day In the Life’ to close – on balance, the wheat outweighs the chaff. However, there is so much here that – if this have been the offering of an unknown band – would have been rejected immediately; but in 1967, who was going to tell Lennon et al that they were wrong?

‘Sgt Pepper’ is, without a doubt, groundbreaking, innovative, inventive and original. But for many of these plaudits, those working at Abbey Road should receive perhaps more credit that history sometime afford them for making the vision a reality.  The cover art is, indeed iconic – but it’s Peter Blake’s. Yes, without The Beatles, none of this happens, but without the supporting cast, the main event doesn’t either.

Hard Day’s Night (1964)

The comparison between this and ‘Help’ is discussed above. ‘Help’ is the cash-in movie, and this film was the vehicle that made it all possible.

It’s tempting to focus on the film itself as there is an argument that as a cultural icon, it has a greater significance than the album – but, under scrutiny, how much can most of us reference and recall? The chase at the railway station? Wilfred Brambell and the ‘Bet you’re sorry we won’ conversation? ‘Hard Day’s Night was a first in so many ways – but also musically.

With Side One featuring tracks from the film, the seven tracks come in at 16 minutes 23 seconds. No track breaches 3 minutes and ‘I Should Have known better’ is the longest at 2:43. Saying what needed to be said, so succinctly and so memorably is surely genius. Side Two with one track fewer and 13:47 brings an LP at a shade of half and hour.

So what? 13 tracks – all original. First time….That’s it – that’s the thing. It’s the third album. We’ve grown, we’re in charge and we are a true force to be reckoned with. And we’ve made a movie.

Yes, we’re a pop group – but just look….so much more… and so much yet to come.

Revolver (August 1966)

Imagine for a moment. It’s August 1966 and you’re 16.

England has just won the World Cup. London is the fashion centre of the world. Harold Wilson’s Labour government promise to take the UK forward into the modern age with ‘the white heat of technology’ and to use a previous leader’s words, the country really has ‘never had it so good’.

Imagine for a moment. The height of Summer. Male or female; it doesn’t matter – you are there the moment ‘Revolver’ is released – and for about £1 12s 6d, it’s yours.¹

‘Revolver’ is better than ‘Sgt Pepper’ because of its honesty. It’s a rock album; a collection of tunes, created over a certain time and put together as a package. There’s no artifice, no ‘concept’ – it’s a bunch of tunes in one place take it or leave it. And who could refuse?

The opener, ‘Taxman’, and later ‘Doctor Robert’ takes the band as near to topicality as they ever went (unless ‘The Ballad of John & Yoko’ also counts). Then – ‘Eleanor Rigby’ – the multi-tracked vocals, the strings and lyrics that combined abstract surrealism with real-world reality and with genuine emotional punch.

‘I’m only sleeping’ bridge the LSD gap between the dabbling of ‘Rubber Soul’ to the full-blown habit of the ‘Sgt Pepper’ era. ”Yellow Submarine’ appears with the same incongruity as a giraffe boarding a tube train, but ignoring this hideous anomaly (see primary school comment above) the rest of the album is true class.

‘And Your Bird Can Sing’ rocks, properly rocks and has for my money, one of the greatest guitar riffs ever written. ‘For No one’ tugs at the heartstrings and ‘Tomorrow Never Knows’ is very much the predecessor of ‘A Day In The Life’ – certainly its equal and arguably its superior. George’s study of Eastern music comes good; ‘Love to You’ has him properly getting his raga on, the sitar sounding more like a sitar should, rather that one being used as a guitar-substitute.

The Klaus Voormann ² line-drawn cover is intimate and charming (in contrast to the grandiose ambiguity of Sgt Pepper). In ‘Revolver’ one finds an album of a band firing on all cylinders – aware of their art, but maintaining sufficient feet-on-the ground to not let the art-tail start wagging the musical dog.

So – imagine walking home with your newly purchased copy in 1966. What a moment; what a privilege .

William Wordsworth expresses it perfectly:

‘….Bliss it was in that dawn to be alive,
but to be young was very heaven….’

The Beatles (The White Album) (November 1968)

So. ‘The Beatles’, ‘The White Album’ – that which was hijacked in part by Charles Manson; that which seemed to be throwing the public a non-cooperative curve-ball of public withdrawal and wilful obscurity; that which seemed to be laying the foundations for The Plastic Ono Band (but mercifully not Wings) – is the best Beatles album?

Maybe. It’s all subjective. If you’ve bothered to read this far, you’ve probably disagreed with at least half of the above. ‘The Beatles’ may not be everyones’ number one album – but it’s here because – music aside, it’s the most interesting of them all.

‘The Beatles’ is an existentialist crisis for the band. ‘Do we want to do this any more?’ ‘Why are we doing this at all?’ ‘If we don’t do this, what the hell will we do?’ With untold wealth and limitless creative influence it does seem a bit of a stretch to feel sorry for them, but having spent the first three albums doing what they were told, and the last three, doing just whatever they wanted – it must have been a confusing time.

What came out is a behemoth of an album. A double, 30 tracks. Some are great, some are not – just like the rest, but it is the difference that makes – well… the difference.

With a good number of the the songs written while in India – with access to only an acoustic guitar the results often reflect the minimalist nature of their creation. ‘Dear Prudence’ (written about Mia Farrow’s sister who was at the mediation retreat, but refused to come out of her room) is a good example (whisper it – the Siouxsie and The Banshees version is better…) Ob-la-di, ob-la da was written by Mccartney allegedly as a response to Ska – and Lennon called it ‘granny music shit’. Well, it’s not Ska as I understand it – whether it’s shit is up to you.

At this time, The Beatles could, and were doing anything. The newly created ‘Apple Corps’ was busy haemoraging money, John and Yoko were doing the ‘bed-ins’ and Ringo even left – even if it was a very brief departure.

So with all this turmoil and distraction, the disjointed nature of this piece if hardly surprising. There are too many tracks to pick over individually here. Individually, some a laughably experimental – other have endured and others are from a different, easier age. ‘Helter Skelter’ could have been written 10 years earlier and appeared on either of the first two albums and would not have been out of place.

Only the most contrary would seriously argue that The White Album is a better listen than ‘Revolver’. It isn’t. It’s too long by a third and contains the indulged doodlings of millionaires to whom no one would dare suggest were wasting everybody’s time.

Why the album demands so much attention because it represents a time that so much happened in the the life of the band – but remains relatively undocumented. Rumour and rancour exist around the whole Maharishi thing but also Yoko and an uneasy feeling that for the first time, the band were looking like the world, might be moving on at a faster pace than them.

So – finally – why is it at the top? Because, like the depths of our oceans there are unexpected joys, pleasures – and quite possibly monsters waiting to be discovered. It’s and album that asks as many questions as it offers entertainment – and in a world where the obvious seems to be celebrated more and more, a little enquiry and thought can’t be a bad thing.

¹ https://www.theguardian.com/business/2016/nov/16/in-1966-an-lp-cost-almost-a-quarter-of-a-teenage-pop-pickers-pay

² https://www.theguardian.com/music/2020/nov/04/klaus-voormann-beatles-plastic-ono-fab-four-moptops-revolver

BLONDIE – THE UK SINGLES

Blondie came to the UK after Punk, but with a sufficient resemblance to lend them an extra edge to their New Wave credentials and distract the purists from their decidedly pop aspirations.  They had, after all, shared stages with Iggy and the Dolls. For their UK teenage audiences at least – that meant very little. What it did mean was that they were taken seriously by all, including the obnoxiously snobby music press. Debbie Harry became an instant icon, a Monroe for the post-pistols generation. Expert musicianship and memorable  lyrical hooks gave them a string of hits over more than twenty years.

So with an NYC / CB-GB’s credibility and exoticism for a UK audience experiencing the monochromatic world of the UK of the time,  Blondie were a class act whose tunes have endured. Even though many are  firmly part of the time of release, they are truly timelessness. Well, maybe not all – but most. OK, some…

With five UK number ones that spanned the 70s, 80s and 90s and eighteen chart hits in total, here is a personal appreciation of the singles in ascending order of greatness.

18, War Child  9 July 1982. Highest UK chart position  #39
From ‘The Hunter’ June 1982

Chart position is not always an indicator of relative merit, however in this case it is. The lowest placing single on the list begins with an insistent (annoying) arpeggiated synth and horn section intro that would fit seamlessly into the soundtrack of  of a low-budget UK gangster movie (a chase scene  around an abandoned dockyard involving  a Ford Granada or two)   and what follows doesn’t raise the standard. Although this is the low-water mark, happily, things improved…

17. Nothing is Real but the Girl  UK Release June 1999. Highest UK chart position #26
From ‘No Exit’ February 1999.

The follow up to 1999’s comeback, ‘Maria’ wasn’t able to keep the momentum going. While it’s predecessor felt like a solid Blondie classic single, this was, by comparison B-side / album filler material.  Maybe the intention was to get back to basics and right a straightforward rocker. Straightforward, it certainly is – particularly engaging it is not.

16. Island of Lost Souls UK Release April 1982 . Highest UK chart position #11
From ‘The Hunter’ June 1982

Accompanied by a delightfully weird video, kind ‘Wicker Man’ meets ‘Alice in Wonderland’ – the sort of thing inspired by a dream after eating too  much cheese close to bedtime – this is a jaunty, brass-infused romp. However, lush arrangements and weird visuals aside, manages to say precisely nothing. It’s proximity on the timeline to more solid hits possibly helped it to a creditable chart placing – but not one that is gong to fire too many nostalgic synapses.

15. Good Boys 6 October 2003 Highest UK chart position  #12
From ‘The Curse of Blondie’ October 2003

A quirky one that most will have forgotten and the last Blondie single to make the UK chart.  Production values, both musically and visually were high – the result is…well, quirky.

Certainly Not a classic, but interesting. Credit to the band that they continued to push ideas and certainly looked to entertain.  There are worse ways to sign-off that this one.

14. The Tide is High UK Release 7 Nov 1980. Highest UK chart position  #1   From ‘Autoamerican’ November 1980

Finding a new Blondie release for sale in Woolworths, and, unusually having sufficient cash at hand to purchase, I remember bringing this home and then feeling the crushing disappointment of reality against expectation on its first play. Where there should have been either a razor-sharp guitar riff or a rumble of drums was….whatever it was, it just wasn’t Blondie.

Great artists change directions, they look for new ways to express themselves; where fans may be lost, new ones are gained – and things evolve. Personally, evolution had gone about as far as it needed to. Blondie, for me at least were a Great White Shark; perfectly developed with no need to alter. Time has been kinder to the tune over the years – but first impressions do tend to last.

13. Union City Blue 1979 UK Release November 1979. Highest UK chart position #13
From ‘Eat to the Beat’ October 1979

Solid enough, but seemed lacked conviction around its content. It’s predecessors were about people and emotions, this didn’t seem to be about anything much at all. A video featuring the NYC cityscape seemed to imply that playing the Americana / Big Apple card was enough to satisfy.   To a degree, but in the long run; forgettable – a bit of a ‘pub-quiz answer’ track…

12. Rapture 23 January 1981 Highest UK chart position  #5
From ‘Autoamerican’ November 1980

When Queen tried to combine their pomp-rock stylings with disco with ‘Another One Bites the Dust they created a kind of primal classic.  Trying to repeat the trick by fusing white-boy pomp-rock with the nascent rap scene was always going to be a challenge.  An ethereal, warbling verse quite unlike the power-pop punch that fans had become used to was hard enough to take, but when the middle eight morphed into a rap involving a ‘man from Mars who goes out at night eating cars’, credibility was been stretched to the limit. A rap that made ‘Ice Ice Baby’ sound like ‘Fight The Power’.

11. Maria  February 1 1999 Highest UK chart position #1
From ‘No Exit’ February 1999.

A surprising and welcome return to form that went to number one on musical strengths and a wave of good will.  Attempts at a comeback can be an excruciating business both musically and visually but the band turned in a performance that could have easily found its way into an eighties chart – and they still looked like it was all still about the music.

10. Dreaming UK Release, September 1979. Highest UK chart position #2
From ‘Eat to the Beat’ October 1979

In the mid- 90sNeil Tennant coined the term ‘Imperial Phase’  a time on which successful bands can do no wrong and can propel the mundane to lofty, underserved heights. ‘Unions City Blue’, ‘Rapture’ and ‘Dreaming’ all risk this assessment for this own reason, but ‘Dreaming’ is the best of the bunch.

A touch of echo on the self-referential vocal, some tumbling drums – and one of their best middle-eights contribute to a piece that seems to straddle the very best of times and the loss of edge.

9. Denis UK Release February 1978. Highest UK chart position #2
From ‘Plastic Letters’ February 1978

The ‘den-ee’ pronunciation of the lyrical object of affection caused all kinds of confusions here. Is it ‘Denis’ (as in ‘The Menace’)? Is is Denise (to rhyme with ‘fleas’)? The French connection added another level of sophistication and sensuality to Harry’s burgeoning sex-symbol status.

Another cover – this time originally recorded in 1963 by a doo-wop group, Randy and The Rainbows (no, me neither) the whole, slightly captivating mystery was created by not singing ‘Denise’ -as in fleas.  What Randy’s reaction was is unknown and it would seem an odd choice – but listen to his effort below and somehow, it all makes sense.

8.One Way or Another 1979 (not released in UK – Charted on downloads  after Busted recorded a version mashed up with Teenage Kicks for Comic Relief. This went to the top of the UK singles chart in March 2013) Original from ‘Parallel Lines’ September 1978.

However….it’s  a chart anomaly / mystery. Records indicate that there was a 1979 UK release – yet only registering at #98. Whether this was withdrawn after a week for whatever reason is unknown.  Even on this evidence alone, it would be worthy of inclusion.  It’s a head-nodding, pulsating guitar tune. The vocals chop and press and dive and soar and show-off Harry’s range of tone and expression perfectly. Busted knew a good thing when they heard one. 

And why not….?

7.Hanging on the telephone November 1978. Highest UK chart position # 5
From ‘Parallel Lines’ September 1978.

Intro’d with a dial tone and finished with a sweet series of diminishing chords and drum flourishes, it’s 2 minutes and 16 seconds of classic pop-rock describing anguished longing.  ‘Parallel Lines’ was such a mix in terms of style and moods, this one – originally recorded by US band The Nerves, also in 1978, represented a tougher, spikier side – and as it was only 136 seconds it ticked some punky/New Wave boxes too. Good things come in small packages – both of these packages are provided below…

6. (I’m Always Touched by your) Presence Dear UK Release April 1978 /Highest UK chart position #10.    From ‘Plastic Letters’ February 1978

Brackets in song titles… In this case, slightly enigmatic, the last two words not really forming a sentence (well, not at all) making it all seem a little exotic and other-worldly.
Another example of how the band crafted – really crafted – perfect songs in the sense that the verse/chorus had a life of their own, but cohabited perfectly and the bad wrapped their talents around the words in a perfect balance where all elements had an equal value.  Debbie might have gone a bit easier on the eye-shadow though…

5. Picture This Uk Release August 1978. Highest UK chart position #12
From ‘Parallel Lines’ September 1978.

Arguably the most touching of Chris Stein’ lyrics. While some of the sounds seemed to be painting pictures of life and love with a broad brush, this song seemed genuinely personal.  Little details make one believe that Stein actually wrote this for his partner (Harry) to sing about how much she loved him.  And the thing is, if that is true, it’s such a gentle and honest piece  – that is doesn’t feel weird. Until the last line…

4. Call Me 1980 / 1 (UK Release February 1980. Highest UK chart position #1, 1 Week February 1980)

Clem Burke’s drumming was always magnificent and on ‘Call Me’ he really shines. Listen to the opening seconds of and think about how many beats he packs into such a short intro – it’s virtuoso. This tends to get overshadowed by a searing synth solo that roots the track in its time maybe more than any other – and wasn’t really the Blondie sound. Hardly surprising, the track was a collaboration with Giorgio Morodor and the influence shows.  ‘Call Me’ was the theme to the movie ‘American Gigolo’ which somehow distanced it further from the group – and smelled slightly of, if not an artistic ‘sell-out’, certainly of creative compromise. It is, however a thumping classic of the age. And the drumming really is something else.

3. Sunday Girl 1979 (UK Release May 1979. Highest UK Chart position #1, 3 weeks, May 1979) From ‘Parallel Lines’ September 1978.

Blondie and the French language forged a great partnership for a time. ‘Denis’ started it off, and in the version below, ‘Sunday Girl’ took it a stage further, delicately intertwining two tongues in a way that was almost as good as, well…. intertwining two tongues.

Chiming chords, hand-claps and what could well be someone knocking two coconut halves together combine in a perfect mix of lyrical pop…’cold as ice cream, but still as sweet’. Oh yeah…

2. Atomic (UK Release, Feb 1980. Highest UK chart position #1, 2 weeks March 1980)
From ‘Eat to the Beat’ October 1979

1980 was an extraordinary year for Blondie and for the UK charts in general. The Number One spot changed hands 25 times; Blondie hit the top three times. ‘Atomic’ being the first.

1980’s number ones included ‘Another Brick in the Wall’, ‘Brass in Pocket’ and ‘Too Much Too Young’.  And it was only February.  Later on, there was ‘Going Underground’, ‘Start’, ‘Geno’ and ‘Ashes to Ashes’.

‘Atomic’ is in good company.  The opening guitar figure has all the resonance and memory of the way any of the tunes listed above. Close your eyes and imagine the opening notes of ‘Geno’, or ‘Going Underground’ – then ‘Atomic’. It’s a classic.

‘Don’t Stand So Close to Me’ was another one. The intro is….forgettable. Just doesn’t work.

With nuclear tensions high in the world at this time, ‘Atomic’ struck a morbidly fascinating chord. The apocalyptic imagery of the video was both frighteningly arresting as well as musically compelling.  Appearing in a bin-bag, Debbie Harry managed to convey a level of punk-ish styling cues that said enough  ‘rebel and danger’ without being accused of missing the moment.

1. Heart of Glass (January 1979, #1, 4 weeks February 1979) From ‘Parallel Lines’ September 1978.

The UK’s second biggest seller of the year, ‘ the fluid, bubbly disco-inspired groove, the electronic beats with rock guitars and drums gives the song a timeless subtlety that the synth  of ‘Call Me’ just doesn’t have.

It’s a beautiful mix. 8 seconds of teasing  latinate percussion and on 9 seconds, the magic begins, a gentle crash – each member of the band bringing joining the party – and then on 18 seconds the ice-cool, silk of the vocals are pure perfection.

Blondie were always a New York, rather than an American entity. The video gave a British audience a glimpse of an edgy, slightly scary, but exciting and glamorous ‘demi-monde‘ that seemed to offer so much more than anything the UK had to offer at the time.

A glorious, glorious piece of popular music that made Harry an icon, surely she never looked more beautiful –  and showcased the band at the top of their game. In the current pop climate where careers are formed around the same time of life as when you’re studying for A Levels, it’s noteworthy the Harry was approaching her 35th birthday at the time of release.  The dues had certainly been paid.

Disagree? Maybe this selection is more to your taste…

 

‘The Guardian’ are currently presenting a list the ‘Best 100 Number Ones’ and stringing it out over a number of weeks. Seemed like a good idea. Maybe,
After thinking about it, I reached the following conclusion.When you get to a certain age, who is Number One ceases to matter.

More importantly – there is a time of life where it really, really does – and, for the most part, my list reflects the time in my life where one would listen to the new chart on Radio 1 on a Wednesday morning and then go into school to debate the news. (Depth of debate usually either ‘brilliant’ or ‘crap’).

Selecting 100 Number Ones over 60+ years is essentially meaningless. If I had to rate what I thought the best 10 hit were musically then the list would be different. If you to bring in significance and context (and how folks will judge you) and all that stuff – another list entirely.

I’d love to say that ‘Anarchy in the UK’ defined my life when it came out. But it didn’t. I was way too young – and frankly frightened of all that scariness.

The conclusion is that the only truth is your own. So no ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ here. Nothing by The Beatles, The Stones or indeed anyone before 1979. No epoch defining classics (well, maybe a couple)

It’s when this mattered…

‘Are ‘Friends’ Electric?’ Tubeway Army (June 1979, aged 11)

Every Thursday Top of The Pops was such a big deal. When this came on, out of nowhere (at the time this was when I discovered who was Number One), it scared the pre-teen shit out of me – this was as frightening as music had ever got. He looked so……cold.
Despite all that, the haunting tale of ‘the friend I left in the hallway’ and that ninth high note in the riff just stayed in the brain. What was so new in terms of the keyboards sounded classic combined with guitars and drums.  Without realising it, the world had changed.

 

‘I Don’t Like Mondays’ Boomtown Rats (July 1979, 11)

I nearly joined the Boomtown Rats fan club. I wrote to them at 44 Seymour Place, London asking for details,  but I had spent my money on the stamp to enquire about membership – and couldn’t afford the 40p required to join.  An older, cooler lad I knew swore blind that the Rats were punk and seemed genuinely pissed off when I laughed in his face in front of his Mum.  He looked so deflated. They would have loved to be have had the crew of punk – but in fact, they were far too good musically to be in the gang. They were a pop group, no matter how much they didn’t want to be. A haunting ‘based on a true story’ of a teenage girl turned school shooting spree killer with an equally chilling video was the high water mark of their career.

 

Another Brick in the Wall Part II’ Pink Floyd (December 1979. Age 11/12 (December birthday)

My Year 6 teacher, Mrs Beardmore brought in a copy of “Dark Side of The Moon’ and then got us to write a story in response to ‘Brain Damage’.  It was not an afternoon that was full of laughter – but it was life-changing. We didn’t always see eye to, Mrs B and me, but on this occasion she got it right and a life long love affair began. (Between me and Pink Floyd, not me and Mrs Beardmore, obviously. Although to be fair, I asked if I could take the LP home and tape it – and after asking her husband, who was clearly the owner, she said yes.)  So when they went to Number One that Christmas – it was like ‘cool, my new favourite band scores big hits all the time’, No, not really.  Apart from the band, this got me into animation and graphic art and demonstrated that a guitar solo can be way better and more important than lyrics. Finally saw the movie about 3 years later. Was convinced it would be amazing. An early lesson is how life can disappoint.

 

 

‘Atomic’  Blondie. (March 1980. 12)

‘Heart of Glass’ and ‘Sunday Girl’ seemed to belong to other people. ‘Atomic’ was the Blondie hit that came just at the right time.  Emerging fascinations with music, girls and nuclear weapons all came together with a killer riff and slightly androgynous lyrics.

 

‘Ashes to Ashes’ David Bowie. (August 1980. 12)

Bowie’s last truly great single, although at the time, it might as well have been his first.  For the last time in his career he was legitimately at the cutting edge of popular culture, but for a 12 year old, he was a weird bloke in a pointy hat who had made a great song.

Looking back, even if he did recruit extras for the video from the ‘Blitz’ nightclub, even if he was looking to the likes of Steve Strange for styling cues – the song captured the moment where Major Tom became a major star and Bowie proved himself to be the light that guided the New Romantics. That and the fact that he was always at least two steps in front of them.  For ‘Best appearance by a bulldozer in a music video’ the nominations are…

All this came to light later, of course. For me, Bowies career started in 1980 and worked backwards. For me, this was the best thing her ever did. Everything after was a pale imitation.

 

 

‘Stand & Deliver’ Adam and The Ants (May 1981)
My age: 12

The pop star of the age. ‘Kings of The Wild Frontier’ might have had a darker edge – but this was a bit punk, a bit glam, very daft and totally mind-blowing – when you’re 12.
‘The Devil take you stereo and your record collection’ sound way better that ‘smash your iPhone and delete your Spotify’.

 

‘Don’t You want Me’ The Human League. (December 1981 Age 12/13)

Avant garde synth pioneers go pop. Massive intro riff, dual voiced narrative, but the fascinating ‘play within a play’ video sold the package brilliantly and you could shout along with the chorus. Other efforts we more musically interesting, but the band wanted a hit – which they got and went from the NME to Smash Hits, never to leave. Suited me just fine. I could always find the arty stuff later in life.

 

‘Come on Eileen’ Dexy’s Midnight Runners.  August 1982 Age: 13

Much as as I would love to claim that ‘Geno’ rocked my teen world, it didn’t. Who the hell is this bloke, Geno? That was a slow burner for me. Around this time we had ‘Going Underground’ ‘Two Much Too Young’ and ‘Tainted Love’ all at Number One. All massively cooler tunes to be referencing. This is the sound of the school disco, the anthem where you jump and down with your mates totally unselfconsciously singing along to frankly fuck-knows what. Genius.

 

Do They Know it’s Christmas? Band Aid December 1984 15/16

The legacy is a mixed one. It spawned the charity single as a concept, Live Aid happened as a direct result – and although the careers of Queen and U2 benefited way more than Ethiopia from the gig, the Christmas single was one of those phenomena where the UK comes together and agree that something is good and needs supporting.  This was such moment for my generation – and despite its flaws, made us all slightly better people. Today, the video today is a documentary capturing a very different age. Sobering to see so many faces either no longer with us, who whose stars have inelegantly faded since, but a time-capsule of humans being positive.

 

Firestarter. The Prodigy (March 1996. Age: 28)

Didn’t get it to start with. All the kids at school got it – and by now I’m not one of them any more –  teaching them, and what the fuck do kids know about music?  And then I did get i and was able to share something a bit dangerous and anti-establishment with people half my age.  Turns out that the kids were right all along. Got me back into ‘the now’ rather than wallowing in ‘the then’. Keith Flint’s finest, maddest,most iconic hour. Sadly missed.

 

 

First their was music books. (see ‘That’s What I Call Musing’)

Then came…books. (Have not written is t yet – watch this space…)

Ask me to list on Facebook and save me the time and effort.  Or carry on ignoring me for a rather more expanded commentary.

The choice is yours.

Anyone from Belgium – especially a Belgian will probably find the following highly controversial…
However, it was a Belgian friend who told me that Omer was the challenger to Duvel’s crown – So, we start off with a clash between one of the Godfathers of Belgian brewing against a lesser-known, but worthy contender.

Duvel weighs-in at 8.5%ABV with Omer at 8%. Nothing to choose in the potency and in these parts, such numbers at in the medium-band, compared to the UK where if either of these were offered on draught in the pubs, things would get very messy.

For many newcomers to Belgium, Duvel is their first initiation into the indigenous beer-culture. It’s ubiquity and familiar can be beguiling – many locals have introduced visiting friends with a ‘this is really popular – everyone drinks this’ only to find them in a gutter two hours later calling for their mothers.

Duvel packs a solid punch in a sweet and soft velvet glove. It goes down without challenge leaving a pleasant, sugary after-taste. Omer has a slightly more bitter palate and a ‘second-phase’ which seems to fade away somewhat and while highly pleasant, is perhaps not so distinctive.

Duvel pours into its iconic glass with a head that foams with a delightful urgency. Omer is less lively and is no way less visually appealing – and much less likely to embarrass an over-enthusiastic bartender by frothing over the counter.

At around the 1.35 (Euro) mark, both beers will not damage the wallet too badly – although the effect on brain-cells may be more serious.

The thought of Duvel losing popularity to Omer is a bit like Guinness being usurped by Murphy’s. Nice though the latter brews may be, there is just too much history, support, loyalty and overall status for me to see this happening.

Overall: two fine beers of comparative merit.  Ultimately, it’s a case of imaging a moment where I could hear myself saying ‘I fancy a Duvel’ – making an instinctive decision to choose an Omer seems less likely.

Duvel: 85% : Strong, tasty and everywhere (including the UK)
Omer: 78% : Refreshing, a little hoppier than its more famous friend, but in this battle – it’s in second place.

Duvel moves on to face a new challenger…

 

 

 

 

Having made the decision that after not posting anything for over a year, it seemed like it was time to let Onlegging slip, unvisited and unlamented into the internet limbo.

However, inspired by the excellence and enthusiasm of Phil Gray and his outstanding ‘Phil Reviews Mince Pies’ pages ( https://philreviewsmincepies.wordpress.com/blog/ ) I have decided to give this blogging lark another go.

Having also discovered that I can add pages, rather than just adding text – I will be introducing ‘Beer Wars’ as my Winter project.  It’s a simple concept. Two beers are consumed and reviewed – and the winner goes forward to take on another opponent.  The first battle is soon to follow… Beer Wars

The aim is to also offer considered consumer advice and cultural commentary on anything that poses us a choice in this world of ours.

Comments, feedback and active participation actively encouraged.

PS

(For those not in Belgium, ‘Omlegging’ means ‘diversion’ and is to be found written on the ubiquitous orange signs that can be found in the most unexpected places across the nation, sometimes transforming a 10 minute journey into a Homeric, GPS defying odyssey…)