Gig Review: China Crisis @ The Half Moon Putney, 17 May 2024

China Crisis in 2024

China Crisis in 2024 with Gary Daly (vocals) and Eddie Lundon (guitar), centre

It’s an interesting era for acts like China Crisis who were never massive but had significant singles success in the 1980s (five UK top 40 hits).

Though releasing only two albums of new music since 1994, they continue to tour successfully, playing both under their own steam and occasionally as part of big ‘80s-themed package dates such as Let’s Rock.

Now essentially a duo of Gary Daly on vocals and Eddie Lundon on guitars, plus Eric Animan on saxes and Jack Hymers on keyboards/programming, they remain a great live draw mainly due to Daly’s stage presence, pitch-perfect vocals and hilarious between-song anecdotes, plus the obviously excellent songcraft.

As Daly pointed out, China Crisis remain a singular, immediately identifiable band, completely different to other early ‘80s Liverpool acts (though they actually originate from nearby Kirkby) like Echo & the Bunnymen, The Teardrop Explodes and Frankie Goes To Hollywood.

They specialise in willowy, intriguing melodies, haunting synths, clever rhythm guitars, obtuse lyrics and slinky grooves, and, of course, Steely Dan’s Walter Becker produced their best two albums, Flaunt The Imperfection and Diary Of A Hollow Horse.

Their sold-out visit to the venerable, reliable old Half Moon in Putney saw them plugging a new collection of re-imagined old favourites. It was movingtheriver’s first visit to the great venue for at least ten years, though I have fond memories of gigging there regularly in the early 1990s.

Coming onstage to a synth overture featuring some of their most popular themes, CC started with low-key, atmospheric ‘The Soul Awakening’ (with its neat nod to ABC’s ‘SOS’) and ‘Here Comes A Raincloud’, before Daly exploded into life demanding that the house lights be turned on, deadpanning: ‘If I’m gonna play these small f*ckin’ venues, I want to see you all.’

After more amusing greetings, including unprintable tilts at Bono and random asides – ‘Don’t get me started on Phil Oakey’ – he previewed the superb ‘It’s Never Too Late’, originally recorded in 1983 but for some reason relegated to B-side status, by rightly pointing out that it should have been a massive hit single and also claiming that it ‘f*ckin’ is too late or we wouldn’t be playing venues like this’, and there were airings of lovely early torch songs ‘Temptation’s Big Blue Eyes’ and ‘Red Sails’.

Daly paid tribute to Becker – ‘he changed our lives and our music’ – with a killer double from Flaunt, ‘Strength Of Character’ and ‘Bigger The Punch I’m Feeling’. Daly claimed the latter was somewhat inspired by ‘The Love Boat’ TV theme and also that it was a vague tribute to one of the most popular bands in UK singles history: ‘Shut your f*ckin’ eyes and think Hot Chocolate’.

‘African And White’, with intricate new guitar voicings from Lundon, finally revealed the meaning behind the baffling chorus – ‘Life is a fever in Israel’ – another one for the misheard lyrics file. The big hits arrived with mass audience participation and general affection for this most likable of bands – ‘Arizona Sky’, ‘Best Kept Secret’, ‘Black Man Ray’, ‘King In A Catholic Style’ and ‘Christian’, Daly claiming the latter’s UK #12 chart position would have been much improved by a bagpipe solo.

He ended a hugely enjoyable gig with an impassioned speech paying tribute to the UK’s smaller, grassroots venues such as the Half Moon, and an attack on Tory attitudes to the arts and the North in general: ‘Levelling up, my f*cking arse’. China Crisis  continue to tour the UK during the rest of 2024 – don’t miss.

Billy Cobham @ 80: Five From The 1980s

The author with Billy Cobham, autumn 2000

Many happy returns to Mr Cobham who turned 80 this week. His drum mastery continues to inspire.

Movingtheriver pretty much learnt to drum by listening to Mr Cobham’s Spectrum, David Sanborn’s (RIP) Hideaway, Steely Dan’s Aja and a few more. His playing was sheer class, something to aim for. There was always an emphasis on technical excellence and good tuning – but the most important thing was the music, the groove.

I was fortunate enough to study with Mr Cobham at the Guildhall School of Music circa 2000. Unforgettable memories.

To celebrate his 80th birthday, here are five key moments from his 1980s. The early part of the decade saw Mr Cobham forge a new life in Switzerland, whilst fronting various bands featuring the likes of Mike Stern, Don Grolnick and Gil Goldstein. Then came the short-lived, controversial tenure in John McLaughlin’s revamped Mahavishnu Orchestra (explored in my book) which nonetheless produced some great music, and then a high-profile return to the solo career via Dave Grusin and Larry Rosen’s GRP Records.

5. Drum Clinic (Part 6), BBC TV, 1982 (?)
Here’s where it all started for movingtheriver. My dad caught it totally by chance on BBC2 and luckily recorded it onto a VHS. It blew the minds of many British drummers including Level 42’s Phil Gould who was reportedly present at the filming.

4. Billy Cobham/Herbie Hancock/Ron Carter: ‘Eye Of The Hurricane’, Lugano, Switzerland, 1983
A period when Billy embarked on various brilliant European collaborations. Still one of the most exciting, propulsive trios I’ve ever heard in acoustic jazz.

3. ‘The Dancer’ (1985)
If memory serves, I was given Mr Cobham’s Warning for my 13th birthday, alongside Joni Mitchell’s Dog Eat Dog and Steely Dan’s The Royal Scam. What a day that was. I still love this album and am glad I kept the vinyl.

2. ‘The Debate’ (1986)
Warning’s followup Power Play didn’t quite have the impact of his GRP debut but Billy’s drums have arguably never been better recorded.

1. Live In Cannes (1989)
A recent find this, worth watching for a rare look at Billy playing timbales (during the first song) and also his fine hookup with percussionist Nippy Noya.

Book Review: Absolute Beginner by Kevin Armstrong

Most fans of 1980s pop and rock will have come across the name Kevin Armstrong, guitarist with Iggy Pop, Morrissey, Sinead O’Connor, John Lydon, Propaganda, Tin Machine, Prefab Sprout, Thomas Dolby and Paul McCartney, and famously part of David Bowie’s band at Live Aid.

His enjoyable new memoir ‘Absolute Beginner’ is that rare thing – a book by a British session player who has borne witness to massive egos, occasional artistic triumphs and typical music biz disappointments, all the while trying to get a reasonable guitar sound.

But the book is anything but a polite/completist career overview – Armstrong knows where the bodies are buried and doesn’t hold back on salacious details. He’s also blatantly honest about his own perceived musical shortcomings and mental health issues.

Finally the book comes over as something like a cross between Giles Smith’s ‘Lost In Music’ and Guy Pratt’s ‘My Bass And Other Animals’, with just as many laughs as both.

We learn about his misspent youth in the relatively salubrious environs of Orpington, Kent, nurturing his increasing interest in the guitar and music of David Bowie, Yes, Zappa and Roxy Music (and ponders whether Eno’s squealing synths caused him some hearing loss issues when watching Roxy supporting Alice Cooper). There are superb passages about the power of listening to a great album while studying the sleeve and indulging in ‘mild hallucinogens’.

The punk era sees Armstrong squatting in Brixton, hanging out with The Slits and recording with Local Heroes (on Charlie Gillett’s record label) and The Passions. There’s a whole chapter on collaborating with Thomas Dolby, lots on laying down Steve McQueen with Prefab (fronted by the ‘emotionally fragile’ and ‘shy’ Paddy McAloon) and some hilarious stories about playing in Jonathan Ross’s house band for ‘The Last Resort’.

But the real meat and drink of the book is the fabulous section on Live Aid, particularly illuminating the strange realities of the music industry when he returns alone to his tiny West London flat soon after performing for two billion people. There are also fascinating, funny stories about recording ‘Absolute Beginners’ and ‘Dancing In The Street’.

His dealings with Bowie during the Tin Machine era are also as intriguing as you might expect (as is his story about being ‘let go’ before the release of that band’s debut album, also nixing the rumour that Bowie gave up booze a long time before 1989…), as are those with the mercurial McCartney, the superstitious, over-sensitive Morrissey and bizarre O’Connor.

There are many revelations too around touring with Iggy Pop, as well as some refreshingly honest opinions on some of his bandmates (especially – and surprisingly – drummer Gavin Harrison…) and a fascinating detour into joining a choir led by Eno.

But Armstrong saves most of his bile for his late entrée into the world of TV advertising: ‘Blind optimism and over-confidence drew me inexorably into the seedy and frightening world of production music…a world so steeped in bullshit and doublethink that it beggars belief’!

‘Absolute Beginner’ is one of the most enjoyable music memoirs movingtheriver has read over the last few years. Just when you think you know where it’s going, it delivers yet another zinger. It’s an absolute must for any fans of Bowie, Iggy, Dolby or Prefab, while offering the casual 1980s and 1990s music fan loads of tasty morsels.