Category Archives: Book Reviews

Book Review: Genesis (Song By Song) by Philipp Rottgers

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Despite the twin threats of streaming and AI, it’s gratifying to see that there seems to be an increasing appetite for indepth writing about the good old long player.

This is especially true if you’re into the rich catalogues of the great artists from the ‘60s, ‘70s and ‘80s.

Fonthill Media have put together the latest (hardback) series of ‘song by song’ studies, covering similar territory to Sonicbond’s ‘on track’ series.

Author Philipp Rottgers (he’s also a historian and drummer with the band PARIAHLORD) now enters the fray with an enjoyable new study of pop/prog behemoths Genesis.

The book offers entries on every single song they ever recorded, plus sections on tours, album artwork and contemporaneous critical reactions. There’s also an impressive selection of colour photos, including singles covers new to this writer. There’s no index but an extensive reference section and long bibliography.

Genesis provides an interesting challenge for the discerning author, with such a weighty catalogue and two distinct eras. Rottgers preference seems to be for the 1975-1992 period, when Phil Collins fronted the band.

But the book still offers lots of tasty morsels regarding the band’s earlier Peter Gabriel period. For example, it’s interesting to note that the live debut of ‘Supper’s Ready’ took place at Brunel University, Uxbridge, on 10 November 1972 (one wonder if It Bites knew about this when they played a fantastic 16-minute version of ‘Once Around The World’ at the venue in February 1988).

And Rottgers reveals that Noel Gallagher of all people was influenced by an early track called ‘The Conqueror’.

We skim through the band members’ early biographies pretty quickly (weirdly Rottgers neglects to mention the location of each founding members’ birth) and learn a lot about the patronage and early promotion of impresario/songwriter Jonathan King (whose subsequent ‘dodgy’ dealings are skirted over completely, probably for good reason…).

There’s some great stuff about Collins’ audition for the band, though it would have been nice to know what they played on that Surrey afternoon. There are fascinating muso details about the middle period, like the fact that Banks, Rutherford and Collins were each given a CR-78 drum machine during the Japanese tour of 1978 as gifts from manufacturers Roland, and it became a key sound of the Duke album (and Collins’ Face Value).

There are some superb tidbits about the band’s mid-1980s commercial peak – the analysis of ‘Land Of Confusion’ is particularly detailed – and Rottgers reminds us that the band did a remarkable FOUR nights at Wembley Stadium in 1987.

The final chapter impressively reviews the farewell 2022 concerts in full and also explains the legacy of the band and also the contributions that Banks, Collins and Rutherford made to their instruments and songwriting in general.

Whilst ‘Genesis: Song By Song’ is a huge achievement and obviously a labour of love for Rottgers, there are some strange omissions. He generally eschews musical analysis, surprising given Genesis are famed for their quality musicianship.

And fans of the early work may occasionally scratch their heads at the lack of space given to important, complex earlier works like ‘Mad Man Moon’ and ‘Can Utility & The Coastliners – both only get three lines each! And some Lamb Lies Down tracks also get short shrift.

But all in all, this is a really enjoyable and worthwhile book, amply doing the job of taking one back to the music afresh. Looking forward to Rottgers’ upcoming book on Collins.

Book Review: Rethinking Miles Davis (Fagge/Pillai/Wall eds.)

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In the blizzard of books, articles and tribute albums released to celebrate Miles Davis’s recent centennial, here’s one of the more interesting – though extremely flawed – items.

‘Rethinking Miles Davis’ is a new academic work from Oxford University Press which looks to reassess Miles’s legacy, character and, particularly, his 1980s music.

The tone is set by Tony Whyton’s first chapter entitled ‘Miles Behind’, which starts with a disclaimer: ‘The following chapter focuses on the work of a misogynist and serial abuser of women. Any pleasure derived from the study of Miles Davis should be considered in direct relation to these acts.’

Whyton moves on to claim that, especially in light of the #MeToo movement, we need to ‘think about Miles differently’ and move towards a new kind of jazz appreciation in general.

Essentially it asks us to strip away Miles’s ‘romantic’ myth (the Prince of Darkness, the baddest mother****er, etc.) and focus on reality, informed by other articles about Miles’s battery of women, from Pearl Cleave to Eric Nisenson and Miles’s autobiography itself.

In essence, Whyton is asking oft-considered question of whether we can/should separate a great artist from their deeds – Miles, Picasso, Michael Jackson, Eric Gill or Dali . The short answer may be ‘yes’, but Whyton attempts to persuade that this is a false position.

(Maybe a more interesting question is whether our propensity to ‘forgive’ an artist their deeds is dependent on one’s ‘hierarchy’ of their supposed evils – it’s interesting to survey the above list again…).

It’s a noble pursuit, but seems in vain – this writer is pretty sure lovers of Miles’s work can quite easily separate his musical nous from his sometimes highly questionable actions*.

But there’s much better stuff in ‘Rethinking Miles’. Nicolas Pillai looks at Miles’s appearances on TV and in videos, and the various references to his work which appear in movies. There’s very interesting, original information regarding his ‘Miami Vice’ guest appearance and collaboration with Spike Lee on the ‘Tutu Medley’ video.

Some errors suggest shoddy proofreading and/or research though – he mistakenly credits Mike Gibbs with directing ‘The Miles Davis Story’. It was Mike Dibb. And he rather blithely describes Miles as ‘acting the pimp’ on the cover of You’re Under Arrest, apparently failing to consider Ian Carr’s assertion that he’s dressed in the attire of a ‘Spanish dancer’.

Another interesting section is Pedro Cravinho’s work on tracking Miles’s visits to Portugal over the years, and how that country’s press treated him during his tours.

Elsewhere Roger Fagge’s chapter investigating Miles’s posthumous Doo-Bop album and exploring jazz’s flirtations with hip-hop is engaging and well-researched, with some new insights into the project and an analysis of how Kendrick Lamarr, J Dilla and Robert Glasper bring jazz into their music.

But by far the best – and simplest – section of the book is William Ellis’s collection of Miles-referencing ‘One LP’ photos, featuring Marcus Miller, Terence Blanchard, Eddie Henderson, Mike Stern and others discussing the effect Miles’s music had on their lives and careers.

Elsewhere Tim Wall’s looks at Tutu‘s position in Miles’s discography, its relationship to the work of Prince and Madonna, and Miles’s decision to sign for Warner Bros.

There’s an unfortunate section looking at Tutu’s place in the pantheon of ‘smooth jazz’, spending far too much time on Warner Bros’ ‘fusion’ legacy, and there’s a rather poor exploration of Marcus Miller’s pre-Tutu session career, describing Donald Fagen as a ‘soft rock king’ and Dave Grusin as a ‘jazz instrumentalist’!

Wall also fails to locate another of Miller’s key influences in putting together Tutu: Herbie Hancock’s Speak Like A Child (which Hancock himself claims was influenced by Gil Evans! So everything comes full circle…).

There’s also only the briefest mention of Miller’s pre-Tutu solo albums, particularly 1983’s Suddenly, where he had already rehearsed a fusion of drum machine and real drums, and also worked at combining synth bass and bass guitar.

Wall also inexplicably compares Tutu to Byrne & Eno’s My Life In The Bush Of Ghosts, Herbie Hancock’s Future Shock and Material’s Memory Serves, and rather over-eggs the album’s influences from Prince and Madonna (only one track on Tutu shows any kind of Prince influence – the closing ‘Full Nelson’).

It seems that most critics are unable to spot that Tutu is an extremely original piece of work, more reflecting Miller’s outstanding compositional abilities and Miles’s good instincts than anything else.

But Wall’s article does outline Tutu‘s mixed critical reaction, particularly from the jazz and (American) rock press, but fails to acknowledge the reception it received in the UK, where it was mainly greeted as a funk or even pop album.

The October 1986 edition of The Face magazine reviewed it alongside David Sylvian, Loose Ends and Human League, and also named Tutu as its seventh best album of 1986, alongside Prince, Anita Baker, Iggy Pop, The Smiths, Janet Jackson, Run DMC, Cameo and Talking Heads.

There are other strange omissions – co-producer Tommy LiPuma is mentioned only once (the author also has apparently/curiously never read Ben Sidran’s biography of the Tutu co-producer) and he also fails to acknowledge that it was LiPuma  – not Miller – who reportedly first played Scritti Politti’s ‘Perfect Way’ to Miles.

Wall also supplies a chapter trying to understand better Miles’s ‘shock’ signing for Warner Bros after almost 30 years on CBS, but fails to add much to Paul Tingen, Ian Carr and George Cole’s exemplary work on the matter. And again there are a few odd factual errors, including describing Elvis Costello as an ‘icon of American popular music’!

Will L Finch writes about Miles’s work on the ‘Dingo’ soundtrack alongside Michel Legrand, as well as his appearance in that film. But he misspells trumpeter Chuck Findley’s name, though does include some interesting work on Legrand and the musical antecedents for his soundtrack.

Finally, there’s also a chapter on Miles’s arrangers by Wall and musician/writer Bobbie-Jane Gardner, looking at his collaborations with Gil Evans, George Avakian, Miller and LiPuma.

So, while patchy and error-strewn, ‘Rethinking Miles Davis’ will be a vital addition to any fan’s library. The chapters on Portugal and Miles’s TV appearances certainly offer new material, and even the more humdrum sections will provide food for thought, if not a total ‘rethink’ of Miles’s career.

*But certainly it can be a (refreshing?) shock in our somewhat cossetted age to revisit even Miles’s most ‘media-friendly’ TV appearances, like ‘The Arsenio Hall Show’ or ’60 Minutes’. He seems brutally honest and totally unpolished compared to the relatively ‘coached’ personalities of today. But this writer’s suggestion to the general fan would be to ignore those pieces of footage completely. And while his Autobiography may signal general feelings about musicians, friends and events, it’s full of factual inaccuracies. In short, all of Miles’s public utterances should probably be taken with a huge pinch of salt.

Book Review: Stay Alive (The Life And Death Of Stuart Adamson) by Scott Rowley

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Here’s another missive from the darker side of the music industry.

Author Scott Rowley has obtained the full cooperation of Stuart Adamson’s family, friends and bandmates to tell the gripping, sometimes troubling, sometimes sad, sometimes funny story of the Big Country frontman and Skids guitarist who took his own life in 2001 after struggles with alcoholism and depression.

A brave, unsettling opening takes us right into Adamson’s head just a few days before his death. From there it’s an unflinching look at his troubled life, and Rowley finds plenty in Adamson’s background pointing to mitigating circumstances (his father was jailed in 2004 for abusing children).

‘Stay Alive’ also takes an unusual approach with fairly detailed biographical detail about all the members of The Skids and Big Country. They are a huge part of this story – Richard Jobson and Tony Butler in particular deliver strikingly candid observations on Adamson, as do several family members.

This is also very much a Scottish tale, complete with unedited dialects and much fruity language, from Adamson’s childhood in Cowdenbeath (novelist Ian Rankin went to the same school) onwards.

Adamson makes an almost immediate musical impact during the punk era with The Skids. The Strangers’ JJ Burnel takes an interest as does John Peel, calling Adamson ‘Scotland’s answer to Jimi Hendrix’.

Virgin Records sign the band but indulge in various questionable business decisions; the book is extremely good on the machinations of the post-punk record industry (as is this ‘Play At Home’ documentary from 1984).

Adamson’s relationship with vocalist Jobson starts well – Adamson is particularly protective towards the singer when he finds out about his epilepsy – but the friendship becomes increasingly strained as the band gain some success.

Adamson flees The Skids and hooks up with young guitarist Bruce Watson and the hot West London rhythm section of drummer Mark Brzezicki and bassist Tony Butler (who had already played on Pretenders’ ‘Back On The Chain Gang’). It was Tony who was blown away by the musical chemistry after their first jam session, insisting that he and Mark join Big Country.

But even as the band achieve almost immediate success and create a great bond with their many fans (it’s often forgotten how popular Big Country were in the UK, enjoying 12 Top 40 singles during the 1980s), Adamson can’t ditch the serious drinking. More and more difficult behaviour ensues, including a disappearing act around the time of Live Aid which, to this day, Butler deems almost unforgivable.

But Adamson regroups and enjoys 14 years of sobriety after that difficult summer of 1985. A 1988 reunion leads to a bidding war between Virgin and Warners – they go with the latter, head honchos Russ Titelman and Lenny Waronker apparently marvelling at the band’s musicianship. But it all goes wrong again, Adamson jumping ship in 1989.

Big Country were one of the most musically-literate and distinctive rock bands of the 1980s, and we get plenty on just how they achieved their sound: Adamson’s first wife Sandra was a dancer, and her practice tape featured a piper named Willie Law. Adamson would often try to play along, probably the original source of the ‘bagpipe guitars’ tag that followed Big Country around.

Meanwhile Brzezicki based his style around military rudiments (his Polish father insisted that he work through a RAF drum book) and jazz/rock legends such as Billy Cobham and Lenny White.

The book is excellent on the literary sources of Adamson’s lyrics – even hardcore Big Country fans will probably be surprised how many there are.

There are plenty of pertinent, poignant details about him too. A regular five-a-side player, his football friends report that his nickname was Inspector Gadget, because he always had his legs wrapped around someone.

But there’s no getting away from the fact that the last third of ‘Stay Alive’ is a gruelling portrayal of alcoholism and attendant family breakdown, as Adamson begins a new life in the US and Big Country limp on with varying degrees of success.

Still, this excellent book covers all the bases – it’s an essential read about the 1980s music scene and also somewhat of a cautionary tale which should be read by every agent, manager and PR person.

Of course it’ll also be rather a heartbreaking book for Big Country fans. Their excellent performance of ‘King Of Emotion’ on the Channel 4 show ‘Wired’ (this writer’s first real exposure to the band) came complete with Adamson’s cheeky grin and nod to someone in the front row around 0:25. Hard to think of any other 1980s pop frontmen who were so inclined.

Author Scott Rowley discusses ‘Stay Alive’ in this podcast.

Book Review: Every UK Hit Single (1980) by Richard West

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Authors are finding ever-more ingenious ways to explore 1980s music.

Perhaps due to the democratisation of the era via streaming services – and those services’ general lack of decent credits/info – and advent of YouTube reaction videos, there seems an increasing appetite for behind-the-scenes info.

All of which makes Richard West’s new book ‘Every UK Hit Single: 1980’ very welcome. It goes the whole hog, exploring the stories behind every charting single of 1980 in the chronological order that they entered the UK top 40.

Of course 1980 is a great place to start, a year when heavy metal was thriving and punk was morphing into the nascent Goth, synth pop and New Romantic scenes.

Disco, reggae, ska and funk were regular visitors to the charts, there was a weird doo-wop/rock’n’roll revival and ‘70s icons like Kate Bush, Bryan Ferry, Peter Gabriel and David Bowie were bringing fresh ideas to the table.

West is very well placed to write the book, an author and respected musician, and it’s a great read, a joyful hit of nostalgia. This writer devoured it in a few days.

A good example of his modus operandi is the entry on The Vapors’ memorable one-hit wonder ‘Turning Japanese’ which entered the chart on 1 March 1980. Though skirting the issue of what the song’s actually about (ugly rumours abound…), he gives a neat potted history of the band and their somewhat unlucky chart history.

He’s also excellent on 1980’s many oddities such as the doo-wop revivalists Showaddywaddy and DIY popster Jona Lewie.

It’s destined to be a useful reference book, with an index on each artist mentioned and information on artists’ singles which didn’t make the top 40 during the 1980s. And West does particularly well to avoid repetition – it’s not easy to say something new about each of, say, Bowie’s singles of 1980, but West manages it.

Of course there are pitfalls to his approach. For example, on page one, West fails to identify the songwriter of The Nolans’ ‘I’m In The Mood For Dancing’, the first question your correspondent wanted to know about that annoyingly catchy song (it’s Bob Puzey, who went on to write Hoddle and Waddle’s ‘Diamond Lights’… Ed.)

And a little more musical analysis would have been welcome now and again. And there no getting away from the fact that the book has a no-frills design, with no photos.

But it doesn’t stop ‘Every Hit Single’ from being a fun, snappy read, a great excuse to geek out on the charts of 1980. West is promising more books in the series – good news, especially as 1981 is arguably pop’s greatest ever year…

Book Review: Young Once (A Life Less Heavy) by Nigel Planer

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With perfect timing, towards the end of his excellent memoir, Nigel Planer reminds us that he once played Peter Mandelson in the 2011 ‘Comic Strip Presents…’ film ‘The Hunt For Tony Blair’.

The casting makes perfect sense but a key takeaway from his book is that Planer is hardly the mendacious or Machiavellian sort – by his own admission, ‘haphazard’ and ‘oversensitive’ would probably cover it.

Ben Elton nicknamed him ‘Niggle Complainer’ and he confesses that Neil –  his famous ‘Young Ones’ character – was mainly based upon himself.

But ‘Young Once’ generally refreshes the parts other actor autobiographies can’t reach not just because it’s so well written – he’s a playwright, novelist, poet and songwriter too – but due to its unflinching honesty and sheer variety of ideas.

Planer details his somewhat bohemian upbringing in southwest London, early life as a slightly naive university dropout and long-term patient at the Hospital of Tropical Diseases, before finding his mojo at drama school, developing the Neil character and hooking up with comedy ace faces Alexei Sayle, Rik Mayall, Peter Richardson and Ade Edmondson during the punk era.

The book really gathers momentum at this point, when music and comedy were dovetailing and a political conscience was de rigueur.

He’s completely honest about his sometimes tricky relationship with Richardson, and expresses regret about not doing more work with him, Ade and Rik, outside of the two superb ‘Four Men’ Comic Strip films.

There’s some touching stuff about Mayall’s tragic deterioration and the effect it had on his friends, and lots about the filming of other classic Comic Strip movies. Meanwhile Neil and ‘The Young Ones’ make Planer famous, a fame that hits him hard.

He’s amazed that his TV appearance in ‘Shine On Harvey Moon’ gets three times as many viewers as ‘The Young Ones’ but no one ever comments on the former.

Around the same time he completely fails to recognise David Bowie during the Mexican shoot of ‘Yellowbeard’, describing a ‘lithe man with blond hair’ by the hotel pool whose movements are ‘deliberate and poised’.

And then there’s the revelation that Bowie got Graham Chapman injured during the shoot thanks to an ill-advised, late-night Jeep ride.

But readers of this site will probably particularly enjoy the long section on music. Planer’s pressganged by Bob Geldof into attending the Band Aid recording as Neil, and we get the juicy muso details of recording ‘Hole In My Shoe’ – ably abetted by National Health/Bill Bruford/’It’s My Party’ hitmaker Dave Stewart – and subsequent ‘Top Of The Pops’ appearances.

There’s funny stuff about Planer and Richardson finding their comedy/rock double act supporting Dexys Midnight Runners, AC/DC and Motorhead, amazed to find the latter reading books backstage, and introducing a nascent Curiosity Killed The Cat in a tiny Chelsea club (Crazy Larry’s) wearing only pyjamas and dressing gown. We also get the full story of Bad News’s superb performance at Castle Donington in 1986…

It’s oft forgotten that Planer has enjoyed a formidable stage career too, and he discusses work on ‘Chicago’, ‘We Will Rock You’ and ‘Evita’, plus how he invented his comic alter ago Nicholas Craig, the ultimate luvvie.

‘Young Once’ is a must for anyone who’s interested in alternative comedy and ‘The Young Ones’ era, plus anyone who’s enjoyed Nigel’s work as a ‘serious’ actor (though surprisingly there’s nothing about working with Dennis Potter), writer or musician.

It’s a great London book too – Planer’s adventures take him from Richmond and Twickenham to Notting Hill (where he has a memorable dinner with John Cleese) and a drug-addled Chelsea Harbour.

There are also some quite profound life lessons – it’s ‘an object lesson in why you should never give up’, as the blurb puts it. An enjoyable, intelligent read, ‘Young Once’ is highly recommended.

Book Review: Drums & Demons (The Tragic Journey Of Jim Gordon) by Joel Selvin

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Pop quiz: what do the following tracks have in common? Beach Boys’ ‘Good Vibrations’, Derek and the Dominos’ ‘Layla’, Steely Dan’s ‘Rikki Don’t Lose That Number’, Frank Zappa’s ‘Apostrophe’, Minnie Riperton’s ‘Inside My Love’, The Incredible Bongo Band’s ‘Apache’ and Carly Simon’s ‘You’re So Vain’.

They all feature drummer/percussionist Jim Gordon, who between the mid-‘60s and mid-‘70s was probably the most recorded and celebrated studio drummer in the world (declaring an interest here too: movingtheriver basically learned how to play drums by copying Gordon’s playing on Steely’s Pretzel Logic).

He brought pinpoint time-keeping, smooth grooves, razor-sharp song sense and technical mastery to the kit, but was also a deeply troubled individual whose schizophrenia – exacerbated by drug and alcohol issues – ultimately led to a tragic and shocking crime. He was incarcerated for murdering his mother on 3 June 1983, and died in prison during 2023.

But how did this good-looking, popular, all-American kid end this way? As experienced rock journo and author of ‘Altamont’, ‘Monterey Pop’ and ‘Sly and the Family Stone: The Oral History’, Joel Selvin is perfectly placed to tell this dark tale, and he honours both Gordon’s victim(s) and the drummer himself with a sober, unflinching account.

With the counsel of Gordon’s friends, family members and associates, Slavin outlines his meteoric rise to the top of the music business, the first half of the book featuring entertaining, detailed accounts of work with various Beatles, the Everly Brothers, Joe Cocker, Frank Zappa, Brian Wilson, Jackson Browne and Carly Simon. (The section on Gordon’s tenure with Eric Clapton is particularly illuminating and shocking – the guitarist does not come out well at all…)

The second half descends into very murky waters. There’s shocking evidence of Gordon’s physical abuse of singer/songwriter Rita Coolidge (and his and Clapton’s refusal to give her songwriter credit for ‘Layla’) and great detail about his struggles to get help for schizophrenia and addiction problems.

In fact ‘Drums & Demons’ is an absolute eye-opener with regard to schizophrenia, the voices inside Gordon’s head (tragically, mostly his mother’s) apparently denying him food, amongst other things, and moderating all aspects of his lifestyle.

And if Selvin never quite technically explains why Gordon was such a drum hero (Jim Keltner, Andy Newmark and Jeff Porcaro were huge fans/advocates), the passion for his subject and respect for the drum community as a whole come through loud and clear.

‘Drums & Demons’ joins Bill Milkowski’s ‘Jaco’ and Rob Chapman’s ‘Syd Barrett: A Very Irregular Head’ in the upper echelons of books about gifted, unwell musicians finding themselves alone when the circus has left town. It also perfectly outlines the boom and bust of the studio session scene.

Although at times a difficult, disturbing read, it’s gripping and slickly-written, and highly recommended.

Book Review: Into The Groove by Justin Lewis

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If you’re looking for a good stocking-filler for the 1980s music fan in your life, you could do a lot worse than Justin Lewis’s ‘Into The Groove’.

He’s an experienced rock writer who’s come up with a deceptively simple book idea – take each day (or at least most of them) of the 1980s and document a key music event, reporting them in chronological order.

And it’s mostly fascinating stuff; he’s unearthed some really tasty morsels of 1980s music trivia. Who knew that ‘Stars On 45’ (the Dutch novelty act specialising in disco medleys) led to ‘answer’ tracks from Orange Juice, Squeeze and The Portsmouth Sinfonia? Or that Annie Lennox had to show MTV her birth certificate to prove she was not a ‘decadent transvestite’ before they permitted Eurythmics’ ‘Sweet Dreams’ video to be shown on the channel?

Or that Wham!’s biggest early influence was Level 42? (Apparently they loved Level’s combination of funk and ‘unfunky’ lyrics – presumably it was tracks like ‘Almost There’ and ‘Starchild’ that floated their boat…)

Who knew that the full-length version of George Michael’s ‘Faith’ begins with a church organ playing Wham!’s ‘Freedom’, that Adrian Edmondson was a prolific video director in the ‘80s, or that a UK top 5 from October 1986 was the first time that every song was performed by a female vocalist?

The book also serves as a good compendium of ‘making-of’ song stories. For example, we get the full background of Paul Hardcastle’s ‘19’, including all the copyright issues and the fact that Mike Oldfield, of all people, is now the recipient of a writing credit(!).

You’ll need YouTube at the ready too for fascinating curios, like Tom Waits’ disastrous appearance on live British TV in 1983 alongside Ian Hislop and Peter York. ‘Into The Groove’ also gets credit for expanding its purview beyond rock and pop – there’s interesting info about African, country and blues music too, but very little jazz.

There are some downsides – there’s no index or list of references, and Lewis tries hard to be impartial but his ‘rock snob’ credentials inevitably creep out, Costello, XTC and McCartney etc. getting the rare plaudits.

But no matter – this is a gripping read, amusing and informative, full of tasty trivia treats, a surprise on every page. Highly recommended.

‘Into The Groove’ is published by Elliott and Thompson.

Book Review: Whatever Happened To The C86 Kids? by Nige Tassell

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In 1986, legendary mag NME issued a famous cassette compilation called C86.

Arguably it defined a musical generation, bringing together figureheads of the burgeoning British indie scene from Primal Scream to Bogshed, Stump to The Pastels.

The NME’s timing could hardly have been better – in 1986, ‘indie’ music was beginning to get a sound of its own, John Peel was entering his imperial phase as a Radio 1 presenter, the music press was right on board and independent labels were springing up all over the shop.

The cassette had a huge impact, but did it have an impact on the bands? And what are they up to these days? Nigel Tassell’s hugely enjoyable book tracks them all down and hears their stories.

Some, like Half Man Half Biscuit, The Wedding Present, Primal Scream and Fuzzbox are still going strong, others, like The Soup Dragons and The Bodines burnt brightly for a few years. Other band members ended up as social workers, bike shop owners, solicitors, driving instructors.

The result is a friendly, mostly uplifting tome, a bit like one of those old VH1 ‘Bands Reunited’ shows in book form. A few themes emerge: the major labels sniffing around; Peel Sessions; the ‘name’ producer enlisted for that unsuccessful second album; Alan McGee/Creation Records.

But this is not a tale of rampant egos and prima donnas – it’s all refreshingly low-key (with the possible exception of the chapter on Primal Scream) with a side order of provincial British history too.

Like or loathe the music on C86, this book also perfectly captures the never-to-be-repeated thrill of first getting together in the teenage bedroom and trying to write and rehearse songs. Inadvertently, it’s also a sad comment on the loss of music in pubs and clubs across this isle of noises.

Tassell’s brisk, chatty style may divide opinion, but it’s entirely appropriate for a mostly heartwarming companion piece to Giles Smith’s ‘Lost In Music’ and Nick Duerden’s ‘Exit Stage Left’, outlining the pros and cons of youthful musical obsession. Highly recommended.

Tassell discusses ‘Whatever Happened To The C86 Kids’ in this interview.

Book Review: A Platinum Producer’s Life In Music by Ted Templeman (as told to Greg Renoff)

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You should never judge a person by their name.

movingtheriver assumed Ted Templeman – a favourite producer back in the day courtesy of his work with Van Halen, Little Feat, Doobie Brothers and more – was your typical seasoned/grizzled rock’n’roll journeyman.

But nothing could be further from the truth. Reading his enjoyable memoir (and looking at the cover), he turns out to be a mild-mannered jazz drumming prodigy turned pretty-boy frontman with late-‘60s baroque pop band Harpers Bizarre.

His story takes us from post-war Santa Cruz, California, to the upper echelons of the US music biz during boom time, when Templeman was a house producer for Warner Bros. (alongside Gary Katz, Michael Omartian, Jay Graydon and Lenny Waronker), becoming one of the wealthiest and best respected record execs of his era.

We learn about his youth studying the Cool School jazzers, then his pop band Harpers Bizarre gets signed by Warners and he’s mentored by Waronker, quickly learning what A&R actually means – choosing the right songs for the artist and assessing their commercial strengths and weaknesses. He also witnesses first-hand the weird action around the Doors, Beach Boys and Phil Spector.

But he quickly realises he’s not cut out for fronting a band, and moves on to being Warner Bros’s tape listener, hanging around Frank Sinatra sessions and getting the nod from Waronker to produce his pet project, the Doobie Brothers.

Then there are some fascinating sections on working with Van Morrison – he sees the frustrations of being a co-producer at first hand when they release the ‘wrong’ mix of ‘Tupelo Honey’. But he also sees Morrison’s more humorous side – during the recording of the live album It’s Too Late To Stop Now, Ted, sitting in the mobile studio outside The Rainbow, hears Van frequently saying, ‘Didja get that, Ted?’ into the mic between songs.

Templeman forges a long-term relationship with his engineer Donn Landee and starts working with Little Feat. He sparks a great friendship with their mainman Lowell George and is fascinated to find that he is a model airplane fan. But when pushed, Lowell claims he’s just learning about them so he he can fly in drugs from Mexico. He also learns a lot about drums working in Sunset Sound studio 1 with Richie Hayward.

Then there’s recording Carly Simon on Another Passenger, and her relationship with James Taylor, before Templeman first comes across Van Halen via a concert in Pasadena. They quickly become his second obsession, though he’s deeply unsure about Dave Lee Roth’s vocals and general attitude (the book is full of strikingly honest reflections, and he’s quick to admit when he’s wrong).

The main chunk of the book deals with recording Van Halen, from the classic debut to the painfully laboured 1984. He even confesses to initial scepticism about ‘Jump’, kvetching to Eddie: ‘I signed a heavy metal band’! But he somehow enlists Eddie to guest on rollerskating freak Nicolette Sheridan’s ‘Can’t Get Away From You’.

Templeman eventually becomes a great fan of Lee Roth, though advises him not to leave Van Halen and try to be a movie star (though still ends up producing Crazy From The Heat). He also worries about getting Sammy Hagar into VH, suggesting they change their name to Van Hagar, and refuses to produce 5150.

There’s an amusing meeting with Prince at Sunset Sound and the Purple One’s reaction to Templeman’s suggestion that Quincy Jones produce Purple Rain. And then there’s Allan Holdsworth, a Warner Bros. signing coming via Eddie Van Halen’s recommendation. Eddie and Templeman are contracted to co-produce Road Games, but Holdsworth refuses to allow them in the studio together while he’s recording! A baffled Eddie bows out, and then Holdsworth demands that a few tracks feature vocals against Templeman’s best advice (of course Allan has his own take on the Road Games debacle…).

The mild-mannered Michael McDonald is a regular character in the book, uncharacteristically going ballistic for not getting co-writing credit for Van Halen’s ‘I’ll Wait’. We learn about Aerosmith drummer Joey Kramer’s opinion of Templeman’s work on their comeback album Done With Mirrors, and Eric Clapton’s reaction to being told that his guitar tone sucks.

The last section of the book regards Templeman’s work on the ‘Wayne’s World’ soundtrack and then losing his job at Warners, leading to depression and alcoholism.

It’s one of those rare music books that takes you right into the process of trying to get quality, commercial performances from some of the biggest stars in the music business, and it’s full of good advice about producing/arranging and interesting musical/technical observations.

Sadly though, its message may fall on deaf ears these days when Pro Tools and bedroom recordings are all the rage, musicianship less so, but still it’s a fun, informative look at the peak of the studio scene. Highly recommended.

Book Review: American Drummers (1959-1988) by Val Wilmer

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Val Wilmer has arguably been Britain’s leading jazz photographer (and writer of classic jazz book ‘As Serious As Your Life’) since she started taking pictures of musicians over 60 years ago.

And now Café Royal Books have issued a lovely budget paperback of Wilmer’s photos entitled ‘American Drummers 1959-1988’, which does exactly what it says on the tin (though note ‘jazz’ doesn’t appear – possibly because it’s a word with which some of the musicians therein have expressed difficulty).

To my knowledge, it’s the first book of its kind. And – befitting a truly original artist – Wilmer’s work generally defies expectations. For example it’s nothing like Francis Wolff’s meticulous, pristine, famous photos of players such as Art Blakey and Elvin Jones.

Instead her general focus is on the minutiae of the working drummer’s life – we see Andrew Cyrille and Marquis Foster unloading kits from their cars, Denis Charles practicing on the steps of a New York tenement, Zutty Singleton chatting with Count Basie outside a bar, Papa Jo Jones in a drum store, Ed Blackwell chilling with a newspaper, Blakey backstage.

But of course showmanship is one of the chief tools in the drummer’s armoury, and as such there are exciting shots of all-time great players in performance including Billy Higgins, Tony Williams, Milford Graves, Max Roach, Ronald Shannon Jackson and Kenny Clarke.

And the kicker: this wonderful book retails at around just £6.99 in the UK (as do the other Café Royal titles) – don’t miss it.

Tony Williams, Hammersmith Odeon, London, 1967