Tag Archives: vanmorrison

1980s Rock/Pop Acts I Should Like But Don’t

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Everyone knows a few: those acts that got great reviews, named some of your favourite bands as influences and sold a few records in the process, but there was just something about their music that you couldn’t hack.

Maybe it was their vocals, their outlook, their politics, their songwriting, or a mixture of all four.

Well I know some too. Here’s a totally subjective, wildly judgemental – no offence intended – list of 1980s pop and rock artists who leave me cold, despite most being critical and commercial successes. Believe me, I’ve tried. Like they could care less…

King’s X
My muso mates waxed lyrical about their tricky riffs and tight musicianship but I’ve never got beyond the guy’s not very good singing, their weirdly unmemorable songs and rather naff pomp-rock tendencies.

World Party
Perpetually spoken about in hushed tones of reverence when I was at college but their music singularly failed to grab, despite the Beatles/XTC/Prince influences, possibly due to Karl Wallinger’s rather wimpy voice. See also: Crowded House, REM, Waterboys

The Blow Monkeys
Somehow got filed under the ‘sophistipop’ banner courtesy of their flirtation with ‘slinky’ grooves and soul influences, but for me Dr Robert’s absurd voice and the lack of songwriting imagination never got them past first base. See also: Kane Gang, Simply Red, Johnny Hates Jazz, Black, The Big Dish.

Marillion
Decade-ending Season’s End had some brilliant moments but for me most of the Fish era was a succession of quite badly-played/badly-sung rip-offs of Gabriel-era Genesis. It Bites did it better and added some much-needed pizzazz and groove. See also: IQ, Jadis, Tony Banks/Chris Squire/Mike Rutherford solo albums…

Deacon Blue
I liked the soppier/poppier elements of their debut album Raintown but the game was up when the truly irritating ‘Wages Day’ and ‘Real Gone Kid’ swept the airwaves at the end of the decade. They took Prefab Sprout’s basic concept to the bank whilst shaving off the weird edges.

Paul McCartney
Sheer melodic brilliance time and time again of course, but for me his 1980s work generally flatters to deceive, outside of a few random favourites (‘Pipes Of Peace’, ‘Once Upon A Long Ago’). Yes, even the album he did with Elvis Costello (of whom more below…).

The Style Council
Only a musical moron would deny the power of ‘You’re The Best Thing’ and ‘Walls Come Tumbling Down’ and you have to admire Paul Weller’s songcraft, politics, guitar playing and ability to laugh at himself, but generally it was hard to shake off the naffness. Mick Talbot must take a lot of the blame…

Mick Jagger
He employed some of my favourite producers and musicians (Jeff Beck, Sakamoto, Bill Laswell, Herbie Hancock, Doug Wimbish, Simon Phillips etc. etc.) but failed to produce even one memorable or interesting single or album track during the 1980s. See also: Pete Townshend, Eric Clapton, Nick Heyward, Jerry Harrison

Pages
This yacht rock supergroup had a great singer (Richard Page) and sh*t-hot musicians (Vinnie Colaiuta, Jay Graydon, Jeff Porcaro, Steve Lukather etc.) but the songs weren’t strong or memorable enough. See also: most of Toto, Mr Mister

Elvis Costello
Weirdly his ‘Less Than Zero’ was one of the first singles I loved as a kid, but his desperation to be a serious ’80s ‘artist’ fell on deaf ears despite the fact that he obviously knew a lot of chords and retained some of that new-wave angst (but even I couldn’t resist his fine run of 1990s form, from the superb ‘London’s Brilliant Parade’ to Bacharach). See also: The Cars, The The, Squeeze.

Van Morrison
To my ears his 1980s music is like Joni Mitchell and John Martyn without the melodic/harmonic/lyrical depth, apart from the sublime ‘Rave On John Donne’. People tell me he always uses great bands though, but they often barely register…

Todd Rundgren
I’m more of a fan of his 1980s producing work (Pursuit Of Happiness, XTC etc) than his solo music. Never bought into this whole ‘he’s a genius’ thing, save the wonderful ‘The Verb To Love’ – but that’s from the 1970s, innit…? See also: Lenny Kravitz.

Depeche Mode
Yes they’ve got a few pop hooks, the Mute Records cred and ‘edgy’ image but never been able to shake off an ineffable naffness for me. And despite being ‘synth pioneers’, they didn’t seem to push the sonic envelope much in the 1980s at all. ‘Everything Counts’ was superb though and I got on board later with Ultra. See also: Kraftwerk, New Musik, Visage, Ultravox, New Order, Howard Jones

Pink Floyd
If you want to put me to sleep, put on any of Pink Floyd’s 1980s work. Bring back Syd. See also: Fleetwood Mac, Pink Floyd solo projects, except Nick Mason’s Fictitious Sports, which is brilliant…

Bad Brains
Dub/thrash/funk pioneers and a huge influence on bands I really like such as Living Colour, Fishbone and 24-7 Spyz, but their music seems a little amateurish to me and, again, their singer was not blessed with a great set of pipes (unlike the singers of bands above).

Housemartins
Fondly remembered until you actually hear those singles again – ‘Build’, ‘Happy Hour’, ‘Caravan Of Love’. Annoying, a bit puny, and apparently the more irritating side of the C-86 generation.

The Jesus and Mary Chain
Bowie summed them up well for me: ‘I tried the Jesus and Mary Chain but I just couldn’t believe it. It’s awful! It was so sophomoric – like the Velvets without Lou. I just know that they’re kids from Croydon! I just can’t buy it…’

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.

Mark Isham: Vapor Drawings 35 Years On

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Did any music of lasting worth come out of the early ’80s ‘New Age’ boom?

Mark Isham’s brief but inspired Windham Hill catalogue still cuts the mustard.

The trumpeter/keyboardist/composer’s Vapor Drawings, released 35 years ago this weekend, was a remarkably assured, fully-formed debut album, recorded when he was part of Van Morrison’s band and also enjoying a varied session career.

I distinctly remember hearing a track from it in the mid-1980s on a short-lived ‘new age’ BBC radio show whose name escapes me. And weirdly, Isham mixed the album 100 yards from my childhood home during spring 1983 at John Kongos’s Tapestry Studios.

Synths are Vapor Drawings’ main ingredient but Isham uses them in subtly original ways, using sequencers to build Steve Reich-inspired ‘systems’ or – one of his trademarks – getting them to hang in the air like sky lanterns.

The music defies categorisation, mostly hovering in the hinterland between ambient, minimalism, electronica and jazz (he even throws in a quote from Sonny Rollins’ ‘Oleo’ on ‘Raffles In Rio’).

But there’s always the human element courtesy of his superb trumpet and piano playing. Erik Satie is also an apparent inspiration, and possibly what David Sylvian picked up on when he invited Isham into the studio to record Brilliant Trees later in 1983.

It’s no surprise Isham has become one of the most in-demand soundtrack composers of the last 30 years – ‘On The Threshold Of Liberty’ (named after a Magritte painting), ‘Men Before The Mirror’ and ‘Sympathy And Acknowledgement’ are epic and rousing.

’83 proved to be a bit of an annus mirabilis for Isham, hooking up with Sylvian and also working with Gil Evans at the Montreux Jazz Festival. Vapor Drawings is the first and best of his solo albums. Happy birthday to an unsung classic.