BEATS OF LOVE

20.The Crystal Ship by The Doors

I CAN safely say that the apex of poetic popular music was The Doors and that living past 27 is vastly over-rated. I love Lawrence, whose integrity and wit sear into his songs in a highly unpretentious, poetic manner. However, being honest, he self-destructed over a lack of fame. He was hardly popular. 

 

NME darling Morrissey is now a bugbear for many, but me especially. I bunked off school in part to memorise his lyrics, especially Headmaster Ritual, which brilliantly caricatured the state school monsters who made my life so miserable. This song became a sort of survival kit.

Sadly, to keep his songs relevant nowadays means freezing in time, the monsters that characterize many of his songs. Sadly, the only allies he can find, intent on doing this, are the far-right. A far-right he duly sucks up to in a despicable fashion by wearing shitty little For Britain button badges. 

Another important band of my late adolescence, the Stone Roses, utilized the Bible to give gravitas to their lyrics on otherwise formulaic songs. Front man Ian Brown sang these songs in a broad regional dialect but was still propelled by a lot of music journalists into the limelight, and he actually seemed like an iconic figure. With hindsight, he wasn't. 

It's tragic that they reformed to desecrate their name. Perhaps a twenty-something can still hear the fiery menace in I Wanna Be Adored, a song written by and for folk in their sexual prime. Not fifty-somethings, who are already decaying. Who are they even kidding? More tragic still is that he now bangs on about covid inanely to desecrate it further. Despite Oliver Stone trashing Jim Morrison's character in his hateful biopic by lampooning him as completely insane, it wasn't real. Alas, Ian Astbury's tragic karaoke bastardization was. It actually happened. 

   

Morrison's short time in the limelight testifies to a sensitivity, evidenced in his poetic lyrics, which more than confirmed he wasn't completely insane. In that all too brief spell before the whiskey took a hold of him, he both looked and thought better than anyone else before or since. This baroque lament for a left love has been over analysed for its drug connotations, but I prefer to read it as a sombre love song. The Doors brought his poetry to life, and it's the richly colourful instrumentation here that kills me. Left on a page, it wasn't too great. This truly emotive love song is made all the more intense by realizing he never did make it back to drop a line.

It's also one of my favourite love songs of all time and needs another spin as everything in my life becomes uncertain. I have many records, but not that many musical anchors.    

          

BEATS OF LOVE

19. Anti Mako by Francky Vincent

PRIOR TO covid I had sketched plans for a night called simply - BAREFOOT IN THE HEAD. Featuring crazy funky tunes, mad dubby house, wrong-speeders and the most whacked-out tunes in my collection. With guest DJs pencilled in from mainly Holland, it was to run 3 times a year and press heavily on the delirium button. Like much of my other life as a bedroom DJ, it's now on the cutting room floor, but I still aspire to soundtrack it whenever the mood takes me. 

I always knew that the internet was going to both help me join the dots of my 30 year musical odyssey and cost me a packet in the process, which is why I stayed off line until 2008. And it has. Much like my Japanese parcels, my French parcels tend to arrive spasmodically, but in pretty hardcore fashion. Throwing a few curveball buys in for good measure to elicit some surprise. 

This, however, was always going to be a major blast. The only questions I asked myself were 'is it a minter, and does it play loud?' Luckily, the answers were, yes, and yes. Francky is Zouk's answer to Serge Gainsbourg. His sexually explicit lyrics often courted controversy, but if I'm honest, I haven't got the foggiest of what he's singing about here. All I know is that the song is delirium on wax. Whether his cheeky smile on the sleeve has disarmed me, I'm not sure, but right from the dizzy opening, I'm completely hooked.

Pure marmite by nature, you're either gliding across the floor in glee like myself, or reaching for the sick bucket. Both vocalists employ their voices instrumentally to engine drive the song at pace in a manner reminiscent of early Wham! and their backing singer classics. However, the tropical percussive heat given off is distinctively Francky and decidedly Zouk at its absolute best.

I'm so glad I purchased it as I've gone from dancing for my mental health to dancing to keep my feet warm in the space of a week. Like 1991 all over again, then.  

BEATS OF LOVE 

18. When Nirvana Came to Britain documentary

I SUPPOSE a proper writer keeps writing through the arduous weeks, whereas I just look at writing through the weary prism of such weeks as a vanity project or a self-indulgence even. I have instead sat knee deep in warming German and Japanese percussive jazz records and playing them loads, deliberating which ones to photograph and write about, before deciding to just play them and instead convince those of you who haven't watched the documentary When Nirvana Came to Britain to watch it.

It's refreshing to watch a documentary that isn't portraying these people as rock stars. They get the point completely, and the right talking heads are on hand to do this subject justice.

In order to connect with one another to make the whole scene homogenous, we all dumbed-down a little by drinking. Escaping our regional dialects, inner-reality, and actual everyday existence in the process. Consequently, when I went to watch bands, I was always half-cut, and I wasn't alone.  

Me and Stu having our Jo Whiley moment

Tony, who found his expression on their stage, wigging out completely, is a case in point. Representative of so many fucked up people like myself. I was there in the Poly with my good mate Stu. Waiting for Tad.

I felt a deep connection with their record label, Sub Pop; its ideals, its acts and its oppositional stance to business as usual. Yet in no time at all, Nirvana was on a major and blowing up big time. With that sense of intimacy lost, their music was relegated from my private listening world to something I listened to via pub jukeboxes. 

It was still their best music but was now captivating everybody else to some extent. Trying to communicate with so many more people who weren't fucked up to change a bigotry and intolerance, synonymous with their straight-laced world, was always going to be a thankless task. Luckily, this documentary focuses more on the survivors and offers a clearer hindsight into the group as a whole because of it. So many artists before and after have feared killing the golden goose of their success, but not them. There's plenty of great footage that illustrates why they were the most fearless band of our times.  Not my personal favourite by a long chalk, but a band that nonetheless changed music forever. 

Their feminine sensibility divided folk, which then made it easier to tell who the cunts were, irrespective of musical taste. A sensibility more relevant now than ever, as tired, aging conservative white men still stamp about like Neanderthal's dividing us. Their short-lived Nirvana phase a lifetime ago.   

Tune in, turn on, oh, and drop out if you haven't already. And wear your feminine sensibility like a badge of honour.  

https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m000zx9h#:~:text=Between%201989%20and%201994%2C%20Nirvana,a%20generation%20of%20British%20youth.

BEATS OF LOVE 

17. Mise En Abyme by Steve Cobby 

I'M STILL not over my mother's sudden death. In truth, I still feel like a severed branch and I still roll my eyes in disbelief on a daily basis. I did a bit of curating shortly after she died, which was far from perfect, so I know how you can only work in bursts before it all gets too overwhelming. My mother told me my father wasn't the same person since his own mother died and I now understand why. 

That Steve Cobby has produced a whole album to commemorate his mother's life is an achievement in itself. That it's pretty much perfect is no great surprise, but that much of it plays so joyously marks the true testament to her and did disarm me, the listener, somewhat. 

I'm reminded of Ted, my mother's long term-companion and partner who knew her more than anyone, and deciding what songs should be played to commemorate her life. I was digging out John Coltrane, but he simply scoffed his face. His expression barely changed with Ella, but when he saw Dionne Warwick and played the Bacharach & David penned What the World Needs Now, his face lit up. He wanted joyous music. 

I've just got back from a wedding where it felt like I was representing Nigeria. The bride's estranged Nigerian Father (our cousin) was unable to impose a full traditional wedding (thank God), but had influenced the occasion enough to deter his ex-wife, the bride's Jamaican mother from attending. 

The joylessness finally built up to a crescendo pitch during the speeches when it became apparent she was missing. The small Nigerian contingent could feel the hostility aimed at them yet framed it along the lines of nationalism, but I knew different. The bride and groom will regret their decision to connect with their Nigerian lineage over and above honouring their mother. That said, this track, the LP closer, isn't all that joyous. Its harmonica etches into the memory through recurring sequence, as the title suggests, so much graphic imagery, that it becomes a duet with the piano. This plaintive expression, served with threadbare accompaniment, truly captures the essence of such a presence. And truly honours his own mother.

The past becomes as much a part of our tomorrow as the present day. If ever the word intarsia can be applied to music, it is this two-sided blend that marks a poignant refusal of death. The presence is simply too strong for its acceptance. It's why my feelings of severance will eventually heal, and why the bride and mother will soon be reconciled and come to realize that she, in fact, never missed her daughter's wedding at all. 

Cheers Steve Cobby, a giant among men.   

https://soundcloud.com/sjcobby/mise-en-abyme-mstr      

BEATS OF LOVE 

16. Hummingbird by Tali Trow

THIS LP was actually on my radar during lockdown, then I clean forgot about it. When recalling a couple of Lords of Thyme live shows that clean slipped through my grasp, I actually remembered this and was chuffed that he's still selling copies on his Bandcamp page. And still is. 

I'm mystified as to why Tali Trow and Huw are still mailing out their own records, when their music is this great, but being mystified is in itself rather satisfying. It motors the brain; I guess.

Illustrating that the music industries' stranglehold and market fixation so often overlooks time served talent. Whilst illustrating the energetic resilience of musicians, striving to be heard in their own lifetime, in the face of this injustice. It is my hope that they are, which is why I'm doing SFH. My bit.

This track is the highlight of a very solid spin of an album and I thought I had unearthed a little gem. I thought 'just wait until my little wormhole hear this.' I then did a bit of a google search and discovered that the prolific Paul Hillery had already uploaded the very same track on his brilliant Folk Funk and Trippy Troubadours series at the tail-end of last year, so, it's highly likely that my little wormhole have already heard this. 

Paul's having a celebration of sorts by compiling his mix-series highlights as it nears its centenary. An insane amount of quality music. He's also more eclectic a DJ than his series suggests, even playing Justin Vandervolgen's Talking Jungle remix on the wrong speed, at the Devil' Jukebox, which roundly deserves a hats off. Cover versions are fascinating. Quite often I love it when everything goes crazy, stupid, but just as often I love it when crazy stupid songs are made to sound more conventional. 

Tali has lived with this crazy, stupid song for years and his wonderful interpretation channels the spirit of the mighty James Taylor instead of staying faithful to the country, cosmic original (which would've been trendier). And is gloriously timeless because of it. It's truly reminiscent of the embryonic stages of the golden age of the singer-songwriter. He's at that very same well, and really lets the chorus shine as bright as the afternoon sun, in a deeply effecting way, with that hazy Hammond.

I was actually spinning it during sundown and the missus was in the garden singing along, which is far more satisfying to hear than any wormhole recognition. I can count the times that's happened on one finger. 

BEATS OF LOVE

15. Find Another Breeze (Gallo Tropical Hinterhof Remix) By J-Walk

Machu ebbs and flows a bit like me. One time I see him and he's all fired up with positive vibes and the next time unravelling a little. He's guested at the Devil's Jukebox, which was when I first met him. Because of that, I had the pleasure of hearing him jam with Leo (Almunia). Memorable is an understatement.

It was an absolute joy to see a short video clip of him DJ at Backyard Balearic's shindig last weekend and really revelling in it. He was also equally great when he did the Antoine show for me, but I was too preoccupied to soak it all in. 

He is a fine musician in the singer-songwriter tradition and Newton Le Willows' own answer to Terry Callier. I have a great tune he sent me that he felt was let down by his voice. I disagreed but was too low a voice, as others, notably label owners, had already expressed their doubts too. 

I bought records from Martin in Fat City and, like everyone, loved J-Walk's Soul Vibration. Up there with the all-time best still. Because of its success, I'm guessing my expectations became too high and only French Letter from that period also hit the spot. I was far more locked into J-Walk's later incarnation, minus Martin Desai, on the long-player Off-Beat which transported me back to lounge-listening and the amazing records he often sold me over his counter. Vespucci one such record, in fact, which he covers superbly by adding lots of atmosphere. Lounge-listening actually makes more sense now as I age and quite often need a sit down.  

Machu contributes his fretwork to a couple of tracks on its follow up Limelight, and notably rhythm guitar, here. Martin had figured out the parts for his imaginary band and possibly came up short himself on a few of these. Most obviously, female vocalist. I was a little indifferent at the time it first surfaced as I was eagerly awaiting the Torn Sail debut on Wonderfulsound but was told Huw wasn't happy with the wait time on the label's roster and decided instead to self-finance it. The fact this surfaced in its place was a little disappointing. I'm over it now though.   

My favourite track was the opener Aimons Toujours, which is top-drawer. However, here, as the incandescent sun blazes, flickering through the blinds, and my feet loiter on the pouffe, in some sort of synch with the music, this remix is now sounding like sheer zoned out heaven. I'm sort of forever mystified why more people aren't locking into tuneage this good. It loosens up everything, the way so few things in life manage to, and is nothing short of a liberation in sound.    

I'm sure that one fine day both me and Machu will meet again when we're both on top of our game.   

     

 HALF TERM REPORT

BEATS OF Love exists for two reasons. Firstly, to write about what's floating my boat at a given moment and why, and secondly, to see how far it can go before I either stop and admit it's just a bit of catharsis following the sudden death of my brother-in-law. There was so much left unsaid, and words on the subject are still extremely difficult. Anyway, I won't repeat myself like I did the last time I attempted to round things up. What's written in Beats of Love suffices, although I still want to scream out 'Well done Leo!'    

One of the best labels out there is Strangelove and Psychedelic Digestion Therapy's self-titled LP is an utter mind-bomb. It's the label's first foray into new stuff and, boy, is this Brussel's collective work gripping. Opener, Sabbi a Calda sucks you in and the quality and subtle drama is relentless. 6 tracks of the highest quality that strongly determine that they're listened to on their own terms. I'm resisting further description. Thanks to Robert Harris again for determining that the sleeve-notes are in fact tongue in cheek. It helps. Got a feeling this is going to be my most played LP of the year by far. 

It's great to see Mark Barrott's I-Feel back with a killer seven. Charlie Charlie's Save Us is a soothing slice of timeless soul goodness. Prefer the less doctored A-side, which sounds more spiritual. I can't be the only one who feels the healing power of some music. Music that is good enough to climb atop its own mountain top and pour its holy minerals down from high onto our crumpled being. Music just like this then. 

I can't type the word soul and not mention the might that is the Neil Young classic Don't Let it Bring You Down as covered by The Resonaires. The stellar performance punches holes out of the original, and for now even sounds better than Victoria Williams & The Williams Brothers super version. Another seven that has blown my mind a little is The Coastlines remix of Arvin Homa Aya's Interlude. Devastating when played at the right time.

Another summer winner has been Florence Adoni's Mam Pe'elu Su'ure. With more than a dozen players, it has more than a touch of quality about it. Probably the wackiest spin on my turntable is NS Kroo's Lots of Love that just swirls its way to perfection and gets stronger with every subsequent spin. Only Begin's Super Barrio played at the wrong speed comes close. 

Cassette action has been trickling steadily. Full Circle's Back To Nowhere has further reappraised my position regarding Goa trance music. I recall in the mid-nineties folk who didn't spunk all their cash on records returned from trips to India armed with cassettes that I thought sounded dreadful. However, I'm still pretty sure I was right and that Alexis Le Tan's and Joakim's mangled excavations here sound much, much better, and are the exception to the rule. 

Australia's A Colourful Storm compiled a woozy beauty with I Stumble and Then I Fall, which also sounds great from start to finish. Lots of experimental yet intriguing music, exclusive to this cassette. It's just as well that I like the air of mystery that surrounds the music on these releases. 

On a slightly more traditional musical tip, Kevin Low and Fiona Carlin's The Gayfield Enterprise is also a work of wonder. Nothing Else Will Ever Be The Same, the standout track sounds super fresh but is actually a rediscovered 1986 demo found in Edinburgh during lockdown. The guy is now 80 and I'm so pleased his wonderful music has found a fresh audience. 

I can't sign off without mentioning the new Native Dance twelve. Bayete & Probably Sean have delivered a great edit Guapa that sounds as bright and breezy as the perfect summer. Buy on sight. 

It's funny, now that Kenneth Bager has finally delivered his masterpiece with Let's Dream Together, the cat calling has begun. Make no mistake The New Age Orchestra has made more widely available the best track of the year, closely followed by Alex Kassian's Leave Your Life. And it's not really up for discussion. Everything else, brother-in-law excepted, is.