We All Shine On

He woke up on 27th January 1970 with a tune in his head. He dashed off some lyrics, called up some friends - George, Eric, Klaus, Alan, Phil  - and they all convened at Abbey Road studios later the same day. By midnight the song was recorded and mixed. It was released on 6th February and reached number 3 in the UK charts. As the author said, 'I wrote it for breakfast, recorded it for lunch, and we're putting it out for dinner'. PLAY LOUD. Happy birthday John, love.

Where The Streets Have Names

Cycling around - as I do to work everyday - serves to remind me of how wonderful streets actually are.

Forget Googlemaps digital hi-techery or even good old OS hiking travails, cycling lets you experience streets and, even, read and reflect on their names as your pass from one to the other. Lives, homes, public and private spaces.

Nothing profound maybe, but it helps get me through the day. Lots of good songs about streets too (and, at least, one fine band).

Here's one now: 'Montague Terrace (In Blue)' (1967)

Hero Worship

Noel is back and I love this. Shivers down the spine and a reboot to where he was surely heading after jamming with the Chemical Brothers and going all psychedelic and woozy in 2000 before Our Kid killed his growing creativity and weirdness. Hurrah! 'If I Had A Gun' (2011)

The Shock Of The Old

I was recently watching the re-runs of TOTP from 1976 and the OGWT 'best of' on BBC4 wondering at what point - and why - records of quality become suddenly untouchable. A key historical divide was, of course, punk's Year Zero of 1977 that relegated almost all early 70s 'rock' (though not reggae, please note) beyond the pale. But there have also been subtler trends largely based on perceptions of 'selling out' or mainstreaming in which core fans excoriate their former heroes and heroines. The once powerful printed music press was particular fond of fanning these flames.

As a tangent to this, it is worth noting that Bowie (see above) was cool and smart - and confusing - enough to be one of the few to avoid this. More on him later.

Anyway, the real point of all this blah is that musical purdah can allow a delicious rediscovery of many fine songs later. Dire Straits (gasp), in their early pomp, crafted a sort of white, West London Blues that is, perhaps, counterintuitively very close to Springsteen's white, Jersey Blues evolving at about the same time. Both are lovely. This discredited gem even shares a title with the Boss and features his piano player: 'Tunnel Of Love' (1980)

Friday B-Side No 2

So, it's 1973 and I have just bought my first 45 rpm single from Preedy's in the town centre, with my own money. It cost 39p.  Like the rest of the nation, I am enthralled by the up-coming Eurovision Song Contest and, patriotically, am spending my pocket money on supporting the UK cause. Cliff Richard performed six songs on TV and the public were invited to choose their favourite as the Nation's song by postal vote. 'Power To All Our Friends' won and was released as a single with the song that came second on the flipside. My female partner in crime of the time - we were too young to be anything else but mates then - liked the A-Side, but loved the B-Side. We almost wore the record out on my mum's Hacker dansette and you can hear the scratches today. The A-side came third in the Song Contest demonstrating that she was right: 'Come Back Billie Jo' (1973)

Love And Dancing

Forget La Roux, Little Boots (remember her?), Gaga, and all of today's other neo-eighties synthpop idols, the first wave was genuinely pioneering and, damn it, brave (NB the clothes!). They worked with cutting edge technology the potential of which, in terms of music, no one really yet understood. Ironically, perhaps, the music they produced was also intensely human in its vocal feel and lyrical thrust. Otherwordly, but also small, emotional, and often vulnerable. I loved it all then and still do. Happily the haircuts and male use of eyeliner have largely disappeared. Depeche Mode 'See You' (1982)

Why Received Wisdom Must Always Be Challenged (1)

It is, sadly, commonplace to hear it said that between 1994's sublime 'Vauxhall and I' and 2004's 'You are the Quarry' Mancunian miserabilist Stephen Patrick Morrissey entered a fallow period of musical wilderness years punctuated only by two distinctly odd, prog-rockesque LPs, 'Southpaw Grammar' (1995) and 'Maladjusted' (1997). As with so many music press solipsisms this is just lazy journalism, but, of course, allows a 'good story' to emerge later in the form of a feel-good comeback tale replete with retrospectives, re-evalutions, multi-page supplements and much commentary asserting a 'return to form', 'my how we have missed him/her' etc etc This occasional column will aim to dispel, nay disprove, such lazy attempts to dismiss forgotten nuggets of pop genius or the period's of an artist's musical life in which they were created. So here goes - wrap your ears around this, me hearties: Reader Meet Author (1995) and Ambitious Outsiders (1997)