Monthly Archives: Mar 2022

John Martyn: The Apprentice

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Island Records undoubtedly did a lot of good for John Martyn but they also royally messed around with arguably his two best post-1970s albums.

First there was the delayed, eventually botched release of 1980’s Grace And Danger, then the complete rejection of The Apprentice when first delivered in 1988.

The album eventually saw the light of day on Permanent Records (owned by Martyn’s then-manager) in early 1990, after John finished it at his own expense at Glasgow’s Ca Va Studios. It immediately sold strongly and got a great review in Q magazine (alongside a memorable interview) amongst other rags.

But co-producer Brian Young reckons it could have done a lot better – the idea apparently had been to tout it around the major labels, but John’s manager decided to steer clear of the suits this time around. We’ll never know if that was wise (and sadly it’s currently on streaming platforms with completely the wrong artwork attached).

Most importantly, The Apprentice is full of memorable songs which easily offset the sometimes fairly flimsy production. He was expanding his harmonic horizons (and vocal range – this is probably his best singing on record) and there’s a strong Latin influence throughout, helped enormously by the return of Danny Cummings on all kinds of percussion.

‘Live On Love’, ‘Deny This Love’ and ‘Send Me One Line’ could have made cracking singles, the latter apparently penned for the movie ’84 Charing Cross Road’ but not used. ‘The Moment’ and ‘Patterns In The Rain’ suggest a hitherto unacknowledged influence from the Great American Songbook.

‘Look At That Girl’ is a gorgeous ballad for his daughter Mhairi, while the title track was a rare insight into Martyn’s political leanings, written from the point of view of a terminally-ill worker at the Sellafield nuclear plant. ‘Income Town’ may just be the standout, another attack on rampant capitalism featuring a meaty guitar solo.

In short, there was something for everyone. Long-term fans just had to accept that he wasn’t going to be playing the acoustic through an Echoplex anymore; but his collaboration with keyboard player Foss Patterson was hitting its peak, after promising beginnings on 1986’s Piece By Piece.

John sold out no less than eleven nights at London’s Shaw Theatre to promote The Apprentice, enlisting Dave Gilmour to guest on guitar, and then played at the Glasgow Big Day festival a few months later. 1990 turned out to be a pretty good year (reportedly followed by one of his worst, though I saw him live several times in 1991 and he was always superb) for Big John.

Book Review: Red Machine (Liverpool FC In The 1980s) by Simon Hughes

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If Liverpool weren’t your favourite football team in the 1980s, they were probably your second or third team.

They set new standards with their ‘pass and move’ philosophy, brilliant goalscorers (Ian Rush, John Aldridge etc), probing wingers/midfielders and a famously tight defence (Alan Hansen, Mark Lawrenson et al).

But of course the team saw more than its fair share of tragedy during the decade too, the Heysel and Hillsborough stadium disasters looming large to this day.

Simon Hughes (namesake of the ex-cricketer/journalist) has interviewed many of the key players from that fabled 1980s Liverpool unit, plus notoriously strict coach Ronnie Moran, to create a candid, funny, sometimes touching account of the decade.

Aided by Hughes’s crisp, witty scene-setting, ‘Red Machine’ is chock-full of amusing anecdotes (frequently homesick Ian Rush’s nickname amongst the team was ‘E.T.’ – he was always phoning home…) and pithy observations.

It’s fair to say that many of these players have intriguing backstories. Bruce Grobbelaar (lest we forget, the most decorated goalkeeper in the history of English football) talks about fighting in the Rhodesian Bush War before his time at Liverpool, while John Barnes and Howard Gayle discuss their experiences of racism inside the game and outside it.

Craig Johnston’s life story would make a great movie, and many probably don’t know that he retired at the peak of his footballing career to care for his chronically-ill sister.

Heysel and Hillsborough are discussed in detail by all who were present, with player/manager Kenny Dalglish emerging as a hero. Margaret Thatcher’s regime and Liverpool’s social, economic and racial divisions are regular talking points.

Football-wise, Graeme Souness is frequently named as the team’s greatest player of the era (indeed many describe him as Europe’s best during the 1980s).

But ‘Red Machine’ also scores highly by offering the views of players who didn’t quite ‘make it’ – Michael Robinson, Gayle, Kevin Sheedy – and also exploring what it was like for a true southerner (Nigel Spackman) to establish himself on Merseyside.

I had also been looking for a decent history of English football in the 1980s – ‘Red Machine’ does that very nicely too. It’s highly recommended, and spawns memories of a great time to be a football fan, despite the obvious issues.

Story Of A Song: Ambrosia’s ‘Poor Rich Boy’ (1981)

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Apart from Steely Dan reaction videos on YouTube, my other mini viewing obsession over the last year or so has been ‘Columbo’ repeats.

You expect amusing performances and ingenious plotting from the classic Peter Falk-fronted show; you don’t expect music tips.

But there it was – a great piece kicking off ‘Columbo Goes To College’, the first episode of the show’s tenth season, debuting on 9 December 1990.

A bit of detective work revealed that it was Ambrosia’s ‘Poor Rich Boy’, written for the Oscar-winning ‘Arthur’ soundtrack, the one headed up by Christopher Cross’s US #1 ‘Arthur’s Theme (Best That You Can Do)’. I’d never heard of the band before but apparently they had some big hits at the tail end of the 1970s.

Co-written – like the rest of the soundtrack album – by Burt Bacharach (alongside band members David Pack – himself a hugely respected songwriter – and Joe Puerta) and produced by Val Garay (Kim Carnes’ ‘Bette Davis Eyes’), it taps into that great period at the dawn of the 1980s when yacht rock dovetailed with prog/AOR/new wave/whatever.

It’s mixed refreshingly dry, with barely any reverb, and features a treacherous arrangement that separates the men from the boys. It’s in 2/4 but has some very odd accents (especially in that deliciously long fade). Try playing along. Where’s ‘one’? There’s a nice use of the ‘flatted fifth’ in the verse and also a superb vocal by…who? Pack or Puerta?

The chorus lyric smartly lays out the film’s plot and concerns of Dudley Moore’s Arthur:

Life is more than time and money that’s easy to spend
When you know that she’s out there
Lookin’ for the girl whose eyes out-sparkle all of your gold
And a heart that’s bigger than Times Square

‘Poor Rich Boy’ was released as a single in 1981 but didn’t chart. There was also a strange jazzy instrumental version played throughout the trailer (see below).

It’s a shame in a way but Ambrosia are almost ‘cursed’ for me now – I don’t want to hear anything else by them because I know it won’t be as good… Or will it?