Anthony Jackson (1952-2025)

Anthony during the recording session for Steve Khan’s ‘Eyewitness’ in 1981. Photo by David Tan

The brilliant Anthony Jackson, who has died aged 73, was a vital part of the early-1970s electric bass revolution, but arguably never got the same attention as contemporaries Stanley Clarke, Jaco Pastorius, Bootsy Collins, Louis Johnson and Alphonso Johnson (Chuck Rainey, Steve Swallow and Larry Graham are a bit older).

In a music world beset by fly-by-night chancers and one-trick ponies, he was a player of principle, something like the Allan Holdsworth of bass.

It was Anthony’s playing on Steve Khan’s ‘Guy Lafleur’ that first completely hooked movingtheriver – I remember thinking: who the hell is THAT?!

In two major ways, he changed the instrument as much as Jaco (though, in later years, pointedly called himself a ‘guitarist who plays a variation called the contrabass guitar’).

First there was his stretching of the instrument’s range below the standard low E (inspired by his love of Jimmy Smith’s Hammond organ playing) and above the standard top G, via his pioneering use of six-string basses, which he started playing exclusively in 1982 (Steve Khan thinks his superb ‘Casa Loco’ may have featured the debut of Anthony’s six-string).

Before that, Jackson had regularly detuned the low E string on his trusty Fender Precision, producing strikingly rich, deep timbres on work with Grover Washington Jr., Quincy Jones, Steely Dan, Chaka Khan and Earl Klugh, amongst hundreds of others (he prided himself on playing all kinds of music, working with everyone from Judy Collins and Peter, Paul & Mary to George Benson and Will Downing).

Then there was his use of effects, particularly the trademark flanger, often accompanied by the use of a pick, best heard on The O’Jays’ ‘For The Love Of Money’ and ‘Give The People What They Want’, and on his work with Al Di Meola. Oh, and then there’s a third factor – he ALWAYS sat down whilst playing, claiming that sitting down and wearing no strap was the way to go for bassists.

Jackson started playing music after seeing The Beatles on The Ed Sullivan Show in 1964, then became obsessed with other Brit invasion bands, Motown (via James Jamerson) and Jefferson Airplane’s Jack Casady, plus classical composers Olivier Messiaen and Paul Hindemith.

Regarding the latter two, their influence on Anthony’s playing is particularly noticeable on the live version of Khan’s ‘The Suitcase’, from 1994. Steve described this brilliant performance on his website.

One of Jackson’s first major gigs was in 1973, playing for a year in Buddy Rich’s sextet. He later called the drummer the only bona fide genius with which he had played. But then Anthony loved drummers. He enjoyed brilliant hook-ups with Steve Gadd, Buddy Williams, Steve Jordan, Harvey Mason, Simon Phillips, Steve Ferrone, Yogi Horton, Earl Young and many others.

But he lost work by refusing to ‘slap’ his bass during the disco era, and also very rarely solo’d unless he had something specific to say (to Steve Khan’s great annoyance!). Some of these concepts were laid down in his famously stern columns for Bass Player magazine.

But even Jackson wasn’t immune to some of the ‘proclivities’ of other great artists – for example, his performance was wiped from the title track of Steely Dan’s Gaucho! (Chuck Rainey’s pass got the nod instead.) But he played epochal stuff on ‘Glamour Profession’ and ‘My Rival’ from the same album, and excelled on Donald Fagen’s ‘IGY’ and ‘Ruby Baby’.

He was also fiercely loyal to artists he respected, enjoying long associations with Hiromi, Michel Camilo, Al Di Meola, Sadao Watanabe, Lee Ritenour, Grover Washington, Chick Corea, Khan and Michel Petrucciani.

In one of his rare interviews, he expressed a wish to play with Phil Collins, Ringo and Charlie Watts. Sadly it seems he didn’t achieve those ambitions. Farewell to a true pioneer and personal musical hero. Check out this playlist which brings together movingtheriver’s favourite Anthony performances.

Anthony Claiborne Jackson (23 June 1952 – 19 October 2025)

Protest Songs @ 40: Prefab Sprout’s Best Album?

Speedily recorded 40 years ago this autumn at Newcastle’s Lynx Studios, Protest Songs was intended to be the no-frills, lo-fi, rush-released, ‘answer’ album to Prefab’s Steve McQueen.

Fans who attended the Two Wheels Good UK tour of October and November 1985 were given leaflets advertising its release on 2 December for one week only.

But then ‘When Love Breaks Down’ reached #25 at the third attempt, earning the band spots on ‘Top Of The Pops’ and ‘Wogan’, and the album was shelved (though apparently a few hundred white labels ‘escaped’ from CBS and are out there somewhere…)

Protest Songs was eventually held back until June 1989, but proved well worth the wait and reached a respectable #18 on the UK chart. This writer would put it right up there with Steve, From Langley Park To Memphis and Jordan, maybe even above them…

The album was produced by the band and – apart from the last-minute addition ‘Life Of Surprises’ – mixed by Richard Digby Smith, once a staff engineer at Island Records who served his apprenticeship under the likes of Arif Mardin, Phil Spector, Muff Winwood and Chris Blackwell.

Protest also showed that Patrick Joseph McAloon was turning into a really decent keyboard player (he later claimed that every song on Langley Park was written on keyboards) and that – massively helped by drummer Neil Conti – Prefab were becoming a really good live band.

But most importantly Protest is a moving, razor-sharp suite of songs. Paddy was operating at the absolute top of his game, with some of the anger which had initially been so attractive to Thomas Dolby (also detectable in this recently discovered interview).

The only thing tongue-in-cheek about it is its title. These were not protests against nuclear power or war, but rather against deprivation and, just six months on from the miners’ strike, the general media condescension about provincial English life (particularly in the McAloon brothers’ native North East) under Thatcher.

‘Til The Cows Come Home’ may be the killer track. If you’re in the mood, it can be a real heartbreaker. The superb lyrics deftly change perspective mid-thought and allude to how unemployment affects generations:

Aren’t you a skinny kid?
Just like his poppa
Where’s he workin’?
He’s not workin’…

Why’re you laughin’?
You call that laughin’?
Wearing your death head grin
Even the fishes are thin…

He can’t have his coffee with cream

Meanwhile ‘Diana’ was revamped from the ‘When Love Breaks Down’ B-side (Deacon Blue definitely listened to THAT), slowed down and with a few new chords added. Conti expertly marshals proceedings with his tasty Richie Hayward-style half-time groove.

‘Dublin’ showcases Paddy’s lovely sense of chord movement, with a little influence from bossa nova (here’s Paddy playing a different studio take). ‘Life Of Surprises’ and ‘The World Awake’ are shiny, synth-laden, mid-period 4/4 Prefab but with stings in their tails:

Never say you’re bitter, Jack
Bitter makes the worst things come back

You don’t have to pretend you’re not cryin’
When it’s even in the way that you’re walkin’…

The hilarious ‘Horsechimes’ investigates school-day piss-taking, with a large dollop of Salingeresque satire. Meanwhile it’s hard to think of a more perfect marriage of words and melody than ‘Talking Scarlet’ (also drastically slowed down from the early demo), while ‘Pearly Gates’ closes out the album in moving style, like a dimly-remembered hymn from school days, a rare 1980s ‘death disc’.

The only partial misfire is the jaunty ‘Tiffany’s’, with its comically poor guitar solos, but its inclusion was totally understandable. Happy birthday to a classic.

Blitz: The Club That Shaped The 80s @ Design Museum, 27 September 2025

England, 1979: punk is out, sus laws and Thatcher are in. Nightclubs are closing down and youth violence and political unrest are on the rise (as are movements like Rock Against Racism).

But, in a curious echo of punk five years before, something is stirring in the London suburbs. Young Roxy, Bowie and Kraftwerk fans from Bromley, Burnt Oak and Basildon are dressing up in style (Zoot and toy-soldier suits, cummerbunds, bolero hats, geometric haircuts) and flocking to clubs like Covent Garden’s famous Blitz, now the subject of an engaging exhibition running until 29 March 2026 at the Design Museum

It was the apex of a scene which encompassed fashion, graphic design, journalism, electronic dance music, squatting and a New Pop sensibility which would soon sweep the charts. In short, it’s arguably the best of the 1980s, and this fascinating exhibition neatly incorporates most of it.

Blitz Kids including Midge Ure, Steve Strange, Billy Currie and Rusty Egan

We see the original flyers and posters which wittily and stylishly trailed the Blitz club nights, and there are many items of vintage clothing. The rarely-seen photos are worth the price of admission alone, many contributed by original scenesters like Boy George, Siobahn Fahey, Robert Elms and Marilyn, including a priceless shot of David Bowie with Toni Basil (we also get the full story of Bowie’s recruitment of Strange et al for the ‘Ashes To Ashes’ video).

But the jewel in the exhibition’s crown is probably the recreation of the Blitz itself, with an AI Rusty Egan on the decks and Spandau Ballet performing ‘To Cut A Long Story Short’ on the ‘live stage’ (elsewhere Elms has donated his embarrassing handwritten poem which he used to announce their debut gig at the club).

Rusty Egan, Gary Kemp, Fiona Dealey and Robert Elms in the exhibition’s recreated Blitz. Photo by PA Media

The exhibition widens out to encompass other fascinating early 1980s artefacts, like the posters advertising Sade’s pre-fame Ronnie Scott’s gigs – well over a year before Diamond Life was released – and evidence of the media’s generally condescending attitude towards The Cult With No Name/New Romantics/Blitz Kids.

Then there are the textiles, hats and magazines galore (the exhibition dovetails slightly with the Portrait Gallery’s recent Face exhibition), and even the first all-electronic drum set, a Simmons SDS-V, as used by Kajagoogoo, Flock Of Seagulls, Ultravox etc.

This is an engaging, fun exhibition curated by people who were there and/or obviously care about this stuff. And there’s just enough social/political context for it to be educational too – it was good to see so many youngsters enjoying it with their parents. Highly recommended.

The Blitz in 1980, with Boy George (left)

Gig Review: Mel Gaynor @ 606 Club, 25 September 2025

Mel Gaynor spent almost 30 years playing superb drums with Simple Minds in studios, stadiums and sports halls across the globe.

But it’s also oft-forgotten that he was also one of the key British session drummers of the 1980s, working with Joan Armatrading, Elton John, Heaven 17, Pretenders, Kirsty MacColl and others (and, in a 1992 Sunday Times poll, was named the world’s best rock drummer by Stewart Copeland, no less).

So it’s always interesting seeing such behemoths of the drums in tiny venues, often un-mic’d and playing small kits. And they don’t come much more intimate or friendlier than the 606 – though the club always has excellent acoustics.

Gaynor’s latest live project eschews the heavy rock of last year’s Come With Me album and returns him to the fusion and jazz/funk of his youth (he started his career playing with Britfunk legends Central Line), alongside pianist John Watson, who has also worked with Sister Sledge, Imagination and Mica Paris, and impressive young bassist Issy Brown. On this gig, they were also joined by MOBO and Mercury-winning saxophonist Denys Baptiste – a real coup.

A fit, healthy and happy-looking Gaynor settled behind the kit with no fuss and counted off ‘Got The Message’, a Crusaders-style, medium-tempo slow-burner, with Baptiste outlining a pretty melody and Brown digging in with excellent tone and judicious use of his low B string. Gaynor was the epitome of taste and groove here, but still found time for one explosive ‘Alive And Kicking’-style snare fill towards the end.

Denys Baptiste, Issy Brown and Mel Gaynor @ the 606

‘Beyond The Stars’, touchingly dedicated by Gaynor to his late father, started with an African-tinged 6/4 drum loop, before settling into another pretty, gentle tune with a touch of Jason Rebello’s writing about it.

‘Preludio’, written by Watson, chugged along with a nice Morrissey-Mullen-style samba groove, and became a feature for Baptiste’s tenor, wittily quoting Dennis Edwards’ ‘Don’t Look Any Further’, with which it shared a chord sequence.

Baptiste also elevated ‘Zeta’ – apparently Gaynor’s manager’s favourite tune. The saxophonist can do it all, from Grover Washington Jr. soul to sixteenth-note meltdown, Michael Brecker-style. It was nice to hear Watson lay out for a while too, then return to trade spicy fours with Baptiste. Gaynor also raised the volume level by about 25%, suddenly shifting into fifth gear with some terrific Tony Williams-style fills around the toms.

This was not an evening of cutting-edge jazz/rock, with not a broken beat nor drum-and-bass groove in sight, nor was it volatile fusion in the Mahavishnu or Lifetime mold. But if Mel’s music leans more towards the softer style of the late 1970s/early 1980s, from Average White Band to The Crusaders via Incognito and Morrissey-Mullen, it’s no worse for that.

And the set showed Gaynor to be an excellent ‘pocket’ drummer, with much power in reserve. But then you already knew that from his work with Simple Minds.

Movie Review: Spinal Tap II (The End Continues)

The question is not so much why they’re back for a big-screen sequel, but why it’s taken so long.

But, after various copyright problems, the wait is over. ‘Tap II’ is here. And it’s worth the wait.

One of the many good portents for ‘Tap 2’ was the fact that Rob Reiner was returning to direct and co-star as Marty DiBergi. You know you’re in the hands of a master. Then there’s the fact that all surviving original cast members are present and correct, and that their improvisational modus operandi is basically intact.

Your correspondent is not going to reveal any of the many pleasant surprises from the movie, such as the return of various secondary characters from the first film (and appearances from four or five big rock stars), but suffice it to say that the plot is a little like ‘Anvil! The Story Of Anvil’.

A contract clause dictated by band manager Ian Faith before his death states that Tap must do one final comeback concert. The only problem is that the three surviving members of Tap (Nigel Tufnel, David St Hubbins, Derek Smalls) are at loggerheads and haven’t seen each other for years.

We find Nigel selling cheese and guitars in Berwick-upon-Tweed (just the sight of him wearing shopkeeper’s hat and overall is worth the price of admission alone), David making ‘on-hold’ music and Derek running a glue museum.

Various scenes from the first film are mirrored here, and they even use the same font for the onscreen graphics. Thank goodness too they mostly stay away from ‘dark’ comedy. There are few concessions to identity politics, and the humour is basically quite sweet (but agreeably foul-mouthed). These are some seriously old dudes trying to rock out again.

The casting once again nods to a richly-observed Anglophilia with Chris Addison hilarious as the hapless/humourless marketing man, a mixture of Simon Cowell and Simon Fuller, and Kerry Godilman doing fine as Ian Faith’s Sharon Osbourne-like daughter.

Once again they’ve got the music spot-on too, showing the detail you’d expect from real music fans and good musicians – you won’t find any poorly-sync’d snare hits from the drummer here. It looks like they played and sung everything live with multiple cameras running.

One small gripe? The actual band reunion scene is a bit flat and looks like it may have been the victim of some rather severe editing. But that’s nitpicking, isn’t it?

So Tap fans – there’s nothing to fear here. Go to ‘The End Continues’ with confidence. At 80 minutes, it’s a perfect length and sticks in the head afterwards. There’s little ‘learning’, just laughs. This writer chuckled approximately every 20 seconds. Looking forward to the DVD extras, there must be hours of extra improvisations.

Anthony Braxton: Quartet (England) 1985

Anthony Braxton has one of the largest discographies in music history, encompassing a huge variety of styles and formats: operas, pieces for two pianos, orchestras, solo saxophone, 100 tubas, jazz quartets, ‘found’ objects and many more.

The saxophonist/composer/teacher turned 80 in June, and has also just been inducted into the illustrious DownBeat Hall of Fame.

This writer has long championed ‘Forces In Motion’, Graham Lock’s excellent book about Braxton’s November 1985 tour of England, and a large portion of that tour can now be heard on a thrilling digital box set Quartet (England) 1985, for which Lock has provided new liner notes (he also recorded all the material on a portable cassette player).

The quartet, which comprised Braxton on various reed instruments, Marilyn Crispell on piano, Mark Dresser on double bass and Gerry Hemingway on percussion, was one of Braxton’s most active bands in the ’80s, but didn’t record in the studio until 1991.

Quartet (England) 1985 presents four complete concerts from Sheffield, Leicester, Bristol and Southampton (the London concert was officially recorded and broadcast by BBC radio). The original mono cassette recordings, captured by Lock as references for his book, have been restored by engineer Christopher Trent.

The package also features bonus recordings of the quartet playing John Coltrane’s ‘After the Rain’ and Miles Davis’s ‘Four’, plus soundcheck recordings of ‘All The Things You Are’ and ‘On Green Dolphin Street’. There are also previously unseen photos taken during the tour and a full list of the compositions played (the set was different every night).

Braxton (in borrowed coat), Dresser, Crispell and Hemingway at Stonehenge, 22 November 1985. Photo by Nick White

There’s no getting away from the fact that these are wild and woolly mono recordings, but pleased to report that Trent has done a superb job of cleaning up the tapes and the audio quality doesn’t hamper the listening experience one bit.

The music varies between good and excellent. ‘Free jazz’ barely covers it – the material is actually generally meticulously composed and arranged (featuring memorable, catchy melodies), though there are improvised sections which mainly serve as connecting interludes.

If you want to hear a collision between Sonic Youth, Ornette Coleman and Gyorgy Ligeti, enlist here. It’s a no-cliché zone, guaranteed to annoy the neighbours, and a valuable detox from the mainly safe, secure sounds of today. Quartet (England) 1985 is highly recommended and a fine 40th anniversary celebration of the 1985 tour.

(Postscript: for an impassioned defence of ‘spontaneous improvisation’, check out Stewart Lee’s appearance on the BBC’s ‘Great Lives’ discussing guitarist Derek Bailey.)

1980s Jazz, Fusion, Soul and Funk Acts I Should Like But Don’t

We’ve looked before at the celebrated 1980s rock and pop acts whose output somehow leaves this writer cold.

But how about the decade’s jazz, soul and fusion artists who always seem to get the props but inexplicably fail to float movingtheriver’s boat?

Rick James
Frequently mentioned in dispatches as a funk pioneer and influence on Prince etc. (and also mentor of Teena Marie?) but for this listener his music is generally coarse and one-dimensional, and his voice nothing to write home about.

Bill Connors
The guitarist made some excellent music for ECM Records in the 1970s both as solo artist and sideman (Jan Garbarek/Stanley Clarke/Return To Forever/Julian Priester etc.) but his 1980s work disappoints. He apparently developed a fixation on Allan Holdsworth’s sound/technique which hampered his progress. Somewhat regrouped in the 1990s and new millennium though.

Kazumi Watanabe
The guitarist employed some fantastic musicians (Jeff Berlin, Steve Jordan, Marcus Miller, Bill Bruford) in the 1980s but, outside of one or two half-decent riffs, seemingly failed to generate much memorable music.

Stanley Jordan
Bassist Anthony Jackson called him a ‘genius’, and he should know, but technical feats notwithstanding (he famously played the guitar exclusively by ‘tapping’ the strings with the fingers of both hands), he seemingly failed to develop his music beyond smoochy smooth jazz during the 1980s.

Chick Corea
Obviously a genius-level musical brain and maker of some memorable material in the 1970s but generally his ‘80s music and stage presentation was a bit embarrassing (though I have a penchant for the Light Years and Eye Of The Beholder albums). A great mentor though (Dave Weckl, John Patitucci, Frank Gambale, Scott Henderson etc.).

Al Di Meola
See above.

Howard Hewett
Owner of some fantastic pipes and a stellar career co-fronting Shalamar, but for this writer his solo career generally seems like over-produced, underwhelming mush, and he doesn’t seem much of a songwriter. (He did an unforgettable take on Marvin Gaye in the 1990s though.)

Narada Michael Walden
One of the great drummers (Jeff Beck, Weather Report, McLaughlin etc.) and producers (Whitney, Aretha etc.) ended the 1980s with a half-decent album (Divine Emotions) but, to these ears, the rest of the decade’s solo career was unmemorable disco/funk…

Brand X
Often touted as a kind of British Weather Report – fugedaboudit. Their musicianship was competent at best and their compositions somehow didn’t stick in the brain, despite the occasional drumming contributions of a Mr P Collins. Bill Bruford did it much better with a far superior bunch of players (Jeff Berlin, Allan Holdsworth, Jon Clark, Dave Stewart). See also: Pierre Moerlen’s Gong.

Pat Metheny
This writer dug his stereo-chorus sound and musical approach at the dawn of the decade (80/81, American Garage, Travels) but, as the 1980s went on, he seemed to embrace a mushy new-age sensibility and indistinct jazz guitar sound that generally underwhelmed. And his stage presentation is one of the least savoury in music history… (Gary Giddins: ‘intoning plush melodies with excessive sobriety, as though the notes were transmitted directly from God…’). Liked his collaborations with Ornette Coleman and Bowie though.

Jean-Luc Ponty
Valued sideman for ’70s behemoths (Zappa, McLaughlin) but his solo career has generally disappointed this writer (but generally not other jazz/rock fans, who inexplicably seem to love his stuff…), outside of the fact that he doesn’t seem to possess a particularly pleasant violin tone with an annoying penchant for the phaser pedal. He employed some superb players in the ‘80s (Scott Henderson, Rayford Griffin, Baron Browne etc.) but never convinced that he’s much of a composer. Always quite liked this though…

Sting: The Dream Of The Blue Turtles @ 40 (Part 2)

In part one of this 40th anniversary celebration, we looked at the origins and recording of The Dream Of The Blue Turtles.

But now to the music – how does it stand up in 2025?

‘If You Love Somebody Set Them Free’ was a ‘corrective’ for ‘Every Breath You Take’, an anti-surveillance, anti-control relationship song, with a neat groove (Sting’s demo apparently sampled Omar’s snare from Bowie’s ‘Let’s Dance’, much to the drummer’s amusement…) and some great Sting rhythm guitar in the middle eight.

It was the lead-off single from the album but only reached #26 in the UK (but #3 in the States), despite a superb Godley and Creme-directed video.

‘Love Is The Seventh Wave’ was a last-minute jam (with Sting on bass?) and the album’s second single (missing the top 40 completely), while ‘Shadows In The Rain’ was the first thing the band recorded at Eddy Grant’s studio while waiting for Marsalis to show up – during the saxist’s overdub, reportedly he wasn’t told anything about the track, just told to start playing. Apparently Sting mumbles ‘A-minor’ when asked by Branford what key the song’s in…

Sting has gone on record as saying that ‘Russians’ was supposed to be an ‘ironic’ song in the Randy Newman/Mose Allison mold, and it was the only decent hit in the UK (#12) when released as a Christmas single in December 1985.

Though particularly well-sung (but with an annoying slap-back echo), it sadly misses with its annoyingly on-the-nose lyrics and Kirkland’s cheapo synth backing. This song really needed the Trevor Horn, Steve Lipson or even Hugh Padgham treatment, as did ‘We Work The Black Seam’.

But there’s much better stuff elsewhere. ‘Children’s Crusade’ was reportedly a second take, recorded totally live, with Sting replacing his vocals later. He taught ‘Consider Me Gone’ to the band in the studio. Reportedly they tried a few unsuccessful takes, then Eddy Grant brought in the president of Guyana to say hello. They nailed it immediately afterwards. Sting’s voice is superb here, on the edge of hysteria.

The brief, Thelonious Monk-like title track (also with Sting on bass?) features a mind-bending Kirkland piano solo which amazed me as kid. I didn’t understand its ingenious polyrhythms at all. I almost do now but it still sounds brilliant.

‘Moon Over Bourbon Street’ (Sting on bass?) is musically heavily influenced by the jazz standard ‘Autumn Leaves’ and lyrically inspired by Anne Rice’s book ‘Interview With A Vampire’. Kirkland’s synth oboes are a bit naff – couldn’t Sting afford real ones? It missed the top 40 when released as the album’s fourth and final single.

‘Fortress Around The Heart’ marries a stunning chorus to some seriously tricky verse modulations (Rick Beato’s great video runs them down). One can take or leave the rather heavy-handed symbolism of the lyric, guaranteed to wind up the post-punk critics, but at least Sting was stretching himself. The album’s third single, ‘Fortress’ also missed the top 40 (Sting has always been a surprisingly unsuccessful solo artist with regard to the UK singles chart).

Ultimately Turtles is a bitty album, evidently put together very quickly. Every song is different and it seems a template for potential future projects (arguably Sting only really got his solo career on track with the followup …Nothing Like The Sun) rather than a confident debut. The playing is predictably great though. Everyone gets their chance to shine…expect Darryl Jones, who is weirdly anonymous.

Sting was apparently obsessed with the Synclavier digital sampler during 1984 but admirably resisted a machine-tooled, over-produced album. Still, for someone so keen to distance himself from The Police, maybe it’s odd that he rerecorded a Police song for the album and also named his next album/film after a Police song….

Sting and band did some ‘secret’ gigs at the Theatre Mogador in Paris just before the album release on 17 June 1985, and if memory serves this writer bought it the week it came out. It was one of many exciting buys during that landmark summer of 1985 (see below for more).

Turtles was immediately a big hit, reaching #3 in the UK and #2 in the States. It also earned a Grammy nomination for Album of the Year (and, admirably, Sting didn’t play any songs from it during his Live Aid appearance in July).

Then, in a turn of events that must have amused him, readers of Rolling Stone magazine voted Sting #2 jazz artist of 1985 (after Wynton Marsalis) and voted Turtles #2 album of the year (after Brothers In Arms). He was also #2 male singer and #2 songwriter, both behind Springsteen, and #2 bassist, despite the fact that he probably didn’t pick up a bass during 1985…

Then of course there was the ‘Bring On The Night’ tour, album and movie, of which much more soon.

(PS – What a stunning series of album releases during summer/autumn 1985: Boys And Girls, Cupid & Psyche ‘85, Turtles, A Physical Presence, A Secret Wish, Hounds Of Love, Around The World In A Day, Brothers In Arms, Steve McQueen, You’re Under Arrest, Dog Eat Dog etc. etc…)

The Cult Movie Club: The Border (1982)

Summer 1980. Jack Nicholson was in the middle of his busiest period. ‘The Shining’ had just wrapped and he had inked contracts to appear in both ‘Reds’ and ‘The Postman Always Rings Twice’.

But first up was ‘The Border’, one of his least known films but a fascinating watch these days and still relevant. It’s also one of his most serious, intense screen performances, rivalling ‘Five Easy Pieces’, ‘The Pledge’ and ‘The Passenger’.

Nicholson plays a downtrodden Texas border patrolman who, after years of viewing corruption and trapped in an unhappy marriage, decides to do something completely altruistic. When the baby of an underage Mexican girl is kidnapped with threats of being sold/adopted, Jack takes a stand against his spiritually-bankrupt superiors.

It’s possible that Nicholson was attracted to the project due to the involvement of director Tony Richardson, the Brit who helmed John Osborne’s legendary ‘Look Back In Anger’ on both stage and screen, and also the presence of co-stars Warren Oates and Harvey Keitel, with whom Jack does some great sparring.

Shot in El Paso, ‘The Border’ is a terse, angsty, mature movie with moments of dark humour and an interesting companion piece to both John Sayles’ ‘Lone Star’ and Tony Garnett’s ‘Handgun’.

But its third act moves uneasily into action territory – Richardson seems out of his depth here, searching in vain for his inner Peckinpah (and why the 18 certificate? My DVD warns of ‘strong sex, violence and language’, but none of the above feature, outside of one particularly poorly staged gore effect).

Still, apparently it was an interesting shoot, with a blitzed Dennis Hopper arriving to set up a huge prank for Jack involving the president of Mexico, a cadre of cheerleaders and some Hells Angels (see Robert Sellers’ book below for more). Sadly though, Ry Cooder’s soundtrack is rather phoned-in, despite featuring an early version of the classic ‘Across The Borderline’.

‘The Border’ was delayed for a year and crept out in February 1982 to minimal fanfare (though Siskel and Ebert both liked it) and rotten box office. In truth, it feels much more like a movie of the 1970s than the 1980s. But it features yet another gripping performance from Jack during arguably his peak period and it’s well worth a look – if you can find it…

Further reading: ‘Hollywood Hellraisers (Bad Boy Drive)’ by Robert Sellers

Sting: The Dream Of The Blue Turtles @ 40 (Part 1)

At the end of 1984, Sting seemed hellbent on erasing (albeit temporarily) any traces of The Police.

Buoyed by his happy relationship with Trudie Styler, he was falling back in love with music (but not, apparently, the bass guitar) and studying Brecht and Weill. ‘I cry a lot. I’m moved easily by a chord progression,’ he told Musician mag around the time.

He was also developing some solo material. But there was no band. He moved FAST. In late 1984, he asked his friend, musician and writer Vic Garbarini, to put some feelers out in New York City.

By January 1985, saxophonist Branford Marsalis was recruited (helped by the fact that Sting had heard that The Police were his favourite band) and some audition workshops were set up, attended by some of the hottest young fusion and funk musicians in the city.

Then, during a dinner break near AIR Studios in Montserrat while working on Dire Straits’ ‘Money For Nothing’, Sting met drummer Omar Hakim for the first time, who was another quick shoo-in (Omar apparently jokingly auditioned with knife and fork at the table).

At New York’s SIR rehearsal studios in January 1985, Sting, sitting in front of his Synclavier, with a Fender Tele at his side, bassist Darryl Jones (who was still playing with Miles Davis), Hakim and keyboardist Kenny Kirkland jammed on Police songs ‘One World’, ‘Demolition Man’ and ‘Driven To Tears’.

Sting then set them to work on a new song, ‘Children’s Crusade’, playing the demo over the studio speakers. He had found his band (Sting also found time to guest on Miles’s ‘One Phone Call’ during this time).

Sting, Marsalis, Hakim, Kirkland and Jones did a few surprise gigs at The Ritz club in New York City in late February. By early March 1985, after an aborted try at Compass Point Studios in Nassau, they were recording The Dream Of The Blue Turtles at Eddy Grant’s Blue Wave Studios in Barbados. Pete Smith was engineering and co-producing, who had impressed Sting while helping record his Synchronicity demos.

But Sting was panicking about his voice, and the fact that he was going right outside his comfort zone. With good reason. This new music, light and drawing on jazz, funk and folk forms, was nothing like The Police. A&M Records were depending on a hit. There wouldn’t be one note of distorted guitar on the album. It was more in line with Sade or Simply Red (but of course the musicianship was on a different planet to those artists). And the production and arrangements were very minimalist by mid-‘80s standards.

Next time: the album, track by track – and has it stood the test of time?