Category Archives: 1988

The Cult Movie Club: The Exorcist @ 50

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William Friedkin and William Peter Blatty’s horror masterpiece received its premiere 50 years ago today – Boxing Day, 1973.

I’ll never forget my first viewing of the film. My dad suggested we go to a late-night Friday screening at a nightclub-cum-cinema called Options in deepest Kingston-upon-Thames sometime during late summer 1988.

I was 15 years old. I didn’t have a clue what lay in store for me. I’d seen ‘The Fog’, ‘Halloween’ and ‘An American Werewolf In London’ but this was a completely different kettle of fish.

The house was absolutely packed and the print was awful – this was years before ‘The Exorcist’ got a posh Warner Bros. re-release. But the graininess of the picture actually suited this truly ‘forbidden’ movie; it was still banned on video in 1988 and had the cache of a lost cult classic.

If memory serves, I spent most of the film completely terrified while my dad frequently laughed at it, possibly to mitigate my reactions and make me realise ‘it’s only a movie’ – or because he was scared too.

I still vividly recall the hideous demon face (which haunted my dreams for a few weeks afterwards) and the scraping/scratching soundtrack. And then the panic of the penultimate scene followed by moving/disturbing denouement, with Regan’s very visible facial scars, before being cut loose from the film, battered and bleeding, and hearing Salt-N-Pepa’s ‘Push It’ incongruously booming out from the nightclub below as we left the cinema. It also wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that the movie got me thinking seriously about spiritual matters for the first time.

Watching ‘The Exorcist’ recently for the first time in five years or so, I was again mesmerised by the masterful first hour, with Friedkin’s documentary-style brilliance, fast pacing and wonderful performances from Jason Miller, Ellen Burstyn, Linda Blair and Lee J Cobb. It still makes the likes of ‘The Omen’ and ‘Rosemary’s Baby’ look fairly ridiculous.

But a few things rankled – the abuse of Regan by various male ‘authority’ figures. And, speaking from experience, in my view it would still be madness to show this film to under-18s.
Also where were the press/paparazzi at the McNeil house while all of this hooey was going on? After all, Ellen Burstyn is supposed to be playing a world-famous actress.

And take your pick of the scenes controversially excised by Friedkin to trim the film down to two hours, but I really could have done with the so-called ‘Casablanca’ ending. But the power of ‘The Exorcist’ is undiminished after 50 years. Happy birthday to a classic and RIP director William Friedkin.

Jean-Michel Jarre: Destination Docklands @ 35

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35 years ago this weekend, French synth pioneer Jean-Michel Jarre played two concerts at London’s Royal Victoria Docks, in an area of East London known as Docklands.

Destination Docklands took place on a huge, somewhat dilapidated site next to the Thames, the largest of the three Royal docks in the borough of Newham. The area was completely refurbished a few years later.

Both the Saturday and Sunday concerts were reportedly attended by 100,000 people. There were fireworks, lasers, choirs, dancers and a Hank Marvin guest spot. My dad spontaneously drove us out to Woolwich on the Saturday evening (quite a journey from South-West London) and unsuccessfully tried to get us in, though I distinctly remember the thrill of seeing the lasers and fireworks in the sky.

Brilliantly, the second night (beset by torrential rain and high winds) was filmed by Mike Mansfield, the director best known for his hilarious ‘Cue The Music’ clips on late-night ITV. His documentary makes for fascinating, funny viewing today, most of the (rather ‘eccentric’…) musicians having to be shadowed by umbrella-holding extras. Jarre seems to enjoy it, though, quipping: ‘Frogs like rain!’ However it’s questionable how much of this music was played live, if any…

Did you go to either of the concerts? Let us know your memories below.

Little Feat: Let It Roll 35 Years On

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If memory serves I was given the cassette of Little Feat’s Let It Roll for my 16th birthday.

I loved their cocktail of blues, acid-rock, funk, fusion, country, Cajun and Tex-Mex. And they – along with Steely Dan – seemed to represent everything exciting and glamorous about America to me, also introducing exotic-sounding place names like Georgia, Atlanta (!), Tupelo and Juarez.

A burgeoning drummer, I also particularly dug their skinsman Richie Hayward who belongs in the same bracket of 1970s groovemasters as James Gadson, Jeff Porcaro, Jim Keltner, Jim Gordon, Earl Young, Bernard Purdie et al.

I was excited to listen to Let It Roll – which recently turned 35 – again after many years, so I looked for my old cassette. Gone. I must have got rid of it years ago. Why? A re-listen brought it all back.

Recorded at The Complex, the LA studio owned by EW&F’s Maurice White, it was their comeback album, their first since the death of chief singer/songwriter/slide guitarist Lowell George in 1979. Of course the absence of George is palpable. Despite new vocalist Craig Fuller’s vague similarity to George in both vocal and slide guitar departments, the days of lyrics like: ‘Onomatopoetry symmetry in motion/They heard about that girl across the ocean’ (‘Down Below The Borderline’) or ‘Heard you got an infection/Just before your lewd rejection’ (‘The Fan’) were long gone.

(According to Hayward, George’s musical influence was also palpable, regularly suggesting fill ideas and rhythms, and frequently telling the drummer that he played too many notes!) Fuller also brings more of a country influence to the band, and there’s less of the ‘white boy got the whoo-whoos!’ (Van Dyke Parks’ analysis of George’s vocal style).

But most of all Let It Roll is inconsistent both song and sound-wise. The good stuff first: opener ‘Hate To Lose Your Lovin’ is a passable pastiche of the classic Feat sound, Second-Line meets funky country, while ‘Cajun Girl’ and the title track are very catchy. ‘Business As Usual’ has a few intriguing harmonic moves and riffs.

Elsewhere there’s too much rather bland AOR, Bruce Hornsby and Steve Winwood apparently the touchstones. Most of the band’s kinks have been ironed out, though Hayward still sounds fantastic, inspired by his new drum hero Manu Katche. Let It Roll could have used some decent mastering too – the volume levels are all over the place.

Surprisingly, the album didn’t chart in the UK but was a very good seller in the US, making #36 on the Billboard Hot 100 and earning a gold disc (they followed it up with 1990’s Representing The Mambo, which I confess I’ve still never heard).

They played a triumphant gig at London’s Town & Country Club in December 1988 though, with special guest Bonnie Raitt on guitar and vocals, and I’m not sure why I wasn’t there. I had to wait until 11 September 2000 to see this brilliant band at the same venue. And, despite the loss of George, Hayward and guitarist Paul Barrere, they’re still an occasional live entity.

(If you’re not acquainted with the band, try Little Feat in their pomp on Feats Don’t Fail Me Now, The Last Record Album or Time Loves A Hero).

Rewind & Play: Thelonious Monk

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It’s a great era for jazz documentaries. The latest exhibit is Alain Gomis’s ‘Rewind & Play: Thelonious Monk’, based around some long-lost footage of the jazz piano giant filming a French TV special at the end of his 1969 European tour.

Some of the edited footage was shown on French TV as ‘Jazz Portraits: Thelonious Monk’ in 1970 (and used in Charlotte Zwerin’s classic 1989 Monk doc ‘Straight No Chaser’), but this film reinstates many outtakes.

We see a broadly-smiling Monk touching down at the airport, travelling by car to the TV studio with wife Nellie and tour manager Jules Colomby, nervously drinking in a hotel bar, petting a dog, eating a boiled egg.

Then Monk is interviewed in the studio by Henri Renaud, a section that is awkward, embarrassing, occasionally a little offensive. Monk answers the questions willingly, honestly and with no little humour. But, as endless retakes are suggested, he becomes frustrated, visibly tiring when no answer is deemed good enough without any explanation given.

(Robin D.G. Kelley has a far more sympathetic take on these proceedings in his peerless Monk biography, though he may well have not seen the outtakes we are privy too here.)

But the sections that really elevate ‘Rewind & Play: Thelonious Monk’ to classic status are the solo piano performances. There are superb renditions of ‘Reflections’, ‘Light Blue’, ‘Nice Work If You Can Get It’, ‘Blue Monk’, ‘Crepescule With Nellie’ and ‘Played Twice’.

Seen on the big screen, we get an oft-forgotten impression of the sheer weight of Monk’s playing, sweat pouring down his face. It’s moving, exciting, essential viewing if you are a fan or just a fan of great piano playing, and telling too: a few months later, he informed his wife that he was ‘really very ill’ and was never quite the same again.

Terence Trent D’Arby: ‘Wishing Well’ Hits #1 35 Years Ago Today

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Of the four hits from Terence Trent D’Arby’s superb debut album Introducing The Hardline According To…, it comes as somewhat of a surprise to report that only ‘Wishing Well’ got to #1 on the US singles chart.

Co-written by Terence and former Rip Rig + Panic bassist Sean Oliver, it reached the top spot 35 years ago today after a remarkable 17-week climb (only Eurythmics’ ‘Sweet Dreams’ endured a longer run to US #1 during the 1980s).

Not bad for a song without a proper chorus. But it hardly matters – it’s such an infectious groove with a brilliant vocal performance.

The album, all but one track co-produced by Terence and Heaven 17’s Martyn Ware, also reached its peak US position of #4 on this date in 1988. It’s still one of the most consistent, exciting debut collections of the decade, well worth revisiting.

Equally impressively, Terence also won a Best Male R&B Vocal Grammy award at the 1988 ceremony, beating off some very heavy company (though he lost out in the Best New Artist category to Jody Watley):

David Sylvian/Holger Czukay: Plight & Premonition

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As winter ghosts gather and Halloween approaches, Plight & Premonition makes for a great seasonal soundtrack.

David Sylvian reportedly hated the term ‘new age’ and wasn’t even that fond of ‘ambient’, preferring the phrase ‘environmental’ to describe his instrumental work of the ‘80s (he lived in South Kensington, a busy part of West London, and occasionally spoke of making music that would remind him of being in nature).

And what a body of work it is. Plight & Premonition is a great conjuring trick – it’s almost impossible to work out how it was done. Sylvian and Czukay concoct an intoxicating blend of tape loops, Dictaphone, acoustic piano, radio recordings, treated guitar and analogue synths which doesn’t sound remotely like anyone else’s ‘ambient’ music.

Sylvian arrived at Czukay’s massive studio near Cologne – an abandoned cinema – in autumn 1986 to work on the latter’s Rome Remains Rome album. But that work never materialised. Instead, after a dinner out, they returned to the studio and started messing about on Czukay’s many instruments.

Sylvian told writer Richard Cook more about the album’s genesis in ‘The Wire’ magazine:

I dislike studios immensely, but I like Holger’s studio because it’s all one room and it’s geared towards the musician. You never really know when you’re being recorded. There was three nights’ worth of improvising. ‘Plight’ was originally just a ten-minute piece of music which Holger worked on for six months afterwards, adding signals from short-wave radio and stuff, and finally turning it into the piece it is now. ‘Premonition’ is a piece we did at the end of the three days and it’s just as it stood.

The only thing we can be sure of is that ‘Plight’ is – tangentially – in E minor, whereas ‘Premonition’ is in E major. The former is disturbing, the latter uplifting. Apart from that it’s best just to let it wash over you.

The album emerged on Virgin’s burgeoning instrumental imprint Venture Records on 21 March 1988. Superbly, it made an appearance in the UK album chart at #71 and sold well. Sylvian was still quite a draw at the time in the slipstream of Secrets Of The Beehive.

However the current streaming/CD version of Plight & Premonition is an awful remix carried out by Sylvian in 2002 during his Everything And Nothing greatest hits period, when he was reassessing everything he’d done for Virgin (and not liking a lot of what he heard).

He inexplicably removed all reverb (both real – via the studio echo chamber – and digital), leading to a fidgety, unpleasantly dry mix with very little depth or substance. Best to find the original 1988 release if you can, and you’ll also get Yuka Fujii’s delicious cover photo too…

It Bites: Live In London

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The classic It Bites lineup (Francis Dunnery, John Beck, Richard Nolan, Bob Dalton) produced three excellent studio albums and of course snared one huge UK hit in the shape of ‘Calling All The Heroes’.

Then, after the band split in 1990, there was the middling live collection Thankyou And Goodnight, and now a limited-edition 2018 box set called Live In London. I must have missed a memo because I only heard about it a year or so ago.

It was well worth the wait. It collects three unedited London gigs (I was at two of them) over five CDs, including their very last major show in the capital.

Whilst these are essentially desk recordings, the sound quality ranges from good to excellent. The box set also features nice, previously unseen photos and some good liner notes including a long interview with Dalton, telling of their London history and details of each gig.

The Marquee concert from 21 July 1986 (at less than 40 minutes, presumably a support?) catches the band in their full-on, zingy, poppy/funky early pomp. Everything sounds a little fast and they haven’t quite settled into their groove yet but it’s still a good listen.

There’s a rather shrill early version of ‘Black December’ and a great, rare outing for ‘Whole New World’ with Dunnery playing the horn lines on lead guitar with some aplomb.

Next is the very tangible peak of the band, a Once Around The World tour gig from 13 May 1988 at the much-missed Astoria. The sound is beefy, the tempos locked in, the backing vocals excellent and this really is the dog’s bollocks. There’s so much evidence of craft, with an extra note here and lick there, always slightly modifying the album versions.

‘Plastic Dreamer’ is a revelation, ‘Black December’ is huge, and ‘Old Man & The Angel’ ambitious and exciting. We finally get to hear what Dunnery sings in ‘Hunting The Whale’. The ‘Midnight/Wanna Shout’ medley is a knockout, complete with ‘Purple Haze’ coda, and Once Around The World’s title track is brilliant, complete with excerpt from ‘New York, New York’ which chimes rather cleverly with Dunnery and Beck’s Lamb Lies Down On Broadway fixation.

The third gig is the band’s final London show, from the Hammersmith Odeon on 7 April 1990. The intro sounds like something from Prince’s Lovesexy. The new songs sound great, ‘Let Us All Go’ is superb but Dunnery’s voice is pretty shot throughout, and some of the backing vocals are also showing signs of strain. In truth you can hear the schisms in the band developing, though there are many, many great moments.

Barely two months later Dunnery had left the group. Not long after that, this correspondent would see him skulking around the King’s Head pub in Fulham (he was rehearsing upstairs with Robert Plant, I was gigging there), not looking a particularly well or happy man. Thankfully he’s on a far more even keel now.

Live In London is a really exciting release, a must-have collection for anyone who owns any of the studio albums, and arguably a much better package than Thankyou And Goodnight.

Further reading: I’ve written about the second It Bites studio album Once Around The World in the current edition of Classic Pop magazine.

Frank Zappa: 1988

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Here’s a panacea for these mad times – spend a few weeks drilling down into the music released from Frank Zappa’s (final) 1988 tour.

It was a vision of modern America and a goodbye to ‘rock’; rather, FZ dealt with country, musical theatre, marches, TV/film themes, early ‘60s jazz, hymns, modern classical, reggae. In contemporary interviews he professed an admiration for Prince, who was also pretty much rejecting ‘rock’ in 1988.

The band had four months of intensive rehearsal, and you can hear it. He got the horn section doing things horn sections don’t normally do, playing lines from ‘The Untouchables’ or a Bartok piano concerto.

Some of rock’s sacred cows – Johnny Cash, Hendrix, Clapton, Led Zeppelin, Elvis – were in the firing line, as were the right-wing Christian fundamentalists running for US presidency in 1988. In fact, anyone restricting his right to speak freely (he cited that his politics were neither intrinsically left nor right-wing). He encouraged fans to register to vote at the shows and also incorporated snippets of daily news (‘confinement loaf’, Jimmy Swaggart etc.).

There were spectacular reimaginings of his old work and a cadre of new cover versions, including ‘Stairway To Heaven’ and Ravel’s ‘Bolero’. There were good, new, sometimes stoopid songs with political lyrics and disarmingly brilliant musical flourishes. The epic ‘Jesus Thinks You’re A Jerk’ became a kind of an epitaph: ‘I hope we never see that day/In the land of the free…And if you don’t believe by now/The truth of what I’m telling you/Then surely I have failed somehow’.

Though the gigs took place in big arenas, there was forensically superb musicianship and also lots of room for improvisation, areas where no one knew exactly what was going to go down. Zappa would set the Synclavier running with random ‘events’ and see how the band responded.

The tour made it down the East Coast of the US and to Europe. I saw the first night at Wembley Arena in April 1988 – an absolute revelation. But sadly the West Coast US leg was cancelled. Some say bassist Scott Thunes became persona non grata, others pointed to Zappa’s health and the huge outlay of the tour. The truth is probably somewhere inbetween. The various views are outlined in Andrew Greenaway’s book ‘Zappa The Hard Way’.

Watching the few bits of tour footage (from Madrid and Barcelona) is interesting – not always an easy watch and apparently neither were particularly good nights on the European tour. But one somehow forgets that Zappa chiefly saw himself as a COMPOSER, and there he is conducting the band through all the instrumentals. He didn’t leave the stage like Miles. Nor did he fine musicians if they screwed up, JB-style, but meticulously ‘comp’d’ only the best performances for any released work from the tour (and often incorporated ‘mistakes’ into a song’s arrangement).

Still, some will just take against Frank’s music – understandable, but it’s their loss. Paraphrasing Ian Penman’s famous hatchet piece: ‘Listen to this stuff quietly because you don’t want your neighbours to hear you listening to this kind of stuff’ – I beg to differ. Play most of this stuff boldly and proudly, because it’s more interesting, more challenging and funnier than 90% of other contemporary music.

Check out the complete albums taken from the tour – Broadway The Hard Way, The Best Band You Never Heard In Your Life, Make A Jazz Noise Here – or I’ve put together a 1980s Zappa playlist which fillets my favourite moments (OK, even I can’t take ‘Planet Of Baritone Women’ or ‘Elvis Has Just Left The Building’…).

Further reading: ‘The Big Note’ by Charles Ulrich

‘The Complete Frank Zappa’ by Ben Watson

11 May 1987: Talk Talk commence recording Spirit Of Eden

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35 years ago today, Mark Hollis (guitar, keyboards, vocals), Tim Friese-Green (keyboards, production), Lee Harris (drums), Paul Webb (bass) and engineer Phill Brown convened at London’s Wessex Studios (don’t look for it – it’s not there any more) to begin work on the Talk Talk album Spirit Of Eden.

During May, June and July 1987, this core unit worked five-day weeks from 11am until midnight, in near darkness apart from an oil projector, a gentle strobe lighting effect and three Anglepoise lamps.

Tim Friese-Green on the Hammond organ, Wessex Studios

Basic tracks laid down, they took a break. On 19 October 1987, work resumed with instrumental overdubs; first woodwinds, then a coterie of world-class musicians including David Rhodes, Bernie Holland and Larry Klein, whose contributions would end up on the cutting-room floor. But those whose performances did make the cut include Nigel Kennedy, Danny Thompson, Robbie McIntosh, Martin Ditcham and Henry Lowther.

Lee Harris’s drum booth, Wessex Studios

Almost a year in the making, Spirit Of Eden was finally released on 12 September 1988 (after a long delay while EMI panicked – it was actually completed on 11 March 1988) and remains one of the most influential, least-dated ‘rock’ albums of the 1980s.

Thanks to Phill Brown for use of his photos.

‘Mark Hollis: A Perfect Silence’ is published by Ben Wardle.

The ‘Spirit Of Eden’ master tapes

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.