FEATURE: Golden Sounds: My Favourite Albums of the Year So Far

FEATURE:

 

 

Golden Sounds

IN THIS PHOTO: Phoebe Bridgers

My Favourite Albums of the Year So Far

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PERHAPS there aren’t…

IN THIS PHOTO: Paul McCartney/PHOTO CREDIT: Mary McCartney

that many surprises in this list, but I wanted to spotlight my ten favourite albums of this year so far. It has been a very good year for albums. Some best of the decade arguably released since the start of the year. I have loved seeing these incredible artists deliver albums that will endure for years. My selection is below, but it would be good to know what people’s choices are and if there are any I have missed out on. These are my favourite albums…

IN THIS PHOTO: Lime Garden

OF 2026.

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Antony Szmierek – Decoding Birdsong

Release Date: 21st August

Labels: Mushroom Group/Virgin Music Group

Producers: Antony Szmierek/Max Rad

Buy: https://www.roughtrade.com/product/antony-szmierek/decoding-birdsong

Standout Track: Flight Simulator

Review:

“When Antony Szmierek’s debut, ‘Service Station at the End of the Universe’, became one of last year’s most distinctive breakthrough albums, any follow-up was bound to arrive under an uncomfortable spotlight. His second record ‘Decoding Birdsong’ doesn’t shy away from that pressure; it turns it into its subject. Across its 13 tracks, Szmierek examines his own rise, then examines the instinct to examine it at all.

Opener ‘Chalk’ lays the philosophical groundwork. Over restless electro grooves and spoken-word urgency, he likens analysing success to chalking a snooker cue: a ritual that offers the illusion of control in a game largely dictated by chance. It’s a classic Szmierek opener, marrying dancefloor propulsion with existential inquiry. But the buoyant disco-house of ‘The Heron’ immediately challenges that mindset. Inspired by a heron repeatedly sighted nesting on the banks of the Mersey, the bird becomes a symbol of patience rather than prediction, urging us to experience the world before trying to interrogate it.

Therein lies the record’s central tension. Where Szmierek’s debut found magic in everyday places, ‘Decoding Birdsong’ asks what happens when the search for meaning becomes all-consuming. Coincidences become omens, luck becomes destiny, and every fleeting moment threatens to collapse beneath the weight of interpretation. It’s a remarkably self-aware record, one that recognises its own tendency to mythologise experience.

Its emotional turning point arrives with ‘Seminal’ and ‘Flight Simulator’. The former sinks into isolation and emotional paralysis, while the latter gradually transforms that anxiety into something quietly euphoric. Swelling melodic techno, and Imogen and the Knife’s ethereal presence, mirror a hard-won realisation: nobody is properly equipped for adulthood, and whether it’s luck, fate or practice carrying us through matters less than choosing to trust yourself anyway.

Thankfully, none of this comes at the expense of fun. Max Rad’s production constantly finds movement within introspection, marrying garage, house, breakbeats and shimmering alt-pop to Szmierek’s philosophy. ‘The First Five Minutes of Magnolia’ pairs grungy guitars with bright filter-house exuberance, while collaborators including Pretty Girl, Ellur and 1-800 GIRLS broaden his sonic palette without ever distracting from the album’s emotional throughline.

By the time the title track arrives, Szmierek reaches a quietly revelatory conclusion: some things lose their magic the harder we try to explain them. By the end, he realises that, like birdsong itself, beauty isn’t always there to be translated. Sometimes it’s enough simply to listen” – DIY

The Anchoress – As We Once Were

Release Date: 7th August

Label: Last Night From Glasgow

Producer: The Anchoress (Catherine Ann Davies)

Buy: https://shop.lastnightfromglasgow.com/collections/the-anchoress/products/the-anchoress-as-we-once-were-vinyl-lp-cd-cassette-lossless-dl

Standout Track: She Knows Her Place

Review:

“Beneath the Last Dinner Parties and Wet Legs of U.K. indie rock lies a smaller, more earnest niche, one that’s both kinetic and deeply emotional. These artists have a lot in common with their aforementioned peers—though they often embrace an earnest attitude, rather than a fashionably arch one—and even if they aren’t equally famous, their songs sound enormous. Among the best of this category is Catherine Anne Davies, who performs as the Anchoress, mixing ’80s pop with the gritty ’90s rock of Richey Edwards-era Manic Street Preachers.

Davies has breached containment, at least in her home country: Both 2016’s Confessions of a Romance Novelist and 2021’s The Art of Losing received acclaim, as well as co-signs from Elton John. The latter was an unflinchingly dark album informed by the loss of Davies’ father, multiple miscarriages, and a reckoning with sexual violence, all buoyed by glistening synthesizers. But as well-crafted as the individual parts were, they didn’t always jell; the songs’ many layers sometimes drowned out Davies’ incisive observations.

As We Once Were, her third album, also arrives after personal upheaval: Having a daughter in lockdown caused Davies to come to terms with her own generational trauma, which she navigated during a harrowing time where tabloids invaded her private life. While Davies bristles at being labeled a “confessional” writer, this context makes the elaborate productions on her third album feel like a refuge. Davies has said she spent hours on one particular ARP 2500 synth texture for “I Had a Baby Not a Lobotomy,” for example, and almost every song on the album is swimming in similarly odd little sounds. Here, lavishness is a life raft.

Davies has gotten somewhat reductive Florence Welch comparisons over the years; the grandiose, Virginia Woolf-quoting “Throw Over Your Man” is the first time she’s truly courted them, and it’s a great fit. Here, she fully indulges in campiness, particularly in the song’s come-ons—after she sings the title, she follows it with, “Let me love you like a woman can.” It’s the most upbeat song on the record, offering a glimpse of joyful possibility before the record’s true stakes creep in.

These production choices elevate her captivating songwriting. Even the sparser ballads, like “She Knows Her Place”—written as a sort of sequel to the Beatles’ “She’s Leaving Home”—have unconventional instruments, like the inclusion of taishogoto, a Japanese instrument with a typewriter-esque sound, and glitching baby coos. On the interlude “Happiness Don’t Show Like It Should,” Davies forms a call-and-response with a backmasked version of herself. That said, Davies pushes it on the six-minute track “Hand to the Tide”—even as it recounts a tragic accident, its strange heavy-breathing backing vocals and uncharacteristically buried prog-metal guitar solo come across as melodramatic.

The occasional overwrought moment never overwhelms Davies’ lyrics, which showcase her dry wit more readily than her last two records. On “I Had A Baby, Not a Lobotomy,” she lines up misogynistic microaggressions she’s received from others in her industry in new parenthood: “Are you still doing that? Oh what for? Guess now there won't be any more tours?” In isolation, some of these lines might sound like they mean well (“So good for you for bouncing back!”) but taken together, they share a subtext of denying women’s creative and personal autonomy.

While that song builds a pop chorus out of her frustration, Davies shows more restraint on a pair of standout songs—“What You Did” and “All I Really Want Is Peace”—that address a former abusive partner. Despite its title, “Peace” is some of the most sarcastic, angry writing she’s put on record, already predicting how her ex will spin the narrative: “What if you turn this into a redemption arc?/They say that adversity makes the best art.” Even the ending line, “Forgive me, please,” is said with a sense of spite.

Given the cavalcade of reference points and intense themes here, as well as Davies’ love of tinkering, the record’s effortless feel is all the more impressive. “Damsels” contains the only real cliché moments on the album; hearing phrases like “well-behaved women seldom make history” brings back memories of 2017 pop-feminism, especially considering how sharp the writing can otherwise be. Using such on-the-nose rallying cries almost feels redundant when she’s able to deliver sharper sentiments elsewhere while walking a tonal tightrope between camp and brutal honesty. When she laments that “if only” the repressed protagonist of “She Knows Her Place” “were a man,” there’s a note of irony—after all, it’s on a record where it’s always possible to subvert the expectations and challenges of womanhood” – Pitchfork

Charli xcx – Music, Fashion, Film

Release Date: 24th July

Label: Atlantic

Producers: A. G. Cook/Finn Keane

Buy: https://store.uk.charlixcx.com/

Standout Track: Camera

Review:

“After a decade spent trailblazing a unique kind of pop freedom from the genre’s fringes, A-list success seemed like the thing that might finally trap Charli xcx. Her 2024 club-rat opus Brat spawned memes, embarrassing political bandwagoning, Collins’ word of the year and possibly terminal damage to the bra industry. Its ludicrous cultural impact looked set to pickle her as a caricature of a Parliament-toting bad girl; the question of whether “Brat summer” could last – whether Charli could sustain the interest – was so rife she turned it into a mockumentary, The Moment. It made success look miserable: your creation turned cringe by execs wanting to milk their prize cow dry of every last acid-green drop.

Even for a pop star renowned for reinvention, it put a higher price on her next move. Pivot and risk losing new fans and looking wilfully contrarian. When Charli released the sub-two-minute single Rock Music, many heard it as a middle finger. “I think the dancefloor is dead,” she drawls over guitars that buzzed like speakers weathering interference from a Nokia 5110, “so now we’re making rock music.” There were boring thinkpieces about the dancefloor being very much alive, actually (as if Charli had ever ridden culture for clout then binned it off), and about whether she was trying to eject fair-weather new fans. But the key to this cheeky song is surprisingly earnest: “Jump off the stage / I hope they catch you today / But if they don’t it’s OK,” she sings naively, an affirmation to take creative leaps, and to come with Charli – or not, as you like – as she takes this one.

Music, Fashion, Film’s prosaic title references Charli’s recent turn towards acting and fashion collaborations. But from the first singles, the bigger picture felt a little murky compared with Brat’s excavation of anxieties around female relationships. She quickly protested that she wasn’t reeeeaally making rock music. The wistful SS26 dealt in slimy celebrity apologia; the addictive Wink Wink hat-tipped to 00s French indie sleazers the Teenagers as Charli pinky-promised that she was respectable now. But I’d bet these releases were intentionally diffuse, preventing Music, Fashion, Film from slipping out of Charli’s control before it was even out.

That slipperiness turns out to be the essence of another gorgeously astute and disarmingly deep album about the instability of identity – not just as a vanguard songwriter striving for evolution, but how much we can ever know one another, or even ourselves. Rock Music and SS26 explore self-definition: the defiant cultural reset; the celebrity scoundrel who dodges criticism by exploiting certain sympathies (“my heritage could give me quite the USP”). On Card Declined’s blunt, fuzzed-out chug, she’s shopping for “a personality / A whole backstory” via luxury goods. There’s no moralising side-eye: Charli, always a laser-focused cultural observer, understands that self-commodification is just the way we live now, how it might offer an escape from dire times, or helpfully beckon the hellfires faster. Even leaning on guitars and stripping away Charli’s usual AutoTune toys with the idea of authenticity, though it’s far from genre cosplay. Alongside co-producers AG Cook and Easyfun, Charli remakes guitar music at intimate, pocket-sized scale – though with outsized hookiness.

There are two telling songs about different best-friendships. Magic Metal Montana, a dreamy blur of Strokes guitars and emo half-time, is a love song to long-term producer AG Cook. “We don’t talk,” she sings tenderly, “we make music, we talk that way.” The bolshie, muscular Persona teases a friend who talks endlessly and calls Charli her bestie but never says anything real, a performance Charli understands: “We’re both under the influence of life imitating art, and we both know it,” she chants. Who do you trust with your true, faltering self?

For Charli, ever fearless about looking unflattering, it’s her audience. Two shockingly brilliant standouts address her self-actualisation through art. The melancholy, jittering Camera confronts her anxieties about whether she’s stupid for wanting to “throw my life away” to pursue acting, but the way it softens into a heavenly, firefly-dappled rhapsody makes you understand exactly how liberating it is. Pop star-actors are always labelled dilettantes. Charli reframes the idea: how at any moment, a bolt from the blue might undo your idea of yourself, make you feel terrifyingly reborn.

Her actual birth features on I’m Afraid, about how her insecurities may stem from her father not being present at hers. Over spare, bassy dissonance that echoes her fantastically dank John Cale collaboration House, she screams about her fears of failing as a wife (she married 1975 drummer George Daniel last summer) when she’s just a drunk, numb, desperate kid, two more ill-fitting identities. “Take the ring, take the ring,” she yells; then she sounds exhausted as she admits she has to say these “complicated”, unsayable things “so my insides don’t turn black”. That’s less of a case for artistic purification than it might seem: “All this pain makes me believe / I’m a better artist now / An excuse I tell myself / To act selfishly,” she admits. Does she contradict herself? Absolutely. Does that unsparing compulsion to lay it all out for us – the ego and self-hate; the defensiveness and chagrin – make Charli our most consistently bracing pop star? God, yes” – The Guardian

Phoebe Bridgers – Lost Weekend

Release Date: 14th August

Label: Dead Oceans

Producers: Phoebe Bridgers/Ethan Gruska/Jack Antonoff/Tony Berg/Alexander Giannascoli

Buy: https://www.roughtrade.com/en-us/product/phoebe-bridgers/lost-weekend/

Standout Track: Lost Weekend

Review:

“Lost Weekend' is easily Phoebe Bridgers' most devastating album yet, which is no mean feat considering the brutally stark emotional reckonings which feature across previous solo releases 'Stranger In The Alps' and 'Punisher', as well as her collabs as part of Boygenius and Better Oblivion Community Centre. Crafted over a four-year period that saw her lose her father and fall in love while also dealing with the whiplash of going from cult indie darling to pop megastar, it's a record of chaotic extremes.

Building on the uneasy, otherworldly synths that stalked the folksy guitar purges of her previous two records, opening track 'The Outside' is a warped, electronic introduction to 'Lost Weekend' that sees Phoebe deliver dark humour ("Crying in a suit and tie but should have seen the other guy. One more time for old times' sake / I'll get carried away") through heavy vocal effects. Comfortable with both isolation ("I am on the outside") and community ("I dive into the crowd and they never let me hit the ground"), the song exists in messy, undefined spaces. Whether it's hopeful or heartbreaking depends entirely on how you meet it.

And that's the same for almost all of 'Lost Weekend'. Lead single 'Lost Boys' sounds triumphant – a nostalgia-fuelled celebration of childhood wonder and reckless abandon – but there's an aching sadness hiding in the shadow of the 00s fairytale. The tender beauty of 'The Governor's Waltz' sits somewhere between full-bodied fear and giddy romance, while the scrappy, defiant forward motion of 'Never Going Back!' is undercut by a gut-wrenching voicemail ("I know being a rock star takes up a lot of your time, but give me a call sometime"). 'Bobby' and 'Liberty Tree' are two halves of the same story. Even 'Haunted', a joyous country anthem that relishes escapism, is brought back to earth a few tracks later with the spiralling, self-reflection of 'As Above', which takes that dream of new beginnings and buries it under a lifetime of regret and uncertainty.  

The title-track sees Phoebe reliving called-off engagements, "surviving her gift", falling apart and feeling understood over dreamy synths that explode into something more euphoric, while 'Still Standing' tries to come to terms with violence, forgiveness, empathy, understanding, fury and resilience. The eerie, experimental instrumentals that start or end most of the tracks give 'Lost Weekend' room to breathe amongst all the heaviness, but it's still capable of emotional sucker punches even after repeated lyrics. It's perhaps why Phoebe has banned phones from her upcoming arena tour, so fans have a safe space to get caught up in the music without fear of going viral.

Produced by Phoebe, Tony Berg, Ethan Gruska and Jack Antonoff (with Alex G offering "additional production"), 'Lost Weekend' is a deliciously strange record. From the fractured post-rock breakdown at the end of 'Kill Me' and the ghostly samples that haunt the record to 'Lost Parade''s big band take on 'Lost Boys', it all adds to the sense of discovery that's threaded throughout the album. There are fleeting moments of undeniable joy, devastating pools of depression and bursts of guttural catharsis, but it all ends with a reprise of the title track. An ode to everything that's come before, there's also an unwavering promise of "we're going to be alright" in the future, but Phoebe is cut off before that grows into anything more celebratory. Across 'Lost Weekend', she takes crushing with a flicker of optimism to daring new places” – DORK

Olivia Rodrigo – you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love

Release Date: 12th June

Label: Geffen

Producer: Dan Nigro

Buy: https://shopuk.oliviarodrigo.com/collections/girlsoinlove

Standout Track: the cure

Review:

“Olivia Rodrigo won over the world with songs written from her bedroom floor about what she thought was love. Heartsick ballads and “fuck you” anthems turned into multiple platinum smash hits and two beloved albums, ‘Sour’ and ‘Guts’. So when it came time to write her third, Rodrigo resolved to write a good ol’ love song about her first proper relationship.

All was going to plan, until Rodrigo started listening to her gut – and her relationship ended while making the record. From that comes ‘You Seem Pretty Sad For A Girl So In Love’, which details the highs and lows of adult love with a cinematic flourish that’s gorgeous to take in. Ambitious, nuanced and layered, it’s absolute proof of Rodrigo’s generational talent.

The album’s lush instrumental heightens the romance of its first half (officially, the ‘Girl So In Love’ side A), where Rodrigo gleefully basks in the warm rays of a new relationship. You can practically see her skipping through a meadow in the meandering breakdown of ‘Stupid Song’, while the rich chorus on ‘Drop Dead’ feels as opulent and ebullient as the name-checked Palace Of Versailles. That cinematic quality even applies to more stripped-back songs like ‘Honeybee’, which pairs Rodrigo’s eerily intimate vocals with a warm, fuzzy piano. “I hope I never see what your face looks like going,” she belts passionately. Ah, young love…

From that naïvety, jealousy and co-dependency rear their ugly heads in Rodrigo’s serenades. She’s braindead and listless without her lover on the excellent New Order ode ‘Maggots For Brains’, while she fights to prove she’s the best girlfriend – paired with the best boyfriend ever – on ‘U + Me = <3’. On ‘My Way’, a deliciously bitchy pop-rock anthem that’s the closest thing to ‘Guts’ as we get here, Rodrigo fends off a rival who can’t keep her eyes off her boyfriend (“Let me be direct, just stop!, You’re being fucking weird…”).

So begins Rodrigo’s inevitable downfall. Though ‘Purple’ fails to stitch together its patchwork sections, its tentative energy sets up the glorious drama of ‘The Cure’. Here, the singer’s an emotional wreck, tallying her lover’s body count in tears until she realises that she’s also the problem. That becomes even clearer on tender folk ballad ‘Begged’, where despite fighting tooth and nail for bare minimum, she hopelessly resolves to ride out the relationship: “I’m a penny in a fountain / Just waiting on my luck to change”.

‘What’s Wrong With Me’ should have been a smash – after all, it’s only got Rodrigo duetting with bloody Robert Smith from The Cure. Their voices melt like butter, and Smith does a fantastic job writing his own ominous verse, but the production is drab and sluggish compared to the grandeur of the album. The relationship comes to a head on ‘Less’, where Rodrigo’s officially, despondently dumped: “If loving me means letting go and wishing me the best / Then I guess / I wish you loved me less.”. It arrives at a thoroughly exhausting point in the record, so depending on your stomach for another ballad, you’ll either find this extremely cathartic or tiresome.

Thank god we have ‘Expectations’ to lift our spirits, which find the singer in a fit of dance-punk mania and post-breakup delusion: “I am so evolved / Now I ask for more and more and more and more and more!” By the time we arrive at closer ‘Cigarette Smoke’, it feels like those expectations are a facade for the deep heartbreak that lingers in her psyche. Even for Rodrigo, this is one haunting ending, who seethes at how long she’s stayed in a relationship with diminishing gains: “Tell me something honest so the memories turn dark.”

More than any other Rodrigo album, you feel emotionally spent by the end of ‘You Seem Pretty Sad For A Girl So In Love’, but in the best way possible. This must be the most fully realised journey Rodrigo’s taken us on – an impressive feat, considering how quickly she had to rewrite songs here in light of her break-up. Here is a major popstar who is not afraid to get weirder and more wonderful, to give even more of themselves over in their art. ‘You Seem Pretty Sad For A Girl So In Love’ is undeniable evidence of Rodrigo’s growth: as a songwriter, composer, and as a human being” – NME

Paul McCartney – The Boys of Dungeon Lane

Release Date: 29th May

Label: Capitol

Producers: Paul McCartney/Andrew Watt

Buy: https://shopuk.paulmccartney.com/collections/the-boys-of-dungeon-lane

Standout Track: Days We Left Behind

Review:

“I wrote about the new Paul album for the new issue of Uncut, and for the latest Uncut Greats which is out next week. It’s a really good record. Or, as I say more formally here:

In among the many key 20th century artists that Paul McCartney has in his collection – we’re thinking alongside the paintings by Magritte and de Kooning – he also has an extensive collection of Paul McCartney. The classic Beatles instruments, which he acquires when Abbey Road want more space in the cupboard. His old school desk – in fact, to a certain extent, even his old school. This is someone who not only, as his recent flurry of documentaries suggests, wants to be in tight control of the Paul McCartney story. If possible, he wants to own the actual landmarks in it.

First glances at The Boys Of Dungeon Lane – a Google Earth image will show you a young lad in a school cap crossing a road in Speke – and the first music from it – the wheezy and nostalgic “The Days We Left Behind”, complete with mention of Forthlin Road, the McCartney family home – suggested that the album might offer more of the same. Namely, a solemn, “Hurt”-style it’s-not-dark-yet acoustic rumination on the Young Paul story. It might have played like one of the museums on Liverpool’s blustery waterfront: old photographs, the boys, the changed world, the last word.

In truth, it’s that most Sgt Peppery Paul notion: the nostalgic not-quite-concept album. Here, it’s Colonel McCartney’s Trip Down Memory Lane, in which Paul looks tenderly in through the window on versions of his younger self. “Home To Us”, which bowls along like a 1980s sitcom theme, duly features an appearance from Ringo on vocals and drums, two ex-Beatles looking back warmly on their humble origins. Elsewhere he and Lennon hatch a “secret code” at their writing sessions by the front room fire in “The Days We Left Behind”, while in “Down South”, he remembers hitchhiking to Harlech in Wales with George Harrison in 1958.

There are pop songs and psych songs (the crazy “Mountain Top” is ace) but the best song is “Salesman Saint”, which returns us to Forthlin Road and a tender reminiscence of the fortitude of McCartney’s working class parents, sustained by no greater comfort than the occasional ciggie and songs on the wireless: “//They couldn’t take any more/But they had to carry on//”. The appearance of a swing band in the arrangement is a classic Paul move. At first glance it’s super-sentimental, but give it a minute: in its way it’s completely avant-garde, sounding as if it’s been dropped in from another song, an older radio. It’s the 1967 musique concrete Paul on nothing stronger than a ration book – and a reminder that in tough times, it’s love which will see us through” – Uncut

Nia Archives – Emotional Junglist

Release Date: 17th July

Labels: Hijinxx/Island Records

Producers: Nia Archives/Ethan P. Flynn/Jakwob/James Ford/Sampha

Buy: https://shop.niaarchives.com/products/emotional-junglist-vinyl-lp?srsltid=AfmBOoqWR5YpSpDZOkuB9RlR79OY16oMdVYDldclCeODB-ybpLZ3erYO

Standout Track: Boys in Blue

Review:

“Spearheading the new wave of 21st century junglism, Nia Archives swept the competition aside with her excellent 2024 debut album ‘Silence Is Loud’. Since then, the Bradford-raised producer has expanded her sound, fully unpacking her influences in the process. Along the way, her heart has taken a few bruises, and it’s this mixture of personal and technical which makes expansive second album ‘Emotional Junglist’ so compelling.

If one of the standard criticisms of Nia’s work was that she was too in thrall with jungle’s heritage, well, this album demolishes that entirely. Citing everyone from the Streets and Happy Mondays through to LTJ Bukem as a point of inspiration, it’s a weighty 15-tracker that embodies her quicksilver creativity.

The highs come thick and fast. ‘Feelingz Go Numb’ is a superb opener, a neat point of connection between her crisp debut and the frenetic creativity of the follow-up. ‘Around Tha Bend’ utilises a guitar line worthy of The Cure, while ‘Danger’ merges dancehall impulses with industrial tones worthy of Nine Inch Nails. A heady thrill, it somehow remains firmly under the jungle imbrella.

It’s this push-and-pull between her sonic ambitions and her fixed roots which gives the record such a dichotomous energy. If William Orbit’s late 90s work haunts ‘Vertical’ then something like ‘Train Of Thought’ is a more down-the-line liquid DNB offering (albeit with the vocals of an angel).

Indeed, if Nia Archives’ debut album was defined, then her follow-up is fusion oriented. ‘Almost Always’ has a sombre, post-punk guitar line; ‘Dance With Me 2Nite’ is unafraid to embrace pop, and ‘The Darkest Hour’ has an orchestral sweep.

The guests, too, are expertly chosen. Ethan P Flynn helps to engage the creative process, Julia Michaels pops up during a writing trip to Los Angeles, and as a whole the record fully embraces a live-in-the-studio full band feel. Sampha is typically radiant on ‘Tender’ – an open song of longing – while old friend Jorja Smith appears on ‘Get Me Down’, perhaps the apex of ‘Emotional Junglist’ both as a project and as a concept.

In refusing to be hemmed in Nia Archives has built a space to call her own, building outwards on her firm breakbeat foundations. ‘Emotional Junglist’ is a dense mosiac of sounds, but the feelings are pure and distinct – a step forwards from her debut, it’s a fascinating second chapter.

8/10” - CLASH

Eaves Wilder – Little Miss Sunshine

Release Date: 17th April

Label: Secretly Canadian

Producers: Eaves Wilder/Andy Savours

Buy: https://eaveswilder.bandcamp.com/album/little-miss-sunshine

Standout Track: The Great Plains

Review:

“Act III Scene 1: “Get thee to a nunnery,” Hamlet tells Ophelia. Eaves Wilder nearly did just that, briefly considering quitting music to join a convent in Barnet, London. The good Lord’s loss is music’s gain. Little Miss Sunshine is an astonishingly accomplished debut, a record in which Wilder reaches new heights in songwriting and melody, establishing a sound that finally feels entirely her own.

The album moves through a wide range of emotions, informed by storms of anxiety, flashes of clarity, and moments of wry humor. “Just Say No!” begins with grinding guitars, delivering a powerful portrait of coercion and confrontation. “Everybody Talks” addresses a sense of attention deficit and overwhelm in modern life, as well as the experience of being on stage, distracted by constant chatter, voices crowding in from every side. Or, as Wilder says more succinctly, “We’re all over-stimulated, and everybody is talking and fighting, and most people need to literally shut the fuck up.”

Elsewhere, the sublime “Ropeburn” soars with real majestic force, Wilder’s vocals stretching skyward over propulsive drums, while the Blur-esque “Daisy Chain Reaction” gleams with Britpop-adjacent hooks and elastic guitar lines, confronting teenage anxieties and the toxic, competitive culture around eating disorders. In “The Great Plains,” inspired by childhood memories of The Little House on the Prairie, and “Summer Rolls,” Wilder traces childhood and sisterhood, her voice softening over chiming guitars, transforming memory into something precise, vivid, and unvarnished.

Wilder threads her influences throughout the album without allowing them to dominate. Lush and My Bloody Valentine-style dream pop harmonies float and blur at the edges, whilst grunge guitars lend grit and heft. It is an intoxicating mix of riot grrrl energy with flashes of CMAT’s theatrical pop melodicism, yet everything is filtered through Wilder’s own lived experience, delivered with bracing candor.

There is a cinematic sweep that runs throughout the album, songs expanding and folding into one another with an almost tidal rhythm. Little Miss Sunshine is intimate and expansive, confessional yet composed, a genuinely wonderful debut full of humor and unflinching honesty” – Under the Radar

Lime Garden – Maybe Not Tonight

Release Date: 10th April

Label: So Young Records

Producers: Charlie Andrew/Annabel Whittle/Dan Carey

Buy: https://limegarden.bandcamp.com/album/maybe-not-tonight

Standout Track: Downtown Lover

Review:

“As Brighton quartet Lime Garden were beginning work on the follow-up to their 2024 debut ‘One More Thing’, their four members went through what they’ve described as “a mass break-up”. A somewhat unfortunate act of sisterly symbiosis, each split with their respective partners in tandem “like dominoes”. Rather than sit and wallow in their collective misfortune, however, vocalist/guitarist Chloe Howard, guitarist Leila Deeley, bassist Tippi Morgan and drummer Annabel Whittle chose chaos – and now blazing, brilliant second album ‘Maybe Not Tonight’ lands as a slice of victorious closure.

Loosely structured across a big night out, the reckless spirit of the album might stem from a period of personal disarray but it also lends itself extremely well to the famously difficult junction of a second record. Where many bands overthink themselves into a corner, trying to turn out something slicker and more serious, there’s a hedonistic, ‘fuck it’ energy to the first half of ‘Maybe Not Tonight’ that practically fizzes out of the speakers. Lime Garden’s playfulness has always led to their best work, but here they sound fully unleashed: experimenting with cheeky, wonky synths on ‘All Bad Parts’ and deadpan slacker delivery on ‘Downtown Lover’.

When Charli XCX appeared on the Tape Notes podcast, she walked listeners through the messy trajectory of ‘365’, from owning the club to overdoing it in the toilet cubicle. ‘Maybe Not Tonight’ takes this idea and transposes it for twenty-somethings with a maxed-out overdraft, a pouch of rollies and a dream. Opener ‘23’ sees Howard take a deep breath and step into the mix; the aforementioned ‘All Bad Parts’ is probably the most mischievous song about the crutch of alcohol that we’ve heard in a long time, while ‘Maybe Not Tonight’’s title track rages through the night, landing like a lost indie sleaze classic.

By the album’s second half, we’ve hit the self-lacerating part of the evening when the demons kick in. ‘Body’ seethes jealously at another woman across the room (“I hate the way I’m looking at you / You look so beautiful”), while ‘Undressed’ shrivels at the sight of an old flame over Deeley’s Strokes-esque guitars. But even when the internal monologues are dark, the band’s innate knack for an indie hook stops these thought spirals from ever killing ‘Maybe Not Tonight’’s vibe.

On ‘Always Talking About You’, Howard admits her secret fantasies: ”I want to be famous / I want to be rich / I want everybody to say that’s that bitch”. The first two points might remain in question, but when it comes to getting over your exes, Lime Garden are those bitches that have come out the other side, all guns blazing” – NME

FEATURE: After Aerial… Twenty Years of Tom Doyle’s Interview with Kate Bush for Q

FEATURE:

 

 

After Aerial…

COVER PHOTO: Trevor Leighton

Twenty Years of Tom Doyle’s Interview with Kate Bush for Q

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THIS is an odd…

PHOTO CREDIT: Trevor Leighton

sort of half-way point. Q magazine was launched in October. Kate Bush appeared on its cover a few times, but she was one of the cover stars when the magazine turned twenty. The November 2006 issue had twenty different covers. Each of the artists gave an exclusive short interview. Tom Doyle spoke with Kate Bush over the phone for her interview. He chatted with her the year before when Aerial was released. That was an extensive interview. It is also sad, as Q came to and end in 2020. I did want to celebrate twenty years of a great interview, to celebrate twenty years of one of our best and most read music magazines. I have written about this before, but as it was twenty years ago, it is worth spotlighting once more. Doyle’s interview is published in his 2023 book, Running Up That Hill: 50 Visions of Kate Bush. It is chapter forty-two. I am not going to source it all, but there are a few questions that I really love. Rather than talk about Aerial too much or tread over old ground, Tom Doyle chatted with Bush on 28th May, 2006. Typically, when he spoke with her, she was at home having a cup of tea! The whole interview was infused with tea! Doyle asked Bush what it was like getting a standard ovation when she attended the Q Awards in 2001. She was touched and stunned, as “I was still struggling away with making this album”. That was Aerial. It gave her motivation to keep going, knowing that people had not forgotten about her and there was this love. “It was fabulous. Magic, really”. As Q was twenty in 2006, Tom Doyle asked Kate Bush what she was doing in 1986. That was a year when she was still promoting Hounds of Love. Her greatest hits album, The Whole Story, came out that November. Possibly at her commercial peak.

Bush recalled how a guy at her label (EMI) suggested a greatest hits album. How she thought it was a naff and crap idea. Though, as she said, he went away and did some research and “presented it to me again and he just completely won me over”. It was a massive-selling album and won hugely positive reviews. I can see why she was hesitating about a greatest hits album. Like she was retiring. Not new material, there would have been hesitations. It went to number one twice, so Bush was relieved that she was convinced to do it. Doyle was curious why Bush did not go to America and tour Hounds of Love after it was such a success. That was, in her words, quite typical. “America and I have never really seen eye to eye”. I feel that has changed since 2006. Especially in 2022, when the Duffer brothers used Hounds of Love’s Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God) in Stranger Things. A huge American show, it gained her overdue ackolwdgement and visibility there. She was popular before that, but this was a major moment. Bush said she went to the U.S. to push the album. Though it was her in a hotel room drinking tea and chatting. Probably not that American journalists were expecting! A 12” version of Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God) was a club hit in America, so that helped it get to number thirty. In 1986, Kate Bush owned a mobile phone, tough it was “the size of a fridge”. People talking the piss. She drove a red convertible VW Golf. What I highlighted before is that, when asked about her high and low point of the past twenty years (before 2006), family members were selected. The birth of her son, Bertie, in 1998 as the highpoint. The death of her mother in 1992 was the low point. The music questions were very interesting. I wonder if Kate Bush has changed her position. The song she wished she had written from the past twenty years was released in 1986 (so it just scraped in!) was Paul Simon’s The Boy in the Bubble. From Graceland, that album turned forty in August.

In terms of the artist from the past twenty years she admires the most, she said Antony of Anthony and the Johnsons. Now ANOHNI, she is someone who no doubt is influenced by Kate Bush. She was cheekily asked if Tori Amos was in the list. Bush showed her love for ANOHNI and, when trying to think of another artist, Doyle suggested Tori Amos. She gets compared to Kate Bush a lot, and that must be something Bush was tired of hearing about. I am sure she likes Amos’s music, though she did not want to be associated too closely with her. She also said how she liked Shaggy, so you can’t say her music choices were narrow or predictable! On the nature of fan and whether it is a burden, Bush explained how fame allowed her to do what she wanted to do. And she has this loyal fanbase, so that is a blessing. There are negatives, but that is outweighed by the good points. Bush was asked if people come up to her in the supermarket. She said how they sort of smile from a distance, whereas they used to come right up to her and be a lot more animated. Bush showing her sense of humour through the interview. Explaining how she drinks so much tea. Tom Doyle revealed how Q’s review of Aerial imagined Bush “in a cobwebbed stately home, brandishing a candelabra, looking for fairies”. Bush joked how they must have a camera in her home! In 2006, Bertie was still a small child, so school runs and being a mum was dominating. Not quite as exotic as some might imagine, she did say how she had a bit more free time the last few months. Post-Aerial, she has been looking at new ideas and projects. Nothing concrete. It would be May 2011 until a new album, Director’s Cut, was released. However, Bush was keeping busy. Aerial went to number three in the U.K. It was beaten by Ill Divo and Westlife albums. Vastly inferior they were, as Bush pointed out, much more commercial. So the fact she was at three and had a number four single (King of the Mountain) was pretty good going!

Tom Doyle said to Kate Bush how it had been twelve years since The Red Shoes that Aerial came out. Three albums in the past twenty years though, as Bush said, Aerial is a double album so the average is a little better. Bush was asked if we were going to wait another twelve years for an album. She hoped not! We would get two in 2011, so she averages one every three years. Though now we are at a point when it is almost fifteen years since 50 Words for Snow came out, so you can never predict her timescales and productivity! The final question asked of Kate Bush was where she was going to be in twenty minutes. She said, “Probably in the toilet cause of all the tea”. That was a nice way to end! I did like Doyle asking Bush what her best purchase of the past twenty years was. Bush’s answer was the painting that went into the Aerial cover (James Southall’s Fisherman and Boat). Bush said how she saw it in a window as they (her and husband Danny McIntosh) were driving by. She made him drive back because she was besotted and wanted to see what it was. This wonderful interview for Q’s twentieth anniversary. Published in November 2006, it was available on newsstands late September and October 2006. I wanted to mark twenty years of that interview. It is a shame that Q is not around anymore, as I used to read it a lot when I was growing up. I wonder if Tom Doyle thinks back to that interview in 2006. Having spent a bit of time in Kate Bush’s company the year before to talk about Aerial, there was this combination of career and personal questions. Looking back at the past twenty years and what she was doing. Since 2006, so much has changed for Kate Bush. Interesting what Tom Doyle would ask her if they were to speak once more. I love the Q twentieth anniversary interview, as we get some…

TRULY fantastic exchanges.

FEATURE: The Ultimate Greatest Hits Album? Kate Bush’s The Whole Story at Forty

FEATURE:

 

 

The Ultimate Greatest Hits Album?

Kate Bush’s The Whole Story at Forty

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HERE is an artist…

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush performing Hounds of Love’s Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God) in 1985/PHOTO CREDIT: United Archives/Alamy

who is overdue a second volume of her greatest hits album. There have been compilation and best ofs, though not an official greatest hits follow-up to The Whole Story. That was released on 10th November, 1986. Just over a year after Hounds of Love came out and was a major commercial success, there was now call and opportunity to put a greatest hits album out. Not opportunistic, it would give fans a chance to hear some of the earlier singles. Those who may only have known Kate Bush for Hounds of Love, there was some great pre-1985 singles that were collected into the album. Since then, there have been people asking if we will get another greatest hits. I think it is unlikely. Many artists do this. They put out a greatest hits album at a certain point and then do not put out a second. The Whole Story went four-times platinum in the United Kingdom. During Bush’s residency in London in 2014, Before the Dawn, The Whole Story charted at eight on the U.K. album chart. It went to seventeen in 2022 following the success of Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God) and its inclusion on Netflix’s Stranger Things. Kate Bush was a little hesitant to agree to a greatest hits album. The fact it became her third album number one (after Never for Ever (1980) and Hounds of Love (1985) showed that she was right to let EMI do this. My first introduction to Kate Bush was through The Whole Story. It came out on VHS, Betamax and LaserDisc editions. It looks like the U.K. VHS edition came out in 1986. It may have been 1987 when I first saw the VHS, and I was probably four. I am going to bring in a review. Some greatest hits albums suffer because they miss out notable songs or the sound mix is not great.

It is traditional for artists to include a new or unreleased track on a greatest hits, which has always confused me, as that song is not a ‘greatest hit’. In the case of The Whole Story, Bush put out the single, Experiment IV. It did okay, and I feel this song was one that could have made way for another song. I wonder if Under the Ivy, the B-side to Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God), was considered. I will combine some reviews from 1986 with more recent ones. It is great reading Kate Bush recall the moment the greatest hits album was pitched and being dead against it. How she was won over:

“(…) I was asked to put out a greatest hits album by the guy at the record company. I thought it was such a crap idea and I said, “No, no way”. He came back with all this research he’d done and just completely won me over. And of course it ended up being my biggest-selling record.

Tom Doyle, ‘Kate Bush: National treasure’. Q (UK), November 2006

Yes, I was [against the release of a compilation album] at first. I was concerned that it would be like a “K-tel” record, a cheapo-compo with little thought behind it. It was the record company’s decision, and I didn’t mind as long as it was well put together. We put a lot of work into the packaging, trying to make it look tasteful, and carefully thought out the running order. And the response has been phenomenal – I’m amazed!

Kate Bush Club newsletter, Issue 22, December 1987”.

There were a couple of negative and sexist reviews of The Whole Story. One talking about how vain Bush is and she is worried more about her looks than her voice and lyrics (Buzz are responsible for that). NME were very kind. This is what Melody Maker wrote: “This glorious retrospective collection… she’s playing a high-risk game, and more often than not her irrepressible flair, her instinct for a hook, and her gift for unusual and gripping arrangements carry her through”. Record Mirror (UK) wrote this: “A monumental tribute to this craziest, coziest girl-next-door. (…) One of the most refreshing compilation LPs it would be possible to put together”.

Perhaps I have argued before how The Whole Story is the greatest greatest hits album. In terms of the quality and the songs and videos. How we can see that evolution. The videos for The Dreaming and Hounds of Love singles more cinematic than the earlier ones. The most surprising things about The Whole Story is that Bush recorded a new vocal for Wuthering Heights. Her 1978 debut single has a perfect vocal, and not many fans prefer the newer version. Bush labelled as high-pitched or girl-like, so trying to correct that and seeing the song more from a woman’s perspective than a teenager. I am curious if there will be articles about The Whole Story on its fortieth anniversary on 10th November. I did want to bring in this review for a greatest hits album that feature some of the finest singles ever released:

“The Whole Story takes the listener away on a musical ride through some of Bush’s most iconic moments from the beginning of her career. Hearing Bush’s early work in particular showcases the evolution of her wonderfully wavy vocals and wild imagination. From her softly sung piano ballad ‘The Man With The Child In His Eyes’, written at the age of just fourteen, to her spacey-orchestral experiment track ‘Wow’, taken from her second album Lionheart.

Bush uses The Whole Story to really showcase the formation of her now trademark quirkiness. With tracks like ‘Babushka’, (about a woman romantically fooling her husband) and the iconic pop anthem ‘Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God)’, being flawless demonstrations of her ability to continually surprise listeners and push boundaries. Every track on The Whole Story shows the pure creativity and song-writing talent possessed by Bush – a skill heard in every one of her song’s piano notes and every drum beat.

Opening this compilation is the genius ‘Wuthering Heights’, which Bush remixed and re-recorded herself for this project. This remixing was done purely with the intent on giving the song a more mature sound, replacing Bush’s original vocals for the track when it was released in 1978, when Bush was just 19. This minor alteration in sound really does highlight the subtle change in vocal depth and resonance Bush developed in the eight years between the original track release to the polished and perfected iteration heard on The Whole Story.

Kate Bush creates magical worlds through her music, vocals and lyrics that has the fantastic ability to transport you away to a wondrous place where anything could happen. A place where Catherine and Heathcliff are together; a place where God will let you be another person to escape from the excruciating feeling of loving someone too much. The Whole Story is a vessel that ultimately transports the listener to the depths of Kate Bush’s imagination.

Kate Bush is not a singer, she is an artist. In fact, she is one of the most important artists of our time, and one that will continue to shape the music industry forever. Listening to The Whole Story is all the proof you need”.

I have written a separate feature about Experiment IV. Though I did want to spend time with The Whole Story. It was a big commercial moment. Drawing a line under one stage of her career, Bush’s next album, The Sensual World, arrived in 1989. There are some wonderful greatest hits albums, but I feel The Whole Story is the best of them all. Forty years later, the songs and videos still shine and impact. Though it is a perfect portrait of her career up to 1986, The Whole Story is not the complete picture. When it comes to Kate Bush, there is plenty…

MORE to tell.

FEATURE: Spotlight: Hazel Marimba

FEATURE:

 

 

Spotlight

PHOTO CREDIT: Derek Bremner

Hazel Marimba

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THIS is a bit of…

a challenge for me, as I usually spotlights D.J.s who have conducted interviews. Whether Olive F, Carly Wilford or BETH, there has been some press out there. Not that nothing is known about Hazel Marimba, though I couldn’t find any print interviews. I am not sure if that is because she wants to keep things focus on her sets and radio work, or whether she has not been approached. There is no denying that Hazel Marimba is one of our best D.J.s. Based in London, this D.J. queen has played around the world. I love what she does. I am going to drop in some of her work. A lot of it is on Soundcloud (I have popped in something from Soundcloud, so apologies if you need an account to access it). Marimba is someone who works across multiple genres. Many D.J.s tend to stick with one genre or work within Dance and Electronica. They can do amazing things and splice in different sounds, though Marimba has this wider palette. I wonder if she has been approached by DJ Mag or another publication, as she is a hugely respected and acclaimed D.J. and producer. One reason why I would love to read an in-depth interview or a profile is to see which artists she grew up with. Her transition into becoming this amazing D.J. and broadcaster. I would love to know whether Hazel Marimba began this quest into music. Whether it was a particular album or moment that led her in. Evermix did spotlight her in 2019, and we do get some insight there. What I love about her is that she has covered so much sonic ground. As Resident at Rinse FM, this has been one of her biggest achievements in a career that has lasted over a decade. From working at SWU FM when she was in Exter, this incredible new step-up has occurred. Marimba is living the dream, though you know there still so much more to come from her.

I am going to continue in a minute, but I wanted to drop in this biography from Rinse FM. You can check out Hazel Marimba’s shows here. I don’t think there is enough attention on smaller or independent radio stations. I have spotlighted a few when discussing and interview D.J.s. I feel Hazel Marimba has had such a busy, exciting, inspiring and compelling career that she deserves to be the focus of a load of featured and interviews. Included in the Ones to Watch lists of D.J. magazines and websites:

“DJ. Producer & Singer Hazel Marimba, is known for rocking crowds with her high energy genre fluid sets. Spanning from UK Funky, Soca & R&B to Edits, Dancehall,

House, Neo Soul, Commercial, Club and everything in between. Hazel is the Touring DJ for Eva Lazarus and has performed alongside the likes of Sean Paul, Rita Ora and D Double E. Bringing her mighty sound to hot spots that include Fabric, Burning Man and Outlook Festival. Hazel crafts her own signature productions which land hard on the dance floor. With a career in music spanning over a decade, she has been front and centre in the UK dance music scene, seeing her perform all over the globe. Hazel has a vast music collection and can provide tailored sets to any brief”.

I have been looking around YouTube, and there is some cool bits there. I am committed to highlighting and championing incredible women. I think there is still gender imbalance regarding D.J.s. Festival bills and playlists. Even if there have been some small steps in other areas, I think that there is still a massive divide. The industry not valuing women as much as they should. Women still exposed to sexual assault and misogyny. The truth is that women are dominating and I feel are the most talented and powerful D.J.s. When writing about Carly Wilford multiple times and seeing how she travels around the world and delivers these hugely energetic and memorable sets, she should be headlining festivals and getting more attention.

SWU.FM · Hazel Marimba with Afrolion - 15 August 2026

The same with Hazel Marimba. I have pitched a U.K.-based D.J. festival that is entirely dedicated to women. There are smaller festivals, but having multiple stages where the D.J.s could headline, shine and collaborate. Still, festival line-ups are not as balanced as they should be. I have also suggested it would be great to have a YouTube series where these queens are sat in a studio – or I think a cool cocktail bar where they are in a room, on comfortable seat and the set looks amazing – and share their memories, favourite albums, and we get to see them drop the needle and play some of their favourite mixes and music. Advice to other women who are getting into the industry, and shouting out the best clubs, festivals and spots. There is this massive focus on artists and musicians. D.J.s still seen as underground, niche or not as important. I do think they are as essential and plaudit-worthy as artists. So many of them also record their own music. A natural shift. I am intrigued if Hazel Marimba has thought of putting out an E.P. or mixtape. I can see a lot of big moments coming. She is at Rinse FM right now and plays all around the world. I do think that Marimba will get some shifts on major radio stations Whether she has ever considered BBC Radio 1 or feels that this is something that is a bit commercial and not het thing, she is going to go from strength to strength. Looking at her Instagram feed, and you can tell how much she is loving what she does! So much passion and drive. She is also a tour D.J. for Eza Lazarus. I have spotlighted Lazarus before, and they recently joined forces in Brighton. We are coming out of summer, which might mean Marimba is shifting from festivals and idyllic outdoor gigs and moving indoors. That sounds naïve, but obviously this country’s weather is unpredictable. Marimba may have some international gigs later in the years where she can catch some sun, though thew autumn and winter months provide a different dynamic and reality. Whether she finds the summer is the best time and when audiences are at their best, or she likes the cooler and colder days and getting people united and energised.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Hazel Marimba (@hazelmarimba)

I am a new convert to her Rinse FM shows, and I love the All I Wanted 4 The Club (Paramore Edit). This makes me wonder whether this is the start of something special. Putting more of these incredible mixes on Bandcamp. I do feel that Marimba will put out her own work and we will see an E.P., though I don’t want to manifest things for her, as she is very much forging her own path and has her own plans. I do hope that there are some interviews very soon, so that more and more people can learn about this incredible D.J. and broadcaster. A phenomenal producer. Hazel Marimba was D.J. at the afterparty for SNL UK over six weeks. It seemed like it was a career highlight. Her C.V. is so eclectic and interesting! A name that carries a lot of weight and respect, I feel the next five or so years are going to be her busiest and most astonishing. Marimba is not done with 2026, though we are heading near autumn and it will give her time to look back and look ahead. I am already excited to think what 2027 holds in store. I do hope that one of our most captivating and talented humans get some love and props from some of the biggest D.J. mags and websites. Apologies if I have missed any interviews or features, but I do think that she is overdue. Go and follow Hazel Marimba on Instagram and go and check out her shows and work. I have probably not done her full justice, but I did want to show my appreciation and praise. Marimba has had an astonishing career and she must have so many unforgettable memories that are still in her mind. When it comes to this queen, so many wonderful memories…

ARE in her future.

__________

Follow Hazel Marimba

Instagram:

https://www.instagram.com/hazelmarimba/

Soundcloud:

https://soundcloud.com/hazelmarimba

Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/hazelmarimba

Rinse FM:

https://www.rinse.fm/shows/hazel-marimba

FEATURE: Portable Nostalgia: Why the Rise in C.D. Player Sales Is Not Surprising

FEATURE:

 

 

Portable Nostalgia

PHOTO CREDIT: Magdalena López/Pexels

Why the Rise in C.D. Player Sales Is Not Surprising

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PERHAPS it has more…

PHOTO CREDIT: Alex Sever/Pexels

to do with pure nostalgia. After all, a lot of people looking at all-in-one C.D. players online are very young, and they may not be old enough to remember C.D.s when they were first around. I had my musical upbringing happened in the 1990s, so I was used to C.D.s. That portability was amazing. Also, it was a great feeling to save some money and buy an album or single on C.D. I was not really able to afford vinyl, and cassettes were great but perhaps not in every music shop. C.D.s were amazing. I still have so many from when I was younger. As time went on, things changed. Devices like the iPod meant people could carry a library of music around. Now, streaming is massive. So many people listen to music in on these platforms, and there was a worry that C.D.s and cassettes would die out. C.D.s have seen this rise and resurgence. Not so they are going to have the same sort of impact they did in the 1990s and 2000s. However, there is this move back to physical music. One reason why vinyl sales continue to rise is that people want to buy music. Own a product and have that connection with it, rather than everything being delivered digitally. Also, digital music is not as environmentally friendly as you’d imagine. The environmental impact of streaming is huge: “Storing, processing, and transmitting billions of audio files requires vast energy-hungry data centers, matching or exceeding the carbon pollution of past physical formats like vinyl and CDs”. Younger music fans perhaps more conscious of environmental impact and factors such as this.

I feel one of the problems of C.D.s coming back to the fore is the devices to play them on. Some people play them int heir cars. Though the proliferation of portable devices is not as pronounced as before. Though there are a lot of buying options. For something like a modern-day Discman, there are these alternatives. The Discman was notorious for making C.D.s jump and skip. They were a little flawed in that respect. Newer models and devices do seem to be a bit more dependable and problematic. I was pleased to read news that young music listeners are interested in and looking for all-in-one C.D. players:

“John Lewis report that searches for CD players are up 96% since July, possibly owing to students heading to university and buying the systems for their rooms. The £79 Crosley Voyager, and the £129 Pure Classic C-D6 are both sold out online, with the Voyager scheduled to return in October. Portable CD players are also popular.

This tallies, of course, with sales of CDs themselves. A report this year found that the growth of CD sales is up 16%, compared with vinyl’s 2.4%. HMV reports that sales of CDs are up 10% year on year – thanks to artists often providing unique content on the format. “K-pop has been a massive driver, with BTS the most obvious example of artists that have led the resurgence,” says the managing director, Phil Halliday. “But it goes much wider than that. We’re seeing very strong CD demand around artists like Olivia Rodrigo, Ariana Grande and Olivia Dean.”

The fact that a vinyl record is about £35, compared with £12 for a CD, is no doubt a factor.

Tom Morgan-Freelander, the deputy editor of the technology magazine Stuff, has noticed the change over the past two years. He puts it down to consumers wanting to move away from using their phone, a better audio quality, and limited disposable income. “It’s: ‘I don’t want to spend money on a turntable and the speakers that go with it. I want to spend £150 on an all-in-one system that comes with the CD player,’” he says.

The CD revival is part of a wider fashion for retro tech. As well as the vinyl resurgence and cassettes becoming popular items to buy, there’s the vogue for wearing wired earphones over AirPods. “The vinyl revival re-established our appetite for analogue, and now we’re seeing that broader love for physical music drive a genuine surge in CD players,” confirms Katrina Mills, the category buying lead for audio and imaging at John Lewis”.

The C.D. boom might give way to the U.S.B. Artists putting albums out in this format, though I don’t feel it will catch on in the same way and be as prolific. It seems like we have enough physical formats, and there is not that same portability. A lot of teens and those in their twenties are going retro with boomboxes. Others like having wired headphones and walking around with a portable C.D. player. Also, there are the optics that are a big reason for the C.D. drive: “Someone walking around with a portable CD player and wired headphones is signalling their sense of taste and cultural capital,” says brand strategist Alexi Gunner. He has labelled this trend “performative audiophilia”. Cost is a major factor. There is no real way of lowering vinyl significantly, as it costs a lot to make them and they are hefty items. Also, you have to get a turntable and cannot move around with it. Great if you want to spend some time and listen to music in one spot and enjoy the pleasures of a vinyl album. Though I am not sure how many younger listeners, especially Generation Alpha, are going to be able to invest in this. C.D.s are cheaper, and they do seem to be more convenient. The danger is chains like HMV shrinking. Stores are closing because of reduced custom. A lot of record shops only stock vinyl or may not do that many C.D.s, so people have to buy online. Many are buying C.D.s without having a player. Superfans are collecting albums on different formats. The fact so many are browsing for players means that people want to actually play the compact discs. Many buy vinyl for its aesthetic quality, though C.D.s are less appealing. Physical sales are doing well, and vinyl is closing in on C.D.s:

“According to Music Week analysis of BPI figures based on Official Charts Company data, vinyl sales are driving that performance – and the format is closing in on CD for supremacy in terms of volume. Based on the current trajectory, vinyl should become the leading format later this year.

After 19 years of decline, album sales across all physical formats grew for a second consecutive year in 2025, maintaining 2024's 1.4% growth level to come in at 17.6m units.

During the first half of 2026, physical albums sales increased further by 3.7% year-on-year (8,125,574 units). The rate of growth for physical music increased again in Q2 with year-on-year consumption up 6.1% (3,950,111 units), compared with 1.5% growth in Q1.

The strong performance reflects another successful edition of Record Store Day, alongside major new releases and the continuing robust catalogue business. 

PHOTO CREDIT: Guohua Song/Pexels

Drew Hill, MD Proper Music Distribution, said: "It’s fantastic to see physical music enjoying such a robust first half of the year, driven by double-digit growth for vinyl. While the CD has remained a stalwart format, the fact that vinyl sales are up overall, and are on course to overtake CDs in units, is a testament to the format’s incredible appeal.”

Harry Styles has the biggest physical release so far in 2026 with Kiss All The Time. Disco, Occasionally with 157,189 physical units.

Following 100,000-plus units in the opening week for Olivia Rodrigo’s new album, You Seem Pretty Sad For A Girl So In Love, the US artist already has the second biggest physical album so far this year (66,587 physical sales in 2026.)

In the latest chart week, Muse are already performing strongly with 26,996 physical units registered in the first three days.

Based on consumption across physical, downloads and streaming, Olivia Dean’s The Art Of Loving leads the way for overall albums consumption with 384,869 units in 2026 (and 663,322 units in total since its release in September 2025). The Art Of Loving is No.3 on physical sales in 2026 (64,086 units).

Vinyl is, of course, driving the performance of physical sales with the format on course for a 19th year of consecutive growth.

Neil Gibbons, chief operating officer, Key Production Group, said: "After 19 consecutive years of growth [for vinyl], it’s great to see physical music sales continuing to accelerate, with vinyl leading the way. CD orders at Key Production have also remained steady, and our research shows the format is also finding a new audience, with nearly half of Generation Alpha – 46% – listening to CDs. This is a clear sign that all physical formats, including CDs, continue to resonate with fans of all ages, and the demand for something tangible remains strong."

The half-year vinyl results for 2026 show an impressive growth rate of 16.4% year-on-year (3,796,251 units) – beyond what you might expect almost two decades into a sales revival”.

Long may we see the all-in-one player rise. More people seeking them out. There are great portable players. The technology a bit more robust. Some younger listeners want that retro feel, though artists offering their albums on C.D. means fans can give directly to the artist and have that physical connection. I feel the C.D. is more accessible to younger listeners than vinyl. I do wonder if C.D. singles will come back. Let’s hope that this trend continues. That we see more and more people buy C.D. and the players. These new findings are so…

PLEASING to see.

FEATURE: Kate Bush: Something Like a Song: Watching You Without Me (Hounds of Love)

FEATURE:

 

 

Kate Bush: Something Like a Song

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush in 1985/PHOTO CREDIT: Guido Harari

Watching You Without Me (Hounds of Love)

__________

I have recently…

written features around Hounds of Love, as it turned forty-one on 16th September. I did want to focus on one of its songs. Even though it is part of a suite, The Ninth Wave, it has this haunting quality to it. Bush no strange to writing about the supernatural, spirits and ghosts. From her 1978 debut single, Wuthering Heights, to her most recent album, 50 Words for Snow, she has discussed the ghostly. There is something especially sobering about this song on The Ninth Wave. Following a woman who falls overboard and is in the water, Watching You Without Me is about her loved ones waiting for her to come home, knowing she might never do so. Or unaware of what has befallen her. Even if Bush said in interviews about The Ninth Wave that there was a rescue and the woman may have come home, there is that possibility she died on the water and Watching You Without Me is her ghost looking at her family, but not being able to communicate with them. I first wanted to collate words about this song. Starting out with Bush speaking with Richard Skinner in an interview for BBC Radio 1 that was broadcast in 1992:

“Now, this poor sod [laughs], has been in the water for hours and been witch-hunted and everything. Suddenly, they’re kind of at home, in spirit, seeing their loved one sitting there waiting for them to come home. And, you know, watching the clock, and obviously very worried about where they are, maybe making phone calls and things. But there’s no way that you can actually communicate, because they can’t see you, they can’t you. And I find this really horrific, [laughs] these are all like my own personal worst nightmares, I guess, put into song. And when we started putting the track together, I had the idea for these backing vocals, you know, [sings] “you can’t hear me”. And I thought that maybe to disguise them so that, you know, you couldn’t actually hear what the backing vocals were saying”.

I had always assumed that Watching You Without Me was the woman thinking of her family back home and missing them. However, this feature from last year that was about Hounds of Love offered some extra words about the song: “Providing much-needed relief, ‘Watching You Watching Me’ is built from feather-light synth lines and mellifluous vocals, but its lyrics tell another story. Most of all, Bush’s heroine wants the security and comfort of home and her partner; though she finds herself there with him she realises that she’s not real and can’t interact with him. "It’s more of a nightmare than anything so far," Bush explained to her fan club. "Because this is the closest she’s been to any kind of comfort, and yet it’s the furthest away”. That idea that the woman in peril things of her family and that closeness, and yet she is miles away in the ocean and they do not know she is there. The mystery of how the woman got into the water, where she was going, and whether she actually got out. The final track on Hounds of Love is The Morning Fog. That relief of being rescued and how she will tell her loved ones how much she loves them. I like to think that this was how the ordeal ended, though those who saw Before thew Dawn in 2014, when Bush performed The Ninth Wave in its entirety, say how there was a sad ending. That The Morning Fog was more of a dying vision. She could not get out and fulfil her wishes. People talk about Hounds of Love, though there is not as much attention on The Ninth Wave as the first half. The heaviness and psychology of Watching You Without Me.

People have their own perspectives on Watching You Without Me. The Quietus mentioned this in their essay which looked at Kate Bush’s music beyond the hits. Curious what they say of Watching You Without Me: “Hounds Of Love is arguably Kate Bush’s creative pinnacle, critically acclaimed, wildly commercially successful, self-produced and ubiquitous because of its clutch of hit singles. It is forgotten by some maybe that there were a great many other beautiful moments on The 9th Wave side of the album. ‘Watching You, Without Me’ is one of them. Bush has always had an incredible knack of telling a story using few words, whilst leaving the listener with room to make their own interpretation of the song. This is a song about love and loss, has she left him? Or is he being haunted? Time ticks by, with her silent but pleading…and ultimately unheard. Bush is a vortex of creativity. Each song a story in it’s own right. The second side of this album is worth yet another listen… and another… and another. – Lisa Jenkins”. Among those who have covered this Hounds of Love gem are  Theo Bleckmann, Ehrfrucht Observatory, Heidi Harris, and Isadar. For PROG last year, Susanna Wallumrød shared her thoughts on a song which is beautiful but also really affecting and thought-provoking: “The sound of Kate Bush’s voice is so special: angelic and fierce, a totally unique tone. Her performances are always interesting. I like Watching You Watching Me, the soft feel of it, the way she sings; in some parts it’s hard to understand the lyrics. It reflects the dreamlike universe of her music, which to me is vivid and floating. “I’m so lucky to have heard her live as well, being on the first row at her first performance in 35 years at the Hammersmith Apollo [in London]. That was wild. She is a true pioneer, and I hope she will keep inspiring new generations like she has with me. Her inheritance is immense”. I did write extensively about Watching You Without Me last year when marking forty years of Hounds of Love. Though I want to come back to parts of that feature, as it contains exerts from Leah Kardos’s brilliant 33 1/3 Hounds of Love  book:

“Watching You Without Me “blinks awake in a different realm”. Leah Kardos notes how there is “a minimal LinnDrum rhythm, augmented with side-stick backbeat and a syncopated floor tom by Stuart Elliott, Bush’s voice mumbles a quick oscillation across a 5th, sounding like a car engine that won’t start – a trapped utterance glitching between repelling magnetic fields”. I will talk more about the lyrics to end. However, the composition is fascinating. So different to anything else on Hounds of Love, it is an album so varied, yet it all hangs together! “The music rocks back and forth between B♭ and C (the same chord relationship, ♭VII to I, of ‘The Big Sky’) like a hypnotist’s swinging watch”.  Leah Kardos writes how Stuart Elliott’s percussion has this ticking motion. Simulating a watch. A family waiting for their daughter to return maybe. The percussive pulse is just slightly below sixty beats per minute. A wonderful consideration that adds this sense of urgency and anxiety. Of time ticking and there being this infinite wait and sense of the unknown. Seconds seem like hours to the family! For the woman on the water, she is longing to be safe and rescued. She would love the boredom or familiarity of being in that house – where people wait not knowing the fate of their loved one. Leah Kardos notes, before the main vocal starts, that we are “in a liminal space between life and death, wakefulness and sleep; Bush is trapped in limbo”. The lyrics are heart-aching and painful. That sense of stress and uncertainty. Not knowing where this woman is.

Little do they know the extent of the drama she has already faced! Bush does not deliver the lyrics in this strained and hyperactive way. The fact that she sings in this almost resigned or wistful way adds extra punch and gravity to Watching You Without Me. Consider these lines: “You watch the clock/Move the slow hand/I should have been home/Hours ago/But I’m not here/But I’m not here/You can’t hear me/You can’t hear me/You can’t feel me/Here in the room with you now/You can’t hear what I’m saying/You don’t hear what I’m saying, do you?”. Words that might seem personal to this situation, but I think we can all relate to in some form or the other. That sense of loss. When someone dies and you notice the space left vacant. Bush sings “There’s a ghost in our home/Just watching you without me/I’m not here”. This is the point when some theorise the heroine died at sea and that mention of a ghost relating to death rather than an absence. That Jig of Life is either dying thoughts or happened after she had passed. And it is a futile rally cry for strength and survival. One of the most mysterious, intriguing and compelling songs Kate Bush ever wrote, Leah Kardos explains how “With the soft whine of radio static and morse code ‘SOS’ message, the song bursts out of its trance at 2’19” to a bright Hindustani teental rhythm, complete with hand cymbals  (a rare exception to Hounds Of Love’s no-cymbals rule)”. The lead vocal where Kate Bush sings “Don’t leave me/Don’t Leave Me” is sung backwards and double-tracked at the octave. The tutti strings by Michael Karmen are especially striking and stirring. Kardos says how the backwards singing recalls The Dreaming’s backwards vocals on Leave It Open. “and the spoken South Indian taal rhythm (konnakol) across the coda of ‘Get Out of My House’ (performed by Esmail Sheikh)”. I think some of the backwards vocals was inspired by The Beatles and how they would often put in backwards vocals with messages in them that, when played forward, would provide this treat for listeners (or a shock in some cases!). Around about the 2’48” mark, there is this backwards vocal that is hard to discern. Bush might be singing “We really see” or “releasing”. Leah Kardos has played it forward and opinions that it could be Bush singing over and over “be silly”.

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush during The Ninth Wave photoshoot in 1985/PHOTO CREDIT: John Carder Bush

In a wider sense, Watching You Without Me is this moment in a battle to stay alive where the woman perhaps drifts into a dream. And Dream of Sheep, the opening song on The Ninth Wave, is the woman lamenting how she would love to be at home asleep, dreaming of sheep. Though she has to stay awake. Now, there is this drift between the water and needing to stay awake, and almost like someone dying thinking of something comforting. That seems really bleak but, as I said, I like to think that The Ninth Wave had a happy resolution. That a helicopter saw the woman at sea, got her to land, and she was able to look back at that dark time when she was in the ocean. Others have their own theories, but that is what Kate Bush wanted to achieve. From icy and scary songs to the energy of Jig of Life, though to the bounce of The Morning Fog to something more moving and heavier on Watching You Without Me, The Ninth Wave is one of the most accomplished, fascinating and compelling things ever committed to tape. It was brought to the stage in 2014 by Bush, though the songs really do seem made for something else. You do not need to be stuck in the ocean and waiting rescue to relate to Watching You Without Me. It is a song that resonates with those distanced from their family and friends. Those who may have lost them or live in other parts of the world. That is why it will travel through the generations and to all people. And Kate Bush’s exceptional production means this track will continue to compel interpretation and discussion for years to come. I may revisit Watching You Without Me next year but, for now, I wanted to revisit it for this Kate Bush: Something Like a Song. It is a brilliant song, from a wonderful suite, on a truly…

GENIUS album.

FEATURE: Nocturn: Kate Bush’s Aerial at Twenty-One

FEATURE:

Nocturn

Kate Bush’s Aerial at Twenty-One

__________

I did want to discuss…

PHOTO CREDIT: Trevor Leighton

Aerial ahead of its twenty-first anniversary on 7th November. There is no connecting theme at all. What I want to do is bring in an interview from 2005 with Tom Doyle. I am then go to move to a review of Aerial published in 2005, finishing up with a feature published last year to mark twenty years of her seventh studio album. I have explored this double album from all kinds of angles and brought so many different sources in. I do think there is a book to be written about Aerial. How it was her first album since 1993’s The Red Shoes. How Bush retreated and took a step back, moved and started a family with Dan McIntosh. Bertie, her son, was born in 1998. So much changed between albums. Articles have been written about Aerial, though it does deserve its own book. In an abridged version of a 16-page interview with Kate Bush that appeared in MOJO, for The Guardian, we get exerts of Tom Doyle’s fascinating conversation:

“Can she understand why people build these myths around her?

"No," she begins, apprehensively. "No, I can't. Pffff. I can't really."

You once said: "There is a figure that is adored, but I'd question very strongly that it's me."

There is silence. A stare. You did say it ...

"Well supposedly I said that. But in what context did I say it?"

Just talking about fans building up this image of you as some kind of goddess.

"Yes, but I'm not, am I?"

So, do the rumours bug you? That you're some fragile being who's hidden herself away?

"No," she replies. "A lot of the time it doesn't bother me. I suppose I do think I go out of my way to be a very normal person and I just find it frustrating that people think that I'm some kind of weirdo reclusive that never comes out into the world." Her voice notches up in volume. "Y'know, I'm a very strong person and I think that's why actually I find it really infuriating when I read, 'She had a nervous breakdown' or 'She's not very mentally stable, just a weak, frail little creature'."

This is how 12 years disappear if you're Kate Bush. You release The Red Shoes in 1993, your seventh album in a 15-year career characterised by increasingly ambitious records, ever-lengthening recording schedules and compulsive attention to detail. You are emotionally drained after the death of your mother Hannah but, against the advice of some of your friends, you throw yourself into The Line, the Cross & the Curve, a 45-minute video album released the following year that - despite its merits - you now consider to be "a load of bollocks". You take two years off to recharge your batteries, because you can. In 1996, you write a song called King of the Mountain. You have a bit of a think and take some more time off, similarly, because you can.

Two years later, while pregnant, you write a song about artistic endeavour called An Architect's Dream. You give birth to a boy, Albert, in 1998 and you and your guitarist partner Danny McIntosh find yourselves "completely shattered for a couple of years". You move house and spend months doing it up. You convert the garage into a studio, but being a full-time mother who chooses not to employ a nanny or housekeeper, it's hard to find time to actually work in there. Bit by bit, the ideas come and a notion forms in your mind to make a double album, though you have to adjust to a new working regime of stolen moments as opposed to the 14-hour days of old. Your son begins school and suddenly time opens up and though progress doesn't exactly accelerate ("That's a bit too strong a word"), two years of more concentrated effort later, the album is complete. You look up from the mixing desk and it is 2005.

If the outside world was wondering whether Kate Bush would ever finish her long-awaited album, then it was a feeling shared by its creator. "Oh yeah," she sighs. "I mean, there were so many times I thought, I'll have the album finished this year, definitely, we'll get it out this year. Then there were a couple of years where I thought, I'm never gonna do this. If I could make albums quicker, I'd be on a roll wouldn't I? Everything just seems to take so much time. I don't know why. Time ... evaporates."

There was a story that some EMI execs had come down to see you and you'd said something like: "Here's what I've been working on," and then produced some cakes from your oven. True? "No! I don't know where that came from. I thought that was quite funny actually. It presents me as this homely creature, which is all right, isn't it?"

Even if apocryphal, it's a nugget that reveals something about Bush's relationship with a record label she signed to 30 years ago. For a long time now, she hasn't taken a penny in advances and refuses to play them a note of her works-in-progress. In the latter stages of Aerial's creation, EMI chairman Tony Wadsworth would come down to visit Bush and leave having heard nothing. "We'd just chat and then he'd go away again," Bush says. "We ended up just laughing about it, really."

If the completion of Aerial put paid to one set of anxieties for Bush, then its impending release has brought another - not least, a brace of newspaper stories keen to push the "rock's mystery recluse" angle. It seems the more she craves privacy, the more it is threatened. "For the last 12 years, I've felt really privileged to be living such a normal life," she explains. "It's so a part of who I am. It's so important to me to do the washing, do the Hoovering. Friends of mine in the business don't know how dishwashers work. For me, that's frightening. I want to be in a position where I can function as a human being. Even more so now where you've got this sort of truly silly preoccupation with celebrities. Just because somebody's been in an ad on TV, so what? Who gives a toss?"

A clock somewhere strikes two and the chipper, ever attentive McIntosh arrives with tea, pizza, avocado with balsamic vinegar and cream cake for afters, only to be playfully admonished by his partner, who protests: "I can't eat all this shit!"

If there is perhaps less mystery to Kate Bush than we might have expected, her music remains reassuringly the same ecstatic alchemy of the humdrum and otherworldly. Recalling the hello-clouds wonder of The Big Sky from 1985's Hounds of Love or the frank paean to menstruation that is Strange Phenomena from her debut, The Kick Inside, Aerial finds Bush marvelling in the magic of the everyday: the wind animating a skirt hanging on a clothes line, the trace of footprints leading into the sea, the indecipherable codes of birdsong.

But the one track on Aerial that best bridges the divide between Bush's domestic and creative existences is the haunting piano ballad Mrs Bartolozzi, in which a housewife character drifts off into a nostalgic reverie while watching clothes entwining in her washer-dryer. It's also the one track set to polarise opinion among listeners, with its eerie, unhinged chorus of "washing machine ... washing machine". Bush acknowledges as much.

"A couple of people who heard it early on," she says, dipping a spoon into her avocado, "they either really liked it or they found it very uncomfortable. I liked the idea of it being a very small subject. Clothes are such a strong part of who a human being is. Y'know, skin cells, the smell. Somebody thought that maybe there'd been this murder going on, I thought that was great. I love the ambiguity."

The shiver-inducing stand-out track on Aerial, however, comes at the end of the first disc. A Coral Room is a piano-and-vocal ballad that Bush admits she first considered to be too personal for release, dealing as it does with the death of her mother, a matter that she didn't address at the time in any of the songs on The Red Shoes.

"No, no I didn't," she says. "I mean, how would you address it? I think it's a long time before you can go anywhere near it because it hurts too much. I've read a couple of things that I was sort of close to having a nervous breakdown. But I don't think I was. I was very, very tired. It was a really difficult time."

Kate Bush begins to tidy up the plates and cups and get ready for Bertie's arrival home from school with his dad. Before I go, however, there is one last Bush myth to bust. Apparently, when she attended a music industry reception at Buckingham Palace this year, she asked the Queen for her autograph. Is that true? Instantly a grin spreads across the face of the Most Elusive Woman in Rock. "Yes, I did!" she exclaims, only half-embarrassedly. "I made a complete arsehole of myself. I'm ashamed to say that when I told Bertie that I was going to meet the Queen, he said, 'Mummy, no, you're not, you've got it wrong' and I said, 'But I am!' So rather stupidly I thought I'd get her to sign my programme. She was very sweet.

"The thing is I would do anything for Bertie and making an arsehole of myself in front of a whole roomful of people and the Queen, I mean ... But I don't have a very good track record with royalty. My dress fell off in front of Prince Charles at the Prince's Trust, so I'm just living up to my reputation”.

Her first album in twelve years, there was a lot of interest around it. I am not sure whether I have sourced this BBC review before. Given the scope and size of Aerial, there was this passionate and deep interrogation. I don’t think that the album received anything less than glowing reviews. It definitely stands alongside her finest and most impressive work:

“When EMI invites a group of journalists to the Royal Academy of Music, in London, for a one-off listen to Kate Bush's new album, they are sending a clear signal - this album is not to be dismissed lightly.

Aerial is in two distinct halves - the first side, A Sea of Honey, is a collection of distinct, highly personal, sometimes impenetrably personal, songs.

Side two, A Sky of Honey, is an old-fashioned concept album - complex, layered, perhaps pretentious, but also a dazzling aural masterpiece.

A Sea of Honey has seven wildly different songs which touch on aspects of her daily life, both public and personal.

Single King of the Mountain opens the album full of swelling synthesizers and pounding beats and with its almost cryptic lyrics sets the tone for side one.

All of the songs have a swirling, almost uncontrolled creativity as if Bush has had these songs bottled up for more than a decade.

Her voice escapes, rather than emerges, in that familiar part-piercing, part-haunting tone that uniquely can carry across consonants and vowels with seductive ease.

Folk melody

Bertie, about her young son, has a simple, pleasing folk melody but lyrically feels slightly mundane.

She sings: "Here comes the sunshine, here comes the son of mine. Here comes everything, here comes a song for him."

"You bring me such joy. Then you bring me more joy," she recites, almost unconvincingly.

How to be Invisible is side one's stand out track, with a real sense of menace in its driving beat.

"I found a book on how to be invisible. On the edge of the labyrinth," she sings.

Strangest song

The strangest song on the whole album is Mrs Bartolozzi, a plaintive wail seemingly about domestic chores.

"Washing machine, washing machine, washing machine," she cries. Listening to this, I felt like I was trapped inside the washing machine on the spin cycle.

The final song of side one, A Coral Room, is a deeply moving elegy about her mother's death that is so private it feels almost intrusive to listen in.

Seven songs in and it seems a poor return on a 12-year wait. It also gives little clue to the sheer majesty of side two.

Lyric poem

A Sky of Honey is, in a sense, a lyric poem set to music. Full of lush, fecund melodies which swing from jazz to rock, it is threaded through with bird song and chatter and feels distinctly organic and earthy.

There is also a painterly quality to the nine linked songs, a feeling which is enhanced by the appearance of Rolf Harris who both speaks and sings - thankfully briefly - on two tracks.

Side two is the album Pink Floyd might have made if Kate Bush had been their lead singer and lyricist in 1979.

Many people will hate the concept album feel to the songs and it is an acquired taste but is both sonically and lyrically a fine achievement.

It takes the listener on a journey - from a young boy's innocent statement of "Mummy, daddy, the day is full of birds" to a dynamic conclusion more than 40 minutes later where Kate Bush herself seems to have become the birds and takes flight.

Reaction

"I want to be high up on the roof," she sings.

Often playful, Bush seems aware of the reaction some listeners will have.

"What kind of language is this? Tell me are you singing?" she asks.

Musically the nine songs of side two - which are parts of a whole rather than distinct tracks - are splashes of piano, bass and drums, layered with 1980s synthesizers which give the album a retro quality.

It is a very English album, with the rural feel of a John Betjeman or AE Houseman poem.

'Laughing'

"All of the birds are laughing. Come let's all join in," she sings as her voice emerges from the sound of birdsong.

A Sky of Honey is a celebration of song itself, which has a child's joyful lack of inhibition about it - Kate Bush is heard laughing freely towards the end while a young child, possibly her son, is heard several times.

Wild guitars, pounding drums, dashing across the left and right channels of speakers, carry the album to its conclusion where both bird chatter and the sound of a cuckoo rise and then fade away.

It is difficult to know how successful the album will be - certainly it is not for the iPod generation - but Aerial stands alongside The Hounds of Love and The Kick Inside as her finest work”.

 PHOTO CREDIT: Trevor Leighton

Utilising an articles from The Quietus that I have included in another feature, they shared their views on Aerial on its twentieth anniversary last year. Twelve years between The Red Shoes and Aerial, there has now been almost fifteen years between 50 Words for Snow and now. You wonder what Bush will bring us when another album comes along:

“Giving her audience their money’s worth following its long gestation period, Aerial arrived as a fully-formed double album – expanding on the model of 1985’s landmark Hounds Of Love with a disc of seemingly unrelated songs (one would struggle to call Aerial’s first disc, A Sea Of Honey, ‘pop’ in the way you might the first side of Hounds Of Love) and a second disc made up of a conceptual suite. A Sky Of Honey, like The Ninth Wave, tracks a period of time towards daybreak – but, where The Ninth Wave is a dark, nightmarish vision of isolation and fear, A Sky Of Honey delights in the beauty of nature in an altogether more pastoral environment of contentment.

It is telling that an artist with such a keen, critical eye, an artist on a constant quest to “[find] the right atmosphere, the right emotional quality” chose to perform, in their entirety, these two contrasting song suites – terrifying seascape and sun-kissed elegance – as part of Before The Dawn, an artist revelling in bringing to live performance two of her most fully-realised creations.

Aerial, then, clearly cut the mustard in Bush’s esteem. Contemporary reviews were largely positive – “a remarkable surprise” (Entertainment Weekly), “it isn’t perfect, but it is magnificent” (Stylus), “it is filled with things only Kate Bush would do” (The Guardian) – but some critics missed the point somewhat and contributed to a vague perception of Aerial as a record about, and generated by, the mundanity of everyday life – of school runs, hoovering the house, washing your husband’s socks. It was as if Bush, known for songs of such supernatural extravagance as ‘Wuthering Heights,’ for singing about illicit gay love (‘Kashka From Baghdad’), nuclear fallout from the perspective of an unborn foetus (‘Breathing’), or obtaining emotional nourishment from a computer program (‘Deeper Understanding’), had settled into a disappointingly dull malaise, the shrinking of a world where she now sang about washing machines – literally – and her lovely son.

Reductive seems too mild a word for such an interpretation – anyone familiar with the Kate Bush oeuvre will know she was always one for finding beauty in the everyday, that gleam of light in the ordinary used as a jumping-off point (“you bump into a friend you haven’t seen in a long time,” she sang on ‘Strange Phenomena’), She always recognised and celebrated the beauty in simplicity, and elevated it with complex arrangements, daring melodies, and subtle poetry. The domesticity of motherhood and home life of course informs (and even enhances) Aerial – to disregard it as inessential or lesser because it lacks the perceived vigour and intensity of vision of prior works is demeaning.

If anything, the more homespun feel of Aerial beautifully illuminates its themes of birdsong, daylight, and the natural world. For all Bush’s perceived perfectionism, there is a relaxed, unfussy feeling to the material – some of the vocal takes are audibly imperfect in comparison to some of her past recordings and you get the sense of that search for the “right emotional quality” taking absolute precedence. She told Rolling Stone France in 2006 that she “[doesn’t] believe in perfection. For instance, in ‘Mrs. Bartolozzi’ the voice plays with the piano. There’s a part I really hate. But as part as the whole song, I couldn’t get the same emotional quality on the other takes. This version is a bit out of tune, I don’t pronounce the words the way I wished but the emotion I was looking for is there.”

‘Mrs. Bartolozzi’ is one of the songs on the first disc, A Sea Of Honey, and one of its most divisive. It’s the one with the repeated chorus of “washing machine” that so troubled some critics two decades ago; far from being a song about a washing machine, though, the washing machine is a device through which Bush can explore ideas of lost identity, the renewing properties of water, and the power of daydreams to break through the humdrum mundanity of daily life. “What I wanted to get was the sense of this journey, where you’re sitting in front of this washing machine, and then almost as if in a daydream, you’re suddenly standing in the sea,” she told the BBC in 2005.

Is ‘Mrs. Bartolozzi’ herself the “washing machine”? She drifts off into a reverie with the “slooshy-sloshy / get that dirty shirty clean” segment, which always reminded me of a ‘50s radio advert, or the mopping scene in Disney’s Cinderella. Is she not only getting lost in the everyday but trying to erase it? “Clothes are such a strong part of who a human being is,” she told Mojo in 2005. “Y’know, skin cells, the smell. Somebody thought that maybe there’d been this murder going on, I thought that was great. I love the ambiguity.”

One of Bush’s most powerful skills is to capture the essence of a particular period of time in musical form – the autumnal The Sensual World a prime example – but don’t ‘Prologue’ and ‘An Architect’s Dream’ just sound like a sunny afternoon in the garden? Doesn’t the oceanic pulse of ‘Nocturn’ (“a sea of honey, a sky of honey”) capture that chill of a moonlight night? Isn’t the ebullient joy of ‘Sunset’ evocative of those burning colours, “where sands sing in crimson, red, and rust,” the poignant pull of an ending and a beginning all at once?

“What kind of language is this?” Bush asks towards the climax of ‘Aerial,’ merging human laughter with the approaching dawn chorus. The language of Aerial is rapture at the beauty of nature, the extraordinary in the everyday; its musical language is as broad, diverse, and beautiful as its subjects would suggest.

“I suppose I was just kind of playing with the idea of how could human language connect with birdsong,” she said. “It is just the natural rhythm.”

Bush’s own natural rhythm led to the twelve-year wait for Aerial; in a remarkable example of our morphing perceptions of time, that gap is now two years shorter than the one since Bush’s last LP, 50 Words For Snow which, to me, at least, feels fairly recent. “I think I did worry about there being such a long gap,” she told Mark Radcliffe in 2005. “I was worried that… without wanting to sound sentimental, I was worried that people would forget about me.”

Not likely – Aerial stands strong in the firmament of the very best Kate Bush records. And surely the only record that could possibly make me think of Kate Bush every time I hear a pigeon cooing (and I know I’m not the only one). There is a real artist’s confidence in its lambent quality, its mature elegance, that rewards repeated listening and, two decades on, still reveals new surprises. So yes, it was definitely worth the wait and I will be playing it again today. “What a lovely afternoon…”

I will finish off now. On 7th November, it is twentyw-one tyearts since Aewrial was released. There was thids massuive wave of exictyment and affection for it when irt came out. Kate Bush had been quiet for a while, so it was this great moment. Bush’s production is staggering. Such an excpansive and ambitious double albgum, I don’t think that it is as explored and discussed as it should be. How much radio play do the songs get? It is a swork of genius from…

A masterful producer and songwriter.

FEATURE: In Search of Peter Pan: Kate Bush’s Lionheart at Forty-Eight

FEATURE:

 

 

In Search of Peter Pan

Kate Bush’s Lionheart at Forty-Eight

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IT is annoying…

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush in 1978/PHOTO CREDIT: Gered Mankowitz

that some albums have different release dates attached to them, depending on which source you look at. In terms of Kate Bush’s albums, I have seen Lionheart be associated with three different dates. I think the consensus is that it is 10th November, 1978, though I have seen 13th November and 12th also used. Going by Discogs, I am marking the forty-eighth anniversary of Lionheart ahead of 10th November. Kate Bush’s second studio album, it arrived less than nine months after her debut, The Kick Inside. That would be taxing for any artist to do. But Bush was promoting The Kick Inside around the world. Although I don’t feel Lionheart is as strong as underrated albums like The Red Shoes (1993), it is far stronger than people give it credit for. There is unlikely to be any retrospection ahead of its forty-eighth anniversary. Perhaps there will be something written when it turns fifty in 2028. The only Kate Bush album recorded out of England – at Super Bear Studios in Berre-les-Alpes on the French Riviera -, it is also the first to feature Del Palmer. It seems strange that Palmer was not involved with The Kick Inside. Producer Andrew Powell wanting more experienced musicians at the time. Bush’s boyfriend until the 1990s, Palmer played on all of her albums from Lionheart on, and he also was her engineer on many albums too. He is sadly no longer with us, but I am sure he had happy memories of being with Bush in France. Even if she was pushed for time and could not write any new tracks, there would have been moments of downtime in the sun and by the pool that were idyllic. A picturesque landscape to record an album in, Lionheart has some terrific tracks.

People best know it for Wow. The second single, it followed Hammer Horror. That album-closing track is not an obvious lead single. Released a week before Lionheart on 3rd November, 1978, it reached forty-four in the U.K. Wow reached fourteen. People still listening to The Kick Inside. Bush promoting that album right through the year. I am not sure what the last bit of promotion was for it, though she would not have wanted to record a second album so quickly. EMI saw the success her debut had and wanted a quick follow-up. That pressure and short-sightedness was detrimental. Lionheart not as complete and different to The Kick Inside. There are some tracks that you can see as evolutions and more ambitious in terms of the compositions. Coffee Homeground among them. Natural highlights like Symphony in Blue, Kashka from Baghdad and Wow. Interesting deeper cuts like In Search of Peter Pan, and the wonderful Fullhouse. I do want to come to a promotional interview. One from later in 1978. However, we can see how Bush felt about Lionheart in the years following its release. It is a wonderful album, but it was insane by EMI to push her back into the studio so soon after promoting The Kick Inside:

“I had only a week after we got back from Japan to prepare for the album. I was lucky to get it together so quickly. But the songs seem to me, now, to be somewhat overproduced. I didn’t put enough time into them.

Richard Laermer, Kate Bush Touches the U.S. At Last, Pulse!, 1984

Even on the first two records, I was doing what I’m doing now as a artist, only because I was a lot younger, and I didn’t have the room and the space to be able to truly present my music. I had to work with a producer and within certain kind of set-ups because of the fact that… that’s how it was, I wasn’t powerful enough basically to be able to say, “Look, I’m producing this myself. This is what I do.” And that’s what I do now. I think that if I had been a little older, and if I’d had the experience at the time, I would have done it then, too. But I was – When I was making my first album, I was 18. I had never really worked with a band before, let alone a producer in a studio setup. So I just had – [Laughs] -I mean I just about had the guts, you know, to sing and keep it together. But you learn very quickly what you want. By the time the second album was finished, I knew that I had to be involved. Even though they were my songs and I was singing them, the finished product was not what I wanted. That wasn’t the producer’s fault. He was doing a good job from his point of view, making it sound good and together. But for me, it was not my album, really.

John Dilberto, Britain’s Renaissance of Concept Rock, Keyboard, 1985

It was rushed and that was responsible for me taking as much time as possible over albums. Considering how quickly we made it, it’s a bloody good album but I’m not really happy with it.

John Aizlewood, Love, Trust and Hitler. Sounds (UK), November 1989”.

In terms of reviews, there was not a lot of love shown in 1978. As you can see from these two reviews, there was this vitriol, sexism and lack of respect aimed at Kate Bush: “Mature’ lyrics sung in that twee irritating schoolgirl-siren voice… Actually most of the time she’s nearer a vague British lineage – Barbara Dickson to Lynsey de Paul – than a Joni/Janis wonderland (Ian Penman, NME, 25th November, 1978); A product which is at best moderate, lacking and often severely irritating… The feel is often bland and soulless. Strictly MOR with a clever tinge. This is flat conceived silliness. I simply dislike it (Chris Westwood, Record Mirror, 25th November, 1978)”. Quite a few reviews were published on 25th November of 1978. That is over two weeks after Lionheart came out. I wonder why there was this wait. Even fi there has been more retrospective appreciation of Lionheart, I would say this and Director’s Cut (2011) are her most under-appreciated studio albums. There is a lot to love about Lionheart. Its stunning cover by Gered Mankowitz. This is what he recalled about shooting this incredible cover: “By the time Lionheart was finished I’d already shot two or three sessions with her, and we had developed a terrific working relationship. Kate had the idea of a young girl going up into the attic of an old house and finding an animal costume. I decided to build the attic as a set in my studio and we designed it incorporating a dormer type window for the lighting. I rented the lion head from a costumier, and we had the lion suit made to measure. We used the box we’d made for the US version of her first album, The Kick Inside, plus a couple of props and a lot of artificial cobwebs!”. I don’t think I have seen a big music website or magazine write an appreciative thing about Lionheart. That seems staggering! Last year, Classic Rock said this about Lionheart: “For sceptics who reckoned she was all a bit jazz-hands and drama school, this was the one to attack – her one tour ‘visualised’ the narratives – but that fearless voice and fluid piano work woo all but the hardest heart. With its bucolic feel and quests for Peter Pan, its sunlit languor has endured surprisingly well”.

Before getting to an interview around the release of Lionheart, I wanted to counteract the slightly acidic reviews of 1978 with some retrospective acclaim. Drowned in Sound reconsidered Kate Bush’s first four albums – 1978’s The Kick Inside, and Lionheart; 1980’s Never for Ever, and 1982’s The Dreaming -, and gave a perfect ten to The Dreaming. Even though giving The Kick Inside an 8 is very low, they did not slate Lionheart: “One of the funny things about The Before Time when you had to buy music to listen to it is that ropey critical reputations could really put you off ever listing to certain records, even by artists you loved. It took me years to get around to Lionheart. And you know, sure, it’s the weakest Kate Bush record but that doesn’t make it bad. If anything the fact it’s routinely dismissed as a rushed follow up to The Kick Inside means it doesn’t have the pressure to compete with the stronger later records. The luminous ‘Wow’ is obviously the best and most memorable song, but seriously, check out those elaborately layered vocals on opener ‘Symphony in Blue’. The songwriting is a bit hazy compared to the laser-definition of later albums, but musically and texturally it’s a really beautiful record - the only Kate Bush album that is content to be pretty and not ask you to commit to it, and there’s something to be said for that, I think. (7)”. I realise I have sourced some of these features before. It warrants repeating. This feature noted how Lionheart is not a masterpiece, though it is staggering considering time constraints. How it is a remarkable achievement and a gorgeous album: “Elsewhere, things get more eclectic and esoteric. “Coffee Homeground” courts Cabaret and Broadway and elevates both forms.  Lead track, “Symphony In Blue” evokes a heavenly cocktail mix of Carol King on ecstasy and helium.  On this album, even more than The Kick Inside, Kate takes her voice to its full, death defying limits.  Many argue it takes listeners to their limits as well.  Like Dylan, Kate’s voice is her signature, money maker, and albatross all rolled into one.  One must come to the party prepared to marvel at her athleticism and then dig deep into the music itself.  The rewards are there.  Kate Bush is not a passive listen. We’ve got Sade for that.  No, Lionheart is a three ring circus of emotion, estrogen and technique.  And you know what?  EMI put it out at just the right time.  I’m glad we got two albums documenting Kate’s eloquent, teen dream genius.  Soon our little girl would all grow up to be a woman. Lionheart didn’t do anything wrong, it’s just a matter of the paint on her masterpiece hadn’t quite dried yet”.

I do really love Lionheart. Bush spoke with Harry Doherty for Melody Maker. I have definitely sourced this interview before. The Kick Inside saw Bush promote widely. There was not as much with Lionheart. I do find the interviews around the time intriguing. This transition between her amazing debut and 1989’s Never for Ever. Lionheart is an album that shows Bush was so different to her contemporaries. What she was singing and writing about:

“I can understand that as a reaction to a well-mannered chance meeting, but really, had the writer listened attentively to her first album (regardless of liking or disliking it), I don't think he would have come to the same rash and puerile conclusion.

Actually, Kate Bush scares me, for a combination of reasons. The first is the diplomatic pleasantness and awesome logic she displays in interviews, but that is only one dimension--she is, in fact, a "nice" person. It is when that initial impact is paired with the multifarious intensity of her music that I start to quiver.

The contrast is eerie, and frightening. In the studio, living out her imaginative fantasies, kate Bush is strickien by a rush of surrealism, and suddenly a range of weird personalities are displayed. It is a subconsciousness that was evident on her first album, The Kick Inside, and it is captured to an even greater extent on Lionheart, the sequel now released.

"Nice" is not a word I'd turn to to describe the consequences. The songwriting, the singing, the arrangements, the production have the mark of a singular personality. Kate Bush's music is more like a confrontation. At times, it makes the listener feel uneasy and insecure. Kate's approach to her work is marked by an obstinate refusal to compromise in any way, so she does not make it easy for the listener to get into the music. To begin with, it's a challenge.

Because, then, it's difficult to appreciate full Kate Bush's music (and who, after all, is she to make such demands?)--compounded with the fact that she seems to have the Midas touch--she is set up for criticism, which must make it all the more fulfilling to carry off two awards in the MM Poll. Even when told of her performance in the Poll, Kate girlishly enthuses: "That's wonderful! Fantastic! Incredible!"

Nice.

The success of The Kick Inside and its hit singles ( Wuthering Heights and The Man With the Child in His Eyes) was as much a hindrance as a help when the time came for Kate Bush to record a second album. As she has said before, the terms of reference were suddenly overturned. Instead of a rising talent, she is now a risen talent--and anything less than an emulation of the initial success will be interpreted as a failure. It's a pressure, though, that she can live with.

There are similarities to the debut album. Lionheart is produced once more by Andrew Powell and, generally, the musicians who did the honours on The Kick Inside are recalled. Kate wants the connections between her first and second album to stop there.

For instance, her own band makes a slight contribution to the new album, being featured on two of the tracks, Wow and Kashka From Baghdad, and had it not been for a mix-up in the organisation, might have made a heavier contribution. It is, it appears, a sensitive situation, and one that Kate doesn't care to dwell upon, but she's still determined that, eventually, her own band--Charlie Morgan (drums), Brian Bath (guitars), Del Palmer (bass), Paddy Bush (mandolin)--will play a more prominent part in the recording proceedings.

On the subject of producing, it's significant that Kate is accredited as assistant producer and so is acknowledged as playing an active role in mixing the sound as well as performing. She takes an immense interest in recording techniques and states intentions to pursue ambitions in that area. There was, however, a problem in communication when she was involved in the production and her lack of professional lingo for various methods of recording often led to confusion and amusement in the studio.

"I feel I know what I'm talking about in the studio now. I know what I should hear. The reaction to me explaining what I want in the studio was amusement, to a certain extent. The were all taking the piss out of me a bit."

Overall, Bush was concerned that the new album should differ quite radically from her first. &ocq.Maybe I'm a bit too close to it at the moment, but I find it much more adventurous than the last one. I'm much happier with the songs and the arrangements and the backing tracks.

"I was getting a bit worried about labels from that last album: everything being soft, airy-fairy. That was great for the time, but it's not really what I want to do now, or what I want to do, say, in the next year. I guess I want to get basically heavier in the sound sense...and I think that's on the way, which makes me really happy.

"I don't really think that there are any songs on the album that are as close to .bf ital Wuthering Heights .pf as there were on the last one. I mean, there's lots of songs people could draw comparison with. I want the first single that comes out from this album to be reasonably up-tempo. <The first single was Hammer Horror .> That's the first thing I'm concerned with, because I want to break away from what has previously gone. I'm not pleased with being associated with such soft, romantic vibes, not for the first single anyway. If that happens again, that's what I will be to everyone."

She is acutely aware of the danger of being pigeon-holed, and is actively engaged in discouraging that.

"If you can get away with it and keep changing, great. I think it should be done because in that way you'll always have people chasing after you trying to find out what you're doing. And, anyway, if you know what's coming next, what's the point? If I really wanted to, I guess I could write a song that would be so similar to Wuthering Heights . But I don't. What's the point? I'd rather write a song that was really different, that I liked, although it might not get anywhere."

Have you heard her new single, Hammer Horror ? Now that's really different.

The major changes in the preparation for Lionheart was undoubtedly that Kate, over-burdened with promotional schemes for the first album, was for the first time left with the unsavoury prospect of meeting deadlines and (perhaps) having to rush her writing to do that. It was a problem she was having trouble coming to terms with at our last meeting, when she spoke in obvious admiration of bands like Queen--who came up with the goods on time every year, and still found time to conduct world tours.

But Kate insisted that she wasn't going to be rushed, and eventually the songs came along. In all, it took ten weeks to record the twelve tracks (ten are on the album), an indication of the meticulousness shown by Bush herself in exercising as much control as possible over every facet of the work. "I'm not always right, and I know I'm not," she says, "but it's important to know what's going on, even if I'm not controlling it."

I'll be interested to read the reviews of Lionheart . It'll be sad, I think, if the album is greeted with the same sort of insulting indifference that The Kick Inside met, when Kate Bush was pathetically underrated.

Lionheart is, as the artist desired, a heavier album than its predecessor, with Bush setting some pretty exacting tests for the listener. Kate's songwriting is that much more mature, and her vocal performance has an even more vigorous sense of drama.

Musically, the tracks on Lionheart are more carefully structured than before. There is, for instance, a distinct absence of straight songs, like the first album's Moving, Saxophone Song, The Man With the Child in His Eyes and The Kick Inside . Here, only Oh England, My Lionheart makes an immediate impression and I'm not sure that the move away from soft ballads (be it to secure a separate image) is such a wise one. As Bush proved on those songs on The Kick Inside, simplicity can also have its own sources of complication.

There is much about this album that is therapeutic, and often Kate Bush is the subject of her own course. Fullhouse is the most blatant example of that. <There is no evidence that this song is autobiographical.> On of the album's three unspectacular tracks musically (along with, in my opinion, In the Warm Room and Kashka From Baghdad ), it is still lyrically a fine example of ridding the brain of dangerous paranoias. The stabbing verse of "Imagination sets in,/Then all the voices begin,/Telling you things that aren't happening/(But the nig and they nag, 'til they're under your skin)" is set against the soothing chorus: "You've really got to/Remember yourself,/You've got a fullhouse in your head tonight,/Remember yourself,/Stand back and see emotion getting you uptight."

Even Fullhouse is mild, though, when compared to tracks like Symphony in Blue, In the Warm Room and Kashka From Baghdad, which exude an unashamed sensuality. Symphony in Blue, the opening track, is a hypnotic ballad with the same sort of explicit sexual uninhibitiveness as Feel It from the first album. "The more I think about sex,/The better it gets,/Here we have a purpose in life,/Good for the blood circulation,/Good for releasing the tension./The root of our reincarnation," sings Kate happily.

In Search of Peter Pan, Wow (running together on the first side) and Hammer Horror are are examples of Kate's strange ability to let the subconscious mind run amok in the studio. Wow is tantalisingly powerful and Hammer Horror (the single) is most impressive for the way it seems to tie in so many of the finer points of the first album and project them through one epic song.

That leaves three tracks, Don't Push Your Foot on the Heartbrake, Oh England, My Lionheart, and Coffee Homeground . All of them with totally contrasting identieds but all succeeding in areas that many might have considered outside the scope of Kate Bush.

A few months ago, in the paper, Kate said how one of her musical ambitions was to write a real rousing rock'n'roll song and how difficult she found that task. James and the Cold Gun was her effort on The Kick Inside, and with Don't Push Your Foot on the Heartbrake she has tackled the art of writing a roasting rocker on her own terms. Heartbrake (another piece of emotional therapy) might not be considered a rocker in the traditional sense of racing from start to finish but it's still one of the most vicious pieces of rock I've stumbled across in some time. The chorus is slow, pedestrianly slow. The pace is deceiving. It slides into the chorus. Bush moves into a jog. Then the second part of the chorus. It's complete havoc, and when it comes to repeating that second part in the run-up to the end, Kate wrenches from her slight frame a screaming line of unbelievably consummate rock'n'roll power that astounded me. A rather unnerving turn to Kate's music, I think.

Then there's Coffee Homeground, influenced by Bertold Brecht and inspired by a journey with a taxi driver who was convinced that somebody was out to poison him.

For Oh England, My Lionheart, from which the album title is derived, Kate is expecting a barrage of criticism because of the blatant soppiness of the lyric.

Kate's reasons for writing the song are simple enough. She had always liked Jerusalem, and thought that a contemporary song proclaiming the romantic beauty of England should be written.

"A lot of people could easily say that the song is sloppy. It's very classically done. It's only got acoustic instruments on it and it's done...almost madrigally, you know. I daresay a lot of people will think that it's just a load of old slush, but it's just an area that I think it's good to cover. Everything I do is very English, and I think that's one reason I've broken through to a lot of countries. The English vibe is very appealing”.

Rather than overlook Lionheart, I did want to mark its anniversary. Turning forty-eight on 10th November, this is a fabulous album that has not received enough love. When Bush produced for the first time on her third album, Never for Ever, she would take this leap. The Fairlight CMI coming in. Her palette, vocally and compositionally, broader and deeper. Though there are many treasures throughout Lionheart. An album that everyone…

NEEDS to listen to.

FEATURE: Feverpitch: The Regency of Kylie Minogue in 2001

FEATURE:

 

 

Feverpitch

IN THIS PHOTO: Kylie Minogue shot for British Vogue in June 2001/PHOTO CREDIT: Vincent Peters

The Regency of Kylie Minogue in 2001

__________

THERE have been…

career peaks and regencies of Kylie Minogue through her career. I first heard her music in the 1980s when I was a small child. She released her debut single, The Loco-Motion, in July 1987. Almost forty years of her music. Maybe now is where she is at her peak, though some would argue that was earlier in her career. With Kylie Minogue, there are these purple patches and golden runs. After Fever was released in 2000, there was this wave of new interest. People thinking it was some sort of comeback. Minogue had not gone anywhere. What people were suggesting was this was a great album, following one that was not so good. I think 1997’s Impossible Princess is a remarkable album, though Minogue did faced sexism and critical backlash. Fever a more mainstream or accessible album. Helped by the success of the single, Spinning Around, and its video where Minogue donned those iconic gold hotpants. 2001 was a year when that momentum continued. I sort of have to frame music of that year around the terrorist attacks on 11th September. The fact is that Fever and its lead single, Can’t Get You Out of My Head, could have failed. They were released right around that time, when the world was in complete shock. Artists afraid to fly and promote music. Maybe audiences did want escapism and to carry on, though it must have been strange for artists releasing and promoting music after the horrific attacks in the U.S. How New York was rocked. Fever came out on 1st October, 2001. I want to look to its twenty-fifth anniversary, but more generally look at Minogue’s 2001. On 8th September, 2001, the first single from that album was released. Can’t Get You Out of My Head ranks alongside her very best. I covered this song in more detail for another feature.

What is amazing is how this single, released three days before one of the worst events in modern history, captivated and was successful. It reached seven in the U.S. Billboard Hot 100 and got to number one in the U.K. Number one in Kylie Minogue's native Australia. I am going to bring in some reviews for Fever, as this might be her greatest ever album. Stiff competition. I feel it was a response to the critical lukewarmness around Impossible Princess. More Indie Minogue, Fever sort of continued and built from Light Years. Disco and Dance-Pop combined. It was a massive international success and silenced anyone who felt Minogue was not a serious artist or was past her best. Fever was certified platinum by the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA). The album was also certified septuple platinum by the Australian Recording Industry Association (ARIA), and quintuple platinum by the British Phonographic Industry (BPI). At the 2002 Brit Awards, it won International Album. The Perfect Magazine chatted with Kylie Minogue last month to mark and celebrate twenty-five years of Fever. Her recalling this imperial phase. This astonishing year. An album that reaffirmed her position as a global megastar and one of the most inventive and brilliant artists of any generation:

“So this year is the 25th anniversary of Fever.

It is.

When we were talking about it in the office, the thing that surprised us all was this ritual that Sid, our digital director, and his mates have, of watching your Brits performance of ‘Can’t Get Blue Monday Out of My Head’.

Oh, but I love Sid. We all need a Sid on our teams. He’s genuinely special.

What does their ritual tell you about the longevity and resilience of Fever?

You know what? It’s just so beautiful it’s mind-blowing. You can do so much – due diligence, best efforts to try and make something a thing, not something that’s just self-propelling in the moment. When it gets these fresh injections of love and life, coming from a completely different mindset… I mean, what do that generation think? What do they make of it? They are just so cool about it. Honestly, it fills me with so much joy. We were there, we know what it was like. But Sid and his mates ritually go to it? That is so… I just want to hug them all. Maybe I want to go out for a night out with them all and go into their world for a minute. But not too late (laughing). All I need to know here is: is the ‘Can’t Get Blue Monday Out of My Head’ moment 11.30pm or is it 3am? That’s all I need to know.

PHOTO CREDIT: Willy Vanderperre

Where did the ‘Blue Monday’ idea come from?

Very possibly from Miles Leonard [her then label boss] or Jamie Nelson [her A&R]. It’s such a clever idea you just wouldn’t change one thing about it. Believe me, I look back on the majority of things and think, yep, maybe something different here? But that moment just thrills me – especially now that I know that story. Not only of Sid himself, but the culture around it. When he told me, I was like, ‘What are you talking about?’ I’m just going to roll with it.

Was ‘Can’t Get You Out of My Head’ the first great global pop hit of the 21st century?

I’d have to look at what else came out then. Maybe something slipped out of 2000? I couldn’t definitively say that. But I do believe that it has its place in that realm. I’d have to sit with you and look at the charts and jog my memory, but it definitely… sonically and visually and at that point in my life, I think, what was I? What, 32? I was settling into myself, I guess. I’d been through the whole PWL era, the Deconstruction years. ‘Spinning Around’ got us back on. Then it was like riding a spaceship, this juggernaut.

Were you at your most confident during ‘Fever’?

A lot was simplified. It’s quite streamlined and then, in time, it got really busy again and by the time you’ve got to [her 2011 album] Aphrodite, it’s full-on over the top again. I think that when you can get to achieve so much with fewer elements, that’s when pop music is at its most incredible.

Tell me about the importance of the female gaze to the project. Dawn Shadforth directing the video for ‘Can’t Get You Out of My Head’ lent it this very specific angle. We knew you had that in you, but it took that direction…

Sorry to interrupt you, but I hadn’t actually thought of this before – that thing that ‘we knew you had it in you but we hadn’t seen it before’. You need your collaborators, you need a team, those people to help you get there. Or I do, at least. So she was instrumental. It could’ve been a very different video, a very different treatment. The female gaze of the director is it. And also, Dawn is just… She is cool. So she is only going to do cool stuff.

What’s your favourite song on the record that isn’t ‘Can’t Get You Out of My Head’?

It would have to be ‘Love at First Sight’. The ad libs at the end are inspired by Donna Summer and that inspiration started from when I was nine years old. I would listen to her all the time. I love ‘Love at First Sight’. I love hearing other people’s versions. It’s done a lot of weddings, that song. It was the first song that I’d written alongside Biffco and Richard [Stannard] where the puzzle started to make sense for me. We went back and forth on the chorus and it landed where it landed. We sent four songs to Parlophone and they didn’t respond to it. We were so baffled. Then they came around and it’s become the song it’s become”.

Let’s get to some retrospective examinations and features around Fever. 2001, this massive year for Kylie Minogue. Firmly thrust back into the spotlight. This iconic artist was in her third decade. Many might say that the 2020s have been her best decade when it comes to the brilliance of her albums. I do feel like 2001 was one of her most important years. I think that Fever is almost a perfect album. I have seen some mixed reviews. Those who feel it had a couple of great singles and some filler. I would strongly disagree. There are going to be twenty-fifth anniversary features around Fever. Close to its anniversary on 1st October. I want to head back to 2021 and some features published then. Albumism looked at her career evolution and why Fever is so enduring and impactful:

“Mind you, while Minogue continued to experience success worldwide throughout the ‘90s, her career trajectory took a completely different turn stateside during this period. In 1990, Geffen Records released Minogue’s sophomore album Enjoy Yourself in the US, but the album’s poor commercial performance subsequently led to the label parting ways with her. Rather astonishingly, for the next eleven years, none of Minogue’s five albums would see the light of day in the US, as the few singles she released here—including 1990’s “Better the Devil You Know” and 1994’s “Confide in Me”—failed to produce meaningful sales and labels remained wary of supporting full album releases.

So although Minogue’s popularity had not just remained intact, but had actually proliferated across Australia, Europe and beyond, she had faded to relative obscurity in the states, arguably relegated—at least among her more fair-weather followers—to the undesirable one-hit wonder association thanks to the “The Loco-Motion.” Thankfully, the glaring dichotomy between her stature overseas and her marginalization here in the US would come to an end in September 2001, with the arrival of the dazzling dance-pop brilliance of “Can’t Get You Out of My Head.”

Co-written and produced by Rob Davis and Cathy Dennis, who you’ll recall from her early ‘90s hit singles “Touch Me (All Night Long),” C’mon and Get My Love, and “Just Another Dream,” Minogue’s midtempo ode to obsession, replete with the unforgettable “La La La / La La La La La” chorus that lodged itself firmly in millions of minds upon first listen, proved instantly memorable. And the song ultimately became her most successful single of her career, placing her squarely back on US fans’ collective radar after her extended 11-year “hiatus.” “Can’t Get You Out of My Head” topped the charts in more than 40 countries, peaking at number 7 on the Billboard Hot 100 in the US. “It kick-started a whole different phase in my career,” Minogue explained to The Quietus in 2012.

While its ubiquitous lead single is what most people still remember from Fever, her eighth studio album and third released in the US, the rest of the album showcases more than its fair share of standout songs. Most of the songs stick to the same house music meets euro-pop sonic template complemented by Minogue’s yearning, seductive vocals. And the songs seldom stray too far from the thematic script of the pursuit and realization of love, accentuated by a more overtly sexual energy than can be heard on Minogue’s previous albums. So while variety is in short supply here, anyone expecting anything else from Minogue obviously isn’t familiar with her musical modus operandi, which she and her production team execute to flawless effect across Fever’s twelve tracks.

Finest among these, according to my ears, is the hypnotic “Come Into My World,” the other of the two Davis & Dennis penned/produced compositions and the final single released from the album. Sounding like the sonic and vocal extension of “Can’t Get You Out of My Head,” albeit with a faster tempo, the song finds Minogue extending a straightforward invitation to her lover, encouraging him in the second verse to “Take these lips that were made for kissing / And this heart that will see you through / And these hands that were made to touch and / Feel you.” “Come Into My World” rightfully won the 2004 GRAMMY Award for Best Dance Recording, triumphing over competition that included Madonna’s “Die Another Day” and further solidifying Minogue’s career resurrection in North America.

The other two officially released singles are sublime slices of dancefloor-designed effervescence as well. Featuring a nod to her aforementioned 2000 single (“Ohh, is the world still spinning around?”), the infectious “In Your Eyes” highlights Minogue at her most seductive. On the jubilant, melodic ballad “Love at First Sight,” Minogue floats on cloud nine after falling in love upon first blush, conjuring “Love to Love You Baby” era Donna Summer in the song’s outro with the repeated refrain of “it was love / it was love / it was love.”

Among the non-singles, a handful of highlights emerge, including the house-imbued groove of album opener “More More More,” the irresistibly catchy exploration of vulnerability “Fragile” (which could very well have been the fifth single), and “Dancefloor,” an ode to the escapism one invariably finds blanketed by the comforting shimmer of disco lights. While not filler fare by any stretch of the imagination, the trio of songs that close out the album—“Love Affair,” “Your Love,” and “Burning Up”—may not quite measure up to the bona fide stunners that precede them, but they nevertheless reinforce that Fever is an exquisitely executed dance-pop affair from beginning to end.

A surprise to no one, Fever took the global charts by storm, including a peak position of number 3 in the Billboard 200. And while the album was critically applauded, the media’s preoccupation with her undeniable status as an international sex symbol, as well as her personal life, often diverted focus away from her music. In fact, in my research for this tribute, I was hard-pressed to find many interviews that contained more than a passing remark or two about her music, with most interviewers more than content to discuss her public persona and a whole host of topics unrelated to her songs.

Oh well. Sex sells, as we all know. Minogue has sold it well and confidently, albeit with a sophistication and grace that remains largely unrivaled by her pop peers. But ultimately, it’s the songs that endure long after the veneer of the superficial wears thin. In the two decades since Fever first blessed our eardrums, she has continued to craft electro-dance-pop tunes of the highest caliber, as most luminously evidenced on 2003’s Body Language, 2010’s Aphrodite and last years’ triumphant DISCO (2020).

With all of the throwaway pop songs and vapid pop stars (who shall remain nameless here) still pervading the musical landscape, we are the ones that should be so lucky that Kylie Minogue is still going strong three-and-a-half decades into her storied career. And twenty years later, we still can’t get Fever out of our heads”.

A few more features to get to before wrapping up. Stereogum recognised Fever at twenty back in 2021. Everyone has a slightly different take on the album. Although some, including them, feel there is a little repetitiveness creeping in, you cannot argue how addictive and memorable the songs are. This album that endures this day. The singles so fresh, as many artists are influenced by Fever and you can hear it in their work. Arguably, Kylie Minogue albums like Tension (2023) are influenced by Fever. Or Minogue going back to that album and adding in other styles and sounds.

“Though repetitive at times in production and lyrical content, Fever was an ultra-sleek turn into the wonders of millennial pop futurism. The aesthetic was best reflected by Fever’s rhapsodic lead single "Can’t Get You Out of My Head," the song that sent the dance-pop world into Minogue mania. Co-produced and co-written by former Mud glam-rock guitarist Rob Davis and British pop singer-songwriter Cathy Dennis, "Can't Get You Out of My Head" began in Davis' garage-turned-makeshift studio in South East England. They initially offered it to former British pop group S Club 7 and indie pop singer Sophie Ellis-Bextor, both of whom passed on the demo. It thus serendipitously landed on Minogue, who wanted the song within 20 seconds of hearing it.

Balancing in-your-face ubiquity with a more elusive seduction as it built to an infectious "la la la" refrain, "Can't Get You Out of My Head" launched Minogue into icon status. The song became her biggest hit in the US since "The Loco-Motion," peaking at #7, and her bestselling single overall, with worldwide sales of over five million copies. The visual for "Can’t Get You Out of My Head" looked just as glossy as the song sounded -- Minogue's razor-sharp jawline stole the show alongside robotic choreography by an army of clones with cutout tops that would give Mean Girls' Regina George a run for her money.

There was more where that came from. Veering towards discotheque futurism, Fever arguably made Minogue the global queen of nightclubbing. Opening track "More More More" throbbed with a rapturous, tech-y hotline tone and a deep house bassline courtesy of British producer Tommy D. Second track (and third single) "Love At First Sight" pulsated with an adrenaline rush of optimism as Minogue cooed about passionate reverie. The title track was an alluring, flirtatious escapade that brought the steamy album cover full circle.

Breathy vocals ran rampant throughout Fever, notably on the lush, nearly-inebriated sounding "In Your Eyes" and "Come Into My World," which won Best Dance Recording at the Grammys three years later. (It was released as a single in November 2002, placing it within the eligibility window for the February 2004 ceremony.) "Come Into My World" was a follow-up collaboration between Davis and Dennis, who spun it out into a hallucinogenic disco utopia, paving the way for releases decades in the future like Dua Lipa's Future Nostalgia.

Later tracks like "Love Affair," "Your Love," and “Burning Up" opted for more analog instrumentation, but the legacy of Fever lies within its synth-powered Europop menagerie. Those electronic dance hits were the songs that pushed Fever to a #3 debut on the Billboard 200 and helped it sell 6 million copies worldwide. It remains Minogue’s highest-selling album and a testament to her eternal nu-disco appeal. All these years later, I still can't get it out of my head”.

Last year, Classic Pop Mag showed their love for Kylie Minogue’s Fever. I was a teenager when it came out, and 2001 was when I started at university. The month before Fever arrived, I was embarking on this big move. Songs from that album definitely kept me positive and helped me through some bad moments:

“The genesis of the Fever album came towards the end of 2000 while Kylie and her label Parlophone were at loggerheads deciding what to release as a fifth single from Light Years (it had boundless possibilities).

The Goddess of Pop wanted to release Your Disco Needs You, a rallying call to arms inspired by the Village People’s Go West as a thank you to her gay audience for supporting her during her career lull, the label felt that the campy disco track would push Kylie further into niche act territory rather than broaden her audience.

To indicate the kind of direction they envisaged for her, they played her a demo of Can’t Get You Out Of My Head. “From the very first time it was played to me I absolutely loved it,” Kylie said. “It was exactly what I was looking for – cool, edgy, simple.

“Then I started panicking: ‘Are you sure we’ve got it? No-one else is going to record it?’ I just wanted to get in the studio and record it as soon as possible, I was so excited.”

Written by Cathy Dennis and Rob Davis, the song had already been rejected by S Club 7 and Sophie Ellis- Bextor before Kylie’s A&R man Jamie Nelson heard it and said it was the perfect song for the progression Minogue was looking to make musically.

“Even though Kylie wasn’t the first artist to be offered the song, I don’t believe it was meant to go to anyone other than her, and I don’t believe anyone else would have done the incredible job she did with it,” Cathy Dennis told M Magazine. “It was a very natural and fluid process, the whole thing was written in about three-and-a-half hours.

“We had the ‘can’t get you out of my head’ bit and we had the bridge, but it needed another hook. We knew it didn’t need another lyric, so I just went ‘la, la, la…’”

The song informed the direction of Kylie’s next album and, feeling inspired, she headed into the studio to begin work on the album, collating writers, producers and ideas before she went on tour.

As well as asking Cathy and Rob to submit more songs, she teamed up with writers that she’d worked with on Light Years, Steve Anderson and Biffco [Richard Stannard], Ash Howes and Julian Gallagher as well as several new writers/producers who had submitted tracks.

Work on the album resumed after Kylie completed her On A Night Like This Tour in May in Australia. She flew straight to the US to work with Mark Picchiotti in Chicago before returning to the UK to finish the album at London’s Olympic Studios and Biffco’s studios in Dublin.

Throughout the summer, she recorded around 25 tracks, including a pair of Greg Fitzgerald/Tom Nichols cuts (one of which became the title track) and two more tracks from Cathy Dennis and Rob Davis.

After repeated playbacks to what she had recorded, Kylie and her label began formulating a cohesive direction for the album.

What we set out to do with Fever was to make it a culmination of everything I’ve learned an everything I’ve done,” said Kylie. “Everything I’ve done well, and also everything that I’ve done terribly in the past!

“I just feel like the album has the best of both worlds – Light Years and Impossible Princess, it’s a summation of the two. I feel like I’m starting to develop a style that’s my own and though it’s very challenging, I’m enjoying it immensely.”

Having decided on a more stripped-back version of dance-pop than the OTT opulence of Light Years, Fever’s foundation was in electro rather than disco and that also informed the aesthetic of the album.

While Light Years had conjured up images of Studio 54 and poolside parties, Fever’s points of reference were sci-fi and minimalist modernity.

Fashion photographer Vincent Peters, who had shot Kylie for her Light Years cover as well as an editorial in Vogue magazine, shot the singer against a plain white background wearing a white t-shirt, knickers and heels holding a microphone for the album cover – it is a new take on Jean-Paul Goude’s iconic photograph of Grace Jones from the Island Life cover.

When it came to shooting the video for Can’t Get You Out Of My Head, Jones’ influence remained prevalent.

Fashion designer and DJ Fee Doran, a friend of Kylie’s stylist William Baker, was asked if she had ideas, as she had similar points of reference to what William and Kylie were looking for. When the singer visited Fee’s studio, she spotted a hooded jumpsuit and asked to try it on.

“Kylie’s half my size, a fragile little bird and I’m this big clumsy oaf,” says the six-feet-tall Fee. “It was laughable because it drowned her but she knew what she wanted. We pinned it up and even then, we could see it was going to look amazing. Her grandmother was a seamstress so we discussed how we were going to tweak it”

With the video wrapped, album finished and artwork completed, Fever was set for release on 1 October 2001, with Can’t Get You Out Of My Head proceeding on 8 September.

As the record company began arranging Kylie’s promo schedule, they were dealt a blow when it was revealed that the release of Can’t Get You Out Of My Head embroiled her in a chart battle with Victoria Beckham’s debut solo single Not Such An Innocent Girl.

“I did ring my manager as soon as I heard and asked whether we should change it,” Kylie said. “In the end, the cards had been dealt and I just had to play the game. If it hadn’t been Victoria I would have just been in competition with someone else.”

The extra publicity generated from the ‘chart battle’ helped both records and, when it was revealed in the midweek charts that Minogue’s single had sold 125,000 copies in its first three days, the face-off was already won.

Nevertheless, Kylie was overwhelmed when she found out the final chart position. “It was one of those movie moments,” she said.

“My record company has a number that you call that gives the week’s chart result. The voice on the phone said: ‘Kylie is No.1 with sales of 306,000 copies’. I was absolutely flabbergasted. I just thought, ‘that can’t be right’.”

The single spent four weeks at No.1 and she did the double when Fever entered the album chart at No.1. Internationally, both the single and the album fared just as well. Can’t Get You Out Of My Head topped the charts in 40 countries while Fever went on to sell six million, the most successful album of Kylie’s career.

The critics universally praised Kylie’s mature take on dance-infused pop and an arena tour was announced, beginning the following April. Underestimating the demand, KylieFever2002 sold out within minutes and the initial number of dates doubled.

The success continued into the new year. Plans for In Your Eyes, Fever’s second single, had to be postponed by a month due to the enduring success of Can’t Get You Out Of My Head (the label were at one point considering deleting the single in order to continue Fever’s release strategy).

When Kylie performed it as a mash-up with New Order’s Blue Monday at The BRITs the following February, it was still in the charts. As well as delivering an iconic performance, she picked up awards for International Female Solo Artist and International Album.

Living up to those international plaudits, Kylie was forced to sacrifice 10 days of her tour rehearsals to fly to the US where Can’t Get You Out Of My Head topped the dance chart and landed the singer with her first Top 10 hit since The Loco-Motion.

With Fever following it into the US Top 10, she had conquered the final market where success had so far eluded her. Kylie-mania had reached its zenith”.

I will wrap up. I wonder what Kylie Minogue has planned for Fever’s twenty-fifth anniversary. When she spoke with DAZED in May, she was asked about the album and what she had planned. Keeping her cards close to her chest, we might see an album reissue or some big celebration, perhaps:

“This year marks the 25th anniversary of Fever! How will you be celebrating?

Kylie Minogue: This depends. Can you keep a secret? Hmmmmm. What I can say is that I will definitely be celebrating. It’s an album that still stands up, marks a real point in time not only for me but for some others and it’s such a weird and wonderful mix of emotions looking back.

Do you have a favourite look from the Fever era?

Kylie Minogue: Omg, so many. Grace Jones’ white catsuit and Manolo Blahnik white pumps from the “Can’t Get You Out Of My Head” video for starters. I also love the Dolce & Gabbana looks from the tour, the Clockwork Orange section, and the ballad section.

What’s something you’re looking forward to this year?

Kylie Minogue: There’s a lot happening. My Netflix documentary is coming very soon, we'll be celebrating the 25th anniversary of Fever later this year, and a few other little surprises...”.

I wonder how Kylie Minogue reflects on 2001. It was a scary year in many ways. The terrorist attacks happening so close to the release of Can’t Get You Out of My Head. The reverberations still being felt in October when Fever came out. We do mark twenty-five years of this wonderful album on 1st October. Fans around the world will share their memories and favourite songs. Aside from the big hits, the deeper cuts are also fantastic and prove what it is such a strong album. Twenty-five years after its release, and Fever still…

BURNS so bright.

FEATURE: Modern-Day Queens: Ayra Star

FEATURE:

 

 

Modern-Day Queens

Ayra Starr

__________

ONE of this year’s…

best albums has come from Ayra Starr. Starrgirl is a sensational album that I would urge everyone to listen to. It is a major reason for including her in this Modern-Day Queens. If you have not discovered Ayra Starr yet, she is someone who is a Nigerian singer, producer, and songwriter whose debut album, 19 & Dangerous, came out in 2021. It did not get as much press and review coverage as it deserves. Starrgirl has received major widespread acclaim. I am going to end with a review of that album. Before that, there are some recent interviews I am keen to include. I want to start out with a BBC interview. Published last month. The reason for starting out with this one is that Starr was recovering from major surgery. Yet she was still promoting an album! Amazing strength and resilience:

“Two weeks before the release of her new album, Starrgirl, the Nigerian singer posted a photo from hospital, after undergoing "major surgery".

"I was hoping it would be a quick recovery, but it was more complicated than they expected," she told fans, external, without disclosing the nature of the procedure.

Within seven days, she was back in the dance studio, rehearsing for forthcoming performances with a large bandage strapped across her stomach. TV appearances, fan events and live performances followed.

"I'm healing," she told the US breakfast TV show, Today. "I have strength today. I'm so happy I was able to even be here today and be able to do this."

It's a display of the tenacity and ambition that's defined Starr's career to date.

Discovered singing covers on YouTube at the age of 18, she became the first African woman to win best international act at the Mobo Awards, and the first Nigerian woman to surpass one billion video views on YouTube.

In 2024, she was the first Afrobeats artist to play Glastonbury's Pyramid Stage – and finished her set by declaring she'd return as a headliner. Last year, she modelled for Di Petsa at London Fashion Week, closing their show in a white lace two-piece, flanked by an angel.

Over the course of her career, Starr's hooked up with Coldplay, Tyla, David Guetta, Le Sserafim and Kelly Rowland from Destiny's Child.

Her new album boasts collaborations with Afrobeats legends Wizkid and Rema, as well as One Direction's Zayn Malik and rising R&B singer KWN.

The album is her first under a new management deal with Jay-Z's Roc Nation, and a relocation to New York. Leaving Lagos was a big upheaval, she confessed in an essay posted to her Substack last year., external

"New York is basically a walk-in freezer with rent," she wrote. "It's so cold it feels like the city is actively trying to unalive my motivation… I'm not scared, I promise."

Secret relationship

Behind the move was a desire to explore new influences and expand her sound. So you get a track like Where Do We Go, which marries a sashaying Afrobeats rhythm to a hypnotic electronic pulse.

"Like, the rebel I am, I love to juxtapose," she says.

"I don't like being normal and boring. So the idea of writing a heartbreak song on a beat like that, where you can dance to it, was just very enticing. I love things like that."

The lyrics were inspired by a secretive relationship "that was stuck in a rut but I kept coming back to it".

We've all been there. It's all too easy to settle for an imperfect partner because they're a comfortable and familiar presence.

Starr admits the thought of starting over with someone else filled her with fear.

"You're back to square one, and somebody's asking for your favourite colour again.

"I'm like, 'Oh my God! Can we, like, not do that?'"

The problem with staying in the relationship, however, was the way it affected the rest of her life.

"You keep accepting things lower than your standard, and that influences every single thing in your life - because when you let yourself go, romantically and emotionally, it affects you physically, and the music, and all of that.

"So even though I enjoyed [the romance] while it lasted, I picked my priorities and what was most important to me. And that relationship wasn't as important as the music... or anything else."

The story could act as a metaphor for the entire album. After the runaway success of her breakout single, Rush, and her second album, The Year I Turned 21, Starr was beginning to feel trapped by other people's expectations.

"Just like any other pop artist, passive listeners get attached to the songs they know - the popular songs.

"Then you're stuck between creating for the passive listeners and creating for your core fans who want you to do more.

"So that can limit you, because you stop thinking as an artist and start thinking about making music just for consumers.

"But I'm not meant to conform. It's just not who I am. I will rebel against every single preconception and every stereotype”.

Variety sat down with Ayra Starr to discuss her music and the incredible Starrgirl. How transformative it has been for her moving to New York. She also shares how she needed freedom on Starrgirl. This is her most extraordinary album yet:

“The album finds Starr at a junction in her career. Where does the Nigerian baddie go after racking up Afrobeats hits and cementing herself as a top contender in music with two Grammy nominations, touring stadiums while opening for Coldplay, and landing an upcoming debut role in the Gina Prince-Bythewood’s upcoming fantasy-adventure film “Children of Blood and Bone”? Third studio albums can often be a time for doubling down on sonic and visual identity or leaning toward a rebrand. “Starrgirl” finds Starr attempting both.

And as her sonic offering continues to expand, she still found ways to incorporate her Nigerian culture through the traditional Yoruba gele head wrap worn on the album’s cover art. Geles are typically worn at celebratory events, and Starr and photographer Axle Jozeph transform it into an Afrofuturist icon alongside sci-fi lasers. The choice shows that Starr’s evolution doesn’t require leaving her Nigerian identity behind. Instead, she is taking something traditional and pushing it into a new, futuristic context.

The move to New York was a catalyst for much of the change that was to come for Starr. Now, she only asks that listeners approach it with “a clean mind” and allow themselves “45 minutes of enjoyment.”

Who is “Starrgirl”? Is she different from Ayra Starr? Is this an alter ego?

I feel like I was a different person in New York than I was in any part of the world, and I just liked who I was. I liked going to parties with my friends, waking up around like noon [laughs]. I was acting my age. I’m living my age. I just liked experiencing life, and it wasn’t just about work, work, work. It was about enjoying all the work I’ve done and just allowing myself to be, you know? And seeing myself from the lens of complete, and “I am,” instead of “I have to be.”

And that’s what “Starrgirl” is. It’s not really an alter ego, but it’s a part of me that already is complete, does not have to perform, does not have to be.

Because being a Black girl and an African girl, we grew up with, “You have to be this.” There’s a certain type of anxiety that is deep, layers, layers, layers, layers within you, that you just feel like you have to unlearn. But when you remove yourself from that and go deep, deep you start to understand that you don’t need to be anything other than what you already are.

In our last conversation you talked about having a vocal producer come in and really instruct you on how to emote and hit certain notes. How confident do you feel in terms of your vocal ability and vocal production now?

I got to be in the studio alone with just an engineer for the first time in a long time, since my first album. I was not with a lot of producers. After we made a demo, I would go back and record in a safe space. And I got to work with an engineer that just made me feel very comfortable, you know? I’d go from my house, I would dress up, wear heels. I was going to a nine-to-five. Go to the studio, have my blanket, have my shot of tequila, you know? That made me master it, and I became very free. You can hear a lot of personality in certain takes because I was having fun.

You’ve now racked up two Grammy nominations. How does it feel going through that process and receiving that recognition, especially with the Best African Music Performance category only being three years old and you’ve gotten two nominations?

It’s crazy, right? Because I feel like anytime it happens, I’m just like, “Ayee.” I’ve come a long way, you know? Coming from where I come from, getting nominated for a Grammy is crazy. I’m lowkey pushing the goalpost. So even being there and being in that environment with all these great artists and allowing myself to experience that, it’s enough”.

Prior to getting to a review of Starrgirl from NME, I will come to an interview from CLASH. Spotlighting a “A radiant beacon of feminine energy”, CLASH write how Starr’s “next chapter is rooted in truth, and good old-fashioned stubbornness”. She is one of the greatest artists in the world right now. At the top of her talent. It is going to be so interesting where she goes next:

“In spite of her success, Ayra remains remarkably unaffected. On set she’s one of the team; excitedly checking out photographs, gossiping with her nail artist, and setting the tone for the entire room. CLASH can’t help but wonder what keeps her so rooted. “My family, my God, my team,” she reels off the names without hesitation. “I’m a very grounded person in general. I don’t want my head in the clouds too much. I ground myself by doing little things; watching my favourite TV show, praying, chatting with my fans. All those little things keep me present.”

This approach extends into her creative life as well. ‘Starrgirl’ features some of her biggest collaborations to date, but it thrives on providing Ayra with a space to speak her truth. “For me to get into that creative space, I have to be around people I trust,” she says. “So if that means nobody else but the producer and the engineer, then that’s what it means. If it means having my favourite blanket or my candles lit up and the lights dimmed – or changing the colour of the lights – then that’s what I do. I have to create a safe space where I can be myself 100% without anyone watching me.”

The results speak for themselves. Huge hit single ‘Tornado’ was built on instinct, while the infectious ‘Where Do We Go’ is a radiant summer burner. At every turn, she’s working from intuition. “With this album, I wanted to understand my culture and myself, and to add to them,” she explains. “To find a way to blend tradition while existing in multitudes. I was mixing realism and surrealism, which is something I’ve never done before.”

“The best music is made when you leave your ego at the door,” Ayra points out. “As artists, having an ego can come with the territory. And that means someone can get hurt because one line gets cut. But when you’re humble to the art, you humble yourself, and understand that you’re a vessel. That’s when you make the most amazing music.”

Indeed, Ayra’s signature in the studio is being able to listen to those around her, while staying in touch with her own desires. “In the end, I have to feel it and I have to enjoy it,” she says. “I have to know, this is the time to move on, or change another colour. It works differently for different artists. For ‘Starrgirl’ I knew I wanted to explore and try new things. Whatever felt easy was boring for me because I wanted to push myself.”

PHOTO CREDIT: Florence Mann

“A lot of songs on this album are out of my comfort zone,” she adds. “With every song I had to try something new. I had to push myself. I had a lot of fear to overcome while making this album.” ‘Starrgirl’ finds Ayra ripping up the rule book once more. Much of the record was written in New York, a city she now calls home, not that relocating across the Atlantic didn’t come with its challenges, she points out. “When I moved to New York it was scary,” she admits. “I was alone in my first big girl apartment! It took me three months to even get a couch! I spent three months going to an apartment with one bed and an empty fridge,” Ayra laughs.

Once Ayra has closed the door, she’s able to recharge and take stock. She gives herself up completely to her art, and the continual demands can leave her depleted. “One thing about being an artist is that you give a lot, and a lot is being taken from you,” she notes during our chat. “Before I go onstage I need to have 10, 20 minutes of quiet, where I’m just present and understanding what I’m about to do. It’s almost like a good anxiety – being grateful to be anxious to be onstage! I’m literally doing what I love. Recently becoming a Global Citizen Advocate, Ayra Starr uses her position to state the case for social causes, in particular empowering communities in her native Nigeria. “I’ve been one of those children that didn’t have electricity growing up,” she says softly. “I want to lend my voice. I want to help.”

For the final look of the day, Ayra ties a gele around her head, the luxurious wraps giving her a timeless feminine feel, rooting her in West African traditions. It’s a nod to her new album artwork, and also a sign that she isn’t about to become separated from her roots. “It all boils down to the idea of me being a vessel for my art and for my people,” she says proudly. “I want to represent every state in Nigeria, and I want all the little girls there to feel represented by me. And the way to do that is to be my most authentic self.”

We close our time together by musing on that younger version of Ayra, the one who spent her childhood classes dreaming of being onstage, and scribbling lyrics on the back of her book. What advice would you give that younger version of yourself? “I’d take advice from her,” Ayra points out. “I really respect that version of myself, and how resilient she was. That’s who I am now. She had blind faith in herself and God. The advice I’d give her, though, is to not let anybody take her joy or her power away from her”.

I will wrap up with NME and their four-star assessment of Starrgirl. I am not sure whether Starr is going to tour her new album in the U.K., but there are a lot of people here who would love to catch her. Someone who I imagine is a wonderful live performer:

“When Ayra Starr first stepped onto the scene, she became a go-to for pristine, pretty music with her first two albums – ‘19 & Dangerous’ (2021) and ‘The Year I Turned 21’ (2024) – both powered by chart zingers. But on ‘Starrgirl’, the Beninese-Nigerian singer ascends, becoming an artist who knows her space in the music world and still pushes at the sides of the box to make more room. Bouncing between R&B, blues, Afropop and pure pop balladry, she is more confident, playful and sure in her own light – which shines brighter than ever on this record.

Kicking off with the enthralling, amapiano-inflected ‘Dangerous’, ‘Starrgirl’ immediately feels heavier and more physical than her earlier work. But Starr constantly morphs: from the sultry R&B of smouldering ‘Amazing’ with Kwn into the suave sophistication of the Afropop-leaning ‘Gimme Dat’, where she goes toe-to-toe with Wizkid over heartstring-plucking guitar, before ‘Pressure’ brings in Leon Thomas for a sunnier, glossy pop sound. Yet, these songs flow seamlessly into one another, bound by the same sense of uninhibited freedom – Starr finally letting herself roam, and that’s what makes ‘Starrgirl’ feel like such a step forward.

While the singer’s previous records were charming, they often remained in a polite, palatable space – but ‘Starrgirl’ gives her room to experiment. ‘Ms. Paper’ with Theodora brings a frenzied Francophone dancefloor energy that’s built to shell down a fête. That evolution is just as apparent in her songwriting, where she moves beyond the broad strokes of romance and empowerment to allow in more specificity, vulnerability and personality. ‘Letter To God’ is a moving ballad where Starr’s bluesy vocals play around on the doo-wop-y beat as she sings, “I wrote a letter to God ’bout you”. ‘Heaven Baby’, meanwhile, takes a more direct route; rather than relying on heavy imagery or abstraction, Starr and Zayn Malik shoot straight: “You could be my heaven, baby / Die for you if you let me, baby.”

Though, Starr doesn’t always hit it out of the park with her newfound penchant for pushing boundaries. ‘Where Do We Go’ is a thrilling showcase for her voice, even if her huge belts occasionally struggle to find somewhere comfortable to sit inside its fast-moving riddim: “Where do we go from here? / After I dried my tear, After I say goodbye / You never made it clear”. Meanwhile, ‘Misunderstood’ is a perfectly enjoyable dance-pop empowerment song with a 2010s sheen, but could belong to almost anyone. It works; it just doesn’t feel particularly like her.

Those rare stumbles aside, considering the polished crossover moments, ‘Starrgirl’ never loses sight of the musical ecosystem that made Starr. She doesn’t abandon the Afrobeats foundation that made her compelling nor reinvent herself with some new popstar gimmick; instead, she pushes the parameters of her style to make room for more of what’s already in her arsenal. The result is an album that feels bigger without losing who she is – Ayra’s been a star for years, but now she’s finally got room to go supernova”.

I am going to finish things off. If you have not yet listened To Starrgirl, then go and play the album now, as it is among the best of this year. From the sensational Ayra Starr, I wanted to highlight her brilliance. Someone who will put out so many other albums before her career is done, she is undoubtably one of our very best. Starrgirl is an album you will come back to time and time again. It is an absolutely…

MESMERISING listen.

___________

Follow Ayra Starr

Official:

https://www.ayrastarr.com

Instagram:

https://www.instagram.com/ayrastarr/

Twitter:

https://x.com/ayrastarr

Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/ayrastarrcentral

TikTok:

https://www.tiktok.com/@ayrastarr

YouTube:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCK7oVw_ftuBIwiipiBf7ogA

Spotify:

https://open.spotify.com/artist/3ZpEKRjHaHANcpk10u6Ntq?si=dnKjoU9ySNKkNdkjOYmSdw

FEATURE: Beyoncé at Forty-Five: Five Essential Albums from the Icon

FEATURE:

 

 

Beyoncé at Forty-Five

PHOTO CREDIT: Melina Matsoukas for ELLE UK

Five Essential Albums from the Icon

__________

AS the iconic and peerless…

Beyoncé turns forty-five on 4th September, I wanted to use this feature to highlight five of here albums I feel everyone should listen to. In each case, I will provide the release date, label(s), some standout tracks, and the definitive song from each. I will also include a critical review. Showcasing the immense talent and consistency of Beyoncé. If you are a fan or are relatively unfamiliar with her work, I hope that this feature guides you to these brilliant albums and beyond. She is one of the greatest artists who has ever lived, and we will get music from her for many years to come. This is an artist that I have admired since I was a child. From her Destiny’s Child days to now, there is nobody like Beyoncé. Ahead of her forty-fifth birthday, I wanted to show some respect for…

THIS queen.

_______________

B’Day

Release Date: 1st September, 2006

Labels: Music World/Columbia/Sony Urban/Sony BMG

Standout Tracks: Déjà Vu (featuring Jay-Z)/Get Me Bodied/Irreplaceable

Review:

“At least one tactic or event preceding the release of Beyoncé's second solo album inspired a bemused three-syllable exclamation from anyone who was paying attention. The lead single, the late-'70s-funk-inspired "Deja Vu," had the audacity to not be as monstrous as "Crazy in Love" -- its stay at the top of the charts was relatively brief, so clearly there was evidence of some drop-off there. This was quickly followed by "Ring the Alarm," an angered, atonal, and out-of-character song with an accompanying video that invited all kinds of perplexed analysis, along with debate on whether Beyoncé was being autobiographical or, as the singer claimed, channeling her Dreamgirls character. All of this gave the haters plenty of ammo when anything less than 100 percent polite, ladylike, and expected was bound to do the trick. Add to this an album title that can be pronounced just like "bidet," along with the advertisement that the album's ten songs were whipped up in two weeks, and you have yourself a career-killing train wreck. B'day isn't even close to that. While Beyoncé does sound like she's in a bit of a hurry throughout the album, and there are no songs with the smooth elegance of "Me, Myself and I" or "Be with You," it is lean in a beneficial way, propelled by just as many highlights as the overlong Dangerously in Love. Two collaborations with Rich Harrison swagger and preen: "Been locked up in the house way too long/It's time to get it, 'cause once again he's out doing wrong" (the blaring/marching "Freakum Dress"); "Don't give me no lip, let mama do it all" (the spectacularly layered "Suga Mama"). The Neptunes assist on "Green Light," an ambitious, fleet-footed number that continually switches tempos and sounds, as well as "Kitty Kat," a deceptively sweet, rainbow-colored track -- where what sounds like purrs are more like claws-out dismissals -- that could've been pulled from one of the first three Kelis albums. And even with an entirely bonkers line like "I can do for you what Martin did for the people," "Upgrade U" is the most potent track on the album, a low-slung Cameron Wallace production where Beyoncé wears and buys the pants while making her proposition sound more like empowerment than emasculation. If the circus surrounding this whole thing -- which could take up to ten pages to document -- was an elaborate ploy to transform Beyoncé into an underdog, there really is some kind of genius at play, but it's extremely unlikely that anyone in her camp could've predicted that the expectations and reactions would be less rational than any of Beyoncé's decisions and actions. There is nothing desperate or weak about this album” – AllMusic

Key Cut: Ring the Alarm

4

Release Date: 24th June, 2011

Labels: Parkwood/Columbia

Standout Tracks: Best Thing I Never Had/Start Over/Love on Top

Review:

“One of the year's best music videos was directed by Jay-Z and cost about zero dollars to make. The camera phone clip shows Beyoncé rehearsing her new album's opening eternal-love ballad, "1+1", backstage at "American Idol". There she is: eyes shut, standing in front of a mirror, singing her guts out while family and friends look on in quiet awe. The video has a similar impromptu charm to the many intimate, one-shot performance clips popularized by Vincent Moon's "Take Away Show", its appeal compounded by the shock of seeing such a notoriously manicured superstar without embellishment. "Help me let down my guard," she belts. And, as Beyoncé finishes the song, you hear her proud husband let out a joyous "woo!" It's all quite endearing and personal-- two words one might not often associate with this superhumanly talented and famous couple. "Sometimes you need perspective," wrote Jay in an intro to the video on his Life + Times website. "You've been right in front of greatness so often that you need to step back and see it again for the first time."

It's a fitting sentiment and song to introduce 4, which largely deals with monogamy and all that comes with committing to one person for a potential lifetime. Which, like a bad marriage, might sound boring, repetitive, staid. But, in Beyoncé's more-than-capable and still-in-love hands, a relationship that lasts can seem as complicated and rewarding as anyone would hope. "If I ain't got something, I don't give a damn/ 'Cause I got it with you," she testifies on "1+1"-- potentially dubious words from a woman who certainly has "something," but her mainlined vocals quickly dismiss mere logistics. The song boasts some of her finest-ever singing laid over a bed of warm and flowing synths, strings, and bass that manages to connect the dots between Sam Cooke and Prince without sacrificing any Beyoncé-ness. "1+1" is that rare wonder: a wedding song that pleases but doesn't pander.

The only recent pop ballad that comes close to its power is Adele's stunning "Someone Like You". But where that song-- and its massively successful corresponding album, 21-- wrung out the aftermath of young heartbreak, Beyoncé is aiming for something a bit more challenging with 4: love the one you're with, and have some fun doing it, too. The album's relative riskiness extends to its music, which side-steps Top 40 radio's current Eurobeat fixation for a refreshingly eclectic mix of early-90s R&B, 80s lite soul, and brass'n'percussion-heavy marching music. All of the album's best elements, thematically and sonically, burst ahead on Jay-Z ode "Countdown", a honking, stutter-step sequel of sorts to "Crazy in Love". The new track makes 10 years of loyalty seem just as thrilling as the first time, with Beyoncé offering her partner copious praise in that famed half-rap cadence: "Still love the way he talks/ Still love the way I sing/ Still love the way he rock them black diamonds in that chain."

"Love on Top" lilts like a lost Reagan-era smash, its light-as-air bop recalling Whitney Houston, Michael Jackson, and Stevie Wonder at their sunniest. And "End of Time" is perhaps 4's most strident declaration of co-dependence; sounding like En Vogue remixed by a high school pep band, the song has Beyoncé finding the strength in two as she sings, "I just wanna be with you/ I just wanna live for you/ I'd never let you go!" That track-- along with most of 4's stand outs-- was co-written and co-produced by the star's other invaluable partner, Terius "The-Dream" Nash.

The pair first combined forces on super hit "Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)", but their collaborative relationship fully blooms on this album's ramped-up back half, including the bombastic, Major Lazer-sampling empowerment tract "Run the World (Girls)". As a songwriter, The-Dream has a way of drawing out a side of Beyoncé that's both more personal and brash, and, as seen on his several brilliant solo albums, his production style routinely references past greats while standing in the now. Tellingly, without his help the album stumbles, as on the overblown "I Was Here", a faceless, theoretically-inspirational slog written by veteran schlockmeister Diane Warren. (Unsurprisingly, "I Was Here" is the only cut on the record that wasn't co-written by Beyoncé herself, too.) Elsewhere, Babyface spearheads the decent "Irreplaceable" retread "Best Thing I Never Had", which probably wouldn't sound out-of-place on a Vanessa Carlton album, and Sleepy Jackson/Empire of the Sun leader Luke Steele worked on the ungainly "Rather Die Young", which ruins its Philly soul vibe with a theatrical Broadway glaze. (Steele also contributed an awful hook on Jay-Z's Blueprint 3 trash-can bait "What We Talkin' About"-- can we get him away from this couple, please?)

Ironically, 4's deluxe edition comes with three bonus songs that would easily count among the proper album's finest moments. Chiefly, The-Dream co-written/produced "Schoolin' Life" is an irresistible Prince tribute that's much more motivational than "I Was Here" could ever be: "Who needs a degree when you're schoolin' life?" struts Beyoncé. The singer has said she recorded more than 60 songs while making 4, and some of the wrong-headed inclusions are lazy attempts at re-creating her past hits. But they are few. And the lion's share of the album-- along with its excellent deluxe tracks-- has one of the world's biggest stars exploring her talent in ways few could've predicted, which is always exciting. After 2008's I Am... Sasha Fierce, which saw Beyoncé catching up to trends when she wasn't trying Streisand-wannabe ballads, 4 is more akin to her wily sophomore solo album, B'Day. But where that record was preoccupied with the club, 4 is happy at home; on Off the Wall-style bonus track "Lay Up Under Me", the contented 29-year-old gushes, "You ain't gotta worry 'bout a club, just come on lay up under me tonight." If anyone can make a quiet Friday night come off like an open-bar blowout, it's Beyoncé” – Pitchfork

Key Cut: Run the World (Girls)

Lemonade

Release Date: 23rd April, 2016

Labels: Parkwood/Columbia

Standout Tracks: Hold Up/Freedom/All Night

Review:

“What does it mean for Beyoncé to drop a new surprise album on the world within days of a giant like Prince leaving us? It’s a welcome reminder that giants still walk among us. Lemonade is an entire album of emotional discord and marital meltdown, from the world’s most famous celebrity; it’s also a major personal statement from the most respected and creative artist in the pop game. All over these songs, she rolls through heartbreak and betrayal and infidelity and the hangover that follows “Drunk In Love.” Yet despite all the rage and pain in the music, she makes it all seem affirming, just another chapter in the gospel according to Beyoncé: the life-changing magic of making a great big loud bloody mess.

There’s nothing as blissed-out on Lemonade as “XO” or “Countdown” or “Love On Top” – this is the queen in middle-fingers-up mode. When the first four songs on an album add up to “you cheated on me and you will pay,” then there’s a country song about her daddy teaching her to solve her problems with a gun, it’s hard not to believe Mrs. Carter might mean it when she sings about regretting the night she put that ring on it. Whatever she’s going through, she’s feeling it deep in these songs, and it brings out her wildest, rawest vocals ever, as when she rasps, “Who the fuck do you think I is? You ain’t married to no average bitch, boy!” She’s always elided the boundaries between her art and her life – especially since she really did grow up in public. But by the time she gets around to telling her husband “Suck on my balls, I’ve had enough,” there’s an unmistakable hint that Jay-Z might be living the hard-knock life these days.

Beyoncé dropped Lemonade on Saturday night right after her HBO special – one of those “world, stop” moments that she’s made her specialty. But the public spectacle can’t hide the intimate anguish in the music, especially in the powerhouse first half. She begins as a supplicant in “Pray You Can Hear Me,” alone with her wounded heart, and then explodes in “Hold Up,” which takes the staccato strings from Andy Williams’ Vegas-crooner classic “Can’t Get Used To Losing You” and a chorus hook from the Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ NYC punk ballad “Maps” (“They don’t love you like I love you”), with a Soulja Boy coda, as she mourns a husband who let all her good love go to waste.

Lemonade is her most emotionally extreme music, but also her most sonically adventurous, from the Kendrick Lamar showcase “Freedom” to the country murder yarn that struts like buckskin-era early-1970s Cher (“Daddy Lessons”). She mixes in a spoken-word snippet from Jay-Z’s grandmother Hattie White, the obscure 1960s Mexican garage band Kaleidoscope, indie slop like Father John Misty, Animal Collective and (with a production credit) Vampire Weekend’s Ezra Koenig. Her guests range from James Blake (“Forward”) to the Weeknd (“6 Inch”). She goes full-on rock-queen in “Don’t Hurt Yourself,” making Jack White sound feistier than he has in years, as she compares herself to a dragon breathing fire – that’s an understatement – and samples the John Bonham drum thunder from “When The Levee Breaks.”

Yet the most astounding sound is always Bey’s voice, as she pushes to her bluesiest extremes, like the hilariously nasty way she sneers, “He’s always got them fucking ex-cuuuu-ses.” She hits some Plastic Ono Band-style primal-scream moments in the devastating ballad “Love Drought.” (“Nine times out of ten I’m in my feelings / But ten times out of nine I’m only human” is a stunning confession from a diva who’s always made such a fetish out of emotional self-control.) “Freedom” and “Formation” reach out historically, connecting her personal pain to the trauma of American blackness, with the power of Aretha Franklin’s Spirit in the Dark or Nina Simone’s Silk and Soul. She can’t resist adding a happy ending with “All Night,” where the couple kisses and makes up and lives happily ever after, or at least until morning. But it’s an uneasy coda, with the word “forgive” noticeably absent and the future still in doubt.

Whether Beyoncé likes it or not – and everything about Lemonade suggests she lives for it – she’s the kind of artist whose voice people hear their own stories in, whatever our stories may be. She’s always aspired to superhero status, even from her earliest days in a girl group that was tellingly named Destiny’s Child. (Once upon a time, back in the Nineties, “No No No” was the only Destiny’s Child song in existence – but make no mistake, we could already hear she was Beyoncé.) She lives up to every inch of that superhero status on Lemonade. Like the professional heartbreaker she sings about in “6 Inch,” she murdered everybody and the world was her witness”  - Rolling Stone

Key Cut: Formation

RENAISSANCE

Release Date: 29th July, 2022

Labels: Parkwood/Columbia

Standout Tracks: CUFF IT/VIRGO’S GROOVE/AMERICA HAS A PROBLEM

Review:

“To millions, Beyoncé is still running it all. From her accomplished performing abilities to her extended displays of talent, the Texan singer’s reputation over the last two decades appears to have only grown, even in this recent considerable period of inactivity. It’s been six years since her last full record, 2016’s ‘Lemonade’, which, with time, has come to represent perhaps her highest point, as she reclaimed her narrative amid rumours of infidelity by her husband, rapper Jay-Z.

‘Renaissance’, her seventh studio album, marks the sound of an artist refreshed: this is her most relentlessly upbeat and fun record yet, one where she explores love, friendship and relationships across 16 spellbinding tracks. In a note to accompany the album, she describes the three-year period that it took to complete the record over lockdowns as one that “allowed me to feel free and adventurous”, providing a space where she could “scream, release and feel freedom”.

The pursuit of Black joy is central to the record, as she draws on house music – and particularly New Orleans bounce – to join the latest wave of Black stars reclaiming gentrified genres that they were once pushed out of. Samples and collaborators on ‘Renaissance’ include influential Black figures like Barbara Ann Teer, founder of Harlem’s National Black Theatre, as well as rapper Big Freedia and producer Honey Dijon.

The homage to that scene’s unique spirit is keenly felt on ‘Church Girl’, which samples Cameron Paul’s ‘Brown Beats’ – a song integral to the inception of bounce music – and the album’s huge lead single ‘Break My Soul’. On the latter, it’s the sample of Big Freedia’s hook that sets the album’s tone of empowerment: “Release ya trade, release the stress / Release the love, forget the rest.” ‘I’m That Girl’, meanwhile, is another declaration of self-confidence, and the bewitching ‘Cozy’ plainly offers: “Comfortable in my skin / Cosy with who I am”.

It’s on ‘Alien Superstar’ where she expands her influences, and draws on ballroom culture. With the credits boasting a hefty cast (Labrinth, Lucky Daye, 070 Shake, Jay-Z) the song pairs a thumping rhythm with an understated, posh accented rap – the hallmarks of a ballroom MC – and flirts with fluttery high register; this instantly becomes the record’s most indulgent and intriguing track.

There’s success, too, when she moves her focus away from a literal exploration of house music. ’Cuff It’ nods to the heyday of Motown and disco on a salacious tune soon to be a staple in pre-clubbing playlists. Likewise on ‘Heated’, she adopts an afro-bashment vibe with the help of Drake, who, too, recently dabbled in house music, though with mixed results. ‘Plastic Off The Sofa’ offers up groovy R&B that gives Beyoncé an opportunity to show off her powerful chops as she riffs and runs all over the punchy jazz band accompanying her hushed tone: “I think you’re so cool / even though I’m cooler than you,” she winks” – NME

Key Cut: BREAK MY SOUL

COWBOY CARTER

Release Date: 29th March, 2024

Labels: Parkwood/Columbia

Standout Tracks: BLACKBIRD/16 CARRIAGES/II MOST WANTED

Review:

“Ever since Beyoncé – to quote the lady herself – “changed the game with that digital drop” via her self-titled fifth album, released without warning in 2013, she’s become the fixed point around which popular culture oscillates. Bandwidth-swallowing think pieces, detailed decoding of every lyric, plus an increasingly vexed right-wing America have kept her name on everyone’s lips. She wasn’t exactly a cult concern before, but the last decade has seen her move beyond mere superstar status, aided by 2016’s internet sleuth-facilitating infidelity opus Lemonade and 2022’s liberated, post-lockdown dance party, Renaissance.

That last album was billed teasingly as Act I, and now arrives the second part of a mooted trilogy. While Renaissance, with its celebration of the oft-ignored influence of Black queer dance pioneers, facilitated a healthy amount of debate, you could cobble together a hefty book on the discourse that’s already swirling around Cowboy Carter. Inspired by a less than welcome reaction to the Texan’s performance of her country single Daddy Lessons at the 2016 Country Music Awards – where she was dismissed as a “pop artist”, seemingly code for “Black woman” – it’s an album that takes country music by its plaid shirt collar, holds up its (mainly) male, pale and stale status to the light and sets it on fire.

Thrilling opener Ameriican Requiem – a slow-burn, country-rock opera – references that CMA controversy directly (“Used to say I spoke too country / And the rejection came, said I wasn’t country ’nough”), before making broader statements on who gets to call themselves a “true American” (“A pretty house that we never settled in”). It is followed by a cover of the Beatles’ folk-y Blackbird (here retitled Blackbiird, a consistent motif used throughout the album to denote it being Act II), a song that was inspired by the experiences of nine teenage Black girls attending an all-white school in post-segregation 1957, featuring vocals from upcoming Black country singers Brittney Spencer, Reyna Roberts, Tanner Adell and Tiera Kennedy. It’s an opening salvo ripe for music scholars to unpick.

But Cowboy Carter is never just one thing. Nor does its scholarly detail weigh it down. Just as it uses country music as a backdrop to explore other genres, it also utilises anger and injustice as shades of a bigger picture. There’s fun to be had via the playful, thigh-slapping single Texas Hold ’Em, which makes more sense preceded by an introduction from a stoned Willie Nelson. The unhinged Ya Ya is a freewheelin’ sprint through social and economic disparity that channels the electifying spirit of Tina Turner, and samples Nancy Sinatra and the Beach Boys.

While Beyoncé’s take on Jolene by Dolly Parton (or Dolly P as she’s recast here) loses some of the original’s desperation by morphing into a glint-eyed warning, it’s still a hoot to hear her spit lines like “Jolene, I know I’m a queen, Jolene / I’m still a Creole banjee bitch from Louisiane.” Daughter is a deliciously camp revenge fantasy that suddenly breaks into – and this is one of Beyoncé’s many vocal flexes on the album – a snatch of the 18th-century aria Caro Mio Ben, sung in Italian.

By swapping the tightly packed synth and drum programming of Renaissance for live instrumentation (including percussion made from the click-clack of Beyoncé’s nails), Cowboy Carter has a looser, baggier feel than its predecessor. The excellent, loved-up Bodyguard unspools like a lost Fleetwood Mac classic, all rippling 70s soft-rock melodies, while the sweet Protector, dedicated to her daughter Rumi Carter, sounds like it was knocked out around a campfire. II Most Wanted, meanwhile, finds Beyoncé and pop-country maven Miley Cyrus trading odes to their ride or dies as if sharing the same mic.

If this all sounds decidedly mid-paced, Cowboy Carter isn’t solely about rustic shuffles. Spaghettii, which features Linda Martell, the first Black country star to perform on the Grand Ole Opry stage, is a trap-infused head knocker; II Hands II Heaven rides a soft electronic pulse and samples Underworld; while the finger-pointing Tyrant fuses fiddle filigrees with rib-rattling bass, perfect for a sweat-soaked dosey doe at Club Renaissance.

Cowboy Carter’s scope and scale can be overwhelming, as can its 27-track runtime – the shorter interludes-as-songs cause a dip in excitement midway through – but there’s something about its construction that pleads with you to consume it as a whole; a journey not just through, and beyond, American roots music, but through various moods, shades and emotions that coalesce as a celebration. It feels like a feast at a time when pop is offering up scraps. As she mentioned herself when announcing the album to a mix of anger, intrigue and confusion: “This ain’t a country album. This is a ‘Beyoncé’ album.” It’s also her fourth classic in a row” – The Guardian

Key Cut: TEXAS HOLD 'EM

FEATURE: Superstar: Sheryl Crow at Thirty

FEATURE:

 

 

Superstar

Sheryl Crow at Thirty

__________

APART from one of its best songs…

having some suspect grammar (Everyday Is a Winding Road should be Every Day Is a Winding Road), it is hard to fault Sheryl Crow. I am not a fan of eponymous albums, as I prefer artists to come up with something. Also, that idea that the self-titled album is the most personal. I don’t think this is the case with Sheryl Crow’s second studio album. That may have been the case in 1996, though I feel its follow-up, 1998’s The Globe Sessions, is a bit more personal or true to herself. Or maybe not. Sherly Crow was released on 24th September, 1996, so I wanted to mark thirty years of a terrific album. I love the singles that were released. A Change Would Do You Good might be the best, though If It Makes You Happy is another classic. Not too many features written around the album, but I do want to source ones I have found. Sheryl Crow received widespread acclaim upon its release, Crow wrote every song on the album, but she had co-writers like Bill Bottrell and Jeff Trott. Bottrell was one of the musicians and writers on Crow’s 1993 debut album, Tuesday Night Music Club. There were disputes regarding songwriting credits on her debut album. There was some fallout and tension with Bottrell following the release of Sheryl Crow. I did want to lead off with The Ringer and their 2017 feature. They looked back at Crow’s early career and showed plenty of love for her 1996 eponymous album:

“Tuesday Night Music Club is stacked, for what else can be said of an album that begins with the stirring, self-mythologizing sweep of “Run Baby Run” and then segues into one of ’90s rock radio’s most immaculate one-two-three punches: “Leaving Las Vegas,” “Strong Enough,” and “Can’t Cry Anymore.” There’s a weary grit to these songs (what an iconic opening line, sold so convincingly: “God, I feel like hell tonight”), sung by a woman whom the industry had already put through the wringer. Crow was 31 at the time of her debut album’s release, one of many things that now make Tuesday Night Music Club feel like a pop relic from another era. But it also meant there was a wisdom in her voice that brings a particular swagger to a song like “Leaving Las Vegas,” on which she sings, knowingly, “Such a muddy line between the things you want and the things you have to do.”

Crow didn’t write those lyrics, though, and this seemingly inconsequential fact would go on to destroy her relationship with the Tuesday Night Music Club. In 1994, visibly nervous, she performed the song on her first David Letterman appearance, and in a quick interview afterward, when Dave asked if the song was autobiographical, she blurted out, “Yes.” The more successful the album became, the more contentious various band members got about songwriting credits — what they perceived as Crow taking credit for “Leaving Las Vegas” was the last straw. Like a real-life and even nastier version of No Doubt’s “Don’t Speak” video, the attention Crow was getting made her backing band turn on her. She and Gilbert broke up; Baerwald publicly turned against her, even writing a screed against her in LA Weekly. In a 2008 interview, TMC producer Bill Bottrell sounded slightly more forgiving, though with lingering spite, “It was all very vague and very complicated,” he said. “She wrote the majority of the album. The guys and I contributed writing and lyrics, including some personal things. However, the sound was the sound that I developed.”

As Crow’s star rose, a dark cloud settled over her collaborators. Baerwald’s friend John O’Brien, who’d written the eponymous novel that inspired “Leaving Las Vegas” the song (and later the film) died by suicide in 1994. Then in May 1996, while Crow was working with new collaborators on her next album, her ex-boyfriend and -bandmate Kevin Gilbert died at age 29.

And so Crow’s next album — the one that would contain some of her signature songs, including “If It Makes You Happy” — was written not only under such fraught circumstances, but also as a kind of defiant statement of self, to publicly take credit for her own voice and to prove to the naysayers that she wasn’t just the creation of her former backing band. “My only objective on this record was to get under people’s skin,” she said in retrospect, “because I was feeling like I had so much shit to hurl at the tape.”

In the company of such albums as Marilyn Manson’s Mechanical Animals and Green Day’s 21st Century Breakdown, Sheryl Crow’s 1996 self-titled release had the great honor of being banned from Walmart. The reason is a lyric on the biting Americana number “Love Is a Good Thing,” which begins, “Watch out sister, watch out brother / Watch our children while they kill each other with a gun they bought at the Walmart discount stores.” When the corporation asked her to change the lyric, Crow vehemently refused, and was so defiant about the whole thing that she started introducing it as “the Walmart song” in concert. It probably did her more good than harm. Several local radio stations handed out copies of the album in their local Walmart parking lots, according to a 1996 article in Rolling Stone.

Sheryl Crow is a better, weirder, and much more barbed album than anything else in Crow’s catalog. “If there’s such a thing as a professional lo-fi album,” Entertainment Weekly wrote, “Sheryl Crow is it.” That’s not far off the mark. The production (credited to Crow herself) on this album is patchy, inventive, and odd: It sounds today like a sonic sister to Beck’s Odelay, which was released only a few months before. What separates these two albums’ retrospective reputations is that elusive cool factor, which is always a little trickier for female artists to achieve. (The veteran rock critic David Fricke, writing an alternate take on Rolling Stone’s official review, compared Crow unfavorably, and inexplicably, to Janis Joplin.)

Time has been kind to Sheryl Crow, though — almost too much so. The biggest hits off this record are so familiar and entrenched that it’s easy to take them for granted, so please just pause for a moment to appreciate how much story there is in this masterfully concise lyric: “He’s got a daughter he calls Easter, she was born on a Tuesday night.” This is the album on which she found her voice, and it’s nothing less panoramic as a true American tragicomedy. Crow’s lyrics on this album are delightfully cluttered, like the shelves of the thrift-store jungles she memorably evokes on “If It Makes You Happy,” peopled with strange, dusty artifacts: Geronimo’s rifle, Marilyn’s shampoo, Benny Goodman’s corset and pen. It’s also got characters for days: tough, sneering women and men with sad, grand names like James Dean Monroe. That last one’s from one of the best songs, “Hard to Make a Stand,” which also generated a bit of controversy for this second verse:

What a somber, lyrical, bleakly comic image. The song was released as a single only in Europe, because American audiences found the abortion reference too risqué. Due to a few laughable missteps in later years — the comment about using one square of toilet paper per wipe, the well-intentioned but sorta-cringey song “Woman in the White House” — it’s easy to undermine Crow’s liberal crusader role. It all becomes more admirable, though, when you look back to this earlier moment in her career and see how naturally this kind of political engagement came to her. In the early and mid-’90s, Crow was a former Paperdoll Queen from Kennett, Missouri, aiming her message straight at the heart of mainstream Middle America. If she thumbed her nose at the notion that it was easier to buy an assault rifle than a CD with explicit lyrics at Walmart, or that a woman doing something as simple as “taking care of her own body” put her in danger — well, she wasn’t exactly preaching to the choir, so that took some courage. She said it herself: It’s hard to make a stand”.

There is a lot of differences between her first two albums. Mostly male writers and musicians around her for Tuesday Night Music Club. This collective, the album was produced by Bill Botterell. Crow dressed in denim looking relaxed and happy. Her eponymous follow-up is black-and-white (or a particular filter that is similar to that) where she looks serious and determined. Male musicians in the pack, though Crow produced the album and was making this statement. There are a couple of reviews I want to finish off with. This article gives some great insights into the phenomenal songs on Sheryl Crow:

“Her real debut was Tuesday Night Music Club, which was co-written by a loose collective that — yes — met on Tuesdays. All the other musicians were male, which probably contributed to some of the acrimony between Crow and the rest of them after she blew way up. David Letterman asked her if “Leaving Las Vegas” was autobiographical, to which she said yes — despite the fact that that song was largely not written by her, and in fact was based on a book by mutual friend John O’Brien. Three weeks after the incident, O’Brien killed himself. (O’Brien’s parents did not blame Crow for the tragedy, noting that O’Brien had many problems.)

So she wrote, produced, and performed her second album almost entirely alone, playing nearly every instrument herself. Originally, Tuesday Night Music Club member Bill Bottrell was set to produce, but he backed out at the last minute. In fact, the first verse of the snarky “A Change Would Do You Good” was written about Bottrell: Bottom feeder, insincere/ Prophet lo-fi pioneer. Woof!

Crow’s Greatest Hits album is mostly sunny, country-tinged rock music. So I was caught off-guard by how dark and complex her self-titled sophomore album is. There are heavy, existential moments (“Maybe Angels,” “Ordinary Morning”) as well as bright, optimistic ones (“Everyday Is a Winding Road” — I get a little bit closer). There’s even a good amount of protest songs, some of which touch on controversial subjects. “Redemption Day” was inspired by America’s indifference to the Bosnian War, while “Hard to Make a Stand” touches on gender roles and abortion. Meanwhile, “Love Is a Good Thing” got her banned from Wal-Mart with the line Watch our children while they kill each other/ With a gun they bought at Walmart discount stores.

As ever, there are a good amount of love songs. “Home” is her softest, breathiest number, about how domestic bliss can get stale. “Superstar,” on the other hand, has her chasing a minor celebrity — while mocking them at the same time. And I felt a little called out by “The Book,” where she basically tells a writer off for writing about her. (But then again, Sheryl, aren’t you doing the same thing? Calling him The worst kind of thief is a little dramatic.)

Some of my favorites off this one were her empathetic portraits of women engaging in bad behavior. “Sweet Rosalyn” is about a prostitute who gets chastised by a priest, and “Oh Marie” about a divorcée who seems a little lost in her luxurious life. And she’s not afraid to turn the lens onto herself with “If It Makes You Happy,” which is about finding herself depressed after achieving success. It’s just awesome, her voice raspy and full as she wallows in her own despair. I’m not the kind of girl you’d take home, she says, and you feel every emotion for her”.

Because there is not that many in-depth reviews for Sheryl Crow, I wanted to include most of what Pitchfork wrote in 2023. The Missouri-born artist delivered “a collection of restless pop-rock anthems with something to prove”. Sheryl Crow is one of my favourite albums from the 1990s. So many of its songs sound fresh and are played widely:

“Tuesday Night Music Club sold millions. In the wake of its success, there were claims Crow had failed to properly credit her co-writers. There was tremendous backlash both in and outside her camp, talk of betrayal, dangerous amounts of drinking. Meanwhile the deceptively upbeat single “All I Wanna Do” reached a point of commercial ubiquity that began to haunt Crow, misconstruing her as a happy-go-lucky Los Angeles socialite. As bridges burned around her, she felt an increasing urgency to release something new and regain control of her life.

She and Bottrell got to work on some new songs in Pasadena, then decamped to New Orleans. It only took a day of recording for them to get into an argument and for Bottrell to abandon her. This is how Crow decided to produce the record herself. She continued working at Kingsway Studios in the French Quarter, where she had formed a close and lasting connection with engineer Trina Shoemaker. Together, they began working on a new set of songs she hoped would offer a clearer picture of who she was—songs that nobody else could take credit for.

Her ambition, as she told Billboard in 1996, was to make “a rural-sounding record—sort of Bobbie Gentry in the ’90s.” In an interview with Vivien Goldman for The Daily Telegraph, she elaborated that second part—“dragged into the ’90s.” It’s an apt word choice. You can almost hear the songs gathering dirt as they move along, catching fragments of the eras in between, resisting the flow of time as they move stubbornly forward. One of the first sounds on the record is a shovel being used for percussion; the last thing you hear is a noisy, tugging electric guitar solo that fades right on the verge of descending into chaos.

The whole record plays like a glitching patchwork quilt, flickering and fading as it unfolds. It’s self-titled, but it could just as easily be called The Sheryl Crow Songbook: an attempt to craft her own 13 entries in the American music lexicon. With the possible exception of “The Book,” whose chorus is more of a narrative Easter egg than something designed for road trip singalongs, nearly every song has an indelible hook. You get the sense, after the disputes of creative ownership that followed her debut, she would settle for nothing less: “My last record was heavily influenced by my writing from the standpoint of a woman with four guys around all the time,” she told the Telegraph. “I don’t feel like the same person anymore.”

She expressed this change through songs that refused to be misunderstood—an impulse that led to her first attempts at protest songs. On her previous album, there was “The Na-Na Song,” a “Loser”-style slacker rap that culminates in a jokey allusion to her experience of sexual harassment at the hands of Michael Jackson’s manager. “Frank DiLeo’s dong/Maybe if I’d let him I’d have a hit song,” she chants before the final iteration of the wordless chorus.

Now she trafficked in the type of songwriting that gets your record banned by big-box stores: Walmart, a dominant retailer during the height of the CD boom, refused to sell Sheryl Crow due to a lyric about gun violence in “Love Is a Good Thing.” The decision became so divisive that local radio stations banded together to sell the album themselves, in Walmart parking lots. (“Boo for Walmart or boo for me?” Crow once asked an audience after introducing it in concert as “The Walmart Song.”)

And then there was “Redemption Day,” a folk song inspired by Crow’s experience in Bosnia and her expanding perspective on the motives behind American intervention abroad. You can hear her ambition in her word choice—“Come leaders, come you men of great,” she sings, adopting early ’60s Dylan cadence—but it’s also in her performance. When she sings “freedom” in the closing line she repeats it a few times, allowing the word to be a conduit for contemplation and catharsis.

She brings this type of nuance to each song, and the ones centered on matters of the heart feel just as urgent and impassioned. There’s a reason why “If It Makes You Happy” is the track from the album that’s actually become a standard. Even Crow, who co-wrote the song with Jeff Trott, was overwhelmed by how many different ways she could find to accompany its lyrics: haunted and Lynchian, funk or punk, country or rock. What they landed on is maybe her defining performance: steady and simple, at 95 BPM, grinding through each verse before exploding in the chorus. “I’m not the kind of girl you take home,” Crow sings, and the song never quite comes to rest either. The wheels are always rolling.

No matter the highs and lows that followed, Crow had situated herself in the greater consciousness. This is how she fought the establishment and, in turn, became the establishment. As the album went multi-platinum and elevated her star far above the one-hit wonder or cautionary tale she’d feared becoming, she swiftly began remodeling herself as a legacy artist: a self-possessed, old-school singer-songwriter, already disillusioned with the industry and uninterested in catering to pop trends. Next up was the theme song for a James Bond movie; then a dark, triumphant follow-up that featured, among her own material, a brand new, unreleased Dylan composition; then a live album recorded in Central Park, where she welcomed childhood heroes Stevie Nicks, Keith Richards, and Chrissie Hynde onstage beside her.

And the decade wasn’t even over yet. Where could she possibly go next? In a ’97 interview with Charlie Rose, after discussing her brief dalliance with acting, the two have a jokey conversation that goes like this:

Rose: Let’s figure out something for you to do. We need an obsession.
Crow: Bridge? Knitting, perhaps?
Rose: How about your own label?
Crow: Actually, I’m thinking about doing that. I’ve talked about it with my manager.

They go on for a bit, suggesting names: “Cranky Old Lady Music,” Crow offers, and then: “Do It Yourself Records.” Rose changes the subject—“Is there anything you desperately, desperately want? Children?”—but there is something interesting about Crow aligning herself with DIY culture: a burgeoning scene at the time that ran directly against all her usual metrics of success. Her seeming commercial indestructibility, combined with her proudly boomer taste and earnestly optimistic political outlook, made her a perfect contrast to gendered, Gen X notions of cool and authenticity, a dissonance she increasingly noticed when she confronted the press. After an exhausting interview for Q in 1998—“Did you hear the rumor that you are a heroin addict?” “Do you think you are attractive?” “Can you be a ruthless bitch?”—the interview concludes thusly:

Q: Do you have anything to declare?
A: I’m sick of being a woman. That’s what I want to declare.

One track that didn’t make the cut for Sheryl Crow is a killer B-side called “Free Man.” Structured like a country song but bashed out like a scrappy garage band, it tells a story of a woman who hitches her wagon to a free-thinking, self-styled anarchist. She’s momentarily entranced until her casual observations start to form a larger picture. His friends seem a little off; he’s teaching her how to shoot a gun. Soon, she’s cooking for him, mothering him, sitting shotgun while he goes off on a racist rant. It all concludes with a punchline as she files for divorce: “I’d appreciate a little bit of government!”

Crow never ended up starting her own label, but she did start operating her own recording studio out of her Nashville home, where, among others, Kacey Musgraves booked some time to work on 2018’s Golden Hour. For someone who had spent a rollercoaster decade playing by the industry’s rules and wrestling, over and over again, with its ugly power dynamics, the splendid, isolated comfort of a recording studio seems a better fit, anyway.

On Sheryl Crow, you can hear her settle into this eventual legacy behind the boards, searching until she finds just the right sound. In the liner notes, Crow, who worked as a music teacher before she left Missouri for California, is credited with playing acoustic, electric, and bass guitar, along with Moog bass, harmonium, keyboards, Hammond organ, Wurlitzer, a Penny-Owsley piano, and loops. Deep within the buzz and clatter of these masterfully written songs, you can hear an even more elusive quality that makes them stick: an artist having fun. “There was a huge spectrum of emotions that went along with that record,” Crow recalled to Rolling Stone last year. “One of being burned out, two of being misunderstood… and very underestimated. But also euphoric: The euphoria of feeling like, ‘Well, nobody believes I can do anything anyway. So I’m going to do what I want to do.”

Later in the Charlie Rose interview, Crow performs “Home,” the best song on Sheryl Crow and one of three on the tracklist without a co-writer. She tells Rose it was the only one that arrived to her “on the mic,” claiming the whole thing came together in just 10 minutes. (“That’s probably why I still have a certain affinity for that song,” she says, cracking a smile.) The recording backs up her memory of this impromptu bolt of inspiration. It fades in and out, as if we are receiving a transmission of just the most crucial bit of a long, ongoing investigation.

At first blush, it might sound like a love song. “I woke up this morning and now I understand/What it means to give your life to just one man,” Crow begins. “This is home,” goes the chorus. Every detail, however, tugs at the sense of certainty in those words. The music sways and swells, in a cosmic country kind of way, as she traces a path from her teen years to the present day, her fantasies of wandering the world to the suffocating rooms where she now looks into the eyes of someone she used to love. Meanwhile, she measures the distance between their two breaking hearts: “Mine,” she observes, “is full of questions.” This may be where the relationship ends, she acknowledges. But it’s also the precise moment where any good story begins”.

We mark thirty years of Sheryl Crow on 24th September. An album that turned Crow from this promising and acclaimed songwriter into a superstar. Released almost two years to the day after her eponymous albumns, The Globe Sessions gained some positive reviews, though perhaps not as many as Sheryl Crow. I do really love her second album. One of the standout albums of 1996 – which is high praise, as Fugees, DJ Shadow, and Beck released masterpieces that year -, I can feel its influence in quite a few artists out there now. Anyone who has not heard it needs to check it out, as Sheryl Crow is…

A wonderful album.

FEATURE: Something in the Way: Nirvana’s Nevermind at Thirty-Five

FEATURE:

 

 

Something in the Way

Nirvana’s Nevermind at Thirty-Five

__________

THIS may be a contentious…

PHOTO CREDIT: Paul Bergen/Redferns

thing to say, but you wonder what Nevermind would sound like if it was gritter and rawer. Like Bleach or In Utero. The former, the 1989 debut album from Nirvana. The latter, their final studio album, which was released in 1993. Though you cannot argue against the genius of Nevermind. Released on 24th September, 1991, it ranks alongside the greatest albums in history. Though I feel the trio, especially their lead, Kurt Cobain, felt it was too commercial and resented the fame and attention. Or that people thought Nirvana were this mainstream and commercial act. They would strip things back and produce something purer to them in 1993. Though Cobain sadly died a year later. Produced by the legendary Butch Vig, there was this move to make something more radio-friendly. Perhaps feeling Nirvana needed more airplay and chart success. Singles like Smells Like Teen Spirit, Come As You Are, and Lithium were big successes. Cobain, Dave Grohl and Krist Novoselic becoming pin-ups. A number one in multiple counties, including the U.S., there is some controversy over the cover of Nevermind. I was nervous about using it in this feature, lest it cause issues or be blocked on Instagram. I did want to mark the upcoming thirty-fifth anniversary of Nevermind. Before getting to features and reviews, I wanted to start with this chat from Interview Magazine that was published in 1991, before Nevermind came out. We get to learn some of Kurt Cobain’s musical inspirations:

“In this interview, we meet Nirvana before Nevermind. It is 1991 and the triumvirate have only released one album, Bleach. While Bleach is by no means Nirvana’s best work, there is a reason it is so often overlooked, it does contain one marvelous song—”About a Girl,” which would later become one of the highlights of Nirvana’s Unplugged in New York set. Here, Kurt Cobain discusses his early musical influences, from Chicago to the Cars, to punk bands MDC and Black Flag. Cobain calls himself “Kurdt Kobain,” a pseudonym that some speculate was employed by Cobain to distance himself from his fame, or for when Cobain was feeling particularly disconnected. —Emma Brown

KURT COBAIN
By Adam Snyder

The first wave of music from the Sub Pop label in Seattle delivered a fine collection of young men, guitars, hair, and a new standard of stop/start dirge spasmodiscs—a punk/hard-rock reconciliation of sorts. The wave has subsided, and one particularly shiny pebble called Nirvana has been scooped up by Geffen’s DGC Records. A Sub Pop insider favorite—their first and so far only album, Bleach, came out in 1989 and has become a staple. The band is composed of Kurt Cobain, guitar and vocals, Chris Novoselic, bass, and Dave Grohl, drums. At a time when so many other young song-crafters strain to dazzle us with their esoteric influences, Cobain plays the clever hooligan. His compositions come across as the next logical musical phrase on the ballad of growing up cool in America. An album is in the works from DGC.

INTERVIEW: Your music has a surprising hook for such a heavy sound.

KURT COBAIN: Well, I started out listening to pop music. I had to mainly because of where I lived. In Aberdeen, Washington, we had an AM radio station that played stuff like Tony Orlando & Dawn, and Chicago, and I had no choice but to hear that kind of crap. Then I found out about Aerosmith, through some stoners that lived in our trailer park. They’d come over to my house and steal ashtrays and eat my food.

INTERVIEW: Then you got your first guitar.

COBAIN: Yeah. A few years later, in the eighth grade. I started playing Cars songs. I took lessons for two days and learned how to play “Back in Black” by AC/DC.

INTERVIEW: And then punk rock changed your life.

COBAIN: Right. I sold my Aerosmith and Led Zepplin collection for twelve dollars. I completely threw away my hard-rock roots and was into MDC and Black Flag.

INTERVIEW: They made everything else seem uncool, right?

COBAIN: Yeah, right.

INTERVIEW: As if you never even been into that hard-rock thing in the first place.

COBAIN: Right. I didn’t get back into that stuff until much later.

INTERVIEW: So when were you reborn as an Aerosmith fan?

COBAIN: Just a few years ago. It wasn’t that painful, actually”.

Last year, Guitar World told the story of Nevermind. The making of, its background and legacy. How it created a new genres, sold over thirty-million copies, and changed popular culture overnight. I am sourcing from the earliest part of the feature, as it is very in-depth, so I could not drop it all in here:

“Nevermind represented a quantum leap for Nirvana, both musically and career-wise. Their previous album, Bleach, was recorded in three days and cost $606.17 to make. Their initial budget for Nevermind was $65,000 – 100 times larger than the budget for Bleach. They ended up spending twice that amount. And while Bleach, which was Nirvana’s debut album, came out on the then-little-known indie label Sub Pop, Nevermind had the major-label clout of Geffen Records behind it.

The two-year period that separates Bleach from Nevermind was a time of tremendous growth and upheaval for the band. They went on their first national and international tours. Cobain started up and broke off a relationship with Tobi Vail of the band Bikini Kill. What’s more, Nirvana went through several personnel shifts.

Guitarist Jason Everman, who joined shortly after Bleach, exited the band nearly as quickly as he’d come aboard, once it became clear that his tastes were more hard rock/metal than his bandmates’. He later joined Soundgarden.

Chad Channing, who played drums on Bleach, left the band. Nirvana’s original drummer, Dale Crover, filled in for a seven-date West Coast tour. Dan Peters of Mudhoney played drums on a Nirvana single called Sliver and did one gig with them before Dave Grohl finally settled into place as the group’s permanent drummer.

The frequent personnel shifts and extensive touring seemed to have honed the band’s songwriting, as such experiences often do.

The process also seems to have sharpened the band’s pop sensibilities, which are in far greater evidence on Nevermind than on the sludge-guitar heavy Bleach. But Nirvana biographer Michael Azerrad suggests that those same pop sensibilities existed all along, and that Cobain deliberately suppressed them on Bleach in an effort to conform with Sub Pop’s retro Seventies metal agenda of that time.

“Half of the songs on Nevermind were written at the time of Bleach, but didn’t make it onto the album,” Cobain told journalist Roy Trakin. “So there really isn’t an obvious change. We’ve always been fans of pop music.”

A major milestone along the road to Nevermind came in April of 1990, when Nirvana began recording with producer Butch Vig at Smart Studios, his recording facility in Madison, Wisconsin.

Now perhaps best known as the leader of the band Garbage, Vig was then an up-and-coming indie producer whose credits included well-regarded records by the Laughing Hyenas, Smashing Pumpkins, Firetown, Tad, and Killdozer, among others.

In the week Nirvana spent at Smart, they recorded six songs that would later turn up on Nevermind: In Bloom, Dive, Lithium, Breed (originally titled Imodium), Stay Away (originally titled Pay to Play), and Polly. They also made an unsuccessful stab at another tune, Sappy, which they’d attempted to record at an earlier date, also with unsatisfactory results.

The Smart sessions were originally intended for release as Nirvana’s second album on Sub Pop. But a series of events led the band to change their plans. First, Chad Channing left Nirvana in May 1990. And then the prospect of major-label interest started to become more than an idle rumor.

“We lost Chad and there was uncertainty with that,” Novoselic told a radio interviewer in Australia.

“We didn’t want to release [the Smart sessions]. If we did anything, we wanted it to be with a new drummer. [Also] Sub Pop was doing some wheeling and dealing. They were going to sign a licensing deal with a big label, and that kinda scared us. There were so many variables to consider; it wasn’t wise to put out a record at all.”

Polly is the only song on Nevermind that was recorded at Smart; all the other tracks were re-recorded (although the final versions are said to be very similar to those laid down at Smart).

As for Polly, the band and producer realized there was something special in Cobain’s solo acoustic performance of this disquieting rape scenario, which was based on an actual newspaper account he’d read. The dramatic twist was that the very anti-violence, pro-woman Cobain sang the song from the attacker’s point of view.

Grohl became a member of Nirvana in September of 1990, joining them from the Washington D.C. hardcore band Scream. His muscular yet agile drumming took Nirvana’s power trio sound to a new plateau.

Grohl’s arrival also sparked a fresh burst of group songwriting. In a Tacoma, Washington rehearsal space that they shared with a local bar band, Nirvana embarked on a regimen of daily, 15-hour band practices for a period of four or five months.

“We came up with so much stuff where we’d go, ‘God, this is the best thing we’ve ever done!’ Then we’d forget how to play it,” Grohl told Circus magazine. “So many songs got thrown away, until we finally said, ‘Maybe we should start recording them on a cassette.’ So we’d record them, then lose the cassette.”

Two songs that didn’t get away were Smells Like Teen Spirit and Come As You Are, tunes that would prove to be cornerstone tracks of Nevermind. The attention-grabbing title of Teen Spirit was born on a typically relaxed evening at the Cobain residence, as Kurt explained to Australian radio listeners.

“A friend of mine and I were goofing around my house one night. We were kinda drunk, and we were writing graffiti all over the walls of my house. And she wrote, ‘Kurt smells like Teen Spirit.’

“Earlier on, we’d been having this discussion about teen revolution and stuff like that. And I took [what she wrote] as a compliment. I thought she was saying that I was a person who could inspire. I just thought it was a nice little title. And it turns out she just meant that I smelled like that deodorant [called Teen Spirit]. I didn’t even know that deodorant existed until after the song was written.”

Geffen Records had been taking an active interest in Nirvana since April 1990, when Gary Gersh – then an A&R man for Geffen and currently head of Capitol Records – saw the band play at the Pyramid club in New York.

Gersh had been brought to the show by Kim Gordon and Thurston Moore of Sonic Youth. This set in motion a chain of events that would lead to Nirvana’s signing with Geffen. The deal was formally consummated on April 30, 1991. In May, the band arrived in Los Angeles to begin recording what would become Nevermind”.

Marking thirty years of Nirvana’s Nevermind in 2021, BBC discussed how this classic album made a huge global impact. It very much “offered a subversive outlet for a global audience”. I do wonder if there will be any celebrations or anything special for its thirty-fifth anniversary:

“When Nirvana released Nevermind in September 1991 (on major label Geffen, following the band's emergence on Seattle indie SubPop), the album's explosive success followed a European tour and proved a shock to the mainstream system (Geffen president Ed Rosenblatt described it as "one of those 'get out of the way and duck' records"). Back on the Seattle DIY scene, the mood was less celebratory: "My memory of Nevermind is that it felt like a betrayal," says Keshavarz. "People were protective because Nirvana were representative of a community and so many ideas. In retrospect, I have great sympathy for the band, because I think they legitimately made beautiful music that touched people's hearts. In fact, I remember visiting Iran soon after Nevermind came out, and smuggling in tapes to play to friends and relatives; you'd see their faces, like: 'What is this? It's kinda cool… can I get a copy?'

"But within Seattle at the time, people were super-upset; it was that DIY ethic that believed you couldn't achieve liberation through a major label. We knew rents and ticket prices would go up, and we were really protective of our spaces. Kurt would often turn up at the Old Fire House and just be quiet in a corner; he was a gentle soul, and everybody loved him – yet sometimes, he wouldn't be welcome, depending on who was playing, because the anger levels were high. That must have been hurtful."

Global reverberations

Nevermind has reportedly sold over 30 million copies worldwide, making it one of the biggest albums in music history. It also arguably forged a kind of globalised youth culture, fuelled by the increasing reach of MTV (which had its videos, including Smells Like Teen Spirit, on heavy rotation). Brazilian cultural studies academic Moyses Pinto, now a professor at Lutheran University in Porto Alegre, was struck by Nevermind's initial release when he was 11. "I thought: 'this is perfect'; it sounded like a bright synthesis of noise and pop music," he says.

Neto points out that Brazil's military dictatorship (1964-1985) inspired many rebellious musicians, including pysch-rockers Os Mutantes (one of Cobain's favourite bands). The end of the dictatorship extended the range of rock, punk and post-punk sounds in Brazil, though Neto describes a "time lag" between international influences, before the age of Nevermind: "We had punks in Brazil, but almost a decade after their peak in the UK and US – and there was '80s pop culture and mainstream arena bands," says Neto. "But the impact of Nirvana and MTV made it synchronised; a new youth – including me – began to hear the same music, and wear the same styles; there was a cultural homogeneity probably never experienced before. Grunge culture became dominant very quickly; all that had been 'cool' suddenly became ugly and exaggerated, and Kurt was the symbol of transgression."

Another Porto Alegre kid in '91, Rogerio Maia Garcia, was intrigued by Nevermind's "swimming baby" vinyl artwork (the album arguably heralded an era of visual iconography, as well as musical influence), right before the music captivated him: "We were all listening to rock and metal, but Nevermind sounded totally different – like 'normal kids' playing at home: raw, and really loud," says Garcia. "It certainly opened our ears to the grunge scene; after Nevermind, bands like Soundgarden, Alice in Chains and Pearl Jam became well known in Brazil, and many kids started learning to play; in early '90s Porto Alegre, live music had been losing out to dance music, but suddenly there were local band gigs every night." He adds that established Brazilian bands such as Titas also incorporated the influence, working with Seattle producer Jack Endino for their own album Titanomaquia (1993).

I think Nevermind expressed the feelings and fears that any teen goes through, from my generation in Brazil to now – Rogerio Maia Garcia

Garcia grew up to be a criminal lawyer rather than a full-time musician, but he remains an ardent Nirvana fan: "In my mind, Nevermind's legacy can't be separated from Kurt Cobain's last years of life [Cobain was just 27 when he took his own life in 1994]," says Garcia. "I later realised that his voice expressed a sad violence and emptiness over life experiences; songs like Lithium took a new perspective. I think Nevermind expressed the feelings and fears that any teen goes through, from my generation in Brazil to now."

A blend of political revolution and personal revelation also brought young music student Grzegorz Kwiatkowski (now vocalist and guitarist for acclaimed Gdansk indie rockers Trupa Trupa) to Nevermind: "We're talking about Poland in 1991, only a few moments after defeating the communist system, and the beginning of the democratic system, which brought not only cynical capitalistic stuff from the West but super high-quality stuff – like Nirvana and Nevermind," says Kwiatkowski. "For Polish teenagers, MTV was a signal that we are part of international youth."

Kwiatkowski grew up listening to everything from Schubert to The Beatles, and saw Nevermind as a natural progression: "Very beautiful, very simple songs; the perfect combination of killer sound and great singer-songwriting". His own band would sign a worldwide deal with Seattle institution Sub Pop in 2019; Trupa Trupa continue to create original, expansive music while crediting their early inspirations. "In my opinion, Nirvana and Nevermind are still the symbols of freedom and normality," says Kwiatkoswki. "Not unreal superstardom, but something 'regular', and at the same time, great."

English remains the lingua franca of pop culture (for now), and Nevermind has inspired countless international covers. Jamaican reggae artist Little Roy released an album of reggae-fied Nirvana covers (Battle for Seattle, 2011); Brazilian tropicalia star Caetano Veloso would rework Come as You Are; Indian hard rockers Pentagram (fronted by film music composer Vishal Dadlani) would add Nirvana covers to their live sets.

Japanese music journalist Hiroko Shintani was immersed in international alt-music scenes in 1991, and already knew Nirvana's Bleach album – but couldn't initially believe Nevermind was by the same band: "My first reaction was: 'What's happened to them?!' – in a positive sense," says Shintani. "I was more shocked by the fact Nevermind went on to become such a cultural landmark, and sell that many copies. But what I admired was the innate pop sensibility that cuts through the musical style and the irony of these songs about Kurt Cobain's discomfort; his alienation from the mainstream ended up being shared by millions of people, thanks to that sensibility.

"I remember the thrill of hearing such a raw and vulnerable male voice on mainstream radio and MTV. Kurt sang: 'Never met a wise man/ If so, it's a woman' [on the album track Territorial Pissings]. That in itself was phenomenal."

Shintani notes that while Japan produced numerous home-grown rock bands in the late-'80s/early-'90s, that era's mainstream artists weren't necessarily driven by angst or social rebellion. "Remember, Japan was enjoying 'bubble economy' until the early '90s, and our 'Generation X' grew up in a relatively prosperous time," she says. "But obviously, Nevermind's legacy lived on, and I think it had much larger influence among bands that came out during 2000-2010." Indeed, 2012 saw the release of a compilation album, Nevermind Tribute, where a new generation of Japanese bands covered Nevermind's track-listing, in sequence.

Another artist who discovered Nevermind after its original release is Istanbul-based singer-songwriter and visual artist Gaye Su Akyol. She's widely praised for her fearless, politically-charged expressions (including latest album, Istikarli Hayal Hakikattir), and she cites Nevermind as a formative inspiration – it was 1995, she was at primary school, and she found her brother's cassette album in their mother's car. "I remember hearing Nevermind for the first time; it was groundbreaking!" says Akyol, adding that she badgered her brother with questions about Nirvana, learning how Kurt had died. "Probably to protect me from admiring that, my brother told me: 'He had everything: fame, money, love, but he chose to die'. I was confused and unsatisfied; I was looking at the cover art, the band's photos inside.

"I felt lucky to discover a treasure, and also remember feeling: 'this is exactly what I need!' I always had a rebellious and disobedient spirit. I was looking for a different way to express my feelings, and Nevermind caught me instantly; it opened the doors of rock'n'roll to me."

Akyol still describes Nevermind as a "homecoming" album; she has held onto the original cassette, though is now equally likely to listen to it on vinyl or digitally: "The intimate relationship I had with it is always alive, and it's a 'safe space' where I can breathe."

Nevermind made "outsider" spirit feel like a unifying experience, on a massive scale. This also struck a chord with Mpumi Mcata, co-founder of brilliantly sharp Johannesburg rockers BLK JKS; in the early '90s, Mcata had left high school to pursue his band dreams, and first heard Nevermind while working in a music shop”.

Reviews in 1991 were not all glowing. Rolling Stone gave uit three stars. Not a tonne of five-star salutes. In years since, it has been rated as this near-perfect masterpiece. I will end with Pitchfork’s 10/10 review. I think many were expecting another Bleach. Too comemrcual or the feeling Nirvana had sold out, it was short-sighted and ignorant. Nevermind became this juggernaught that affected Kurt Cobain. Though it is one of the most infleutnail albusm ever.

In 2011, Pitchfork provided a detailed review of Nevermind. With its brilliance beyond dispute, they reviewed deluxe versions. The demos and offcuts maybe not as valuable as the original album. Anyone who has never heard this album before needs to check it out:

“Despite its tremendous influence on the mainstream rock that followed, it's hard to think of another album that sounds much like Nirvana's Nevermind, a record with so much more pop and punk punch than any music it inspired. Of course, no diamond-certified, canonical treasure hitting the two-decade mark can be left well enough alone in 2011-- especially one that changed the lives of a lot people now approaching middle age, with the discretionary income to prove it. After all, "super deluxe" reissues of classic albums don't even have to be tied to an anniversary these days. But Nevermind is 20 this week, still a pretty respectable number in a world where any milestone marks an excuse to shift a few more units. The only question is whether these reissues-- a single-disc remaster, a 2xCD "deluxe" version, and a 4xCD+DVD "super-deluxe" edition-- are that rare essential repurchase that makes you hear an album you've possibly exhausted in new ways, or if it's just another mediocre jumble of odds and ends that inadvertently reveals the flaws and blemishes carefully excised from the original 12-song set.

Sadly, both expanded versions fall into the latter category, with material ranging from "interesting" to "historical curiosity" to "of zero value to even superfans." But this mish-mash of sketches, practice-space woodshedding, and alternate-but-not-very mixes does help explain what makes Nevermind so unique. Nirvana certainly never made another album like it. The precocious Bleach still has its partisans, folks who think its primal bash-and-howl is the be-all-end-all of rock, while In Utero stands as the band's most harrowing statement, where it's a toss-up as to whether the riffs or the lyrics hurt more. But Nevermind was and remains an unrepeatable object. It retains the gleeful pummel of the first album while hinting at the bleakness of the third. Yet there's also a concision and clarity that Nirvana hadn't quite mastered on the gnarly-by-necessity Bleach and wouldn't allow themselves on the stark and caustic In Utero.

Nirvana began their career with no illusions about their chances for mass success and ended it by seeing just how abrasive a platinum-selling band could get away with being. But when they got their chance at the brass ring, they went at it with a bubblegum band's canniness, however much Cobain shit on the shiny final product after the fact. Andy Wallace's radio-ready mix certainly helped sharpen this potentially no-concessions, indie-to-major leap into an obvious commercial proposition. But even if they'd settled on producer Butch Vig's slightly less slick mixes-- made as a reference for the band and identified on the super deluxe edition's third disc as the "Devonshire mixes"-- Nevermind would likely have fared well in the charts, since these early passes aren't far from Wallace's infamous high-gloss version. Listening in hindsight, though, they have the woozy effect of feeling just slightly off, leaving you to focus only on what's missing.

The box set does make clear that Nirvana honed these songs over a long period. Listening to the various sessions leading up to the one that gave us the album we know-- especially the nearly unlistenable "boombox" mixes of early demos-- you learn very quickly that these songs didn't arrive perfectly formed in one sustained burst of inspiration. The hours of rehearsals and the expensive time spent tinkering in the studio shaped them into classics. It helped that there are songs on Nevermind that might appeal to people who've never heard a hardcore album in their lives, who might have even (gasp!) kinda liked the glossier hard-rock bands whose era largely ended with the rise of grunge. Moving away from the heavy-at-all-costs sound he'd always been both enamored with and suspicious of, Cobain worked diligently on his big hooks and decided to stop smothering his natural melodic gifts under so much self-conscious sludge.

The key was that Nirvana, unlike many of their indie peers, didn't assume that intensity was incompatible with polish. Cobain's discomfort could be unnerving because it sounded as unmediated as anything allowed on the radio could get. There was too much pop-rock study involved to claim Nevermind as some kind of art brut document of one dude's unraveling. Confronted with something like "Polly", Cobain's distress was obvious in 1991, long before his shotgun-assisted exit. But it wasn't the way Nevermind exposed Cobain's psychic wounds that provided support for those who related to him. It was the fact that, fucked up as he was, Cobain still found pleasure in rock's most emphatic clichés and bent them to his own never-quite-smirking ends. He snuck into the spotlight while remaining an alienated weirdo, but for a while there, you suspected he was enjoying the attention, even if he knew that it was all a joke to be taken about as seriously as high school cliquishness. "Territorial Pissings" is as raw as any punk song I know, but it actually found its way into the hands of suburban tweens. How good must that have felt, to be responsible for such a thing?

Even as they moved toward the mainstream, Nirvana were trying shit that no one would have called an easy route to success. Nevermind is drenched in the filthy Pacific Northwest roar that slapped Cobain into action as a teen, but it's as catchy as any of the radio giants that caught his ear as a kid. It's driven by pain as naked and personal as the riot grrrl bands whose company he kept and as fuck-around goofy as the Seattle contemporaries who both reveled in and mercilessly parodied machismo. And despite the fact that none of those modes would seem to fit together on the same album, let alone all of them, it's all hammered into a still-disarming whole, a collection of anthems that retain the idiosyncrasies of the very weird band that made them. It helped that Cobain had yet to be disabused of the idea that you could be an idiosyncratic indie kid and a rock star without compromising on either front.

That's probably why the bonus material here feels less like a revelation and more like the kind of peek-behind-the-curtain that you wind up regretting. Nevermind is basically a great fake-out. It presents itself as an off-the-cuff explosion, a from-the-gut expression of realness and energy in the grand punk tradition, but it was actually the product of a shit ton of hard work. If you don't hold with the first-take-is-the-best-take philosophy, your respect for Cobain may actually increase when you realize how dedicated he was to getting every element right. Listening to him fumbling his way toward greatness on the "boombox" mixes of songs like "Come as You Are" and "Something in the Way" or hearing a newly cemented group working out the kinks in their interplay in the studio, you may also realize that you don't want to hear the missteps and rewrites and second guessing that went into the perfect-as-is final product. The "boombox" mixes, Devonshire mixes, and Smart Sessions (early Vig-produced takes recorded with drummer Chad Channing that were initially intended for release on a second album for Sub Pop) are largely work tapes. Listening to them feels like studying every unused scrap of a film classic that someone managed to sneak out of the editing room, which is about as fun as that description makes them sound. If you've always been suspicious of the album's production sheen, there's no Holy Grail here that's going to give you the raw take you're looking for.

For all its finessing and tweaking, though, Nevermind is still a thousand times closer to the unpremeditated intensity of Cobain's D.I.Y. days than any of the post-grunge rockers who claimed it as an influence. I defy you to listen to any of the live performances on this edition-- the only essential extras, though less uncomfortably intense than 1994's MTV Unplugged set and less definitive and uniformly powerful than 2009's release of their king-making set at the 1992 Reading Festival-- and not hear a ragged, joyful, charismatic band that makes those inert, angst-ridden followers sound like they come from another aesthetic universe.

That charisma is a big reason why Nevermind remains a 10. But in-concert takes on "Sliver" and "Been a Son" that are the third most thrilling live versions officially available on CD? It's not as if all this "exclusive" dreck-- most of which has been floating around on bootlegs and .zip files and YouTube for eons-- will permanently dull the excitement of the Nevermind, but trying to swallow it all might put you off the album itself for a long while. If you're truly interested in hearing this stuff, the two-disc deluxe set is easily the better deal, giving you a little hint of the various stages of Nevermind's construction without wearing you out the way the four-disc set will. But if you really want to celebrate the 20th, you'll be better off just giving the original album a few spins. Despite how much better-left-forgotten material is being offered up here as essential, there's still more life in the real Nevermind than anything that's attempted to replicate its attack since”.

Released on 24th September, 1991, Nevermind came out the same day as with Red Hot Chili Peppers' Blood Sugar Sex Magik, and A Tribe Called Quest's The Low End Theory. Record buyers were spoilt for choice that week! Thirty-five years later, and you can feel the influence of Nevermind still. Nirvana’s most successful album still impacting artists. We all need to salute…

A truly monumental album.

FEATURE: Kate Bush: The Whole Story: The KBC Article Issue 15 (Christmas 1983), Dear Friends, and the Short Story, On the Road Home

FEATURE:

 

 

Kate Bush: The Whole Story

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush in 1983 promoting The Single File

The KBC Article Issue 15 (Christmas 1983), Dear Friends, and the Short Story, On the Road Home

__________

THIS is…

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush in the studio on 23rd September, 1983/PHOTO CREDIT: Mirrorpix

the final time I am using this resource for inspiration for Kate Bush: The Whole Story. It is The Published Writings of Kate Bush. Her writing short stories, conducting her own interviews or being interviewed. Updating fans in different ways. The final article I am grabbing is from Christmas 1983. Or it was published at that time. Bush looking ahead to Christmas. Little did people know that she was working on Hounds of Love. In 1983, she was putting together a bespoke studio right by East Wickham Farm and the seeds were being sowed. It was a happy and productive year, so I did want to source a great article and a lovely story. Here is Kate Bush’s writing for Issue 15  of the Kate Bush Club:

“Dear Friends,

Here we are at Christmas again, so soon. Looks like a white one this year, with thermal underwear doing a booming trade.

Hopefully by now the video The Single File is readily available in the shops, and I hope those of you who have invested are pleased with the contents--I'd love to hear your comments.

As you will notice, we have a newcomer in this issue: Gray Levett, who has written us a Christmas article, and will be bringing us news in every issue from across the ocean in his Letter From America.

I met Gray a long time ago, when I went to stay at his house by the sea. He was very charming, and we talked of many interesting things. He was a perfect host, and we had a wonderful time. We've kept in touch over the years, through letters and calls, and since Gray moved out to America, his career has blossomed and grown, and now he is a very busy and sought-after man. But he still finds time to carefully research and compile his information and send it here to us, and I hope that you will feel as we do, that his material in our magazine is exciting and keeps us in touch with all the news, views and progress in America. [In fact, however, the readers--at least the American ones--did not find Mr. Levett's material very satisfactory. I was not the only American fan who wrote to this "American" correspondent to help him out and set him straight on some of his "facts", without ever receiving any acknowledgement or reply. Finally, after two more "Letters from America", Mr. Levett quietly dropped off the Newsletter writing staff, and he has not been heard from since 1984.]

Although Bush did not release an album in 1983, she was still promoting The Dreaming, which came out the year before. Night of the Swallow came out as a single in November 1983. The Single File (released in November 1983) was possibly a way of getting some commercial success after The Dreaming did not perform as well as EMI had hoped. It reached three in the U.K., but it did not have the same massive sales as an earlier album, such as her 1978 debut, The Kick Inside. Gray Levett someone who a lot of Kate Bush fans do not know about. I did not. It seems that his association with the Kate Bush Club was pretty brief! In any case, Bush was probably not as successful and popular in America as she would become. Hounds of Love reached the top thirty, but The Dreaming struggle. The Single File got the odd positive review, but I don’t think it is an official greatest hits. That would come in 1986 with The Whole Story. Instead, it provided fans a chance to see all these incredible videos up to this point. The Single File was after Hounds of Love, so it was popular because of that, and the videos from that album are so brilliant. Riding the tide of massive acclaim, whereas some critics were mixed towards The Dreaming.

I'm afraid there has been a delay with the boxed single set, and this will probably be released early next year now, rather than before Christmas. But as with the video, I hope the finished thing will dispel any disappointment from waiting. [Again, fans were not entirely pleased with this product, when it finally did arrive. There were numerous complaints about the poor quality of the re-pressings and their flimsy picture-sleeves. I, for one, have always admired the design of the box, even if some aspects of the product as a whole were disappointing.]

I hope you enjoy our Christmassy stories and games, and may all your Christmasses be white.

Lots of love,

Kate xx

Disappointment from fans regarding that compilation. It is why I do not consider The Single File cannon, where The Whole Story is. I still think that the videos need to be HD and 4K, as you go on YouTube and some of them still suffered from looking bad. Christmas 1983 was not white, either. Bush’s predictions of it being white did not get realised. On Christmas Day, it was also slightly mild in some parts of the U.K.! There was still magic happening, as Bush was working on Hounds of Love and building this masterpiece. She would release it on 16th September, 1985.

On the Road Home

It had been a good day, and as I tied the tree on to the roof it showered me in its green perfume. For just a moment it took me to that place where all my Christmas days meet as one; where there are reindeer and chimney pots and blazing fires. It hung in my head for an instant and then was gone as I checked the clock and made for the shops.

It was unusually quiet for an afternoon so near to Christmas. It had even snowed that morning, and the shop attendants seemed almost happy at their work. It felt like some kind of magic, wrapping everyone and everything up.

The ever-growing list was finally getting smaller--tick, tick, tick: the turkey, the pudding, the crackers. Tick, tick: a present for David, a present for Granddad.

With just five minutes to spare, I had finished the shopping and was wading back to the car through the snow. It really was quiet that night, and it had been dark for a good hour. I opened the car boot and wedged as much as possible into the already full space.

It was great to be in the car and on the way home. Everything looked so beautiful in the snow! It was like driving down a tunnel of trees to Narnia. I was in no hurry, and didn't feel like the radio--the snow and my thoughts were just right together. Not too fast, remember the driving conditions, ease off the accelerator, check the mirror (no-one around), nice and easy...

I wonder, when it comes to her stories, how based on her own life it is. Bush wrote several short stories for the Kate Bush Club. These traditional Christas themes and images that Bush put some of her into her 1980 Christmas single, December Will Be Magic Again. 1983’s Christmas not as snowy and idyllic as she was wishing. Though we do get this vivid and happy story. Many people can relate to the duties and stresses around Christmas. Getting everything prepared, bought and organised!

It was just as I started thinking about checking the tree on the roof that I got this feeling...this feeling that there was someone else in the car. I dismissed it--ridiculous, I'd have seen them. Check the mirror. There. Nothing. But what if he's lying down on the back seat and I can't see him?

I slowed right down, and twisted my head round. Nothing.

Check the mirror. It must be paranoia. I'm going just a little faster now. I know it's nothing, but it's just this feeling...

Then his face is right there, in between the two front seats:

"Look out, look out...Stop."

My eyes turned from his moving lips to the road, my foot already reacting on the brake. I skidded to a stop. After just a few seconds I had taken in that there was nothing in the road. Nothing in front, nothing behind...and no-one in the back of the car.

The thought of having to get out into the night--out of the car-- was more terrifying than staying in it, so I started up the motor, put my foot steadily on the accelerator and turned on the radio-- light music, nice and loud.

By the time I turned into the drive I was wondering if it had really happened at all. I was shaking, and hadn't checked my mirror once since I'd had to stop. I ran into the house. As soon as I saw David I released the tears.

The story taking a sinister turn. It starts to sound like The killer in the backseat (also known as High Beams). There is also folkloric anthologies like Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark. In it, a driver is relentlessly followed and flashed with high beams by another car, only to discover later that the driver was trying to save her from a killer ducking in her back seat. I took that information from this Facebook page. Kate Bush is a Horror fan and many of her songs and videos bring in Horror and something darker. I think many of us have that paranoia of someone being in the back of the car when it is dark and we are alone. It is the same with being at home alone in the dark. Something that our mind does that is hard to control! I wonder who the ‘David’ is. People might jump to say David Gilmour. A dear friend and mentor, perhaps he was not as in her mind and life as much in 1983 as he was in 1978 and before.

 

I don't know if he believed me or not, and it didn't matter at the time. He acted like he did, that was all I needed. After all, I was seriously doubting it myself.

It was a week later, and we were all to go out for the evening. We arranged for our friends to pick us up on the way. It was Christmas Eve--the first time for years we'd left the house on that night. We were looking forward to the break, and once we were at the party we relaxed and enjoyed the rest from the rush. None of us really drank, but we ate as much as possible, working our way up the table--the food was delightful; and like perfect guests, as soon as we'd had our fill we left, in order to be in our homes to celebrate Christmas.

Since we'd arrived the weather had broken into a storm--heavy wind and rain. We piled into the car--our friends in the front, David and I in the back--and rolled toward home. After a while I realised what route we were now taking on the way to our house: past the shops...My eyes fixed on the road ahead. I felt uncomfortable --it was that same feeling--I would not panic—

We came to the spot where I had stopped that night, that figure shouting in my ear. We were travelling at a fair speed. Then there he was--standing in the road, waving his arms to and fro. He was right in front of us.

"Look out, look out...Stop."

The words came out as if they were not my own.

I am not sure if there is an urban legend or Horror story where this thing happens exactly. It is Bush looking at folklore and stories she would have heard about when she was young. Adding to it. I do wonder why Bush never made these short stories into films, as it would have been great to see this one come to life. Bush as an actor is something many would have liked to see explored more. This figure that apparently Kate Bush – or the heroine – saw in the road but others did not.

The car ground to a halt, all four of us staring ahead. Still held by my fear, the other three slowly turned their faces toward mine.

"God, what's the matter with you?" shouted David, his face pale.

"Didn't you see him?" I screamed.

"See what?"

I couldn't believe it--he must be joking.

"What did you see?" queried my two friends, now laughing a little as they shook off their fright.

"The man...in the road!" I gasped.

As I pushed open the back door and got out, I looked back-- nothing. I looked ahead of the car--nothing. I would not have this! I knew I had seen him this time--he was real. The car headlights--the light beams filled with rain--stopped dead about six feet from the car. After that, darkness. Maybe he had fallen down. He must have been further ahead than I had thought. My friends, now concerned by my worry, were sitting with knitted brows in the car.

"Please," I said, "move the car forward very slowly--I need the light on the road."

The light slowly moved across the tarmac. I waited for a shoe, a hand. Then the edge of the light hit a rough brown surface.

How she thought she had hit something and there was nothing there. What caused this hallucination, I wonder? After starting out with this pleasant Christmas and build-up, it then gets darker and terrifying. I have not quite seen a story or film with this synopsis. Perhaps someone will suggest a few. I guess Identity, or Hallow Road, do something similar. It seems like a trope that would be in a lot of films but, doing some research, not that many that have this exact arc.

"There's something here!" I shouted. The light steadily moved forward and revealed the huge bough of a tree. It must have been a twenty-, thirty-footer, fallen in the storm. The car stopped. All four of us stood, fixed on the object.

"The speed we were going..." David said. "How did you see it? it?"

"I didn't," I answered. I hadn't seen it.

None of us could say anything--we were too shocked. We couldn't believe it. It had been close. So strange.

In the distance the clock struck the first chime of Christmas day.

And in the distance but coming towards us was the constant buzz of an engine. We'd all heard it. Something travelling fast: a motorbike, and now he's in view, he's coming straight towards us. He's not wearing a helmet, and with his hair pelted back by the rain, his face is white and stark in the night. His face is very like that man's--that man who was first shouting, then waving, is now coming straight for us.

"Look out, look out...Stop."

-- Kate Bush”.

The tension that builds and builds before that clock strike! It would make an amazing video. I wonder whether Bush was ever tempted to do something with it. That motorbike coming towards them at the end. Who was that pale-faced man?! It is a great haunted Christmas story. There were bits and pieces happening in 1984, but it was not until 1985 when we would get this activity. Hounds of Love coming out. In 1984, aside from working on Hounds of Love, The Single File was doing well in the U.K. On 16th January, Bush helps launch the Sky Channel, the first satellite T.V. station in the U.K. I can’t find video of that, but she did all these cool things outside of music. After getting this great update from Kate Bush in 1983, it would take a while for Hounds of Love to come out. Though, very few people could have any idea…

WHAT was in store.

FEATURE: Kate Bush: The Whole Story: Her Kate Bush Club Article for Issue 20, An Interview with Auntie Hetty

FEATURE:

 

 

Kate Bush: The Whole Story

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush in 1986/PHOTO CREDIT: John Carder Bush

Her Kate Bush Club Article for Issue 20, An Interview with Auntie Hetty

__________

THIS might be the…

penultimate look inside The Published Writing of Kate Bush. What she wrote for the Kate Bush Club. Their newsletters. Whether an interview, short story or something else, it has been amazing discovering these treats. Though I love the interviews where someone else speak with Kate Bush, there has been a couple of occasions where she has interviewed herself under a different guise. Two consecutive newsletters where this happened. I have featured Issue 21 and Kate as Zwort Finkle interviewing their ‘cousin’. That was the Winter 1987 edition. Going back to Issue 20, this was published in 1978. I think the summer edition. Here, Auntie Hetty was interviewing Kate Bush. It is great that Bush was game enough to of this. She could answer the questions she wanted. I did want to discuss the interview:

“Let me introduce myself. I'm Kate's Auntie Hetty, and I've been waiting to do this interview for years, but she's such a busy dear, and I like to keep myself active with my amateur dramatics. Such a lovely group of boys and girls--so enthusiastic-- keeps them away from nasty things like sniffing glue and listening to Sigue-Sigue Sputnik. I'm terribly into Method acting and have just had a nice long sleep. I was playing a woman alcoholic who'd been up for three days and three nights, so I stayed up for three days and three nights and drank both bottles of sherry (from that lovely boy who played Bottom three years ago in Little Hampton). It's so much more fun than acting. But I feel most refreshed now, and as I enter Katie's front gate I notice the garden's a little untidy-- I really must tell her about old Mr. Squashy, and I've some lovely hollyhocks she could put by the door.

So, with a nice cup of tea, I refer to my notes, take up the old crochet hook and begin:

Now Katie, dear, we're all so pleased about this album doing so well and we heard a lot about a film called The Ninth Wave. Will that be your next project?

"The film was something I very much wanted to try. The b-side of the album was originally written with visual ideas in mind, and I am intrigued by the combination of pictures and sound on film. I went as far as approaching a couple of people about the idea, but I found the success of the album and the rate of single releases extremely demanding, especially as each single required a video, 12", single artwork...It soon built up, and there was no time to even think about this film. The promotion for this album almost lasted a year. By the time I'd taken a break, the gap between albums was already becoming too big to consider fitting in another project. I've now had a holiday and some time to do nothing, and am in the process of thinking out some ideas to take into the studio."

I like that she leads in with something comedic. This idea of a middle-aged aunt worrying about teens and their behaviour. Although I don’t think 100% it was confirmed Kate Bush is playing Hettie, I am pretty certain it is. This idea of the aunty tottering up to the house and noticing Bush’s unkempt garden. Deliberately phrasing questions so that she is slightly wrong but that then provokes an interesting answer from Bush. Like The Ninth Wave as part of Hounds of Love and not a film. I think that it is a missed opportunity that a film has not been made. Even if it was staged for Before the Dawn in 2014, it is not a film, and most people did not attend. I hope Bush picks up the idea again.

Oh, I see, dear. Well, you must have been very busy. Did you have a lovely holiday?

"Yes, it was...lovely."

Now, you have a video E.P. out called The Hair of the Hound, and it's been at number one in the charts, which is very nice, lovely. They must have taken a lot of time to do. You see, I understand these things--Amateur dramatics is the same thing, you know: rehearse, rehearse, struggle, toil, iron your costume every night...

"I really wanted to try and make videos that looked like short films this time. I think I've always wanted to do this, but apart from one or two of the previous videos I have not achieved it. I started approaching film directors. I believed that video and film were two very different worlds, and that people who made videos would be less likely to make a pop "video" look like a piece of 35mm film.

"All the people I approached were very kind but very busy, and I began to realise that unless I was extremely lucky, no one that I wanted would be able to shoot the promo.

"I am a big admirer of Terry Gilliam's work--he is a great director. I asked his advice; could he suggest people I could work with who were good. He recommended David Garfarth, who had worked as a cameraman for him. The lighting cameraman was Phil Mayheux-- who, interestingly, worked on the Max Headroom special, which was superbly lit--"

Max who?

"The video [ Running Up That Hill ] took eight weeks: six weeks' training and choreography working with Dyane Gray, and three days shoot, plus editing and various meetings.

"Cloudbusting took eight to ten weeks, working with Julian Doyle, who has worked many times with Terry Gilliam. He is multi-talented, and covered many areas of the shoot, with Brian Helighy lighting for the first time--it's hard to believe that it is his first time at lighting."

Yes it is so atmospheric, I love the story. But I'm very upset that you didn't bring that lovely Donald Sutherland to see me. You know your Uncle Bertie used to get quite jealous...eh, hmm, yes. Now I noticed you didn't move your lips to the music in three of the videos--or should I call them films?

"Well, they were all shot on film, but all eventually were edited on video.

Kate Bush speaking about her love of film. She directed a couple of Hounds of Love’s videos. The title track and The Big Sky. That rehearsal and preparation for Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God). The time it took to make the videos. I am not sure how long it takes for major Pop artists to make videos now. Possibly a couple of weeks. With Kate Bush and Hounds of Love, there was this longer period. Like short films. It is interesting how there were videos where Bush did not mime. More like an acting piece, it is a shame that this is not done more often now.

"Apart from Running Up That Hill, which was edited totally in the video suite, the others were edited on film as much as possible: doing all the cuts--except the ones that need special effects: slowing down, speeding up. All this is much quicker (and sometimes cheaper) to do on video, and with promo deadlines video is so convenient. But it does change the quality of the pictures when the film is transferred to video: it somehow loses its depth. But I'm sure in a couple of years the quality will be brilliant. Video is advancing all the time, but for me you can't beat the original quality of film, it's a very ancient form. The advantage of video is being set loose on all the effects, although on the E.P. all except Big Sky have been approached from a purist film-maker's point of view: very few special effects. We deliberately encouraged this, again trying to emphasise the film aspect. Which has a lot to do with no lip-synch: as soon as a performer is 'singing', they become that performer doing other things while singing. Which is great live, but on film, people acting out events without the lip distractions have more chance of playing a character. I found it very interesting and much more enjoyable. I'm always concerned about the miming being as accurate as possible, and that takes a lot of concentration and makes me behave like a singer. So without the lip-synch I could put much more effort into a character. I felt a little nervous about it in Cloudbusting. In Running Up That Hill it was different: no lip-synch, but I was trying to act a dancer, and they are facial expressions I know the sensations of. But playing a little boy, and playing opposite Donald Sutherland, I began to wonder if I was going mad, voluntarily putting myself in these situations where I had a ninety percent chance of looking a total absolute idiot! But if anything, Donald made it seem extremely natural, he was just like my Dad. He could make it rain, and I would watch him being taken away. I must say it was an extremely moving experience, burnt strongly into my memory upon the hill with the machine and the wind..."

I had a similar experience with Sir Cecil Dill in the last performance of Ooh, Was It Really? at Dulwich. He was playing Mortimer West, and as he rushed on the stage with his epee in his back and said, "Good God! It was him all along!" I knew I would never forget that moment, and with tears in my eyes I said, "Ooh, was it really?" and down came the curtain to the roar of applause, with that smell of old velvet--Still brings a tear to my eye.

I am not sure if artists now are concerned about miming and it being in time. I do like the idea of videos not relying on that. They can be more like short films. The Big Sky has some miming, but it has quite a lot of cuts and fantastic scenes. A lot thrown into the mix! How different the videos for Cloudbusting and Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God) were. Bush being an actor and playing alongside a legend. He sadly died, but Bush will remember her time with Sutherland forever. Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God) is about the dancing and less like a short film where there are scenarios and characters. A performance piece. 

Now, where was I? Oh, my dear, you've made more tea. I didn't see you go!

I notice that you directed two of the videos. Did you enjoy doing that?

"It was very interesting and extremely educational. I've had a lot of encouragement from people to get more involved, and it can be difficult sometimes to find directors who are enthusiastic about the amount of involvement I like to put in. I found it took all my time rather than most, and the actual shoots felt very relaxed. Cupcake, Aunt Hetty?"

Ooh, don't mind if I do, dear.

"I am extremely lucky to have worked with such a good film crew: Mike Roberts was the cameraman. He's worked on The Killing Fields and The Mission, and Billy Camp was assistant, who organised everyone and everything so efficiently on the days of the shoot that I could almost relax. I used two different lighting men: Hughie Johnson; and Roger Pratt, who again worked with Terry Gilliam. The crew were so receptive, and made a very daunting, expensive task a lot of fun.

"It is very like making early albums: I feel a bit disappointed with the results, not having enough rehearsal, a big enough budget, etc., etc., but the shoots were so much fun. It's such a good feeling to work with a big group of people. I seem to like working with such a crowds. On both Hounds of Love and The Big Sky shoots there was a relaxed air--both shoots involved crowd scenes, and The Big Sky was especially satisfying. Besides a large number of performers to fill a stage and give the effect of a live concert, we needed an avenue of people, from the Wright brothers to two astronauts, to simulate aviation history. The Wright brothers looked remarkably like Dave Cross and Peter FitzGerald-Morris, and one of the astronauts looked so like Jay...We also needed a large, enthusiastic crowd, so we asked Dave Cross to organise some members of the Club, and two hundred beautifully behaved people arrived on the day of the shoot. It was very moving, they filled us all up with energy-- It made it feel like a real concert.

"All the film crew remarked on how incredible everyone was. They had been terrified with past experiences of invited audiences, but I told them they hadn't met the right ones. Everyone left just as beautifully--nearly everyone with a burnt thumb from being a star in the sky holding up lighters and waving. I'd never been in the same room with so many stars before."

What Kate Bush says about directing videos and the support she had around her. Rather than being told to stay away from the camera and stay in her lane, she was being encouraged. She would go on to direct quite a few videos. She would direct a short film, 1993’s The Line, the Cross and the Curve. Not many people discuss The Big Sky and its video. So many characters in there. It seems like it was a blast to be involved with! I know like Dave Cross and Peter FitzGerald-Morris (who interact with my Kate Bush posts now and then), and it would have been a thrill for them to be on set. They were part of the HomeGround team. This was a Kate Bush fanzine. It does not exist now, but they are part of Kate Bush News and the team there.

Oh, the little angels, how lovely! Did it take long to edit those clips?

"No, I worked with John Mister as film editor. On both those shoots we worked to very detailed storyboards, and in both cases could give John a photostat of the script beforehand so he'd know the gist of what we were working on. Then he'd do a rough cut by himself, following the storyboard. Then we'd work together until we were happy. He was great to work with, and both edits were very quick: just taking them into the video suite for bits and pieces. But it would have to be transferred to video for T.V. showings, anyway, so all ads [sic--Does she mean 'adds' here, as inq. 'additions'?], etc., end up on video.

The Big Sky was a little more complicated. The beginning part on the rooftops involves chromakey, where all the live action goes on in front of a blue screen and then the various weather effects were put in at the edit. The pieces of film with the weather were chosen beforehand and transferred to video; they then replaced the blue screen."

That sounds awfully complicated, dear. We just roll our scenery up and down from the wings, it's so much easier.

Now you must tell me about all these darling people you've been working with. What was it like working with that lovely Peter Gabriel again?

"I was so excited that he asked me to sing on that track-- It's such a lovely, haunting song, and I love his work. But I do get nervous, especially when it's something I really like. His music is very strong, and he is a great person--I love working with him."

And those dear Big Country boys...

"Yes, I like the Celtic influences in their music. They were lovely to work with--I really enjoyed it. They asked if I'd like to do some backing vocals, and I went in for an evening. They were really nice. It was fun. I like working with different people.

"I really enjoyed doing the Comic Relief concerts."

It must have been quite a trial getting The Big Sky edited. However, it is one of her best videos. It always lifts my mood. Quiet silly in places, you can feel the positivity and energy throughout. In a feature where I popped in Issue 19, Bush was discussing the videos too and promoting in the U.S. Rather than repeating what she said there, we get new insights and angles. Bush getting to work with Big Country and Peter Gabriel. Her duet with Gabriel, Don’t Give Up, is forty in October. Bush’s vocal is Absolutely stunning. So filled with warmth, it sounds perfect alongside Gabriel’s. 1986 and 1987 were very busy. Bush got to work with other artists and also be involved with Comic Relief. In April 1986, she performed Breathing (from 1980’s Never for Ever) and a duet with Rowan Atkinson, Do Bears…? At the peak of her fame, she was also using her time for charity and doing this amazing work.

Oh, but my dear, the language was appalling. I'm afraid I had to write to Points of View. I was more than a little shocked that you and Cliff Richard of all people...

"It was fantastic. I'm a big fan of so many of those comedians--they are so talented. For me, alternative comedy is the most exciting thing coming out of this country at the moment, and to be involved in something with them all was really fulfilling. I felt nervous there, too, it's been a long time since I've performed live to an audience, but they were so warm. Unfortunately the piano pedal jammed on the first night in Breathing and I sang to the most horrific combination of chords you can imagine, so the second and third nights were relatively relaxed after that!

"Singing with Rowan was hilarious. He's one of those people who can make his face and body language make you laugh without him having to speak. Again, I was so pleased that they asked me to take part. I wouldn't have missed it for the world. I just wish I'd been brave enough to ask most of them for their autographs-- 'Er, Ben, would you? I say, Rick, I've got this nephew...Just sign it, don't bother signing it to him...' You know, you're meant to act nonchalant, but I found myself starstruck."

I did see gorgeous Ronnie Corbett and the Monty Python chappies-- Wasn't Terry Gilliam there?

"Yes, he was...Just so much talent. British comedy is unique and the best."

Here, here, Gr-r-reat Britain...

I hear you sang Brazil on the soundtrack to Terry Gilliam's film.

"Yes, what a beautiful song--and I always thought it was a really bad cabaret number, but actually it is very sad and nostalgic."

Of course it is, you silly girl--One of the best tunes ever...Br-a-a-zil-l-l-l...

"Michael Kamen did the orchestral arrangements. He worked on The Ninth Wave: Watching You Without Me and Hello Earth. He is very clever. He did the music for the film, and was putting the soundtrack album together with Terry, and they played me this beautiful arrangement without a voice. I'm not sure if this piece was in the film or not, but I don't sing in the film at all. It has such a 30s/40s feel, and Michael asked if I would sing over it--My immediate reactions were fear and 'Yes'."

Now, just before we have another cup of tea, I want to ask you if you're going to work with any more famous actors, because if you worked with that lovely Peter O'Toole you could tell him to pop in and see me and have a nice cup of tea, and we could act out one or two scenes from Romeo and Juliet...”.

There are tracks and things people might not be aware of. That Comic Relief appearance. Brazil ()Sam Lowry’s First Dream) was included on Best of the Other Sides last year. This song was not included in the actual film or the original soundtrack release; however, it has been subsequently released on re-pressings of the soundtrack. You can see what Kate Bush was doing in 1986. 1987 was pretty busy too, though the following year she was doing fewer activities. Focused on writing The Sensual World. That came out in 1989. I do love the interview, where Kate Bush played a fictional aunty and got to conduct an interview different to one you would get from journalists. It is…

A brilliant read.

FEATURE: So Many Moments of Pleasure: The Gems and Underrated Appeal of Kate Bush’s The Red Shoes

FEATURE:

 

 

So Many Moments of Pleasure

The Gems and Underrated Appeal of Kate Bush’s The Red Shoes

__________

I will end…

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush in 1993/PHOTO CREDIT: John Stoddart

with a review or two of The Red Shoes. This is the album that fell between 1989’s The Sensual Word and 2005’s Aerial. Both hugely acclaimed, The Red Shoes is seen as weaker or less essential. When it comes to polls of her music, as I will show later, The Red Shoes comes last or near the bottom. It turns thirty-three on 1st November, I did want to sort of defend the album. I am also going to include an interview with Kate Bush from 1993. There are gems on this album that get overlooked. I feel the overall quality is higher than The Sensual World. The issue is with the production. Perhaps too layered/tinny or not warm-sounding, I feel if the original album was reworked so that the production sound was more similar to The Sensual World, then there would be more love towards the songs. Why Should I Love You? suffers from too many musical layers. Prince taking it away and ruining it. Moments of Pleasure perhaps the standout song from The Red Shoes. Though I feel there is so much to recommend. Big Stripey Lie is Kate Bush being Grunge-influenced. The first time she plays electric guitar on record. There is extraordinary range throughout. Eat the Music and The Red Shoes have this great energy. Even You’re the One, which is a song I have been unfair to, is actually wonderful. One of the issues might be the tracklisting. I think You’re the One shouldn’t be the final track. Maybe the title track could sit there.

The running order and production do sort of take away from an album that is fair stronger than people give it credit for. The Song of Solomon so intriguing. In terms of the lyrics, there are some great standout lines. “Comfort me with apples/For I am sick of love/His left hand is under my head/And his right hand/Doth embrace me”. Top of the City is another brilliant track. One that came to life in 2014 for Before the Dawn. I do really love that track. The lyrics throughout The Red Shoes is magnificent. Not written about enough. The fruit-based imagery on Eat the Music. The brilliant Lily. “Lily, oh lily I'm so afraid/I fear I am walking in the veil of darkness/And she said/Child, take what I say”.  Constellation of the Heart would benefit from being stripped back. Bush did do this for Director’s Cut, though she re-recorded the song for the most part. I feel taking the original album and just doing something with the composition and production would make it such a strong album. The more I listen to The Red Shoes, the more I find its strengths. What is interesting is how The Red Shoes has raised in terms of polls and features. It always used to come bottom or near the bottom. There have been some fairly recent pieces where The Red Shoes has fared better. Though I have seen a couple place 2011’s 50 Words for Snow last, which is a travesty! In 2023, The Red Shoes was placed seventh by Rough Trade:

“Another nod to her love of film, The Red Shoes is recorded during a turbulent time for Kate. The end of her relationship with Del Palmer, the death of close-friend and guitarist Alan Murphy and of her mother, Hannah, all in a relatively short period of time. It feels like an album torn between two worlds, one of grief and one of marching on with a no-time-to-dwell, British stiff-upper-lip attitude. The latter is evident in bangers such as Rubberband Girl, the Naked-era Talking Heads groove of Eat The Music and the Prince-featuring and co-penned Why Should I Love You?

These numbers are placed amongst the more reflective - most evident on Moments of Pleasure, where Kate gives ode to the aforementioned Alan Murphy, Micheal Powell (of Powell & Pressburger, who in turn gave us the film The Red Shoes), dancer Gary Hurst and Bill Duffield, who died tragically during Kate’s 1979 tour (which was up until 2014’s Before The Dawn her only ever tour). But it’s the reminiscing of her mother that packs the most punch - “And I can hear my mother saying… "Every old sock meets an old shoe"... Ain't that a great saying?... "Every old sock meets an old shoe"... Here come the hills of time”.

MOJO put it seventh in their feature from July. It is nice that The Red Shoes is not at the bottom, though I feel people still don’t discuss it. Because it is thirty-three on 1st November, I did want to show it some love and appreciation:

“Its inner sleeve image of juicy fruit with seeds spilling out points to what came next (ie motherhood), but The Red Shoes is half future hope, half immediate pain (her mother and other bereavements, her break-up with bassist Del Palmer). Dry eyes are impossible while Moments Of Pleasure mourns the people, and You’re The One mourns the love. But Eat The Music and Rubberband Girl come bouncing back. Bush may have retrospectively voiced her unhappiness at how these songs turned out, returning to them on The Director’s Cut, but it’s easily up there with her greatest work”.

I want to get to some reviews of The Red Shoes. Though it is important to bring in an interview from 1993. We get an idea of where she was and what was being asked. I think it was a point where Kate Bush was tired of promotion and the whole cycle. It was an exhausting time. She did not want to make another album right away after The Red Shoes. He plan was to take a year out. After that, she wanted to extend that. Bush felt that The Red Shoes was too long. She wanted to give people value for money in the C.D. age. Aerial was more an album for vinyl. Though a double, she did not want to repeat mistakes.

I have used this Time Out 1993 interview. I wanted to bring it in again. There were not a tonne of print interviews in 1993. Though you do get a sense of how people perceived her. That idea that she was a bit mad, reclusive or strange. Though, as interviewers discovered, she is unique, charming and down to earth. I think these myths about her still present in 1993:

“She pours tea and places herself on the edge of her chair. She is small, not minute, and erect. One booted leg crosses the other and bumps gently up and down. She cocks her head and waits. She is courteous, cool and suspicious.

My friend Catherine has never opened any post addressed to Kate Bush. There was, however, a letter that came addressed merely to 'Catherine '. So Catherine opened it. Inside was a lot of stream-of-consciousness stuff about dreams, and about how the writer was watching Catherine. So Catherine snorted, noted the postmark and forgot about it. Then another letter arrived, identically addressed, from the same postal region; then another, and another, each of them increasingly weird and disturbing. Sometimes three would arrive in a day. And it so happened that on the day that Catherine decided to go to the police, a letter arrived that included a reference to Catherine's poetry and music, neither of which are big with Catherine. Also, the letter included the appellation Kate.'

'It's so nice to talk about my work for once,' she says. By this she means she's glad we've started by talking about the great film director Michael Powell and his influence on her, which is signally manifest in the title track of her new album 'The Red Shoes'.

'The Red Shoes' is a ballet film made by Powell and Emeric Pressburger in 1948, telling the story of a dancer who is torn between the demands of a great impresario, who can help her to become an artist of destiny, and those of her composer/husband, who can bring her happiness. The story elides an old fairy tale and a take on the power struggle that raged between the dancer Nijinsky and Diaghilev, first director of the Ballet Russe. Bush says the song evolved out of a feeling she had one day at the piano of music running away with itself. The image in her mind 'was like horses galloping and running away, with the horses turned into running feet, and then shoes galloping away with themselves'. Which corresponded, conveniently enough, with the key fairy-tale element in the Powell film: the red pumps worn by the tragic ballerina, which are imbued with a magic that carries their wearer off in a terrible outpouring of expressiveness.

Bush contacted Powell shortly before he died, 'to see whether he'd be interested in working with me. He was the most charming man, so charming. He wanted to hear my music, so I sent him some cassettes and we exchanged letters occasionally, and I got a chance to meet him not so long before he died. He left a really strong impression on me, as much as a person as for his work. He was just one of those very special spirits, almost magical in a way. Left me with a big influence.'

Which makes some kind of sense. Powell's super-rich three-strip Technicolor, his English-ness, his 'expressiveness', his interest in the shadows cast by daylight; even, you could argue, his thematic preoccupation with islands, solitary souls and the unconfined spirit; these are some of Bush's favourite things.

'His work is just so... so beautiful,' says Kate, in her tiniest voice.

Meaning what, exactly?

'Well, there's such heart in his films. The way he portrayed women... that was particularly good and very interesting. His women are strong and they're treated as people...'

That's one kind of beauty.

'The heart, I think, is the main beauty. This human quality he has. Although there's clever shots in his films, they're not really used for effect, to be clever. They're used for an emotional effect. I'd call that a human quality. Like vulnerability. Also, I like the emotional qualities of the characters. I suppose in one way they're very English ...'

To combine her interest in Powell with her lust for new directions, and perhaps to solve one or two promotional problems, Bush has directed a 40-minute film interpreting six songs from the excellent 'Red Shoes' album. It will be premiered at the London Film Festival.

'I'll be very interested to see what people make of it. To see whether they regard it as a long promo video or as a short film,' she says.

Where do your stories come from?

'Oh, all kinds of sources but generally they come down to people. People's ideas or works. Films, books, they all lead back to someone else's ideas, which in turn lead back to someone's else's ideas...'

I've always assumed you must be a bit of an Angela Carter fan.

'Um, no. I don't think I know her stuff.'

She wrote 'Company Of Wolves' and was big, I believe, on pomegranates, the predatory nature of nature, the heat of female sexuality; that sort of thing.

'Oh, yes.' Bush smiles, and her dimple disappears.

Other post addressed to Kate Bush arrived which went unopened. Then one day a letter came for the attention of Catherine Earnshaw. This being ambiguous, Catherine opened it just to make sure. Inside was a note from a Harley Street doctor indicating that Catherine was fit as a fiddle. This was good news. Unfortunately, Catherine had not been to see a Harley Street doctor. She hastily sent the letter on to Bush's record company, blushing at her daftness in not remembering immediately that Catherine Earnshaw is the name of the storm-tossed tragic heroine of 'Wuthering Heights '.

You're 35 and you've been doing this since you were a teenager. How have you changed?

'I think I've changed quite a lot. Essentially I'm still the same person but I suppose I've grown up a lot, and learned a lot.'

What's made you grow up the most?

'You get lots of disappointments. I'm not sure that they make you grow up but they make you question intentions.' She pauses. 'But life is what makes you grow up.'

That's a fantastically evasive answer.

'It is quite evasive but I think it's true.' Still no dimple. 'It's hard to say... when I was young I was very idealistic, and I don't really think I am any more. I think I'm more... realistic. I think it's good to change. I think I'd be unhappy if I didn't change. It would mean I hadn't learnt anything.'

Do you ever get curious about living another way?

'I do. But so far I'm extremely lucky to be doing what I'm doing. I feel extremely lucky to have the opportunity to do it”.

I did want to end with The Quietus and their feature from 2018. Marking twenty-five years of The Red Shoes. Rather than it being a misstep or an average album – a lot of the reviews I have seen are quite negative -, it is filled with many moments of pleasure. It most definitely is:

“The most powerful moments on The Red Shoes are its most intimate and personal. ‘Moments Of Pleasure’ starts with piano so soft and gentle it feels like it might vanish if you breathe too hard, before it’s swept up in Michael Kamen’s elegantly soul-stirring orchestral arrangement. Bush’s voice goes through a similar transformation, too, growing from a gentle flutter to something stronger, which makes her heartfelt cry on the chorus sound like a defiant refusal to be swallowed by grief: “Just being alive/ It can really hurt/ And these moments/ Are a gift from time.” Its outro remembers some of Bush’s lost friends – including guitarist Alan Murphy, producer John Barrett and lighting director Bill Duffield – and plays out like the closing credits of an old-fashioned weepy. Even more devastating is an old conversation she recalls with her mother, Hannah, who was ill while Bush was writing the song and who passed away before the album was released. “I can hear my mother saying ‘Every old sock needs an old shoe,’” remembers Bush warmly. “Isn’t that a great saying?” It is, even if it sticks a tennis ball-sized lump in your throat.

There’s emotional heft on ‘Top Of The City’, too, which takes a similar premise to ‘And So Is Love’ but adds higher stakes: Bush sits up in the skies, looking down at the lonely city below and hoping to find an answer. “I don’t know if I’m closer to Heaven, but it looks like Hell down there,” she declares, caught between exhilaration, melancholy and desperation: the moments of quiet calm are both beautiful and unsettling, with eerie pockets of silence hanging between delicate piano notes, until there’s a big, dramatic burst of violins and celestial backing vocals. “I don’t know if you’ll love me for it,” she yells wildly, forcing the moment to its crisis. “But I don’t think we should suffer for this/ There’s just one thing we can do about it.”

As heart-rending as those two tracks are, the simplicity of The Red Shoes can be endearingly playful. In 2o11, Bush called the happy-go-lucky ‘Rubberband Girl’, with its twanging guitars and parping trombones and trumpets, a “silly pop song”: she’s right, and the reason it spreads so much contagious joy is because you can tell she and her band are having such a ball, especially when she wails “rub-a-dub-dub” and makes her voice wobble and vibrate like a boinging bungee cord. The calypso-flavoured ‘Eat The Music’, which features Malagasy musician Justin Vali on the valiha and the kabosy, is equally fun, as Bush puts a new spin on the idea of getting fruity with a lover. “Let’s split him open, like a pomegranate,” she chants. “Insides out/ All is revealed.” “I wanted it to feel joyous and sunny, both qualities are rife in Justin as a person,” said Bush, who met Vali through her brother Paddy. “I just had to provide the fruit.”

Hearing her equate emotional intimacy with scoffing mangoes and plums might suggest that The Red Shoes still has plenty of idiosyncrasies. There’s certainly something quintessentially Bushian about some of its songs, including the title cut, which soundtracks the fate of a girl who puts on a pair of red leather ballet shoes and dances a frantic Irish jig: it combines her fondness for Celtic sounds, old stories and classic film (The Red Shoes was written by Hans Christian Andersen and later adapted into a 1948 film directed by Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, the former of whom Bush salutes on ‘Moments Of Pleasure’), and her shrill, possessed vocal makes it sound like a feverish fairytale. The steamy ‘The Song Of Solomon’, meanwhile, mixes a literary text and desire in the same way that ‘The Sensual World’ let Ulysses’ Molly Boom step off the page and experience physical pleasure. This time, there was no-one stopping Bush lifting lines from her chosen book, the Hebrew Bible, although the erotic charge of the chorus is all hers: “Don’t want your bullshit, yeah/ Just want your sexuality.”

And if Bush has dabbled with the gothic and supernatural ever since ‘Wuthering Heights’, there’s more magick on the moody, witch-rock of ‘Lily’, a tribute to her friend and spiritual healer, Lily Cornford. “I said ‘Lily, oh Lily, I’m so afraid,’” trembles Bush. “I fear I am walking in the vale of darkness.” She banishes the evil spirits with fire and the help of four angels, although Gabriel, Raphael, Michael and Uriel couldn’t save The Line, The Cross And The Curve, the Bush-directed film-meets-visual-album which included videos for ‘Lily’ and five of the LP’s other songs. Inspired by Powell’s original movie, the singer is tricked by Miranda Richardson into wearing the cursed ballet slippers, and must free herself from the curse under the tutelage of Lindsay Kemp. It was, Bush later claimed, a “load of old bollocks”.

It’s easy enough to find the common thread running through The Red Shoes: time and time again she returns to being brave, to being strong, to being open, to having to decide between holding on or letting go, and still trusting you’ll come out OK on the other side. There is, admittedly, less of a sonic coherence, especially in its latter stages. ‘Constellation Of The Heart’ is a colourful swirl of funky guitars, organs and saxophone, while ‘Big Stripey Lie’ is built upon Nigel Kennedy’s gorgeous violin but is undercut by bitty guitars and discordant squiggles of noise, its scorched beauty hinting at violent chaos as Bush frets: “Oh my god, it’s a jungle in here.”

That’s then followed by the absurdity of ‘Why Should I Love You?’ Bush had originally asked Prince to record backing vocals for the track, but he decided to take it apart and add guitars, keyboards and brass, too. Conventional wisdom is that great collaborations are the result of a shared vision, but ‘Why Should I Love You?’ is great even though there’s absolutely no shared vision whatsoever: for the first 60-odd seconds it’s built around Bush’s hushed vocal, until Prince’s huge rush of ecstatic, kaleidoscopic sound steamrolls everything in its path. It’s less the meeting of two minds and more the smashing together of two completely different styles, the most special of cut-and-shunt hybrids. (And somewhere, among all the hullabaloo, you’ll also hear backing vocals from Lenny Henry).

There’s another cameo on the closing song, the fantastically histrionic breakup ballad ‘You’re The One’, on which Jeff Beck’s dizzying, drawn-out guitar solo pushes Bush to an exhausting catharsis. Like so much of The Red Shoes, it finds her preparing to leave a lover to save herself, although this time she’s less bullish, more prone to tying herself in knots. “I’m going to stay with my friend/ Mmm, yes, he’s very good-looking,” she admits. “The only trouble is, he’s not you.” By the song’s end, she’s so frazzled by frustration and anguish that she lets rip a larynx-tearing shriek: “Just forget it, alright!” Bush, who had spoken of feeling emotionally burnt-out years before the album was released, was ready to withdraw, too: she vanished for 12 years until Aerial, and then went on hiatus for another six before returning with Director’s Cut. “I think there’s always a long, lingering dissatisfaction with everything I’ve done,” she said in 2011, glad to have the chance to right some of the wrongs that had been bothering her for 20-odd years. For me, though, the original album has always been enough: it might have its flaws, and there might be a handsome alternative, but just like Bush on ‘You’re The One’, I still want to keep going back”.

Thirty-three years old on 1st November, I did want to speak about The Red Shoes. Two singles were released before the album came out. Rubberband Girl on 6th September, 1993. Eat the Music came out as a U.S. single. Moments of Pleasure arrived on 15th November. I have celebrated Rubberband Girl in a separate feature. In terms of The Red Shoes, go and listen to it, as there are some many highlights. I know the production sound is not great. However, focus on the lyrics and vocals. Those interesting songs you may have overlooked, such as Big Stripey Lie and Constellation of the Heart. The Red Shoes clearly is…

AN incredible album.

FEATURE: The Queen of Tea: Kate Bush’s Aerial, and the Preparation and Release

FEATURE:

 

 

The Queen of Tea

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush in 2005/PHOTO CREDIT: Trevor Leighton

Kate Bush’s Aerial, and the Preparation and Release

__________

I am flicking back…

through Graeme Thomson’s Under the Ivy: The Life and Music of Kate Bush. I am revisiting it to get ideas for new features. There is a lot written about Aerial. This is Kate Bush’s 2005 double album. On 3rd November, Del Palmer would have turned seventy-four. He sadly died in 2024. He worked on every Kate Bush album in some form. Reading about him in the book lets you inside some of the magic. He performed on Aerial, but his biggest role was engineer. He worked so closely with Kate Bush. Even though they were in a relationship and split in the 1990s, they remained very dear friends. Palmer being one of the only people Bush could work closely with. He would turn up early and get to work. It is wonderful because Kate Bush got a little bit of loving mockery from Del Palmer and others in the studio because she kept offering tea! I think we associate The Beatles with tea when it comes to artists. There is a whole website and discussion around photos of them drinking tea. I think Kate Bush might be the ultimate tea-drinking artist. She drank a lot during Aerial and would offer it all the time. Legendary hospitality! In 2006, when Tom Doyle interviewed Bush to mark twenty years of Q magazine (which unfortunately is no longer around), she was asked what she is going to do after the interview. She said going to the toilet, because of all the tea she had drank! I wonder what her bag of choice is?! I feel it is Yorkshire Tea, as that is the only answer you should give! Though you feel she has these special teas and goes a bit deeper. I would love to know what she has as her tea. The working of the studio did not differ much from the earliest days. During Hounds of Love in 1985, Bush’s mother, Hannah, would offer tea and supplies. I think Kate Bush was also pitching in.

If musicians were probably being ferried about by her husband, Dan McIntosh, and he would go and pick up takeaways – or was this done more for later albums -, Bush was always making sure everyone has enough tea inside them! Graeme Thomson notes how the air of hospitality had not changed much from East Wickham Farm. Kate Bush now the mother figure. I think it helped where she was living. Not shuttling between studios and in a very happy space, she gave birth to her son, Bertie, in 1993. She was a literal mother and had that responsibility. Though she was also looking after the musicians and those around her. There was a feeling of collaboration. Musicians improvising and, if something worked that was great, but if not then no issues. That was very different to how things would have been before. Some of those involved with Aerial note how they met a very young Bertie, drank tea, had some pizza and saw the house. In the middle of this familial pleasantness was a hugely ambitious album coming together. EMI must have been nervous they would never hear an album. King of the Mountain, the only single released from Aerial, was written around 1995. So a decade since she wrote the first bits of Aerial, it was released to the public. Unlike The Kick Inside or one of her earliest albums, this one was packed with musicians. I think there are about fourteen musicians (including Kate Bush) who play on The Kick Inside. Around twenty-two on Aerial. These people coming in and out. There must have been a mountain of tears, biscuits and cakes on hand! Aerial is a bit of a pun. Though Bush has never said specially what Aerial refers to, it could be the washing powder. Its standout song, Mrs. Bartolozzi, is about a woman washing and scrubbing the floors. Maybe Bush as this new mother, there are erotic elements to the song. Was Bush thinking about that song when titling Aerial? Graeme Thomson writes how Tony Wadsworth of EMI felt King of the Mountain jumped out and was an obvious single. If Bush fought EMI and won to get Wuthering Heights released as her debut single rather than the more conventional James and the Cold Gun, there were no fights now.

How to Be Invisible was suggested at one point. I do wonder why only one single was released. How to Be Invisible and Mrs. Bartolozzi would have been popular singles. Though King of the Mountain was the final video to feature Bush in. Maybe conscious about having been away for a while and conscious about how she looked. Or not wanting to be on camera. Thomson is cold about King of the Mountain and feels the vocal is uncommitted and it is flat I guess it is propulsive and works as a single, but Mrs. Bartolozzi or even Nocturn would have made for a more intriguing single. In any case, there was not a massive hoopla regarding promotion. Today, major artists have to do the online thing and post videos, teasers and promote endlessly. There is a generous assortment of interviews, though I don’t recall there being this build-up and sense of anticipation. Instead, we got the first single in October 2005 and Aerial arrived the following month. When celebrating twenty years of Aerial last year, The Quietus observed this:  “But it was the perceived ‘wait’ for Aerial – a wait that inspired John Mendelsohn’s novel/non-fiction hybrid Waiting For Kate Bush, a wait built up to grandiose proportions by a British press eager for any glimpse of this apparently reclusive icon – that her fan community so keenly and acutely remembers. The days before social media, when any tiny detail – a tantalising report of an Abbey Road recording session in 2003 on a fan forum, a rare sighting at a Buckingham Palace reception – was pored over, dissected, analysed. Of course, for Kate Bush herself, in her embrace of the domesticity of motherhood, she was running towards the real world, not away from it. But the mysteries abounded as she lived a quieter life with her husband and son in their home in Berkshire with its own recording studio. To paraphrase Tom Waits, what was she building in there?”. Aerial reached number three on the U.K album chart and Bush performed the second disc, A Sky of Honey, in its entirety for her 2014 residency, Before the Dawn. It is one of her most popular albums. For all its immense and amazing production (by Kate Bush), I think about Bush serving tea and the atmosphere recording it. How musicians came ands went but there was this looser feel. A real convivial and communal aspect. Bush guiding rather than dictating. John Giblin and Del Palmer tickled by Bush always offering tea. It seems like one of her happiest recording experiences. Many compare it to Hounds of Love because of that. To think, as we speak, musicians might be at Kate Bush’s house wiring on an album with her. Will it be as packed as Aerial, or slightly more slimmed-down when it comes to personnel? Who knows! What is guaranteed is that Bush will deliver something incredible, be this amazing host and, no doubt, serve up…

PLENTY of tea!

FEATURE: There’s Just One Problem: Which Kate Bush Song Has the Most Personal Meaning to You?

FEATURE:

 

 

There’s Just One Problem

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush photographed during the making of her 1993 short film, The Line, the Cross and the Curve/PHOTO CREDIT: Guido Harari

Which Kate Bush Song Has the Most Personal Meaning to You?

__________

THE first part of the title…

IN THIS PHOTO: Lindsay Kemp looming over an asleep Kate Bush during the production of The Line, the Cross and the Curve/PHOTO CREDIT: Guido Harari

of this feature is taken from Kate Bush’s You’re the One. That is from her 1993 album, The Red Shoes. I am writing about that separately and how the album has these gems that stand out. I want to ask people which Kate Bush song has the most personal meaning. That can be because of the lyrics or when you first heard the song. In terms of tracks that I love and arrived at moments when I needed to be lifted, I have a different list to those whose lyrics have personal meaning. When it comes to memories and one of the biggest rushes of affection for her music, I think of Aerial. Mrs. Bartolozzi is a track that hits me personally. In 2005, I was in my twenties and still trying to figure things out. Something about this song and the emotion in it really hit me hard. Though it is not the one that has the biggest personal meaning, it is very important. I do think that a song having meaning to an individual does link to their age. I heard Kate Bush’s earliest music when I was young, so that was about discovery. I don’t think there are many songs from her first three or four albums that have personally significant meaning or weight. Though they are my entry into her music, so of course, they are treasured. I love Hounds of Love, and there are songs on the album that hit me hard. The Big Sky is the one that I go to if I need to be lifted. Though, in terms of lyrics, is there a track that has that special place? The one that has a personal connection? I guess the title track. Kate Bush and that idea of her being afraid of love. Running way from it. In actual fact, when you commit and jump in, it is not scary at all. I feel that song resonates with many people. Even if The Sensual World and The Red Shoes are albums not as rated as others, I do tend to find songs on there are more meaningful to me.

Perhaps this is because Bush was in her thirties when the albums came out. I am in my forties, though this time of life is transformative. I feel that she shed one part of her career and life and was entering another one. Responsibilities and priorities were starting to shift. I find, even though The Red Shoes suffers a bit from its production and how Kate Bush was burning out or facing a lot, there are tracks on there that really mean a lot. You’re the One is so intriguing. I always think it is about Bush’s past relationship with Del Palmer. They were together since the 1970s, and they broke up in the 1990s (although I am not sure the exact year they split). She married Dan McIntosh in 1992. That was the same year her mother died. She was dealing with turmoil and loss. I am sort of there at the moment. In terms of unhappiness and life being on a decline, perhaps the album connects hardest because of that. Though You’re the One is fascinating. This idea that Bush is packing up her stuff, getting in the car and staying with a friend. One that is handsome but not the same as the guy she is leaving. Was it about changing relationships and ghosts of the past? Although she did split from Del Palmer, I am not sure if he is the subject of You’re the One. Though there is something about the lyrics and that idea of packing things up and leaving. I sort of feel like that. The need to pack things up and go somewhere else. Similarly, there are moments on other songs that have meaning because of where I am in life. When speaking with Len Brown for the NME in 1989, Kate Bush said this of Never Be Mine: “It’s that whole thing of how, in some situations, it’s the dream you want, not the real thing. It was pursuing a conscious realisation that a person is really enjoying the fantasy and aware it won’t become reality”. That has some real weight in terms of my life. The dream of music journalism or living somewhere else. Loving the dream and the ideal, but not quite the reality. Is this something that a lot of us struggle with?

Bush re-recorded this track for 2011’s Director’s Cut. It may have taken on new meaning for her by then. There are songs from her earliest work that are definitely important and I play when I need to escape or feel better. Among them is Babooshka from Never for Ever. Though the track that has the greatest personal relevance and meaning. That is a tough one! Listening through The Red Shoes. Aside from all these gems that don’t get talked about, the lyrics on the album ae wonderful. I think Graeme Thomson wrote in his biography, Under the Ivy: The Life and Music of Kate Bush, how they became a bit pedestrian or boring on some tracks. I would disagree. I feel there are one or two tracks on The Sensual World that suffer this. Between a Man and a Woman. Perhaps the production lets down one or two tracks on The Red Shoes, though I feel the lyrics are brilliant. The song that has most personal meaning to me is Top of the City. I read this track as Bush discussing London. If it seems like she is talking about someone who needs to get out of the city and escape, it seems to be more about her. She has lived in London or nearby since she was born. In her mid-thirties, this idea that the city was doing her harm. Bush moved from London in 2005. She was living in Eltham. Aerial was released when Bush was living in Berkshire. Though not a complete retreat, I think the surroundings were so beneficial. Sounding much happier and contended, having this wonderful house and lots of garden space and a quieter life resulted in music that sounded so free and happier. Like Hounds of Love when Bush recorded at her family home, she had family around her. You can feel Top of the City as being about her wanting to get away from London. It would take her a while to do it, but she was tiring of the city: “I don’t know if I’m closer to Heaven but/It looks like Hell down there/These streets have never been paved with gold/Welcome to the loneliest city in the world/It’s no good for you baby/It’s no good for you now/Keep looking up for the ladder”. That idea of the loneliest city in the world. I always think that about London. How you are surrounded by people but it is lonely. I connect with a lot of the lyrics on Top of the City.

I don’t know if there is personal meaning behind some of the lyrics. “One more step to the top of the city/Put me up on the angel’s shoulders/And I don’t mind if it’s dangerous/I don’t mind if it’s raining/Take me up to the top of the city”. Is Kate Bush referring to The Shaftesbury Memorial Fountain, popularly but mistakenly known as Eros,? It is a fountain surmounted by a winged statue of Anteros. That could be the angel she is talking about. Maybe not a decrying putdown of London, I translated it as such. Or it is what it means to me. At a point where I am thinking of moving out of London. In 2005, Bush turned forty-seven. She was thirty-five when The Red Shoes was released. I am sort in the middle. I am not sure if I can cling to London for five more years. Though more and more, Top of the City creates reflection and emotion. It is a great song that Bush performed at her 2014 residency, Before the Dawn. It also featured on Director’s Cut. Rare that it was included on two albums and performed live. A song that Bush clearly has affection for. Aside from this track, there are some honourable mentions. In terms of personal relevance, I split between lyrics resonating and a particular time when I heard the song. Them Heavy People (from The Kick Inside) was one I heard when I was a child. Wild Man is also important, as that was the single from 2011’s 50 Words for Snow. I started my blog the following month, when the album was released (November). All the Love from Never for Ever is important because of those answerphone messages at the end. I regret not speaking enough to people who used to be in my life. How we text and do not really leave messages. Perhaps we don’t phone people as much as we should. I get pangs of remorse when I think about that. However, Top of the City is the one that has the deepest and most powerful personal meaning to me. If there is something romantic about the character (or Kate Bush) climbing up a statue and looking down on the city, I sort of see it as a way to get away and find solace. It hits me hard because, now more than ever, I really want to…

ESCAPE the crowds.

FEATURE: Hammersmith, 1979: Is This Kate Bush The Tour of Life Performance in London the Greatest Live Gig of the 1970s?

FEATURE:

 

 

Hammersmith, 1979

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush on stage at the Hammersmith Odeon in London on 12th May, 1979 (the day before a gig I feel is the best of the 1970s)/PHOTO CREDIT: Pete Still/Redferns 

Is This Kate Bush The Tour of Life Performance in London the Greatest Live Gig of the 1970s?

__________

THERE is a specific…

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush pictured in Liverpool shortly before her The Tour of Life date at the city’s Empire Theatre on 3rd April, 1979

performance that I feel is the greatest live gig of the 1970s. As part of 1979’s The Tour of Life, Kate Bush performed at the Hammersmith Odeon. I will drop the video in at the end. As this is specific to one particular date, there are not photos specifically to go with it, so I am bringing in others from The Tour of Life. On 13th May, 1979, Bush performed at the Hammersmith Odeon. Now the Eventim Appollo, she staged her 2014 residency, Before the Dawn, there. The full-length video of that Hammersmith fate gives you an insight into what crowds witnessed in 1979. I am not sure whether anything was edited out or if there was added in. I assume everything from the video was from that date. What we get to see is Kate Bush demonstrating why she is one of the greatest live performers ever. If this video was cleaned up and it could be HD or 4K, we could get something even more powerful. The final date of the tour was on 14th May, 1979. On 12th May, the setlist was changed slightly, as it was an In Aid of Bill Duffield gig. He was part of her crew and tragically died after suffering an accident at the warm-up gig in Poole on 2nd April. So I think there is this emotional weight to that gig on 13th May, 1979. I do think that it is the best gig of the 1970s. In terms of the spectacle and what Bush and her team accomplished. People might point to David Bowie and what he was doing. In terms of other people’s views, there have been some features. This one lists legendary concerts by Bob Dylan, David Bowie, and The Who. I do think that Kate Bush needs to be mentioned in the same breath. In terms of the spectacle and the theatrical side, there were few concerts that could stand with hers. Her physicality and performances through that date are phenomenal. A test of endurance, it is a groundbreaking and hugely memorable gig. Before coming to Dreams of Orgonon and their general assessment and insight into The Tour of Life, here is some critical feedback: “As the tour rolled out around the UK the reviews were euphoric: Melody Maker called the Birmingham show “the most magnificent spectacle ever encountered in the world of rock. (…) I hadn’t expected to be impressed by her as a singer, both she and the band were nothing short of immaculate”. According to Sounds, the show was “so finely realised that it’s beyond criticism”.

By 13th May, 1979, Bush was exhausted. She has played around the U.K. and Europe and had only one date left after this one before she could rest. Though, it was not long until she was in the studio working on a new album. Also, she had performed enough dates to have everything honed and perfect. You would think there was fatigue and issues given how tiring the tour was. Though you do not get a sense of that when you see the video. Bush has this captivating charm and energy. She did not speak to the audience, as this was more like a theatrical performance than a traditional gig. Dreams of Orgonon gives us a window into the extravaganza that is The Tour of Life:

“Every tour performance began with “Moving.” Whale sounds were played for several seconds, as they were on The Kick Inside, while a transparent blue curtain cordoned off those onstage from the audience, with only a bright light in the center of the stage and the silhouette of Bush completely visible through it. Then came the vocal and the piano: “moving stranger, does it really matter/as long as you’re not afraid to feel?” called Bush to her audience as the curtain was pulled back. Her dance, made up of open arms and gestures aimed at the outline of her body, was an invitation to the audience to collaborate and be part of her music. According to every recording of these concerts, it was a steady introduction: when the first number ended, the audience cheered loudly. “The show went well and the audience was wildly appreciative,” said Lisa Bradley in the Kate Bush newsletter, “it was unfortunate that we rarely had a chance to see it as the merchandise stand had to be looked after all the time.”

Every night of the show got stark raving reviews from the British press. Mike Davies of Melody Maker admitted going to see Bush “more as a pilgrim than a critic,” John Coldstream of the Daily Telegraph praised her “balance between the vivid and the simple,” and former Bush naysayer Sandy Robertson of Sounds announced she had “seen the light.” There were a couple reviews from more negative quarters, mostly notably by Charles Shaar Murray in NME, who opined that “her songwriting hints that it means more than it says and in fact it means less” and “her shrill self-satisfied whine is unmistakable.” One could smugly grin at Murray for panning a critically praised and influential tour in 1979, but why do that when he invented every sexist whinge about Lauren Mayberry more than three decades early? It’s a break from the orthodoxy of Bush’s tour reviews, and thus in keeping with Bush’s ethos.

An oft-commented on aspect of Bush’s shows in reviews was its synthesis of theater and rock. This is a glib and useless description are there were many “extravaganzas” in rock music at the time, but even among them the Tour of Life broke rank. Bush had more planned for her debut concerts than simply playing her new album — she was producing a stage show, a colorful spectacle with extensive costuming, mime routines, dancers, act breaks, poetry, and elaborate set design. “I think the most important thing about choosing the songs is that the whole show will be sustained,” said Bush later. “…the songs must adapt well visually: a show is visual as well as audial, so there must hopefully be a good blend of the two.” As per usual, Bush’s way of proving herself was unorthodox. While there were other especially theatrical rock acts performing at the time (glam was the world’s loudest costume drama, and prog acts like Genesis and Pink Floyd thrived on massive setpieces, and disco and ABBA were more theatrical than they were credited for), they were mostly playing their songs live with different arrangements and more props. Bush was staging a long play, with dance acts, characters, and spoken word segments. The concerts were made by small flourishes: “The Kick Inside” got a spoken prelude by John Carder Bush with a foreboding call-and-response (Kate hauntingly shouts “two in one coffin!”), “Saxophone Song” has a saxophonist projected onto the stage, and mime Simon Drake appears decked out in white make-up as Charlie Daniels’ devil channeled through Iggy Pop. A classic component of the shows is, bizarrely, from the “Room for the Life” performances, in which Bush is rolled around in a velvet cylindrical egg (get it? It’s a uterus). She eventually departs the egg and frolics with her band during the song’s outro, giving way to Bush’s greatest performance ever as she enthusiastically calls “a-woom-pa-woom-pa-woom-pa-woom-pa-woom-pa!”, elevating the worst song on her debut album to a highlight of her career.

Salvaging “Room for the Life” isn’t Bush’s greatest feat at this time, however. It was unprecedented for women artists to undertake projects of this scale at the time. Bush was hopping into a steadfastly rockist tradition and putting a feminine spin on it. We have Björk, Laurie Anderson, and Florence + the Machine because of shows like this. You know those weird headset mics artists use sometimes to stay handsfree while performing? Bush was the first singer ever to use those, and she did it here. This is pretty much the Seventies equivalent of Zoo TV and The Wall Tour, and a woman got there first.

Rather than feeding on nostalgia (a hard feat for a recent artist to pull off), Bush used her existing work as a diving board for her live shows. For all the strengths of The Kick Inside and Lionheart as albums, the live versions of a few of their songs are superior: the revamped band bring the songs a power the original recordings sometimes lacked. “Coffee Homeground” sounds tighter, and even the unimpeachable “Wuthering Heights” improves slightly when Alan Murphy improvises bits of the track’s guitar solo. There are plenty of odd musical choices throughout the shows: there’s an electronica-inflected rendition of Satie’s Gymnopedies leading into “Feel It,” and “James and the Cold Gun” becomes the 10-minute prog jam its album counterpart was itching to be. This doesn’t suggest that Bush has been constrained by the studio — in fact, it’s likely she works better outside of the traditional rock band format. But in many ways she’s liberated by her chance to do musical theater, showing off what her songs look like and pushing some aspects of their sound a bit further.

In theory Bush was doing the Lionheart Tour, as it was her most recent album. Yet in practice, it was equally the Kick Inside Tour. All the songs from both albums were performed barring “Oh To Be In Love” (perhaps justifiably — it’s the Bush album track which most feels like a holdover from the Phoenix years), plus a couple of new songs called “Violin” and “Egypt,” the latter of which we’ll return to next week. It’s a well-organized setlist, as Kick and Lionheart are both preoccupied with the sort of adolescent world-storming the tour is. Bush’s concert setlists show off this interplay of albums well: Act One is constructed around the lighter songs of The Kick Inside like “Them Heavy People” and “L’Amour Looks Something Like You” with the two new songs, while Act Two centers the anxiety-ridden bulk of Lionheart plus “Strange Phenomena,” and Act Three provides the show with a theatrical climax of “Coffee Homeground” and “Kite” before the encore of “Oh England My Lionheart,” and finally “Wuthering Heights.” Setlists can be unruly things: while touring for albums, you’ll want to intersperse the newer material with the hits. Bush keeps this in mind while also remembering she’s doing a stage show with act breaks and thematic resonances. It’s a strong act, one that’s bolstered by its setlist.

The artistic precision of the concert belies what occurred behind the scenes. Bush was exhausted by the shows and the preparation for them, with her essentially all-day rehearsal schedule giving her little-to-no time off. The scale of the shows and the extensive travel involved (Bush is famously afraid of traveling by plane) are likely a contributing factor to Bush’s decision to never tour again. A likely further cause is the tragic first night of the tour. During a warm-up concert at Poole, lighting director Bill Duffield fell through an open panel around the stage and landed on a concrete floor 17 feet below. After a week on life support, Duffield died. It was a traumatic moment for everyone involved in the tour, and gave the group pause about whether to continue. When they inevitably did, it was as much as because of the effort put into the shows as it was for Bill himself. 

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush performing at Carré, Amsterdam, Netherlands on 29th April, 1979/PHOTO CREDIT: Rob Verhorst/Redferns

Bush didn’t forget Duffield, keeping tabs as she did on everyone she worked with. The first date of the final London stretch of the tour was a benefit concert for Duffield’s family. The night saw a drastic departure from Bush’s other concerts in many respects: the setlist was significantly different, as Bush wasn’t the only singer performing that night. Two other artists who’d worked with Duffield were present: Steve Harley and Peter Gabriel. Bush had previously worked with established names (e.g. Geoff Emerick), but appearing onstage with established British rock stars was a step forward for her. Harley had scored a #1 single with his glam band Cockney Rebel in 1975 when they released “Make Me Smile (Come Up and See Me),” and didn’t fall out of the albums charts for the next few years. While in 1979 he was hardly the big name he had previously been, with his attempt to go solo beginning with a critically savaged and commercially disappointing album, he had hardly been forgotten by listeners of British pop. Peter Gabriel, however, was at the top of his game. Unlike Harley, Gabriel was confidently traversing through the early years of his post-Genesis career, with the first two of a quartet of self-titled albums under his belt, both of which had made the top 10, and a major solo tour under his belt. The classic “Solsbury Hill” had climbed to #13, and Gabriel was good to go. At the Duffield concert he performed the effervescent “I Don’t Remember,” a wild ballad of the kind of formalist mountain-climbing and despair Gabriel had made his bread and butter while in Genesis. A wailing Kate Bush joins him on backing vocals, and sounds like her larynx is about to combust under the weight of the song’s Frippertonics. Much easier on Bush is a traditional cover of “Let It Be,” a song she’d sung before but still hadn’t made her way into (this would change — wait until this blog hits the late Eighties). Conversely, Gabriel seems to struggle with the song, as Paul McCartney’s gentler songwriting chafed with the new modes of composition he’d been exploring on his own albums and tour. A duo was established, however: Bush and Gabriel would sing together again.

It was a wild time for Bush. “It’s like I’m seeing God, man!” she said enthusiastically. When she’s onstage in a black-and-gold bodysuit and blasting her bandmates with a golden, it’s easy to believe she made that comment while looking in a mirror. It takes a shot of the divine (or perhaps a deal with it?) to stage a tour of this magnitude and success while dealing with such severe drama behind the scenes?”.

A lot of the gigs that are considered the best of the 1970s are about technical performance. In terms of the visuals and taking things beyond the music, not a lot is happening. Bowie has his merits in terms of costumes and changing personas, though Kate Bush created this template that you can see in the biggest and most celebrated concerts of all time. I feel artists like Madonna were influenced by Kate Bush. Huge gigs today where there is this multimedia aspect and it is like a film or theatre production. Not many artists prior to Kate Bush were doing this. Taking a Pop concert to new places. I do feel that epic gig on 13th May, 1979 for The Tour of Life was the best…

OF the decade.

FEATURE: Say, If I Only Could: Thinking of Lightroom’s David Bowie: You’re Not Alone and a Kate Bush Equivalent

FEATURE:

 

 

Say, If I Only Could

Thinking of Lightroom’s David Bowie: You’re Not Alone and a Kate Bush Equivalent

__________

ALTHOUGH I have…

pitched ideas in other features about Kate Bush, I do think that there is scope for more examination of her work. In a deeper way. Recently I attended David Bowie: You’re Not Alone. It runs at London’s Lightroom until October. It is their first installation dedicated to music. It has received some amazing reviews. This is what Uncut said when they attended:

“Given the density of material, it’s probably worth experiencing the film more than once. The visual and sonic information comes thick and fast. A loose narrative is provided by Bowie himself, speaking in clips drawn from various interviews, while the imagery seeks to evoke the eras or ideas he describes: memories of neon‑soaked Soho, reflections on his many characters, or his anger at the inevitability of death.

These visual sections are imaginative and lavishly realised. When Bowie talks about his childhood, we are dropped into his bedroom in 1950s London, surrounded by piles of comics and John Wyndham paperbacks, before the camera drifts back through the front door and away from suburbia. Projected onto the three walls and floor, the effect is dizzying: like one of those old 360‑degree amusement‑park cinemas, except instead of a rollercoaster you are flying out of a Bromley terrace. Other locations are conjured similarly, from a paranoid, sleazy Berlin to the National Gallery, alongside reconstructions of Bowie’s stage performances at the Rainbow in 1972 and during the 1974 Diamond Dogs tour.

Music is almost constant, whether murmuring in the background or blasting out via concert and TV footage. A handful of songs are treated as extended set pieces, played more or less in full. The film opens with one of these: “Rebel Rebel”, performed in silhouette at one of Bowie’s final shows in 2004. This dissolves into the same song on the 1990 Sound+Vision tour, then Live Aid, before rewinding through earlier tours until it reaches Top Of The Pops in 1974. “Space Oddity” is handled in reverse, jumping from the frizzy‑haired newcomer of 1969 to the seasoned professional of 1990, where Bowie’s more muscular delivery transforms Major Tom from victim to pioneer. “Let’s Dance” and “Rock ’n’ Roll Suicide” receive similarly luxuriant treatment, with single performances split across multiple screens to show Bowie, his band and the audience simultaneously. The sound system is superb: a thundering Earl’s Court performance of “Heroes” from 1976 is so immersive that Dennis Davis’s bass drum feels like a physical massage.

There are omissions and quibbles. Bowie speaks warmly of collaborators, yet Brian Eno is the only one named. Blackstar and Glastonbury are surprising absences; Tin Machine and Labyrinth less so. You’re Not Alone makes no claim to be comprehensive, and its tone is celebratory without being shallow. While the images and music are often breathtaking, the most indelible moments come from Bowie himself. The reason he remains such compelling biographical material — the reason Bowie is everywhere in 2026 — is his intelligence and self‑awareness. He is unusually articulate about his motivations, fascinations and failings, and often very funny, whether bumbling through an awkward Russell Harty interview or comparing himself to an emperor penguin or a grasshopper”.

I was at that installation and felt that it was a great way of bringing together interview archives and performances. There was a lot to pack in but, over the course of an hour, you do get this great insight into David Bowie. The installation blends together archives with animation and bespoke visuals. Like a title would appear on the screen and there would be all these effects. People were immersed and entranced. I have been thinking about Kate Bush and her work. Although there might not be as many clips of Bush performing live – perhaps miming but not as many actual live performances -, there is a lot of interview archive. Those music videos. I wonder whether these could ever be brought together at a space like Lightroom. What you would get is this career-spanning look at a true icon. Similarly with David Bowie, there could be these imaginative visuals. When Bush discusses her childhood and growing up. Her musical heroes (one of whom was Bowie). It could seem quite exposing, though surely Kate Bush has heard about David Bowie: You’re Not Alone. I have been looking at videos of her performances and interview clips. There is so much out there, and most of it is not know to people. I don’t think that they dig deep enough or are aware of all of this amazing archive. There are archives that are quite recent. Her interview from 2024 with Emma Barnett for the Today programme. The Little Shrew (Snowflake) video from that year. Bringing this together in an installation, I feel, would be hugely popular. I have pitched various exhibitions and things like this. Though I came away from the David Bowie installation and was stunned. The way it was presented and put together. I learned more about an artist who I feel I know quite a bit about.

Kate Bush is obviously a fan of David Bowie. In this interview from 2016, she remembered David Bowie (who died in January that year). In terms of her live work, you can tell that Bush was influenced by Bowie. She was there in 1973 for his final performance as Ziggy Stardust. That was at the Hammersmith Odeon. A venue that she performed in for 1979’s The Tour of Life and 2014’s Before the Dawn (the later was a twenty-two-date residency at that space):

“What contemporary artists do you admire?

I don't listen to a lot of contemporary music, especially when I'm working. I tend to watch films or do other stuff. But one of the most powerful things that I heard recently was Blackstar by Bowie. I thought it was beautiful. Very moving of course, but I think one of the best things he's ever done.

You wrote a beautiful tribute to Bowie after he passed away. What was your relationship with him like?

Well I was asked whether I would write something, and because he meant such a lot to me, I really felt moved to do so. He was one of my great heroes when I was growing up. He was such a brave artist, so unusual, and I loved his music. I met him a few times; he was really charming and playful. But I just sort of admired what he achieved creatively.

Bowie always challenged gender norms, which I think your work does too.

Oh, thank you. I think when I'm working creatively, I don't really think of myself of writing as a woman. I just think of writing as me, as a person, if that makes sense”.

With everything, it is whether Kate Bush would allow it. Though I was thinking of her career and music when seeing the Bowie installation. How there are all of these interviews and live performances that can be mixed together.

There is this huge modern-day influence too, so artists could talk about what she means to them. For anyone who is already a fan or may be new to her work, a Lightroom installation would be fabulous! They will already have lined up something else for their next installation but, down the tracks, you sort of think that a Kate Bush exhibition and show of love would prove popular. I guess a lot of people went to David Bowie: You Are Not Alone for the live videos. Those evolutions and his amazing sets. Kate Bush is an extraordinary live performer though, compared to Bowie, does she have the same impact and archive?! This might be the only drawback. Though there are so many interesting interview. Her story and upbringing is fascinating. There is plenty of scope and potential to have something put together. I think Kate Bush has this huge legacy. Even though she is going to release more music and is active, that is not to say something like this would be for artists who have retired or died. Celebrate an artist whilst they are still with us. Give them their flowers. I wonder how come it took so long for Lightroom to feature a musical artist as an installation. It works so well. Others, such as Madonna, could definitely be given the same treatment. It is an hour-long experience that is hugely memorable and dazzling! I would recommend people book tickets for David Bowie: You’re Not Alone, as it ends in October. It will be a shame to see it end. I was thinking of Kate Bush when walking around Lightroom and imagining what could be. Considering all of the archives we have and how compelling she is, I definitely think that something wonderful could be put together. Though it may just be me dreaming and nothing will happen. In any case, a Kate Bush Lightroom installation…

WOULD be remarkable.