Tag Archives: georgecole

The Best Music Books In movingtheriver’s Lifetime (Vol. 1)

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The list tries to cover many different genres of music, and different writing styles, and hopefully offers up some relief from the usual ‘classic’ books.

Your correspondent could quite happily take these to a desert island and be OK for a year or two. And most of them would make good stocking fillers.

There’s just one rule: only one book per author is allowed – particularly difficult when it comes to Messrs Carr, Davis, Giddins and MacDonald…

‘The Last Miles’ by George Cole
Cole amazed the music publishing world in 2005 with this extensive look at the last two decades of Miles’ musical life. He spoke to pretty much everyone about exactly what it was like to get the call from Miles and offered the best defence yet of his 1980s output. Essential reading for anyone interested in that decade’s music.

‘XTC Song Stories’ by Neville Farmer
Written in close collaboration with Messrs Partridge, Moulding and Gregory, this was one of the first absolutely essential ‘track by track’ books and offered sundry – often hilarious – insights into the band’s entire catalogue. Worth buying for the chapter on Skylarking alone.

‘A Foreign Place/ Cries And Whispers’ by Anthony Reynolds
Reynolds’ detailed, forensic studies of Japan’s career (and solo projects) were a revelation to this writer. He speaks to all kinds of interesting music biz figures and friends of the band, whilst also getting his hands on fascinating ephemera including studio track sheets, record company memos and rare photos.

‘Songwriters On Songwriting’ by Paul Zollo
Probably best known for its long, intensive interviews with Bob Dylan, Randy Newman, Rickie Lee Jones, Madonna, Leonard Cohen and Paul Simon, this is a fascinating book about the creative process in musical storytelling.

‘The People’s Music’ by Ian MacDonald
This brilliant book brings together the eminent writer’s pieces for various magazines and websites before his tragic death in 2003. The articles on Steely Dan, Nick Drake and Dylan alone are worth the price of admission.

‘George Benson: The Autobiography’
Gripping account of one of jazz’s most successful – and varied – careers. For this writer, it even trumps Miles’s autobiography. Benson was right at the heart of various musical movements, and it’s worth buying for the section on working with Miles alone.

‘Bob Dylan: Performing Artist (1974-1986)’ by Paul Williams
Williams comes up with a very original take on music writing – passionate, incredibly detailed, but never dry or repetitive. He concentrates mainly on Dylan’s live work during the period, explaining exactly why he’s such a fascinating performer. All Williams’ books on Dylan are worth buying but this is particularly intriguing, covering the Rolling Thunder tour and ‘born again’ era.

‘Keith Jarrett’ by Ian Carr
Carr knows exactly which aspects of Jarrett’s remarkable career on which to focus, and even speaks at length to the man himself. His analysis of the music is predictably excellent, touching the parts most writers can’t reach.

‘Rip It Up/Totally Wired’ by Simon Reynolds
The first book is a forensic look at the post-punk era from 1978-1984, complete with fascinating political and cultural references. The second is an unedited collection of interviews, including long chats with Phil Oakey, David Byrne, Mark Stewart, Ari Up and loads more.

‘Visions Of Jazz’ by Gary Giddins
Hard to pick just one book by the fine jazz writer but this survey of the music’s greatest players never fails to offer up fascinating insights and revelations, all shot through with Giddins’ razor-sharp musical analyses.

‘Siren Song’ by Seymour Stein
One of the funniest memoirs this writer has read, an unflinching, scurrilous book about the music man’s life, from the days of payola and early rock’n’roll to the post-punk era and beyond. Required reading for anyone wanting to understand the true nature of the music biz.

‘Jazz And Its Discontents’ by Francis Davis
Davis’s collection of pieces on some of jazz’s ‘outcats’, including Ornette Coleman, Sonny Rollins and Miles. His writing competes with Giddins’ work for sheer readability and the surprise factor.

‘Hitmen’ by Frederic Dannen
A good companion piece to ‘Siren Song’, this is a sometimes scathing, detailed look at the big beasts of the American record industry, from Morris Levy to Walter Yetnikoff.

‘The Ambient Century’ by Mark Prendergast
A fascinating, well-described A-to-Z roundup of artists and composers for whom ‘sound’ was just as important as notes during the 20th century, from Debussy to David Sylvian. Will have you scurrying for the laptop/library to check out the pieces you don’t know.

‘Bill Bruford: The Autobiography’
Superbly-written, detailed and unashamedly serious (though not po-faced) memoir from the great Yes, King Crimson, Earthworks and Genesis legend. Food for thought for drummers and non-drummers alike. Gossipy, indepth, engaging.

‘Eminent Hipsters’ by Donald Fagen
Delicious roundup of Fagen’s pet loves (the Boswell Sisters, Henry Mancini, NYC jazz clubs, Ennio Morricone etc.) plus a hilariously grumpy tour diary. Unmissable.

‘Coal Black Mornings’ by Brett Anderson
Of course it’s not really a ‘music’ book at all, chiefly a memoir about the Suede singer’s childhood and burgeoning career (and few writers have written so well about a relationship breakup). And suburbia. And failure. It’s also surprisingly well written: ‘The woods and wilderness behind the estate became a kind of lawless playground for all of us kids. Once you stepped beyond the order of the concrete and onto the Wealdland clay you entered an unruly empire of teenage tribes, a kind of “Lord Of The Flies” disorder with air-pistolled gangs and minor violence; a self-regulating world that the local adults rarely bothered to enter.’

‘Born Under The Sign Of Jazz’ by Randy Hultin
She was a highly respected Norwegian jazz writer and photographer who interviewed/hung out with everyone who came through, from Coltrane and Sonny Rollins to Stan Getz and Jarrett. She offers gripping, often moving personal insights and many fine photos.

‘Syd Barrett: A Very Irregular Head’ by Rob Chapman
When this came out in 2010, it immediately retired the sensationalist biographies of Syd that came before it. A humane, well-researched, passionate page-turner, with references from poetry, esoterica and surrealism, and the approval/involvement of Syd’s family.

‘Forces In Motion’ by Graham Lock
Lock hung out with Anthony Braxton during the jazz legend’s 1985 UK tour, interviewing him and his band regularly whilst noting the state of Britain (and jazz). Braxton discusses his fascinating views on science, nutrition, politics and music, and the book’s funny too.

‘Are We Still Rolling?’ by Phill Brown
Brown was the engineer on too many classic albums to mention by Talk Talk, Jeff Beck, Steve Winwood, John Martyn, Roxy Music, Robert Palmer etc. etc. He dished the dirt on all of them in this classic book, whilst also providing lots of technical info for the burgeoning producer/engineer.

‘Bitter Crop‘ by Paul Alexander
A recent discovery this, it surveys the last year of Billie Holiday’s life. These days it’s this writer’s go-to book on Lady Day.

‘Wonderland Avenue‘ by Danny Sugerman
Sugerman was manager of the Doors and Iggy Pop at a very young age, and his hysterical, slightly unhinged (not for nothing was the cover designed by Ralph Steadman) memoir outlines the ramshackle Californian scene of the early 1970s. Still has the power to shock.

‘The Big Note’ by Charles Ulrich
A remarkable bit of research, this book looks at every Frank Zappa album to reveal the musical, literary and philosophical references that writers have long tried – and failed – to uncover.

‘Pressed For All Time’ by Charles Jarrett
Jarrett talks to the producers of classic jazz albums, a veritable list of backroom legends including Bob Thiele, Teo Macero, Joel Dorn, Hal Willner, Tommy LiPuma and Creed Taylor. As close as we’re ever going to get to being in the room.

More to come in Vol. 2 soon. None of the above purchasing links are affiliated to movingtheriver.com

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.

Miles Davis: The Bootleg Series Vol. 7 (That’s What Happened)

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The heart always beats a little faster when there’s news of a ‘previously unreleased’ Miles project. And if it’s from the 1980s, even better.

The era is still one the least understood/lauded periods of Miles’s work, despite the stellar efforts of George Cole.

It also has not been served well posthumously, particularly by his final label Warners; in recent years there has been the weirdly undercooked/incomplete Rubberband project, and the appallingly-mastered/incomplete Warners Years box set.

So hopes were high for Sony’s new Bootleg Series 7, which takes in the years 1982 to 1985 and looks at the sessions that made up the (classic) albums Star People, Decoy and You’re Under Arrest. The packaging looks OK:

But what about the music? Before his death, Teo Macero, producer of many epochal Davis albums and also Star People, was very critical of the ‘complete sessions’ boxes that appeared after Miles’s demise. It’s safe to say he would not like this either.

We essentially get a collection of long studio jams, featuring the occasional familiar section – generally the best bit of the jam, expertly filleted by Teo. He really earned his money during this era of Miles music. There are also some alternative versions of You’re Under Arrest material, a few full-length, unedited versions of released tracks and one or two outtakes such as ‘What’s Love Got To Do With It’.

The full, unedited versions of ‘Freaky Deaky’ (Darryl Jones’ first recording with Miles) and ‘Katia’ (before Miles took his razor blade to John McLaughlin’s remarkable solo) are well worth hearing. Marcus Miller plays a brilliant bass solo on ‘Remake Of OBX Ballad’. There’s also a really strange duet featuring trombonist JJ Johnson and Miles on keyboards.

Unlike some of the previous Bootleg Series albums, there’s a lack of interesting studio chatter, which would have enlivened things (though there is the occasional brief Miles interjection). And there are still tracks that refuse to leave the vaults, such as the version of Nik Kershaw’s ‘Wild Horses’.

Disc one just contains too many formless jams, with Mike Stern, Miles and Bill Evans struggling to put together cogent solos (despite Al Foster’s beautiful drumming), and basically the band is crying out for John Scofield’s arrival in autumn 1982. He brings immediate relief, from both a soloing and compositional perspective. The live disc is serviceable and quite well recorded, but certainly not one of the best nights from the 1983 tour.

Essentially, we learn three things from the very uneven Bootleg Series 7: Scofield was a vital addition to Miles’s band and prolonged his career, Miller was Miles’s best bass player of the 1980s and Macero did a great job on Star People. But we probably knew all of that already.

So, basically, it’s another opportunity missed. I’ll stick to the original albums, with one or two exceptions. But you gotta check it out if you’re a fan of Miles’s 1980s music. George Cole covers the box in a lot more detail here.

‘Level 42: Every Album, Every Song’ US Release & The Reviews Are In

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‘Level 42: Every Album, Every Song’ has been available in the UK since April and just been published in the USA, Europe, Australia and Japan.

The book has just been reprinted and is onto its second edition, so if you can’t find it in your favourite local bookstore, demand it! (Or check out the links below.)

 

Praise for ‘Level 42: Every Album, Every Song’:

“Phillips’ concise, forensic analyses opened my eyes and ears to new facets of the band’s music.”

George Cole, Jazzwise magazine

 

 

“Bloody brilliant!”

Jem Godfrey, *Frost/Joe Satriani keyboardist, songwriter and podcaster

 

“It’s excellent, it really is.”

Paul Waller, Level 42 expert and author of ‘Level 42: The Worldwide Visual Discography’

 

“Brilliant.”

John Hannam, Isle Of Wight County Press

 

“To me, Level 42 are not the answer to the ultimate questions of life, yet Phillips’ engaging narrative certainly makes a strong case for it. It’s filled with knowledgeable wisdom, and he speaks his affection for the band brilliantly.”

Jan Buddenburg, DPRP

 

“This book is enhanced by contributions from both Mark King and Lindup whilst Phillips also provides a musician’s insight to the track by track breakdown.  A worthy and welcome re-assessment.  ****

David Randall, getreadytorock.uk

 

Thanks to Bass Player Magazine who ran an excerpt in their June 2021 edition:

Thanks to Level 42 mega-fan and friend of the band Julian Hall for his endorsement.

And I was interviewed by Giles Brown on Talk Radio Europe – listen here.

 

Get ‘Level 42: Every Album, Every Song’ here:

UK:

UK Bookshops

Burning Shed

Hive

Amazon

Book Depository

Waterstones

Foyles

Wordery

 

USA: 

Amazon

Barnes & Noble

Indigo

 

EUROPE:

Amazon Netherlands

Amazon Germany

Amazon Sweden

Amazon Spain

 

AUSTRALIA:

Booktopia

 

JAPAN:

Amazon

 

Matt Phillips will return in 2022 with the complete guide to the music of John McLaughlin.

Harold Pinter @ 90, The Caretaker @ 60

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Playwright, actor, activist and poet Harold Pinter, who died on Christmas Eve 2008, would have been 90 years old today.

I couldn’t let 2020 pass without marking that fact and celebrating the 60th anniversary of ‘The Caretaker’.

When I started my English Literature ‘A’ Level at the end of the 1980s, theatre had barely appeared on my radar. I’d seen some Shakespeare, Webster, Sheridan, maybe a bit of Alan Ayckbourn, Willy Russell and John Godber, mostly on school trips. Nothing really hit home.

But then my excellent teacher Hugh Epstein introduced us to ‘The Caretaker’. Needless to say, it was like no other play I’d read before. This was the language of the West London streets that I knew. The play’s themes covered familiar territory too.

Pinter’s legendary, hilarious piss-taking was evident from early on – mainly courtesy of the Mick character – but there was something else coming through loud and clear, something heroic, empathetic, charitable, even noble. I was gripped and it began a love affair with Pinter’s work that has lasted almost 30 years.

‘The Caretaker’ premiered on 27 April 1960 at The Arts Theatre in London, and starred Donald Pleasence, Alan Bates and Peter Woodthorpe. It was a big hit, Pinter’s breakthrough play after a difficult experience with ‘The Birthday Party’. An excellent movie, starring Pleasence, Bates and Robert Shaw, was made in 1963, shot in Hackney and adapted by Pinter himself:

There are so many other great London Pinter memories, many involving his acting performances in his own plays: ‘No Man’s Land’ at The Almeida, ‘The Collection’ and ‘The Hothouse’ at the Richmond Theatre. Also Ian Holm in ‘Moonlight’ at The Comedy Theatre and Michael Gambon’s turn as Davies in ‘The Caretaker’ at the same venue.

Of course he wasn’t only a playwright, actor and poet. A cursory look at his public appearances now – especially those in the last 20 years of his life, when he received the Nobel Prize In Literature and spoke passionately at various rallies – suggests that there are very few public figures around these days with his kind of gravitas. He was known to be prickly – aren’t we all – but also exceptionally generous, as he was to this writer.

He’s much missed. Happy birthday Harold. And enormous thanks to Hugh Epstein who brought ‘The Caretaker’ to life.

Further reading: George Cole’s Betrayed: The Story Of Harold Pinter’s Betrayal

Mark Batty’s About Pinter

Michael Billington’s The Life And Work Of Harold Pinter