Tag Archives: townhousestudios

Phil Collins: Face Value @ 45

Posted on by

Producer Steve Lillywhite recently named Phil Collins as the best drummer he’s ever worked with, pretty high praise considering Lillywhite has also shared studios with Simon Phillips, Carter Beauford, Mel Gaynor, Mark Brzezicki, Jerry Marotta and Stewart Copeland.

And Phil’s excellent drums were all over his seriously impressive (and very long for 1981, clocking in at over 47 minutes) debut solo album Face Value, released 45 years ago this month, and a record that has fascinated this writer since the age of eight.

But by 1981 Phil had nothing to prove from a drumming perspective. It was the quality of the material and arrangements that bowled people over. And yet Face Value is so much part of the furniture these days that it’s easy to forget just how expertly crafted it is.

Many of the album’s songs started life as primitive home demos, featuring rhythm box, piano and vocals, Collins having a lot of time on his hands after separating from his first wife (‘I Missed Again’ was originally a mid-tempo shuffle with the working title of ‘I Miss You Babe’).

A few other tracks were developed in the studio with various muso friends, including L Shankar on violin, Eric Clapton and ex-Weather Report bassist Alphonso Johnson, and then there were the two famous cover versions (or three if you count Phil’s almost-silent rendering of ‘Over The Rainbow’ at the end – the very first ‘secret’ track?).

The resulting material was an embarrassment of riches. Phil threw everything but the kitchen sink at Face Value: singer-songwriter balladry, Motown, Earth, Wind & Fire, jazz/rock, Beatles beats. Even a touch of Barry White (but no prog…). And all of it pretty much works.

He took full advantage of Townhouse Studios’ famous stone-clad drum room and the superb technical skills and easygoing manner of co-producer Hugh Padgham.

‘In The Air Tonight’ arguably changed the music business forever (as, arguably, did the cover – was this the first album that had the artist’s handwriting on the cover?). Had there ever been a quieter album opener? Or UK #2 single (#19 in the States)?

Just a spectral Roland CR-78 rhythm box playing a loose approximation of Phil’s beat from Peter Gabriel’s ‘Intruder’ (and at exactly the same tempo) and a few synth chords (starting in D-minor, the saddest of all keys…). And then the massively compressed, mid-song fill is always louder than you think it’ll be.

In fact, compared to modern ‘pop’ music, the whole album has an enormous amount of space – even silence. The silence between each track (apart from the mid-album medley) seems unusually elongated and very deliberate.

Atlantic (Phil’s label in the US) boss Ahmet Ertegun said something interesting about ‘In The Air’: for years afterwards, it was always his go-to track for demonstrating a sure-fire hit – rather an extraordinary statement, when you think about it.

Phil was also becoming a more-than-useful pianist – check out his lovely voicings on ‘Hand In Hand’ and impressive rhythm playing (just the black keys!) on ‘Droned’.

The success of Face Value was a huge gamechanger for his Genesis colleagues. The ‘funny guy’ behind the kit who had always felt a bit like an outsider was now calling the shots. Newfound respect from Messrs. Rutherford and Banks. There would be no more drummer jokes.

The album revolutionised Virgin Records too. Its massive success (UK #1, US #7) was almost as seismic as Mike Oldfield’s Tubular Bells had been five years before, ushering in the label’s mega-selling pop era of Culture Club, Human League et al.

‘Phil and Peter Gabriel are delightful people. Nothing’s too much trouble for them and it’s also true that because they’d both bother to go into the office to see everyone, the staff would work their balls off for them.’ Richard Branson, 1999

If Phil’s solo career had only ever consisted of Face Value, his legacy would have been assured. (In fact many, including this writer, believe he hasn’t produced much solo stuff of worth since…)

(Postscript: my 1980s WEA CD sounds great but is apparently a bootleg, with a few funny misspellings inside the inlay card – ‘Sharokav’ on violin – and a weird Eric Clapton pseudonym: ‘Joe Partridge’…)

Genesis: ‘Mama’ @ 40

Posted on by

If any more proof was needed as to how far the UK pop charts have declined since the mid-1990s, look no further than the fact that Genesis’s ‘Mama’ – released 40 years old this week – was their biggest hit, going all the way to #4.

Not bad for a nearly-seven-minute song without a proper chorus about a young man’s troubled relationship with a sex worker.

In my opinion, ‘Mama’ is one of the great singles of the 1980s, epic and menacing, and the last decent showing for post-Gabriel Genesis (I couldn’t/can’t get anywhere with its attendant 1983 self-titled album, nor any of their subsequent projects).

In autumn 1983, I was vaguely aware of Phil Collins, my ears having been piqued by my dad’s frequent playing of Face Value around the house. But when my uncle bought me the ‘Mama’ 12-inch single, I’m pretty sure I’d never heard of Genesis. But Uncle Jim wrote ‘Side A is the good side!’ on the front for guidance, knowing I’d love Phil’s immense drum sound (to these ears, still just as ‘shocking’ as ‘In The Air Tonight’). For me, this is the apex of Phil’s best era – roughly 1976 to 1983.

The author with his first snare drum, his dad the DJ about to put on ‘Mama’, circa autumn 1983

‘Mama’ was recorded at the band’s Farm studio near Chiddingfold, Surrey, and co-produced by Hugh Padgham. Phil set up in the new drum room modelled on the famous Townhouse Studio 2 in Shepherds Bush.

There are still so many pleasures – Phil’s sibilant, Lennon-influenced vocals (including a homage to Melle Mel), making full use of the slapback echo which went straight onto tape rather than being added later. Banks’s ominous synth layering and wacky lead tones. Mike Rutherford’s Linn drum programming, played through a guitar amp.

Also listen out for the way Phil avoids metal completely until the beginning of the fade, when his enormous crash cymbal is a huge release.

 

Conspiracy Theories Of 1980s Music

Posted on by

Bob Carolgees and friend

‘Conspiracy theories’: you can’t move for ’em these days, and things aren’t much different here at movingtheriver.com.

The 1980s: a decade when uncredited ‘guest’ performances were many, Emulators and Fairlights ‘appropriated’ the sounds of acoustic instruments, producers demanded rip-offs of other musicians (a popular drummer joke* of the 1980s, with many variations: how many drummers does it take to change a lightbulb? Ten. One to change the bulb, nine to talk about how Steve Gadd would have done it…), hits came with writs and things were never quite what they seemed.

So it’s not surprising that conspiracy theories flourished during the 1980s. Here are some good ones. Bullsh*t or not? YOU decide. Maybe none are as famous as the ‘Paul Is Dead’ saga, but wtf…

8. Kirsty MacColl sings backup vocals on Dire Straits’ ‘Walk Of Life’
Uncredited of course, but these pre-chorus stacks, first heard at 1:19, sound very much like the much-missed vocalist.

7. Donna Summer performed all of Irene Cara’s vocals
Come on, they are interchangeable. Apologies to anyone in Cara’s family or Cara herself but she sounds freakily like Summer on ‘Fame’ and ‘Flashdance (What A Feeling)’.

6. George Michael wrote ‘Round And Round’ for Jaki Graham
In exchange for what? The classic single is just so in George’s ballpark, of course helped by Derek Bramble’s sparkly state-of-1985 production (he gets the songwriting credit too).

5. Adrian Edmondson of ‘The Young Ones’/The Comic Strip/’Bottom’ fame made the spoof 1984 jazz/funk classic ‘F*cking C*unt/Awkward Bastard’
Rumours abound that it’s Ade, or a few members of The Damned. No one is quite sure and no one has ever owned up, but it’s still brilliant.

4. The Dukes Of Stratosphear’s ‘Brainiac’s Daughter’ is actually a Paul McCartney joint
No one has done ‘Happy Macca’ circa 1968 as well as the Dukes, AKA XTC. But was this ACTUALLY a lost Beatles track?

3. John Bonham stuck around long enough to drum on Survivor’s 1982 hit ‘Eye Of The Tiger’
It’s just sounds so much like the Led Zep sticksman, who died in 1980. It’s the feel, and the sound of his kick and snare drums.

2. Level 42’s Mark King played bass on David Bowie’s ‘Tumble And Twirl’
Actually this one is probably ‘true’. He doesn’t get a credit on the album liners but King himself mentioned (in this podcast) doing a few sessions at the Townhouse Studios in Shepherds Bush around spring 1984 with producer/engineer Hugh Padgham so it’s quite probable. In any case it’s certainly right in his ‘Lopsy Lu’/’Heathrow’ comfort zone, and brilliant slap playing.

1. Bob Carolgees played the famous sax melody on George Michael’s ‘Careless Whisper’(That’s enough ‘conspiracy theories’, Ed…)

*Here’s a bonus drummer joke, because I’ve just read and loved it: What does a drummer use for contraception? His/her personality.

Simple Minds: Sparkle In The Rain

Posted on by

After ‘82’s critically acclaimed New Gold Dream, the logical step for Simple Minds would seem to have been to go even further away from their art-rock roots and rush headlong towards some funky ‘sophisti-pop’.

After all, head honcho Jim Kerr is on record as saying that his favourites from the era were Grace Jones’ Nightclubbing, Donna Summer’s two classic 1982 singles and Carly Simon’s ‘Why’.

To that end, Nightclubbing co-helmer Alex Sadkin was eagerly approached to produce Sparkle In The Rain, but he declined, busy with Duran Duran and Thompson Twins work.

Instead, inspired by premiering the pile-driving, Pink Floyd-meets-Doors ‘Waterfront’ at Dublin’s Phoenix Park gig (supporting U2) on 14 August 1983, they turned to producer Steve Lillywhite, chief architect of the Return to Rock that was eclipsing New Pop during summer 1983, courtesy of his work with Big Country and U2.

Lillywhite hastily took them into Shepherds Bush’s legendary Townhouse Studios 2, with Howard Gray engineering. Guitarist Charlie Burchill wrote ‘Herzog’ on the back of Lillywhite’s chair, inspired by his and Kerr’s newfound love of the German director’s ‘Fitzcarraldo’ and its theme of dreams moving mountains. A photo of Nastassja Kinski took pride of place on the control-room wall.

There were regular games of table tennis, Kerr using them to psych himself up for the very adrenalized vocal takes, especially on the hysterial ‘Kick Inside Of Me’.

After previous drummer problems to match Spinal Tap, the excellent Mel Gaynor was a real find for the band. Though quiet in the studio, he was a monster on the kit and also apparently contributed effective keyboard and guitar ideas.

Bassist Derek Forbes was more in the background, spending a lot of time drawing his ‘Dan Yer Man’ cartoons. Burchill allegedly gave him a bollocking about his lack of ‘commitment’; the writing was on the wall for the talented player. He’d soon join fellow ex-Mind Brian McGee in a superb iteration of Propaganda’s touring band.

Tellingly, Sparkle’s songwriting royalties are split five ways, except for a truncated cover of Lou Reed’s ‘Street Hassle’ which jettisons some of the more ‘unsavoury’ statements of the original (shades of Bowie’s ‘Tonight’, recorded a few months later?).

But it’s Gaynor, Kerr and McNeil’s album. The latter provides epic textures, very high in the mix. Kirsty MacColl provides a very welcome ‘girl’s voice’. ‘Shake Off The Ghosts’ was certainly noted by U2. ‘Waterfront’ is brilliant. How many other hits use guitar harmonics for their main riff? (only The Hooters’ ‘Satellite’ comes to mind).

Alongside Empires And Dance, Sparkle remains my favourite Minds album. Yes it’s a sonic ‘experiment’ and most tracks go on for a minute too long, but it’s rooted in strong band playing and delicious ambient textures. And it’s bloody loud.

Released on 6 February 1984, it became their first of four straight UK #1 albums. But they weren’t delivering on the singles front: ‘Waterfront’ only got to #13, ‘Speed Your Love’ #20 and ‘Up On The Catwalk’ #27. With hindsight, their reluctant November 1984 recording of Keith Forsey/Steve Schiff’s ‘Don’t You (Forget About Me)’ was a vital career move.

Minds hit the gig circuit for a very busy summer 1984 tour including a record-breaking (at the time) eight nights at Hammersmith Odeon. This was a very different group to a year earlier. It’s fascinating to compare two ‘Oxford Road Show’ gigs from early 1983 and early 1984.

Gone was the skinny, neurotic Euro art-funk. Kerr was a far more wholesome, energised, welcoming character than before, screaming ‘Charlie Burchill!’ before the regular guitar breaks. He even started the Hammersmith gigs up a pole, Julian Cope-style!

But Kerr quickly disowned this period, citing exhaustion on the part of the band. Stateside success seemed so near yet so far. But then came ‘Don’t You’, Kerr’s marriage to Chrissie Hynde, ‘The Breakfast Club’ and Live Aid. The world was theirs.

Further reading: ‘Simple Minds’ by Adam Sweeting

John Martyn: Glorious Fool

Posted on by

john-martyn-glorious-fool

Putting together my top 15 album list recently had an interesting knock-on effect: I actually spent some time listening to my choices.

Glorious Fool was possibly the one that surprised and pleased me the most (I listened to it on the original WEA cassette which sounds miles better than the CD master for some reason).

The general critical consensus is that John Martyn lost his way in the ‘80s, donning the suit, ditching the acoustic guitar and burying his music in synths, soft saxophones and stodgy productions.

But it’s an overly simplistic view. I would put Glorious Fool and the previous Grace And Danger (not forgetting 1990’s The Apprentice) right up there with any of his fabled ‘70s stuff.

Certainly his compositions were more musically demanding, but John’s lyrics were still pithy and his chords as dark and rich as ever. It’s just that often he was concentrating on his singing a lot more in this period – no bad thing – and so often delegated the main harmonic accompaniment to a keyboard rather than his guitar.

 

The ‘80s started fairly unpromisingly for John. He was still in turmoil over the breakup with wife Beverley, and the release of his classic Grace And Danger album had been delayed for 18 months, Island Records label boss Chris Blackwell believing it to be terminally uncommercial.

It was finally released in June 1980 to excellent reviews and reasonable sales but it was the straw that broke the camel’s back as far as John’s relationship with Island was concerned.

His new manager Sandy Roberton got him a deal with Warner Bros and also helped put together a cracking new band including ex-Jeff Beck (Blow By Blow) keys player Max Middleton, percussionist Danny Cummings and hotshot young Glaswegian bassist Alan Thomson.

Martyn’s mucker and partner-in-heartbreak Phil Collins also returned on drums and production. John said at the time, ‘I wasn’t married. I thought: let’s go for it, let’s make some money and make a band.’

In June 1981, they all convened at the Townhouse Studios on the Goldhawk Road, Shepherd’s Bush, West London, to commence work on Glorious Fool.

During the recording, John was living in the small apartment above the studio, and would apparently often undertake vocal duties in the wee hours of the morning, slightly the worse for wear and clad only in his dressing gown.

It’s clear that John’s failed marriage is still very much the emotional currency of his songwriting. ‘Pascanel (Get Back Home)’, ‘Hearts And Keys’ and ‘Please Fall In Love With Me’ are crushingly candid in their evocation of the contrasting emotions spawned by a relationship breakdown, everything from pure love and raw lust to rage, despair, envy, pleading and desolation.

The furious ‘Never Say Never’ kicks off with Martyn screaming ‘Shuddup! Close your mouth!’ over Collins’ trademark tom fills. Brilliant. ‘Perfect Hustler’ and ‘Didn’t Do That’ are more comic evocations of lost love, the former featuring Martyn sarcastically taunting his paramour about her suave, Latin-dancing boyfriend, and wondering if he has ‘gold teeth in’!

By contrast, ‘Hold On My Heart’ is an unashamedly soft, romantic love song, the nearest the album comes to an early ’80s Collins or Genesis ballad.

The title track takes a satirical look at the then-newly-elected president Ronald Reagan while ‘Amsterdam’ is a harrowing portrait of a close friend’s funeral in the Dutch capital (after an unrequited obsession with a local prostitute). It features a nasty, brutal groove, sort of John’s version of post-punk, and the haunting refrain: ‘The night the kid left Amsterdam…’ It’s the ‘80s flipside to ‘Solid Air’.

The album ends with the desolate ‘Don’t You Go’, a heartbreaking anti-war folk ballad with John’s moving vocal accompanied only by Collins’ piano and ghostly vocoder.

Another reason for Glorious Fool’s success is the sheer quality of the musicianship. The band can turn on a dime, and Collins has never played better, coming up with three or four classic beats and demonstrating a perfect understanding of what each song requires.

The album was a reasonable success, hitting #25 on the UK charts and staying in the top 100 for seven weeks, and the critics were generally onside. It also made for a very interesting companion piece to Collins’ Face Value, released six months before. You don’t need me to tell you which record sold more copies, but I doubt John lost much sleep over it.

For much more about Glorious Fool and John’s stellar career, check out ‘Some People Are Crazy’ by John Neil Munro and also this excellent BBC4 documentary.