Category Archives: Blog

Women In Revolt (Art And Activism In The UK 1970-1990) @ Tate Britain

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Behind the shiny, fun, tabloid version of the 1980s, there was an undercurrent of protest, upheaval and misogyny.

In the latter camp, how about the following astonishing UK laws still enshrined at the dawn of the decade: men had a right to have sex with their wives without consent. Welfare benefits were paid to married women via their husbands.

A fascinating new exhibition at London’s Tate Britain investigates the woman artists and activists whose work was a reaction to these and other issues. There’s a strong presence for punk, post-punk and industrial musicians: Gina Birch of The Raincoats, Throbbing Gristle’s Cosey Fanni Tutti and Poly Styrene of X-Ray Spex. We see fanzines, posters, gig excerpts.

There’s groundbreaking video art – Vivienne Dick’s ‘Two Little Pigeons’ and Birch’s scream are particularly memorable. We see banners, collages, sculptures and newsletters produced by the women who marched from Cardiff to Greenham Common in September 1981, challenging the decision to house 96 nuclear missiles on the site.

There’s a focus on the British Black Arts Movement, a group of artists who gathered in the wake of various uprisings in the early 1980s, from Toxteth to Brixton, and also Four Indian Women Artists, the first UK exhibition organised by and exclusively featuring women of colour.

Margaret Thatcher cut arts funding drastically in the mid-’80s, a decision which ushered in corporate sponsorship and prompted a backlash from many woman artists who began to show their work in local spaces, community centres, libraries, cafes and homes. We see much of this material and learn about its contexts.

And then of course there are the famous sexist advertising billboards, wittily defaced.

The exhibition constantly undermines Thatcher’s comment to Woman’s Own magazine in 1987 that ‘there’s no such thing as society’. And there’s a surprise around every corner. It’s moving, amusing, disturbing and educational in equal measures, and a reminder that protest and assemblage can create change. But the exhibition is also very large and probably takes two visits to really appreciate.

Women In Revolt! runs at the Tate Britain until 7 April 2024. A new podcast interviews some of the key artists.

Then Jerico: Now That’s What I Call…Not Bad

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Of course it was just teenage aggro/jealousy, but my schoolmates and I were always a bit suspicious of those late-‘80s pop acts who were much fancied by our female friends: Morten Harket, Richard Marx, Jason Donovan, the Goss brothers, Marti Pellow, Nathan out of Brother Beyond, those blokes from Big Fun.

But Mark Shaw of Then Jerico was probably their favourite, instantly putting his band’s music into the dumper, even though we probably all had a soft spot for their 1987 hit ‘The Motive’.

Listening back now on a good system, it’s a superb-sounding single – impactful, clean and shiny, with great instrument separation. It typified late-1980s British pop/rock helmed by excellent producers who had learnt their trade in the golden age of commercial recording studios, people like Tim Palmer, Rhett Davies, Peter Henderson, Andy Richards, Jon Kelly, Rick Nowels, Mike Shipley, Bruce Lampcov, Peter Collins, Julian Mendelsohn, Gary Langan et al.

Of course Trevor Horn was an overarching influence, representing the gold standard. It Bites’ Francis Dunnery mocked ‘Big Area’ (see below) producer Langan (collaborator with Horn on Yes’s 90215, Malcolm McLaren’s Duck Rock and FGTH) in a 2021 interview for PROG magazine: ‘Everyone who had ever walked past Horn was given a record to produce. I think Trevor’s milkman produced Then Jerico and had a hit!’

Yes, there was a fair amount of turd-polishing but these producers inspired the late-1980s rock comeback, generating hits for Breathe, Fuzzbox, Cutting Crew, Paul Young, Love & Money, Deacon Blue, Killing Joke, All About Eve, The Mission.

And Then Jerico. Maybe they were actually pretty good. Their best songs – ‘Sugar Box’, ‘The Motive’, ‘Big Area’ – marry a sort of U2/Simple Minds/Tears For Fears ‘thing’ with Shaw’s tremulous vocals to strirring effect, something akin to the sound of falling in love. When any of them come onto ‘Forgotten 80s’, it’s impossible to turn off. Though one is still slightly reticent about checking out a whole album in one sitting.

And guess what – Shaw has reformed the band, and they’re touring extensively this year. And he has rather a juicy/chequered recent past to tell of too.

 

The CD Cull

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New year, new CD collection.

December 2022 saw the Second Annual CD Cull, not quite as drastic as the Great Cull Of 2021 but still pretty ‘brutal’ (can we please ban the use of that word in 2023 unless it refers to human atrocities?!).

In this annual period of reinvention and rebirth, some people throw out clothes, books and furniture – these days I look with fear and pity at my overburdened CD shelves.

CDs have lots of pros: sound quality, liner notes, cover artwork. But they are heavy, take up space, and looking at my stash is also a tacit admission of guilt at not getting to record shops as much as I used to.

But which CDs to keep? Of course there are the untouchables, in my case: Steely, John McLaughlin, Weather Report/Jaco/Wayne, Level 42, Jeff Beck, Syd, Ornette, Monk, Joni, Miles, Prefab, Little Feat, Marvin, Zappa, Scritti, Faith No More/Mr Bungle, It Bites, Danny Wilson et al.

Then there were the CDs I’m not altogether sure about but aren’t available on any other formats. So it’s a stay of execution for:

Lil Louis’ From The Mind Of Lil Louis
Robin Eubanks’ Karma

Then there are ones I haven’t listened to for ages. So I listened to them. Did I still want the below? Yes. They all screamed ‘classic’ pretty much from the first bar:

Human League’s Dare
Morphine’s Like Swimming
Brad Mehldau’s Places
Geri Allen: The Gathering
Brecker Brothers Collection Vols. 1 and 2
Gary Clail’s Dreamstealers

Little Axe’s The Wolf That House Built
Lonnie Liston Smith’s Cosmic Funk
Albert Collins & The Icebreakers’ Live ’92-’93
Blur’s Blur
Flaming Lips’ The Soft Bulletin
D’Angelo’s Brown Sugar

But stuff has to go, so you need a system. There were soundtrack albums with one or two superb vocal tracks but which otherwise flattered to deceive:

Isaac Hayes’ Shaft
Marvin’s Trouble Man

There were compilation albums that were badly put together, inconsistent or lacking decent liner notes/info. So it’s goodbye to:

Roy Ayers’ A Shining Symbol
The Jimi Hendrix Concerts
Living Colour: Pride
On-U Sound’s Pay It All Back Vol.4
Ian Dury & The Blockheads’ Reasons To Be Cheerful
Peaches: The Very Best Of The Stranglers

Then there were the studio albums that had just a few good tracks and/or no musician details etc.:

Robert Palmer’s Double Fun
Angela Bofill: Love In Slow Motion
Propaganda’s Wishful Thinking
Red Hot Chili Peppers’ Freaky Styley
Randy Newman’s Bad Love
Dee-Lite’s World Clique
Blur’s 13 (also in retaliation at Graham Coxon’s constant/irritating ‘shaming’ of the 1990s in recent interviews)
Van Halen’s Women And Children First/1984/Diver Down/Fair Warning
Zawinul Syndicate’s Lost Tribes
John Coltrane: ‘58/Both Directions At Once
D’Angelo’s Black Messiah

Finally, there are those CDs that are just appallingly remastered:

XTC’s Nonsuch/English Settlement
Bill Bruford’s One Of A Kind (2018 version)

I’ve probably left quite a few out here. Yes I’ll probably rue getting rid of some of ‘em. But it had to be done. I hope they have gone to a good home. Now, which CDs will kick the bucket in YOUR gaff…? (And a tip of the hat to the excellent Reckless Records in Soho, who always offer good prices/friendly service. )

Spotify Guilt/How The LP Saved Our Lives

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Reading David Hepworth’s ace book ‘A Fabulous Creation: How The LP Saved Our Lives’ brought back memories of a lifetime’s album-buying.

As he says, if you were a music fan and under 30 in the 1970s, 1980s or 1990s, you probably spent every penny of your disposable income on albums. And there were serious decisions to be made. If you were in the HMV Megastore and found a couple of US rarities but only had enough cash for one, it was a very big call. Mike Stern’s Time In Place or Lyle Mays’ Street Dreams? Better choose right, it might be a few months before you could afford another cassette.

If you were awaiting a new album, after spotting the release date in Q or the Melody Maker, it wasn’t abnormal to visit your nearest record shop twice in a few days to check if it had arrived. In my teens, I remember enduring a 30-minute bus ride (each way) to my local Our Price specifically to buy It Bites’ Eat Me In St Louis and Larry Carlton’s Last Nite.

There were definitely a lot of moody ‘High Fidelity’-style shop keepers (always men), but some were more friendly/forthcoming. In a classic discounted store in Soho, I think Sister Ray’s, I remember handing over my Prefab Sprout Protest Songs and Van Halen Women And Children First CDs and the assistant grinning and saying, ‘I thought I was the only person in the world who liked both of these albums!’

So I gave the record business a huge amount of my money in the latter half of the 1980s and 1990s. And, as we keep reading, ‘old’ music is hugely outselling ‘new’ music in 2022. Which brings us to my troubled relationship with Spotify. I’m hardly buying any new physical music at the moment. Convenient as it is, Spotify Premium is a lazy option.

I scour the music mags (these days mainly JazzTimes and Classic Pop) and always take the time to listen to every album that piques my interest. But unless it’s an absolute corker, I fillet the two or three good tracks onto a playlist, just as in the 1990s when I used to make cassette tapes of brilliant songs from less-than-brilliant albums. I’ve rounded a lot of them up on this playlist.

I’ve also recently bought a very long audio cable which connects my laptop to the big speakers in my living room, so I can listen properly to this stuff, albeit with all the attendant audio quality issues, but it still gives the illusion that I’m listening to an album ‘as the artist intended’. Balls. The artist is making close to no money from Spotify, unless the streaming numbers are in their multimillions.

So my troubled relationship with Spotify continues, especially as the cost of living rises and rises. Yes we take music where we find it and pay for ‘convenience’ but a far more conscious decision is needed to save ‘new’ stuff. And of course it would help if artists made sure every album track was a winner. Great artwork wouldn’t hurt too.

movingtheriver.com wants YOU!

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Putting together movingtheriver.com has been a real blast over the last six years or so.

We’ve spaffed reviews, interviews, lists, theories, trivia, jokes and all kinds of gubbins up the wall, to get us through this thing called…life. And it’s always been fun chewing the fat with readers and fellow bloggers alike.

But now, in somewhat of a crunch time, it would be hugely appreciated if you would consider supporting the site, either with a one-off or regular donation. It’ll take just a minute and can be done here.

It’s tough for a lot of people in the music world at the moment, and not much different for your correspondent.

What’s in it for you, I hear you ask. Any donations will go towards reducing ads on the site and starting a movingtheriver podcast. You’ll also make an old man very happy and garner his undying gratitude. But hey, I’ll carry on producing three or four articles/podcasts a month, come what may!

So see you further down the trail, and thanks.

Happy 5th Birthday To Me

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Can it really be five years ago today that a piece on Prefab Sprout’s Swoon kicked off this whole damn movingtheriver.com experiment?

Yes it ruddy well can, and it’s been a fun ride.

Even though there are some weeks when it seems the well has truly run dry, ’80s music and movies (to mix metaphors) turn out to be the gifts that keep on giving – there are always old sounds that continue to surprise and new avenues to explore.

So thanks for checking in and contributing now and then. You’ve made an old man very happy. My friend Spike Jones probably says it best:

Steve Martin in…Homage To Steve!

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My Steve Martin ‘thing’ probably peaked around 1989.

I had just found his ‘Live!’ video (bought on the same day as The Blue Nile’s Hats, if memory serves) and already loved his Wild And Crazy Guy LP, ‘borrowed’ from a family friend.

‘Live!’ was taken from a September 1978 gig at the Universal Amphitheatre, Los Angeles (supported on the night by The Blues Brothers), when Steve was about as big as a comedian can get.

He was even on the cover of People magazine (or ‘Screw Up Your Life’ magazine, as he called it).

Back then, if there’d been anything like the marketing machine of today, he could have retired on the sales of Steve Martin bunny ears, Lucky Astrology Mood Watches or arrows-through-the-head alone.

So how did he do it? Or should that be why? As the cliché goes, maybe America was ready for stupid jokes after Vietnam and Watergate. Someone once said that Steve brought surrealism to the masses.

It’s probably not an exaggeration to say that movies like ‘Airplane’ wouldn’t have happened without him. But he had a philosophical, post-modern approach too, often starting out with the punchline and then working backwards – or never supplying one at all.

And he was a pretty damn decent magician, musician and juggler too.

And of course he was basically ‘in character’ on stage, an uptight, arrogant white guy in a white suit (remind you of anyone? Stop Making Sense indeed, though apparently the suit idea came from one-time roommate Martin Mull…).

During the ‘with-it’, drug-fuelled 1970s, Steve was desperately trying (and failing) to ‘get down’, to be hip, cool and one step ahead of the audience. But the character generally failed, becoming grouchy and out of his depth, hence the famous ‘Excuuuuuuse…meeeeee!’ catchphrase.

Steve was also a Philosophy Major (I can’t say for sure if it influenced my choice to study the subject at university, but with hindsight maybe it did…) and his reminiscences of ‘the intellectual thing’ used to make me laugh a lot: ‘I studied the ethical questions. Is it OK to yell “Movie!” in a crowded fire house? The religious questions. Does the pope sh*t in the woods?’

Then there were the albums – his friend and movie producer Bill McEuen had been recording gigs since the mid-’70s. By ’76, Warner Bros were sniffing around.

Again, it’s easy to forget how far ahead of his time Martin was – stand-up comedy albums were extremely rare at the time, and he didn’t just enjoy some success but smashed it out of the park: Let’s Get Small, A Wild & Crazy Guy and Comedy Is Not Pretty all went either gold or platinum (and were almost impossible to find in the UK until fairly recently – I had to buy them at the much-lamented J&R Music World during a trip to New York in the mid-1990s).

By 1981’s The Steve Martin Brothers album, the game was up – it was his worst and lowest-selling record.

Steve got out of stand-up and into movies. Again, he was way ahead of the curve and extremely influential – you could make a good case for the ’80s scene being wholly driven by comedian-turned-actors: Billy Crystal, Rob Reiner, John Candy, Eddie Murphy, Robin Williams, Whoopi Goldberg, Barry Levinson, Chevy Chase, Dan Aykroyd etc etc.

Since then, Steve has ploughed his own path, writing books, playing the banjo, getting into ‘serious’ acting with some aplomb (‘Grand Canyon’, ‘The Spanish Prisoner’). Some people will never forgive him. Dennis Pennis spoke for many when he zapped Steve with this cruel zinger in the late 1990s:

But hey, that’s my homage to Steve. And if there weren’t enough jokes for you… Excuuuuuse…meeee!

The Walkman Legacy (AKA The Rise Of The Zombies)

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Yesterday, when for the fifth time I was forced to avoid a rapidly approaching, earphone-wearing, phone-fixated zombie, it occurred to me that something had gone pretty wrong.

I remember the first time I was really blown away by my Walkman. It was Thomas Dolby’s samples on Joni Mitchell’s song ‘The Three Great Stimulants’. Those clanging industrial sounds seemed to be physically encroaching on me.

Then there were a few other striking sonic details only revealed by close Walkman listening, including Donald Fagen’s stereo-traversing reverb vocals on Steely Dan’s ‘The Caves Of Altamira’.

The Walkman was the beginning of the truly solipsistic musical experience. But back then headphone listening definitely seemed a musical experience, designed for quiet contemplation rather than moving around the bustling big city (despite Cliff’s sojourn through Milton Keynes in the superbly naff ‘Wired For Sound’ video).

I took it to be an aural not psychological phenomenon – it was for wading into the music, not blocking out the world. (Actually a lot of ’80s music seems made for headphone listening. Talking Heads’ Speaking In Tongues and Dolby’s The Flat Earth spring to mind. Is that true of music now? Isn’t it just loud then quiet, or quiet then loud? Does this matter?)

Spotify’s MD Daniel Ek sums things up very well: ‘We are in the moment space, not the music space’. In other words, every important life ‘moment’, every emotion, should be accompanied by music. Or there’s probably something wrong with you.

This might be something to celebrate for musicians – it is, to a degree, but only a tiny percentage of artists are making money from streaming services. Taken to its extreme, it’s another weapon in the war on reality, another mode of desensitization. We are sleepwalking into trouble. We must be mindful. As JG Ballard said, there are danger signs ahead.

A fear of robots? Maybe we are the robots. As we walk around in a zombified state, we are losing touch with each other. Street banter is disappearing.  Philosopher Michael Sandel recently wrote in his book ‘What Money Can’t Buy’: ‘Altruism, generosity, solidarity and civic spirit are like muscles that develop and grow stronger with exercise. One of the defects of the market-driven society is it lets these virtues vanish.’

Remember when you rushed to the shops to buy an album? We might do well to keep that excitement about music. It’s not wallpaper or the soundtrack to the mundanities of life. To paraphrase Bill Shankly, it’s far more important than that.

Francis Dunnery Meets…Killing Joke?

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You wait all day for a prog/pop legend and then three turn up at once.

David Sancious, Francis Dunnery and Peter Gabriel gathered at London’s Abbey Road Studios on 7th February for a Steinway Pianos event:

Ex-It Bites frontman Francis posted on his always-entertaining Facebook page:

‘It was great to see David and Peter again. I’m havin’ fun here at Abbey Road. I’m hanging with Youth who I found out is a Capricorn. Killing Joke were an amazing band. It’s all good. Performance tonight for loads of Germans for Steinway Hamburg…‘

Now that I wanna hear: the Francis D/Killing Joke collaboration. I always suspected It Bites’ classic near-hit ‘Midnight’ was a teeny bit influenced by the Joke’s ‘Love Like Blood’.

It’s a very busy time in the Dunnery camp – he’s just finished the sold-out ‘Eat Me In St Louis’ UK tour (named after It Bites’ 1989 album), played a solo gig at Iridium in New York, has a live album out and is recording a new studio record.

He also has some UK house concerts booked in March and will return next year for ‘The Big Lad In The Windmill’ tour. Looking forward to that.

In the meantime, check out my review of Francis’s recent London gig in issue 38 of Classic Pop magazine.

‘Tis The Season For Crap Cover Versions

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An ’80s music scribe whose name escapes me once wrote that Paul Young didn’t just murder Joy Division’s ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’, he dismembered it and burnt its house down.

I’m paraphrasing of course, but, listening to the current crop of seasonal offerings, I can sympathise.

Readers in the UK will have recently been – or will shortly be – inundated with Christmas TV ads half-inching ‘classic’ songs.

Years gone by have seen hugely successful ‘pop’ takes on ‘indie’ standards such as Lily Allen’s ‘Somewhere Only We Know’, and probably a few more too.

Love ’em or hate ’em, at least there’s some kind of stylistic consistency there. More disturbing is the recent appropriation of soul and funk classics.

There’s a beyond-anodyne, twee, puny take on Rufus & Chaka Khan’s ‘Ain’t Nobody’ knocking about, sung by a vocalist/arranged by an arranger who have meticulously removed every vestige of emotion, feel and syncopation from the original.

You could say the same about the version of Camille Yarbrough’s ‘Take Yo’ Praise’ currently all over the telly. Thank you, some bright spark in adland. High-fives all round. (Of course Fatboy Slim was first out of the blocks with this one).

And we won’t even get into the cover of Chic’s ‘Good Times’ that has recently reared its ugly head.

When did all of this start? I blame Foghorn Florence’s annihilation of Candi Staton’s ‘You Got The Love’. (She even had the audacity to rename it ‘You’ve Got The Love’.)

On the plus side, the original writers are getting a decent wedge from the publishing. Yarbrough apparently takes 60% of the Fatboy royalties. So at least the pioneers won’t have any problem buying Christmas presents this year, or any other for that matter.

But money isn’t everything. So I’ll be hunkering down and attempting to avoid Elbow’s cover of ‘Golden Slumbers’ for as long as humanly possible. In the meantime, feel free to nominate your worst-ever cover versions below.