Musings on the byways of popular culture
One thing I noticed at the IMAX screening of Pink Floyd’s Live At Pompeii was the intro music, now helpfully called Pompeii Intro on Spotify. What I’m curious of is that with the heartbeat and synthesiser, it’s very close to work in progress for the Dark Side of the Moon, and, if that’s the case, it seems to have snuck out without fanfare. NB/ The audio for the album is quite something
Everyone here is a fan of the Get Funky hitmakers, aren’t they? That trademark chug, jangle and harmonising has been making us nicer people since 1990 or so. But what does one reach for in the long wait between Teenage Fanclub records and dates? Well, try this vaguely chronological playlist for size. Everything flows; you get the bands who influenced them and the acts they influenced; you get some related turns and covers; plus you get curveballs like Queen, the Alan Parsons Project and Steve Miller Band. I might well have posted this here before, in which case: sorry. But you can never have too much of this type of music, so please let me know of anything else that might fit in.
I was recently on a deep dive for more Style Council nuggets and I found many in the US described the Shout to the Top hitmakers as “Sophistipop”. It’s not a term I remember from the 80s but it makes a certain sense to describe those breezy turns with Latin flourishes, the occasional dash of woodwind and a tendency to turn up at GLC / miners’ benefits. So see how you get in with this sophistipop sampler. Warning: contains traces of Matt Bianco.
For the past few years I have been enjoying more pop from the outskirts of the 60s. The bits that don’t sound sound like the Beatles or Stones, basically, when musicians let rip with harpsichords, celestes and lots of delightful picked bass. I also wished I had more of the Broadcast and Stereolab songs I liked in the one place. There was nothing for it but another high-concept playlist composed of exotic 60s pop and the artists who love it. Below is a first draft. I feel sure the massive can recommend more artists from both eras. I don’t want to get involved in “that’s not exotica, it’s west coast psych”; let’s think of how best this can all knit together. If there is a deficit, I’d say it’s on the 60s side. But I want an equal split, 60;s and contemporary-ish. Enjoy.
It’s New Year’s Eve eve. So if you’re tidying the house preparing for a big one or gearing up for a healthy walk but still not quite ready to talk to anyone, then you need my best of 2024 in your life. Five-and-a-half hours of solid bangers from the last year and already downloaded by FIVE Spotify users (making it officially a fifth as popular as 2020, but then we all have busy lives, and Gavin and Stacey’s 12m was hardly To the Manor Born). Sorry for shamelessly dumping it here for your consideration, but I do it most years and some of you seem to l give it a whirl. Whether or not this list continues into 2025 is a moot point. It’s actually 20 songs shorter than most years, suggesting either that I have finally discovered quality control, or that there isn’t quite as much good new music to keep me listening. I’d be interested in your thoughts.
OK, in fairness, I quite enjoyed Glastonbury on the TV this year (Squid, Remi Wolf, Confidence Man, Dexys, Last Dinner Party, the Streets, Heilung, Orbital, Blondshell and especially Fat White Family), but what if I wanted unlimited live music on tap for the rest of the year?
That’s why I created Horsefest, a ridiculous Spotify playlist, currently standing at 19 hours, comprised of five songs at a time, Live Aid style, by great live acts, large and small, living and dead. There’s a notional running order to the whole thing, but I don’t expect even one of you to agree with it. Plus there’s probably another 19 hours of live music that I’ve not got around to adding (to be honest I don’t even remember if I added James Brown or Ray Charles, for instance).
But if you like great live acts, and have tiptop taste in music you might like this. Otherwise, you stick to Guilfest. (Nothing wrong with Gulifest; I saw Pulp and the Wurzels at Guilfest once.)
“Our principal weapons are introspection, a curmudgeonly demeanour, and an almost fanatical devotion to Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee!”
What do you do when you’ve exhausted all the Van Morrison in the world? All the albums, obviously. And then all the deep cuts, bootlegs, collaborations and live sets on YouTube. Well, if you’re like me you embark on the fool’s errand of compiling a playlist of songs that sound a bit like Van the Man.
Bear with me. My attempts to do the same for Pink Floyd, Neil Young and most recently Fleetwood Mac turned out OK. However, most acts have a psychedelic wigout or a Young-like grungy thrash in their locker. And the Heroes Are Hard to Find hitmakers have been ridiculously influential on the musicians of today, making an erstaz Mac comp not much of a challenge at all.
But Van the Man? In spite of the fact that his Caledonia Soul Orchestra period is, to my mind, the pinnacle of western artistic endeavour, very few artists actually sound like him. Bob Dylan has albums with similar orchestration; Jackie DeShannon covered some of his tunes and sounded like she used some of the same musicians; and the » Continue Reading.
OK, last post on this for now. When I first notified you I was uploading my old embarrassing pop journalism to Medium, there were five articles to view. Well, now I’ve got to the end of phase one (the writing for free or next to nothing years), and we’re up to 44. It’s not quite everything from the period. If anyone’s got my interviews with Pulp. the Charlatans, Teenage Fanclub (again), the Wildhearts, Tori Amos, OP8, Gene, Juliana Hatfield, Utah Saints or Jellyfish, in their lofts I’d love to see them again.
But in the meantime, if you want to know why Tim Booth from James was so reluctant to answer his phone, why Alan ‘Fluff’ Freeman always carried an asthma puffer, and why Brett Anderson walked out of my interview with him after only three minutes, fill your boots.
By unpopular demand, I have chucked another five of my slightly embarrassing pop interviews up on Medium. Actually, by this stage (Jan-Feb 1995) they’re slightly less cringe. Scotland’s M8 magazine was about to go full rave so there’s final two pieces for them: Michelle Gayle (compliments me on my soft hands), and Jamiroquai (gives as good as he gets, it’s fair to say). Then I started knocking stuff out for a studenty Glasgow mag called Bigwig. Even less money in it (ie none), but a chance to have a chinwag with My Life Story, the Boo Radleys and Salad. I still have a few more of these to ‘drop’ in the coming months until it sort of sputters out in autumn 1996 after a disastrous encounter with Suede. As I have told even my best pals, the only way you get to hear the full horror of that Suede interview, which I’ve never shared with anyone, is to read on to the end of the series.
Anyone who knows me will recall that I’ve been banging the drum for 1969-71 era Pink Floyd since before Nick Mason’s Saucerful of Secrets was a thing. Indeed one of their number once scoffed at the very idea. Well, today has been a red letter day, as – while trying to piece together what was recorded for Zabriskie Point – I’ve come across two shows I’d never heard before, both remarkable in their way.
The first is from the refectory of Southampton University in May 1969. It’s the same tour that brought us the live tracks on Ummagumma but its version of Astronomy Domine is vastly different and Interstellar Overdrive is almost unrecognisable. But what makes this show interesting is that, having already played Careful With That Axe Eugene, the band launch into Beset By Creatures of the Deep, considered by most to be essentially Careful again. Mindful of this, instead of Roger Waters’s whisper-to-a scream crescendo, Dave gives us some slide guitar parts and Nick Mason drums at double speed. It’s unique and was almost certainly never played the same way again.
Then we come to Birmingham Town Hall, February 1970, when, for no apparent reason Pink Floyd decided » Continue Reading.
So, John Grant tickets go on sale tomorrow, but I thought I’d steal a march on the general public by registering for Live Nation’s presale. At the allotted time of 10am this morning, I logged on, only to find out that all the presale tickets were immediately gone. So, how many, if any, go on presale? How can you get them if you’re not successful even when you log on at the precise moment they go on sale? And could gig ticketing be any more of a lottery/rip-off?
Okay, so this is really one of those threads that exists to show off a bulging Spotify playlist and encourage you to point out anything I’ve missed. But in truth I’m staggered that the Runaround Sue hitmaker doesn’t get the recognition he deserves. We’re talking someone who started in street corner doowop, who narrowly avoided being on the plane that killed Buddy Holly, was a junkie at 14, reputedly encouraged Dylan to go electric (and made some amazing similar-sounding records with Tom Wilson a few weeks earlier), and has collaborated with Phil Spector, Bruce Springsteen, Van Morrison and Paul Simon. Even his four albums in the “contemporary Christian” genre aren’t wholly shit. So, is anyone else here a fan? And can anyone match Dion’s quality control over 66 years of making music?
OK, so it’s not really the done thing to review things when they’re still in previews, and I am mindful of not wanting to piss on the strawberries of anyone with a ticket, but I’m wondering whether anyone else has had the dubious pleasure of seeing Opening Night? It’s a West End musical, based on the Cassavetes film, adapted by Ivo van Howe, with songs by Rufus Wainwright, and Sheridan Smith playing the troubled lead. With such a dream team, it must be too big to fail, right? Well, perhaps they’ll give it some tweaks prior to press night, but I suspect that it’s going to get the mother of all butcherings, and not altogether unfairly. I’m no theatre critic, but I know an unfocused mess when I see one, with actors standing around unintroduced, or offering searching glances in place of actual acting. At one point, a cast member – we don’t get her name or relationship to the others – appears crosslegged playing the acoustic guitar in someone’s living room for literally no discernible reason. I have never ever seen people walk out in the interval, or offer such a muted ripple of applause in place of the » Continue Reading.
I don’t know if you recall, but in years gone by, you the massive have helped me put together playlists of Songs That Sound a Bit Like Pink Floyd, and Songs That Sound a Bit Like Neil Young (handy, given that he’s no longer on Spotify). So I wondered whether you might like to help suggest some soft-rock gems to augment this one: Songs That Sound a Bit Like Fleetwood Mac (imperial phase).
Surprised that no one has posted an appreciation of the great Tony Clarkin of Magnum, who died yesterday after a short illness. Obviously they were very much nearly men of British rock, but their enormous back catalogue – wholly written by Clarkin – reveals a band who very much succeeded on their own terms. Keeping a loyal following from 1976 to the present day, through a succession of bad deals, is no mean feat, and there was the odd hit single along the way, too. About five years ago, myself and two friends decided to go and see them at Islington Assembly Rooms, partly to satisfy my youthful curosity (I genuinely loved hm as a kid), but admittedly also for the LOLs. What we got was a bunch of stout fellas in their 70s emerging from the dry ice and rocking the town hall like it was Wembley stadium. They were wholly admirable and massively entertaining. Good work, Tony Clarkin: an under-appreciated pop-rock craftsman.
I don’t know if this is the content you were looking for at the start of 2024, but I’ve just uploaded five more pieces of iffy pop journalism from … 1994. Relive again that heady time when Credit to the Nation were a teenage sensation, Ride were the sound of sex (apparently), Thrum were Scotland’s latest great guitar hope, Eternal were very much sent by God, and I got to compare trainers with Kylie Minogue. There are now 24 of these online, with hopefully amusing footnotes, but it’s still only scratching the surface.
Morning all. It’s that time of the year again when I surreptitiously “drop” my 100-odd songs of the year then walk away whistling. As I give this list one final nip and tuck, I’m given to reflect that it’s been another grand year for pop music. Perhaps not a 1982, 1973, 1976, 1984 or 1989, but definitely up there with 2008. I’m hearing artists again whom I want to hear every release by (the Goa Express, the Last Dinner Party, L Devine); I’m hearing turns whom I know will be really good live.(Margo Price, Special Interest, Bixiga 70); and I’m seeing genuine new stars get minted, at least in my world (CMAT, Romy, Hannah Diamond). Plus the Stones made a good song, and it’s not the one you might think (too much GaGa). So, the usual rules apply. Don’t bother telling me that such and such a tune was released in 2922, *actually*, but do enthuse over these artists and anything else that you’ve been listening that I might have missed. Some years this Spotify playlist reaches as many as 20 likes. Everybody’s busy, so let’s aim for 10 and see how we get on. It’s Christmas songs all the » Continue Reading.
With yesterday’s news that some mid-period Lilac Time albums were back on streaming, I went back over my beloved Duffy/Lilac Time playlist. It was there that I hit upon this early BBC Session song, Take Time, and its infuriating twinkly keyboard part, which is definitely borrowed from some Radio 2 70s playlist staple, but I can’t for the life of me think which.
Even Duffy himself on Twitter couldn’t help (though he did say he hates the part), so can you?! It’s literally just the bit at 1:20, although it is repeated. Songs that I thought it may be, but it’s not: The Air That I Breathe, The Most Beautiful Girl in the World, It Never Rains in Southern California, When I Need You, Rock Your Baby. But the answer is in that ballpark, I’m sure.
Thank you to everyone who helped boost the numbers on my last set of early pop articles. You’ll be excited to know that we’ve now reached 1994, which brings interviews with such disparate names as Pauline Henry of the Chimes, Eugenius, Buffalo Tom, Saint Etienne, Whiteout and some little-known Beatles tribute combo by the name of Oasis. I’m still mildly embarrassed by all of these, but enjoying the way the site is taking shape. Eventually I can see the contemporary footnotes overtaking the articles in length, and this whole project turning into the world’s most niche memoir.
Well, this is unexpected. The Pink Floyd podcast Fingsl’s Cave has scored quite a coup – an interview with Syd’s sister Rosemary Breen. I know there was a lot of interest here in the recent film about the Waving My Arms on the Air hitmaker. But whether you came to Syd through that, or Rob Chapman’s book, or that lurid Nick Kent article in the mid 70s, there’s always a sense of not knowing what happened or his true nature in the “lost” years.
Without spoilering things too much, Rosemary and the very empathetic interviewer here fill in a lot of those blanks, post the walk back to Cambridge in 1982, including how Syd got his tax affairs straightened out, what they did on days out together, his erratic attempts at DIY and gardening, etc. He didn’t look back, he didn’t talk much, he was tortured at nights: it’s all prosaic but intimately remembered stuff. And coming from his sister who doesn’t suffer fools, it never feels like we’re intruding on private grief; she sounds like someone resigned to having to set the record straight from time to time. It’s well worth an hour of your time if you’re » Continue Reading.
I know I said that I’d keep the plugs to a minimum, but this month’s Horse FM playlist is particularly choice in my opinion. Plus it can get dispiriting posting it to Facebook and seeing the amount of monthly followers actually drop.
So, for those unacquainted with it, this is a notional radio show comprising 20 songs that I’ve found, rediscovered or had recommended to me in the last month. It’s not intended to show off my bleeding-edge tastes; instead, those friends who do like it (both of them), use it on those days when they can’t think of anything else to listen to. Hopefully it will send you down as many entertaining Spotify rabbit holes as it regularly sends me. And if you don’t like it, there’s another one along every month for those who follow it on Spotify. Don’t touch that dial.
I know that I said that I’d keep the publicising of these to a minimum, but I’ve recently finished uploading a whole – what’s bigger than a cache, more significant than a pile? – tranche of my old pop gubbins from 1993, and if you lot aren’t the target market, I don’t know who is.
This first bunch of uploads takes in the Lilac Time, Manic Street Preachers, Power of Dreams, Kingmaker, Green on Red, Radiohead, Maria McKee, Curve, the Levellers, Teenage Fanclub, Senser, the Wonder Stuff, Baddiel & Newman and the Shamen. To add context, and spare my blushes, I’ve also added a bit of contemporary annotation.
I’m not saying it’s gone unloved over on Medium, but I did a dance round the living room this morning when I received my first comment, and some of these articles are still to reach double figures. I swear this stuff got more readers after it had made its way into the hamster’s cage. Still, if you can boost my numbers a little, I’ll carry on posting them and we might get to seminal sit-downs with Salad, Gene, Oasis, Pulp, Suede, Jamiroquai and Kylie.
Apologies for the shameless self-promotion, but like my monthly Horse FM playlists, I’ll not share these every time I post one. I’ve recently started the process of digitising all my old pop journalism. In time you’ll see interviews with Oasis, Pulp, Suede, Richey Manic, Jamiroquai, and many,, many lesser names. Things don’t always go smoothly, and to mitigate the embarrassment, I’ve decided to annotate them with some present-day insights. It all starts in 1991, with a very patient Stephen Duffy sitting down to be grilled by the 19-year-old me (and my mates).
https://medium.com/@martinhorsfield/is-the-time-right-for-the-lilacs-%C2%B9-daa674c9b3fb
Don’t get me wrong: I’m beyond excited for the return of Pulp tomorrow, a band I first saw supporting Saint Etienne 30 years ago, then at the Garage in Islington a few months later (£6). I’ve deliberately avoided looking at setlists from their other shows this year, because I want to be surprised and delighted. They’ve hinted there are going to be “surprises”.
However, I can’t think of any act where there is a greater disconnect between the songs I’d like to hear and those they’re likely to play. While obviously, they can’t ignore the likes of Common People, Babies, Disco 2000, Something Changed and Misshapes – indie bangers all – I have no faith at all they’ll play much from their earlier, interesting years. For me, the band peaked with their three Gift singles, and I’d give my right arm to hear the likes of Sheffield Sex City, OU (Gone Gone), Live On and Razzmatazz. (When it comes to the latter, past experience suggests it’s a “possible”, along with Lipgloss and Do You Remember the First Time). And I would go absolutely potty to hear Love Is Blind, Dogs Are Everywhere, My Lighthouse or Countdown. It’s a situation reflected » Continue Reading.
OK, I’m used to cinemas being manned by a skeleton crew, but when I went to see Have You Got It Yet?, the new documentary about Syd Barrett at the Screen on the Green, Islington, I literally walked in off the street. Had I kept my head down, I probably could have watched it for free, and stayed around for Guardians of the Galaxy while I was at it.
If this film has a point, it seems to be to move the Barrett narrative away from lurid acid-casualty rock star tale and even slightly away from his mental health struggles. Instead we get a fond and whimsical portrait of an artist who never liked to repeat himself, so was simply not suited to being in a band.
The main thing that comes across is how remarkably well preserved Syd’s Cambridge contemporaries are, particularly his girlfriends, testimony, I guess, to the rejuvenating balm of a life of upper middle-class privilege. That’s apart from the contributors who are dead, of course. Sadly, this film spent so long coming to fruition that many of its talking heads are no longer with us (nor is Storm Thorgerson, the man asking most of the » Continue Reading.
