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

__________

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.

FEATURE: Can’t Buy a Thrill: Is There Room for Nuance and Discussion in Songs Around Some Tough and Controversial Themes?

FEATURE:

 

 

Can’t Buy a Thrill

PHOTO CREDIT: Alex Green/Pexels

Is There Room for Nuance and Discussion in Songs Around Some Tough and Controversial Themes?

__________

I have written features…

PHOTO CREDIT: Alexandre P. Junior/Pexels

before around a dream or hypothetical album. I am not a musician myself, so I could not compose songs. Though I have titles and ideas for lyrics. A cover for an album called, American Grammar, and a composition on the cover that depicts various controversies and scenarios. Including women’s reproductive rights being removed in the U.S. Looking around music, there are artists who are tackling bigger themes. Hip-Hop used to be the scene where big issues in society are tackled and discussed. Pop artists might occasionally discuss something away from the normal themes, though there has been a real absence of anything approaching political, socially-minded or controversial. A few songs here and there but, as there are so many big issues that can be discussed in music, I wonder whether artists feel nervous of blowback or dividing fans. When I mooted the possibility of an album, I mentioned Donald Fagen as a songwriting inspiration. What he has done in his solo album and being part of Steely Dan. He has addressed subjects that are quite tough or not discussed by other artists. He has not released an album for a while, and I look around if bigger subjects can be represented with some humour but also nuance and urgency. What is off limits and what is okay to put into song? When I was putting tracks together and themes in each, they did include sexual assault and misogyny, the climate emergency, and an ageing hipster that might be out of touch and struggles to keep up with modern music. Few artists are tackling a (pun not intended) burning issue. The climate emergency and how it is out biggest threat. Not to say the song would be humours, though you can write about it on an album and get a serious message across, but do so with a slightly lighter heart. Giving it layers and nuance. There have been songs in the past, mainly be female artists, about weight loss drugs such as Ozempic. It is not deigned to be a weight loss drug. It is designed treat adults with type 2 diabetes by helping manage blood sugar levels and lower cardiovascular risks. However, it has sort of been repurposed by many celebrities.

At the moment, there are a few celebrities who have been highlighted on social media and the press because of their dramatic weight loss. Ariana Grande was subjected to so much scrutiny. Whilst many were concerned and felt they needed to speak out, there was a lot of judgement and pressure on her. Though she is a role model, so it does need to be brought up, though in a more sensitive and respectful way. The same with actress Jenna Ortega. I suggested a song called Can’t Buy a Thrill (the title of Steely Dan’s 1973 debut album) could look at American culture and mention drugs like Ozempic and this horrifying thing of celebrities using it to lose weight. Can a subject like this ever be brought into music? If done with intelligence, seriousness but also some wit, would the risk of criticism be there? The same with some universal like the climate emergency. So few artists documenting this in music. Reproductive rights, misogyny, racism, the endless horrors of Donald Trump, evil billionaires and A.I. I think all of these can and should be brought into music, though getting the tone right is difficult. Why are relatively few artists using their platform to go beyond their own lives? It is important they are open. Subjects like depression and loss are themes that definitely need to be in music. Though there is so much that should be tackled in music. Genocide in Gaza. It may seem a weighty album and quite bleak, though some of these topics – not the genocide, of course! -, can be slightly lightened by humour. We do seem to have reached a point where there are a few artists speaking out against genocide, highlighting he climate emergency, and attacking corruption, sexism and injustice. It is wonderful to see, though little of this goes into the music. Not to say Donald Fagen and Steely Dan are the best examples of artists incorporating serious issues into the music and doing it in a humorous or lighter way. Yet there have been songs in their catalogues that have a darker side. Maybe not ones we could write today. I do worry about all the things that should be sung about in songs that isn’t – or is done so rarely. Rather than it being a lack of awareness or concern, is it anti-commercial or not personal enough? Will fans take offence or hit back? My pitch of an album would blend in some funnier and lighter songs with ones that definitely highlight some, very impotent themes. Right now, we are seeing the planet burn, the ethics of the press and academia brought into question, genocide and warfare rage, and women’s rights and safety threatened and not really a priority. Music should be a place where these subjects are spotlighted. This might change. I hope so. We need more artists to…

TAKE a stand.

FEATURE: The Digital Mixtape: Keith Moon at Eighty

FEATURE:

 

 

The Digital Mixtape

IN THIS PHOTO: Keith Moon in London in 1968/PHOTO CREDIT: Barrie Wentzell 

Keith Moon at Eighty

__________

I do wonder whether…

IN THIS PHOTO: The Who (Roger Daltrey, Keith Moon, John Entwistle, Pete Townshend) in 1965/PHOTO CREDIT: Tony Frank

Shaun Keaveny will salute Keith Moon on his BBC Radio 2 Rock Show on Friday, as Moon turns eighty two days later. The late drummer for The Who is one of the most influential and the greatest drummers ever. In terms of his talent, power and technical ability, he is right up there with the most celebrated drummers ever. If I had a top-five, I would have Keith Moon in there with Ringo Starr (The Beatles) and John Bonham (Led Zeppelin). Perhaps Meg White (The White Stripes) in there. I am going to mark Keith Moon’s eightieth birthday with a mixtape featuring some of his greatest drumming performances with The Who. First, there is some biography about a legend who died aged thirty-two in 1978:

“Keith Moon, The Who’s celebrated drummer, was born in Wembley on 23 August 1946, and is widely acclaimed as the greatest drummer in the history of rock. Brashly confident, he played quite differently to his peers, turning his massive kit into a lead instrument, and his up-front technique was crucial in establishing The Who’s passionate style. His playing ushered in an era wherein the drums became far more than simply a means of keeping the beat, and much of his recorded legacy from 1965-73 has a timeless quality that has never been repeated, let alone bettered. In this respect Keith Moon was to the drums what Jimi Hendrix was to the guitar – a complete original – and as such he was probably the most influential drummer the rock world has ever seen.

There was nothing in Keith’s humble background to suggest the extraordinary turn of events his life would take. He became a surf music fan as a schoolboy, took early lessons on drums as a teenager and played with three local bands in his native Wembley in north west London, the Escorts, Mark Twain & The Strangers, and The Beachcombers, before joining The Who in the spring of 1964 after an impromptu audition at the Oldfield pub in Greenford. Shortly after Keith’s recruitment, the Who became managed by Kit Lambert and Chris Stamp whose energy and ambition focused the group and set them on the road to stardom.

Moon announced his arrival in spectacular fashion on The Who’s first real single ‘I Can’t Explain’ (1965) on which his rifle-shot snare pre-empted Roger Daltrey’s leap into the chorus. Mostly, though, his foil was Pete Townshend with whom he developed an uncanny musical relationship, the product of which became one of the Who’s great trademarks: the chiming, bell-like, open-stringed power chord, cross cut against pounding drums and bass and allowed to feedback on itself and drone into a wall of electronic discord.

Moon’s drumming is outstanding throughout the group’s début album My Generation and on several Sixties singles, most notably ‘Happy Jack’ (1966) and ‘I Can See For Miles’ (1967), but it is on the double album Tommy (1969) that his talents are best utilised. On Townshend’s celebrated rock opera he becomes an orchestra within himself, driving the band along with an intelligence and sureness of touch that defies analysis. On Who’s Next (1971) Moon is reined in somewhat but his playing on the bridge on ‘Behind Blue Eyes’ and throughout both ‘Bargain’ and ‘Won’t Get Fooled Again’ ranks with anything he ever did.

The Who’s greatest strength, though, was in concert and by the end of the Sixties they were justifiably billing themselves as ‘‘the most exciting rock band in the world’’. To this Moon contributed an almost superhuman energy, his hands and feet battering his kit into submission night after night, the relentless power of The Who in full flight spiralling out from his arms and legs.

Moon’s kit was the biggest in rock, at one stage boasting at least 10 tom-toms, twin bass drums, twin timpani, snare, half-a-dozen cymbals and a gong. With this vast array of percussion at his command, he adopted a peculiar style wherein he pointed his sticks downwards and, as John Enwtistle once remarked: “He didn’t play from left to right or right to left, he’d play forwards. I’ve never seen anyone play like that before or since.” Keith was also a virtuoso showman, twiddling his drumsticks between his fingers and flamboyantly tossing them into the air and, occasionally, catching them when they fell. He developed an on-stage image as a wise-cracker and often ad-libbed comical asides between numbers, and like Pete he took an almost manic delight in wrecking his equipment at the close of a concert, especially in the group’s early days.

At the same time Keith was rock’s wildest character in the Sixties and Seventies, an unapologetic freewheeling hedonist whose lifestyle became synonymous with the mad, carefree image of the rock star at large. He courted the press and became notorious as ‘Moon The Loon’, the incorrigible clown who respected no authority whatsoever and never knew the meaning of the word embarrassment. As The Who became massively popular worldwide, so Keith Moon became a celebrity, not just as a drummer, but as the mad jester to rock’s high court whose exploits included cross-dressing, elaborate practical jokes and a much-publicised episode when he and his great friend Vivian Stanshall of the Bonzo Dog Band visited a London beerkeller dressed in Nazi SS uniforms. Keith’s Chertsey home, Tara House, became the venue for many memorable parties, not least the 1971 launch of Who’s Next.

When The Who slowed down and Pete Townshend sought creative outlets elsewhere Keith moved to California and took cameo roles in several movies, most notably in That’ll Be The Day (1973) and its sequel Stardust (1974), as the drummer in a fictitious rock band led by David Essex. He also completed a solo album, Two Sides Of The Moon (1975) before moving back to the UK in 1977 to play on Who Are You, his last recorded work with The Who.

Keith died in London on 7 September 1978, from an accidental overdose of the prescription drug Heminevrin, prescribed to combat alcoholism.

In 2016 Keith’s life was celebrated in the book There Is No Substitute, A Tribute To Keith Moon, in which fellow drummers, musical allies, friends and fans assessed Keith’s impact on rock and its lasting legacy. The book, with an introduction by Pete Townshend, was authorised by his Estate”.

Because this drumming genius turns eighty on 23rd August, I wanted to pay my respects to someone who has not really been equalled. There are some great drummers around today, though none that have the same abilities and that sound that Keith Moon crafted. Many might seem him as quite ramshackle and lacking technical ability. That is wrong. He mixed groove, a distinct and personal sound with power. This feature lists five reasons why Keith Moon was a genius. Unconventional yet hugely popular, he was the heartbeat of The Who: “Keith Moon wasn’t “drummy” for the sake of being “drummy” – he accented and accompanied the music expressively, much like a jazz or orchestral drummer. Pete Townshend once said, “Keith decorated as he played”. Max Weinberg (Bruce Springsteen’s drummer) says, “He was as influential in the sixties as Gene Krupa was in the thirties” and “in my view, was the lead instrument in The Who”. Below is a mixtape of epic and unforgettable Keith Moon performances. Proof, if any were needed that, he was…

IN a league of his own.

FEATURE: Modern-Day Queens: Jorja Smith

FEATURE:

 

 

Modern-Day Queens

PHOTO CREDIT: Annie Reid for GQ

Jorja Smith

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THIS is one of my…

favourite artists. Someone I have been following since the start of her career. Jorja Smith is one of our greatest treasures. Her new album, What Are the Odds, is out on Friday (21st August). I am going to end with a review of the album. Smith has a busy diary and she plays All Points East in London thew day her album is released. I am going to come to some interviews with this queen. I will come to a fairly recent interview, though I do want to head back to last year first. Jorja Smith has stepped away from the spotlight, or she did in 2025, and was living away from London. That peace and being close to family has been of real benefit. Vogue spoke with her last year:

“Beyond a new ease in her style, a fundamental ground shift has occurred for Smith. On “High”, her first single back last year, she asked: “Where do you run if you can’t?” For Smith, the answer was simple: home to Walsall, the West Midlands town just north of Birmingham. Inspired by a friendship breakup and reconnection, the track flows almost like a voicenote. When she sings, “I went to find myself, I couldn’t take you there”, it feels like she’s addressing something deeper. “I can’t lie, I didn’t think me moving back home would be such a big thing,” she says, laughing. When she made the move from London in 2023 it became a news story in itself, people seemingly incredulous that a star might choose to live somewhere other than the capital. “I’m from Walsall, and I’ve gone back home,” she shrugs. “That’s it.”

She has chosen a home town date in Wolverhampton to kick off her upcoming tour in May, which will be followed by two London shows and dates in Europe, North and South America. After we meet, she releases a new single, “Crush”, with AJ Tracey, which sees her try her hand at a sprinkle of rapping, over a beat that feels like it’s lifted directly from the Channel U era. (Days later, her Black Country accent goes viral on TikTok, with thousands of viewers around the world lipsyncing to her playfully rounded vowels.) A joyous performance at the Brits, where she was nominated in the best R&B category, with Mercury winners Ezra Collective, was proof of just how pleased she is to be back where she belongs.

“When I was in the studio and he played me the song, it just took me back. It’s proper nostalgic,” she smiles. She connects to my Bluetooth headphones to play me the two songs she’s working on right now, written with Maverick Sabre and producer Ed Thomas. Even in their nascent stage, I’m transported. The lyrics are brooding, her vocals that signature rich blend, over a Y2K-tinged breakbeat. “I used to come up to London when I was 15, in the summer holidays and work with Mav and Ed and it just felt like that. They were the first people I ever wrote with.” Playing the next one, she says, “This reminds me of a sunrise and a sunset at the same time.”

Even if Smith doesn’t get the big deal about leaving London, when I ask how she’s gotten closer to the peace she’s after, it dawns on her that the biggest catalyst has been her move. “Maybe moving back did have a big impact on me, I think it did,” she pauses. “Even my mum says to me, ‘You look like your old self.’ She texted me that and I thought it’s kind of sad and really sweet.”

There’s a sense that, despite her business, fame is her lowest priority. “I didn’t go in thinking, ‘I want to be famous.’ Oh, man, even the word,” she cringes. “When I started, all I wanted to do was put out music. I didn’t even want to be in my first video because I thought, ‘I just want to be music. How can I just be music?’” It’s a luxury so few femme artists are afforded, instead required to be the perfect blend of everything to everyone: alluring and relatable, accessible yet infallible, outstanding but nonthreatening. But, from Chappell Roan to Doechii to Billie Eilish, we’re in an age of pop stars refusing to bend to the will of the machine. So the fact that Smith spends her time talking about where she lives and what her body looks like feels bizarre: “When I put out music when I was younger, this is not what I thought we’d be talking about.”

She’s protective of her privacy now – be it familial or romantic – and says she now fills her time with stillness and play; writing songs at the piano and going on long countryside walks like she did when she was younger. “I like getting lost,” she says with a smile. “Phone’s dead, off-track, but I’ll find my way back eventually”.

Before getting to a GQ interview with Jorja Smith, I want to come to this one from AnOther. The fired twenty questions at Smith. She is one of our greatest artists. Someone I have not seen live yet, I do feel that I need to correct that. She has a very busy tour diary, so it may be next year when I can see her next:

“How would you describe it in three words?

Upbeat, fun and in motion, if that’s a word … Well, it’s kind of two words.

Is there a song that you’re particularly excited about? Can you tell me about it?

I’m excited about a song called I Lied You Lied. It’s super funky, and when I say funky, I mean a bit housey funky. It’s just a song about when shit isn’t reciprocated and being fucked about, really. I like it.

How long has What Are The Odds been underway? What is the process of making an album for you?

This is my third album and making it was a totally different process to my last two. It’s produced by P2J. We started talking about making this music in 2023 and we were going back and forth for like two years, and then we finally got together in September 2025 and I submitted it in April 2026, so it’s the shortest time I’ve ever spent making an album. Everything felt right, and I just kept moving forward with this energy – I felt really present. My first album was like a collection of songs, and the second, I had decided I’d make an album but hadn’t fully figured it out, so that was a challenge. And now, this third time, I’ve really enjoyed the process.

What does music offer as a tool for communication?

I like listening to people sing about things they’re going through and relating to them. Maybe I’m going through them too – then I don’t feel so alone. It’s the same when I’m writing music about things I’m going through and people say how they relate to it and that listening to it helped them through something. I also love how songs can take a life of their own. How I interpret a song may be nothing like what it was written about. Sometimes they mean completely different things for other people, and I think that’s beautiful.

If you weren't doing music, what do you think you’d be doing?

I think I’d still be writing – maybe I’d be writing books, novels, scripts. I used to write poems. Before I wrote songs, I wrote stories but I never finished them. I’d always do like chapter one and a blurb, then stop.

How do you find life in the public eye?

Strange. It’s challenging. It’s still changing and I’m still figuring it out. It’s not something I wanted as an 18-year-old putting out music. I didn’t really think about the consequences of what happens if you put out music and it does really well. I’m getting to grips with it, trying to take it in my stride, and yeah, I’m still figuring it out. It’s only now I think I’m reflecting on it, and thinking about, you know, going from being somebody nobody knows from Walsall to someone people from across the world know. It’s a bit weird, isn’t it? It’s definitely not normal”.

I shall end with a review for What Are the Odds. GQ interviewed Jorja Smith last month. After a career break, she “is as revitalised as her music sounds”. I don’t think there is anyone in music who sounds quite like her. A unique and brilliant artist who is going to be making music for many years, she sounds at her most relaxed and free:

“Smith, right now, is “so excited that we need a new word for excited”. Her third album, What Are the Odds?, has been finished for months, and she’s waiting for it to come out; her pure ebullience is practically seeping through the screen. The promotional grind hasn’t always been Smith’s bag, and a few years ago, while releasing her second album, Falling or Flying, she actually reached breaking point (more on that later). This time around, however, she feels energised. “We’ve got shoots, we’re planning videos; I’ve been in the studio, but nothing to do with my album – I’ve been working on other stuff because I’ve got lots of ideas floating around up here that I want to get down,” she says. “It seems quite natural, so I’m just taking it in my stride. I’m trying to make everything as easy and fun as possible – I know some things can make it not enjoyable, early call times and whatnot, but…”

Made entirely with Richard Isong, the London producer and Beyoncé collaborator better known as P2J, What Are the Odds? is a dynamic survey of British and African dance sounds, from funky house to garage, drum’n’bass and Afrobeats that highlights Smith’s power as a club vocalist. Lyrically, Smith is still laser-focused on relationships, whether between friends, lovers or exes – but, with the help of P2J and longtime co-writers Hope and Millie Katana, she translates everything into the drama and shimmer of the dancefloor.

Smith says What Are the Odds? is a natural transition from the elegance and grandeur of 2023’s Falling or Flying – an outgrowth, in fact, of “Little Things”, a P2J-produced track from that record. “After those songs, me and P were like, ‘It’d be great to explore more of this music.’ Tap into funky house, garage, more of that, because I have a lot of fun making it,” she tells me. For the better part of two years, she and P2J talked through “how we wanted to feel and make people feel,” she says. “We’d share some music – little sounds we liked, whether it was a bass line and how it made me feel, or the sound of certain keys.”

In September 2025, they met up in the studio again with a view to making a four-song EP. To Smith’s surprise, P2J revealed that he had an entire tranche of beats made just for her, based on their conversations over the prior years. In just one day, Smith laid down vocals for five tracks; the next day, she freestyled four more. “It’s probably the quickest album I’ve ever been involved with – we were just flowing, literally going back to back,” says P2J over the phone. “When we work, it’s always fun – we don’t overthink it. She makes me feel proper heard in the studio and vice versa. She’s always coming with sick ideas; we’ll send each other old-school songs and new-school songs, and it’s super organic.”

PHOTO CREDIT: Annie Reid

After the second session, Smith walked around the corner to the office of her label, Famm, played them some demos, and delivered a surprising message: “I was like, ‘Guys. I’ve got an album,’” she recalls. “They couldn’t hear [what the songs would sound like] – I can hear everything finished, where it’s gonna go – but they can feel it.” Smith was so excited about the music she was making that it even impacted the holiday she went on shortly afterwards. “I was like, ‘Oh, fuck’s sake, I just want to be in the studio,’” she says, slipping into an exaggerated, clowny sad face.

The album is called What Are the Odds? in part because, when they started making it last year, Smith wasn’t sure she’d ever truly love making music again. “Falling or Flying was at a time where I was just like, ‘Oh my God.’ I’ve been in this industry for so long – it gets a lot, and I don’t think I was enjoying it. I don’t think I was enjoying being Jorja Smith,” she says.

She is quick to clarify that this industry break wasn’t as dramatic as she’s making it sound. Or maybe it was. She’s working on expressing her emotions without minimising them. “I didn’t even step away, I can’t lie – I still had shows. I just –” She pauses, about to say something she doesn’t mean. “I’m not dramatic, actually. I need to stop saying that, because I’m actually not dramatic. I wasn’t on socials as much, so it was that type of break, you know?” she says.

Smith makes a point, whenever she meets a younger artist, to offer herself up as a font of knowledge and advice on how to navigate the industry, given how thorny it can be for young artists, and young women especially. When she was coming up, she was fortunate enough to have other musicians in her corner offering advice on how to make sense of the world. The Iranian Dutch singer Sevdaliza reached out on Twitter early on, “being like, you know, ‘The industry’s tough for young women.’” Raye, back when she was just a songwriter and not an arena-selling superstar, had Smith’s back too. “I met her at a studio in London before I dropped ‘Blue Lights’ – we followed each other and then she messaged me, and we hung out a few times when I started,” Smith recalls.

Despite the occasional reminder, Smith hasn’t been consciously thinking about the fact that it’s been a decade since she released her first song. “I’m definitely like, Wow, I’m still here and making this music, and people still listen to me and come to my shows,” she says. “I’m continuing to grow my audience and I’m able to touch more people with my music. This whole year has been emotional, but I’m more thinking about the future – 90 per cent thinking about the future. No, 25 per cent reflecting, and the rest thinking about the future”.

NME gave a four-star verdict of What Are the Odds. A slightly stylistic shift and evolution, Smith “uses dance as her source of refuge on album three”. I feel that this will rank alongside the best albums of this year. Make sure that you pre-order What Are the Odds:

“Jorja Smith has never been afraid to be noisy. Among sombre and sobering offerings lie the exhilarating, elastic segments of the 29-year-old Walsall native’s discography; the pulse of the two-step-infused ‘On My Mind’, the clubby ‘Little Things’ or the alt-leaning ‘Go Go Go’. Smith is as much R&B as she is house, an equilibrium of sorts – once she acquaints herself with a genre, she’s able to contort it to her will, translating it to her audience in a hue that makes sense to her.

On ‘What Are The Odds’, however, the singer-songwriter clearly wants to dance. What happens when Smith embraces the noise? Perched alongside executive producer P2J, the pair worked across three immersive sessions to create an arresting, club-ready collaborative effort. There’s a familiar tension amid the escapist synths though: the confrontation of emotions. The all-encompassing embrace of the challenging, difficult, soothing and harsh realities of a person that’s lived, loved and wore her heart on her sleeve along the way.

Smith has always been one to confront her realities in the booth, and ‘What Are The Odds’ is no different. ‘What’s Done Is Done’ is cocky and confrontational as it taunts a guilty ex. “Do you think about me / Do you know it hurt me”, she hisses. Her hollow assertions a near-perfect match atop a moody, smoky blend of hip-hop and garage. Here, Smith flirts with rapping once again, but on the album’s title track, she leans in fully, utilising a skill she’s harnessed as a feature artist alongside Enny (‘Peng Black Girls’) and AJ Tracey (‘Crush’). “That’s a thing about a life up high / In the lights you can’t see what’s off”, she warns. It hints at the star’s relationship with fame. Perhaps it explains her aloof relationship with hypervisibility, her retreat, away from London back home.

‘What Are The Odds’ is also flirtatious in its use of sonics, ‘I Lied, You Lied’ acting as an ode to P2J and Smith’s first project together ‘Little Things’ – a single that formed the genesis of the pair’s ideas for a holistic dance LP. Here, the singer embraces her mystery, an alluring meld of funky house, jazz, afro-house and R&B prancing beneath Smith’s runs. “You won’t figure me out,” she asserts. ‘Dancing’ leans further into percussion, a rumba tease ushered onto the dancefloor. “The music feels like, la, la, la, la / Makes us move like la, la, la la”, it appears that Smith is ready to get lost, enchanted and mystified by each and every note. Soon joined by Wizkid, for ‘Alive’, P2J’s afrobeats signature makes an appearance, something which feels equally as natural to Smith as it does to Wizkid.

‘Young Heart’ also exists in this eco-system, its name as a double-entendre of sorts. It both explores Smith’s youthful approach to love, sometimes naïve in calming her yearn to love and be loved, but also speaks to her sentience as someone still in their 20s, her ability to embrace the youthful sounds of the dancefloor. In 2026, afro-house – through the likes of Piano People, Dankie Sounds, GroupTherapy – is steering a new generation of ravers. Smith’s ability to champion and harness such sounds speaks to her adaptability as an artist – and in this case, it works for her.

‘What Are The Odds’ is Smith at her most comfortable, loosely embodying her emotional state. All that she’s been, and all that she will be – the mess, desire, regret and state of armour she’s built across her ten years in the headlights. It’s endearingly charming, brutally honest and ultimately fun. Now able to enjoy the catharsis that comes with perspective, Smith comes of age once again on this album, this time bold in her instincts and ability to laugh at herself along the way”.

I wanted to feature Jorja Smith in this Modern-Day Queens, as she is an artist I have admired for over a decade now. Her latest album finds her in a happy space. Maybe it is being where she grew up and having that comfort around her. It may be her stage of life and this new perspective she has. Whatever it is, Smith is at the top of her game. One of our best and most consistent artist, she is someone I will follow for as long as she is recording music. The divine Jorja Smith is…

AN amazing songwriter.

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Follow Jorja Smith

Official:

https://jorjasmith.com/

Instagram:

https://www.instagram.com/jorjasmith_/

Twitter:

https://x.com/JorjaSmith

Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/jorjasmithmusic/

YouTube:

https://www.youtube.com/jorjasmith

TikTok:

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

Spotify:

https://open.spotify.com/artist/1CoZyIx7UvdxT5c8UkMzHd?si=Z-VKupQdTgW_Q5YnjsM9tA

FEATURE: Before the Names Are Announced… What the Glastonbury Festival Has to Consider Next Year

FEATURE:

 

 

Before the Names Are Announced…

What the Glastonbury Festival Has to Consider Next Year

__________

IT is that time of year…

IN THIS PHOTO: Madonna

when Glastonbury Festival preparing to announce its first names. Well, it will be in the autumn at some point. Though there is this usual speculation and rumours happening. Everyone has their own idea of who will or should play. People hoping that Madonna would headline next year have been disappointed, as organiser Emily Eavis said this will not happen. The Guardian provide information about what Eavis’s reaction was to the rumours:

“Madonna will not be performing at next year’s Glastonbury, the festival’s organiser, Emily Eavis, has said.

The singer, who has the most top 10 singles in UK chart history of any female artist, has never featured at Britain’s biggest music festival.

Eavis said Glastonbury had booked all its headliners for June 2027. Asked about the lineup and speculation that the Queen of Pop would make her debut at the event in Somerset, Eavis told BBC Radio 4’s PM programme: “No, it’s definitely not Madonna, I’ll tell you that.”

She added: “But we have got three [other] headliners and we’re very excited about it – it’s all coming together really well.”

When asked about the possibility of a performance from Taylor Swift, Eavis laughed and said she did not want to discuss the lineup any further.

Speculation about Madonna, 67, appearing at Glastonbury began in June when the singer suggested to the BBC talkshow host Graham Norton that she was planning “something bigger” in the UK next summer.

Eavis said: “Pretty much 95% of the stories [about Glastonbury] you read are not true, and rumours are pretty much always wrong.

“But the good news is that we’ve got our headliners and we’re cracking on, and we just can’t wait to get back.”

Last year’s Glastonbury festival was headlined by the 1975, Neil Young and Olivia Rodrigo, with Rod Stewart in the legend slot”.

I didn’t think Madonna would headline. For a start, I think that she would be too expensive. In terms of her budget and fee, I am not sure that this is something Glastonbury would accommodate. Also, she might not be interested in doing that. She does her own thing, so is Glastonbury going to hold any appeal? As I will explore later, Glastonbury has only once booked a woman to headliner the Pyramid Stage over the age of forty. I am not including the Legends slot, as that is reserved for older, more established artists, I do worry that the weather will play havoc. This year has been one of the most brutal and horrible summers ever. In terms of the relentless heat, droughts and the issues we have faced, what is that happens next year? Glastonbury has always conscientious of the environment, but are artists going to be attracted to performing at the height of summer in extreme heat? Also, there are thousands of people coming together, and it is worrying to think what could happen. It is going to be a struggle. In years to come, I feel a lot of festivals will have move to the autumn, because it will be too hot. Glastonbury will happen next June, so it might not be as hot as it is now. Though I do worry that it is going to be a heatwave and this might put some people off. Though there is no point predicting who will headline, some feel that Harry Styles is going to be one of the names. This article explains more:

“Festival organiser Emily Eavis reportedly called Styles her Glastonbury’s dream booking back in the lead-up to the 2025 festival (which he reportedly was also approached for). In an interview with The Sun, an insider told the paper that: "Harry would be the perfect Glastonbury headliner and Emily has long wanted him on stage at Worthy Farm, but the dates have never quite worked out.”

“Harry would be an incredible act to watch on the Pyramid Stage," the insider continued. "Glastonbury has a fallow year in 2026, so booking Harry for next year would be perfect. It is something the team at Glastonbury are pushing for. Whether that dream will come true, however, is still to be decided by Harry’s team”.

His fourth studio album, Kiss All the Time. Disco, Occasionally, was met with some positive reviews, though it is not his best. Even so, his live dates in support of the album have been well received. Incredible shows that have won massive reviews. If Harry Styles’s name was one of the headliners, it would mean that there is not going to be an all-female line-up. Glastonbury has never had an all-female line-up. There are other male artists who could headline. Queens of the Stone Age, Muse and Jack White. I do hope that there is only one male headline act, as Glastonbury has only once had more than one women/female act headline the Pyramid Stage. That was in 2024, when SZA and Dua Lipa were headliners. Only ten women have headlined the Pyramid Stage. I mean in terms of acts, even if they have had more than one woman in. Ten female headliners since 1970. That is out of eighty-seven. Half of those female headliners have been booked in the past decade. Most of the 1990s saw no female headliners booked. It is not just Glastonbury that has an issue. This year, Reading & Leeds had gender balance regarding headliners, though I think this is the first time this has ever happened. As most of these major festivals have been going for decades, it is appalling that they have taken so long to balance the headliners. Women rarer in the headline slots than men. Glastonbury is our biggest festival, so it should lead be example. The best-case scenario would be two female artists being booked, though you have a feeling that it may just be one again. If there is only one female artist headlining in 2027, Glastonbury would have to answer some questions. Will they ever book three women to headline? Given how women have been dominating music for years, why is it so hard for festivals to reflect this? Not only in terms of headliners. The bills in general.

There has been a lot of talk about Taylor Swift. I feel she is another artist who will have this big budget and might be a bit challenging to spring for. Also, is 2027 the right year to headline her? She would have been more at her peak last year or the year before. Though it would be amazing if Taylor Swift headlined. There are so many female artists that could and should headline Glastonbury. Phoebe Bridgers, Hayley Williams, Jill Scott, Robyn, Mitski, Kylie Minogue, ROSALÍA, Björk, RAYE, Olivia Dean, Wolf Alice, Slayyyter, Sabrina Carpenter, Zara Larsson. I think that Raye and Kylie Minogue would be incredible to go alongside Harry Styles. We all predict headliners and we are rarely bang on, so this is just a guess. What is evident too from Glastonbury’s headliners, aside from the fact that most are men, is that the women booked are younger. Only once a woman over forty has been booked to headline (Marcella Detroit of Shakespears Sister). Kylie Minogue seems owed a headline slot, as she was due to headline in 2005 and has not headlined. Why has she been overlooked? I do hope that Glastonbury books a female headliner over forty. It absolutely has to book at least two female headliners, because it fears going backwards. Only one year since its start where there has been more than one female headliner, it cannot afford to regress. There are more positives than negatives regarding Glastonbury. It is the broadest line-up and so many artists get their first big break playing Glastonbury. So many stages and artists across multiple genres, there is a reason why it is the most popular festival we have. We will discover soon enough who is headlining Glastonbury. It is this festival that so many people look forward to. Those who have been going for years alongside first-time attendees. The headliners are the biggest pulls, and it will not be long until we find out…

WHO will feature.

FEATURE: If I Fell: The Undying Magic of The Beatles’ 1964 Film, A Hard Day’s Night

FEATURE:

 

 

If I Fell

The Undying Magic of The Beatles’ 1964 Film, A Hard Day’s Night

__________

I have been thinking a lot…

about The Beatles films that are due in 2028. Sam Mendes’s films that focuses on each of the four members. I am not sure what time period each films concentrates on, whether there is crossover and what to expect, but it looks exciting. Apart from people slagging off those cast and commenting on their lack of resemblance to who they are playing - Saoirse Ronan plays Linda McCartney, and many have said she does not look anything like her -, there has been chat and buzz. We have a way to go, though one of the most heartening things is that, we all hope, the two surviving Beatles will see the films. Paul McCartney will see Paul Mescal play him, whilst Ringo Starr will have his views on Barry Keoghan. I admit a couple of the Beatles castings are clearly going for the acting strength rather than pure physical resemblance, but I think Sam Mendes will deliver these acclaimed and brilliant films. I write a lot about Kate Bush and note that, whilst she has not released an album since 2011, her influence is everywhere. Arguably one of the most influential artists in terms of today’s music, and yet so little is written about her! The Beatles broke up over fifty years ago, yet there are countless books and projects about them. Their peak period of influence may have been the 1990s and bands clearly indebted to them. Oasis obviously and unapologetically; Blur more subtly (or were they?!), and everyone from Shed Seven to Kula Shaker to Suede clearly taking bits of their music and weaving it into their own. I do love how there is constant talk around the band. McCartney and Starr, far from distancing themselves, celebrating it. I think that, if George Harrison and John Lennon had lived, they would be more distant. Pleased some films are approaching, through they would both possibly detached themselves in a way that Starr and McCartney won’t. A whole new generation are connecting with a band whose peak and regency was in the 1960s.

Even though they were not alive when Beatlemania swept the global, their parents or grandparents were (my parents in my case, as I am forty-three), and it is was like nothing we will ever see again. Taylor Swift has some of that hysteria behind her, but The Beatles changed popular culture so fast, and was this never-seen-before explosion! Their screaming fans, predominantly girls and young women, got a lot of bad press. Some were aggressive and took things too far, though there was a lot of misogyny around them. These are thew fans that made The Beatles. That provided this primal and world-shaking energy. If it was a bit draining for the quartet, the passion these screaming fans showed was something else. I feel we need to give them a lot more respect and credit! This takes me to my second-favourite film ever (my favourite is 2012’s Frances Ha): A Hard Day’s Night. The 1964 debut film featuring The Beatles, it is also their best outing. If 1965’s Help! had its moments and is good, I feel it is not up there with A Hard Day’s Night. I also like how their debut is in black-and-white and gives it this instant nostalgia (which is also why Frances Ha was shot in black-and-white by director, Noah Baumbach). We know that Ringo Starr is the best actor in it, yet George Harrison is the best dressed; I feel Paul McCartney is maybe the most charming, whereas John Lennon features in some of the best scenes (him in the bathtub and being like an overgrown child; on the stairwell where a woman thinks he has recognised him and Lennon says he is not himself, whereupon she takes a closer look and agrees!). We are blessed that A Hard Day’s Night’s director, Richard Lester, is still with us. He turns ninety-five in January, and I do hope that, a) he is still with us then and, b) A Hard Day’s Night is shown at smaller cinemas again to mark that. Its screenwriter, Alun Owen, died in 1994. I wonder if Lester will see the four Beatles films. What he help create in 1964 perfectly captured this growing hysteria around the band, but you also got to see the boys interact. Different sides to their personalities. George Harrison and him doing a bit of fashion modelling. Paul McCartney with his fictional grandfather, played by Wilfrid Brambell. John Lennon didn’t get a story arc quite as defined or interesting, I feel. Ringo Starr with a mudlark who rolls a tyre that knocks him off his feet. He was played by David Janson. He actually appeared at the final I Am the EggPod live event, that was held at London’s Holland Opera Park in 2024. That podcast was helmed by Chris Shaw, and I miss it dearly! That final live event was a mixture of sadness and great cheer and love.

This all takes me rather clumsily to Samira Ahmed. She featured on the podcast numerous times, including my favourite episode, where she was chatting about the band’s debut album, 1963’s Please Please Me, where she made some great observations. She, at the live podcast and on an earlier episode, chatted about A Hard Day’s Night. We both have in common the fact that A Hard Day’s Night is one of our favourite films. It may be her all-time favourite! I love that episode too, as we learned why the album and film was and is so important to her. I have been rewatching it and was overcome with the joy of seeing it! I love that chase scene where fans are racing after the band and there is this scramble and high-jinx. It is brilliantly written and all the band really commit. It is one of the earliest examples of a popular group featuring in a film about them or their work. Albeit, a slightly heighted or fictionalised version. Since then, everyone from Charli xcx to Spice Girls to Prince to Eminem have done their versions of A Hard Day’s Night. People might not see a connection, though I feel The Beatles did sort of start this (though Elvis Preseley was appearing in films before 1964). I did want to talk about Samira Ahmed, because she wrote a book about the film. It came out in April and it is a book that every Beatles fan should have on their shelf:

“How did a film made to capture a pop phenomenon become an enduring cinematic classic?
With warmth, wit and precision, Samira Ahmed reveals how the Beatles’ first film changed both the band themselves and pop music’s relationship with the screen.

In a vivid and personal exploration, she shows how this black-and-white gem, shot in a documentary style and brimming with youthful energy, captured Britain at a moment of social transformation, with a portrayal of celebrity, camaraderie and media frenzy that still resonates today. Drawing on her own experience of first discovering the film as a child and going on to work in the television industry, Ahmed shines a spotlight on the craft behind its enduring appeal. With insights from members of the cast and crew, including her own new interviews, Ahmed highlights A Hard Day’s Night’s class and sexual politics, and adds a delightfully original analysis of the women in the film.

In these pages you will be transported to a time when four young men from Liverpool, via the mass medium of television, changed the way Britain saw itself and the way the world saw Britain, revealing how, and why, A Hard Day’s Night has become a landmark of modern cinema”.

I will end with reviews around the 1964 masterpiece. It is a film a lot of non-Beatles fans (and who are those freaks?!) might not know about. It is understandable in a way, as it is sixty-two years old and is not spoken about in the same tone as the perceived greatest films of all time. I feel A Hard Day’s Night is among the most important films ever. Worthy of a book, for sure, which is why I wanted to highlight an interview with Samira Ahmed, where she discussed it. As I am thinking about The Beatles and there is always activity around them – the expanded and deluxe editions of Rubber Soul are out in October -, I did want to discuss the film. I can’t imagine whether Giles Marten has any more Beatles albums he will do the expanded treatment work to and give us demos, outtakes and the like. Is Help! (the 1965 album that preceded Rubber Soul) next, and is there much from the A Hard Day’s Night sessions to warrant a release?! I do genuinely think the film is among the best ever, and there is so much to discuss around it, which is why I hope it form part of Sam Mendes’s Beatles films – though he might be documenting the band a bit later on from that. Here, Samira Ahmed discussed her fabulous Beatles book:

“At the beginning of your book, you note, “With the huge growth in Beatles scholarship in recent years, I was wary of adding another book.” What compelled you to press on even though it feels like everything that there is to say about The Beatles has been said.

I was first introduced to The Beatles as a child via their films. My brother taped their movies off television in 1979 when I was 11. A Hard Day’s Night is a fascinating film because it captures them in the white heat of Beatlemania in Britain just before they go on The Ed Sullivan Show. I wanted to look at how this film captures Britain at that time. It’s not glamorized. You see ordinary trains and ordinary girls. There’s no sense of it being a fantasy. I didn’t think anybody had really looked at the social history side of this film.

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At the beginning of the book, you argue that A Hard Day’s Night “was in fact a kind of cinematic Big Bang, shaping entire genre of screen entertainment: sitcoms, rock band films and spawning a new form—the pop video, for which in 1984 MTV gave Richard Lester a special Vanguard Award.” Let’s talk about this quote piece by piece. How did A Hard Day’s Night change sitcom television?

The most obvious impact is The Monkees, which is essentially a sitcom replica of A Hard Day’s Night. In his book Funny or Die, the comedy writer Joel Morris argues that the sitcom requires a patriarch, matriarch, craftsmen, and clown. A Hard Day’s Night has all of those things. John is the patriarch, Paul is the matriarch, George is the craftsman, and Ringo is the clown.

Comedy was also a big part of their lives. They wanted to work with director Richard Lester because they loved his film The Running Jumping & Standing Still Film. The Beatles were also natural comedians, though. Many of the contemporary reviews note how funny they are.

I think the biggest reason that The Beatles have stood the test of time is that their music still sounds so fresh. But their personalities are a big reason too. Decades later, those personalities are quite compelling.

Absolutely. It’s also important that they had a legitimate sitcom star, Wilfrid Brambell, in A Hard Day’s Night. (He was in Steptoe and Son, which was remade in the US as Sanford and Son.) His presence was almost a statement that The Beatles had entered the world of adults. This wasn’t just for kids”.

I will end with some reviews and retrospectives. I am starting with Empire and their 2000 essay/review. A mere thirty-six years after the film came out, and following a decade where so many artists were influenced by The Beatles, they had some interesting perspectives in their four-star review (A Hard Day’s Night is definitely a five-star film, I reckon!):

“Now before you get antzy, this is a comedy — albeit a comedy with music. Think about it. What transformed The Beatles into the Fab Four? The music got the girls screaming and had academics making comparisons with Mahler, but it was their quick wit that made them the loveable Mop Tops. John Lennon asking those in the audience to rattle their jewellery at the Royal Command Performance charmed the Establishment. A Hard Day's Night seduced the parents.

Even before the watershed conquest of America, the screenwriter (playwright Alun Owen) had accompanied the Fabs on a flying visit to Paris to witness the insanity of Beatlemania first hand. Although, whether his day-in-the-life format predated the Maysles brothers' strategy for US Beatles' documentary Yeah Yeah Yeah remains open to conjecture.

What's indisputable, however, was that the band was dead against the idea of making an Elvis-Cliff style musical and had already nixed Brian Epstein's enthusiasm for The Yellow Teddy Bears, as they wouldn't have been allowed to write their own songs. Indeed, it was the music that persuaded United Artists to back the movie in the first place — as not only would they make a quick killing while the group's sure-to-be short-lived popularity lasted, but they would also secure exclusive rights to a new "soundtrack" album.

Ultimately, this was to be the only LP solely composed by Lennon and McCartney and remained at No. 1 in the UK for 23 weeks.

Ironically, the director that producer Walter Shenson attached to the project had a history of those pop musicals the Fabs so detested. But, Dick Lester's use of camera in It's Trad, D.ad (1961) and the fact he had steered the Goons through their transition from radio to television won the Beatles over. Indeed, Lester's genius for physical comedy, that had informed Spike Milligan's The Running, Jumping And Standing Still Film (1959), would resurface in the manic playing-field shenanigans accompanying Can't Buy Me Love.

More importantly, Lester was something of a movie magpie. Just as John and Paul drew on R&B, rock'n'roll and showtune ballads for inspiration, so Lester borrowed liberally from Buster Keaton, Cinema Verite, documentary style Free Cinema, Fellini and the nouvelle vague for his unconventional approach to narrative and image-making. In the process, he became the godfather of MTV, as he sought ways of breaking from the lip sync and strum approach to filming pop. Even when he had no option, as in the final TV show sequence, he managed to use angle, lighting and rapid editing to fashion an anti-performance style,later followed by Ready, Steady, Go and Top Of The Pops.

His attempt to jettison traditional narrative altogether was less successful, however, as Ringo's runner and the Mack Sennettesque search for him definitely constitute a storyline. Moreover, it induces the only slackening in the breakneck pace, even though it did give Ringo a moment in the spotlight, similar to George's dismissal of the "grotty" trend-spotting media and John's mistaken identity encounter with Anna Quayle. Sadly, Paul's backstage showdown with a Shakespearean luvvie was cut.

Similarly, Wilfrid Brambell, as Paul's Irish grandfather, was given a few Steptoe-like set-pieces to cash in on his TV celebrity. But there was nothing sitcom about the rest of the film's humour. Whether scripted or ad-libbed, it managed to showcase the irreverent charm that had made the Mops the media's darlings, while also proving that, despite the fame, they were still just four likely lads from Liverpool.

Based on their now legendary performance at Kennedy Airport (which took place just weeks before shooting began), the press conference sequence is particularly revealing of their rapid-fire repartee. John later dismissed comparisons with the Marx Brothers. But there are definite similarities between their caustic combinations of sarcasm, puns, irony, insult and nonsensical deadpan, with the reporters almost becoming a collective Margaret Dumont (the stuffy comedy foil for the Marx brothers).

But Lester was keen to demonstrate both his and the group's catholic comedy influences. There's mild surrealism in the way the Fabs suddenly appear outside the train to taunt the snooty commuter and in John's unexplained disappearance from an emptying bath-tub. A hint of Chaplinesque pathos (or at least Norman Wisdom sentimentality) informs Ringo's riverside meanderings, while slapstick dominates the anarchic "playtime" sequence, which Lester makes all the more hilarious by his use of helicopter shots, unexpected angles and variegated film speeds.

With global takings of $11 million on a £200,000 outlay, A Hard Day's Night changed the visual presentation of pop forever. Moreover, it gave the Beatles a taste for movies. Following the singularly undistinguished Help!, John co-starred in Lester's How I Won The War. Ringo teamed with Peter Sellers for The Magic Christian. George formed HandMade and saved Monty Python's Life Of Brian. And Paul made Give My Regards To Broad Street — and they don't come much funnier than that.

Because Samira Ahmed’s excellent book is part of the BFI Film Classics series, it is worth bringing in the BFI’s sixtieth anniversary examination and tribute to one a film that was revolutionary. “Through the Fab Four to Take That, One Direction and Taylor Swift, the lines between public and private, star and fan, reality and fantasy have been blurry ever since”. Last month was the sixty-second anniversary of the film. Might anything happen in 2029 for its sixty-fifth anniversary? I don’t think A Hard Day’s Night will age or loses its magic, as it is seems more relevant now than it did in 1964:

“The French film critic and director Jacques Rivette once said that “every film is a documentary of its own making”. A Hard Day’s Night captures modern pop stardom as it was being invented. The film’s faux documentary style was partly dictated by necessity: black-and-white film was cheaper, and since the boys had no acting experience, director Richard Lester didn’t want to force them into a situation where they’d have to awkwardly deliver dialogue, or crowbar in excuses to perform songs. This was a situation that Elvis Presley found himself in constantly, and which was already starting to seem passé in 1964.

Screenwriter Alun Owen wrote the script after spending time on the road with the band, taking note of their distinctly Scouse humour, their intimacy and banter, and their individual parts in the group’s dynamic. He wrote a heightened version of each Beatle for them to play. Crucially, Owen was a working-class Welshman who’d grown up in Liverpool, so he understood the group’s vernacular and wrote scenarios and dialogue based on their real experiences, which they would be comfortable delivering.

And unlike Elvis, or Frank Sinatra, or any other pop star on film before, these guys live in a world where The Beatles exist. Their awareness of their fame places them at a distance from it — they’re as amused by it as the audience is.

The scene where John convinces a woman that he’s not, in fact, John Lennon, encapsulates how a person’s celebrity can become divorced from and unrecognisable to the real person.

A woman tells John: “You don’t look like him at all” and John says, to himself: “She looks more like him than I do.”

The film also distinguishes the ‘real’ Beatles by drawing attention to the way that their images are captured, copied and disseminated. Paul’s grandfather (an agent of chaos played by Steptoe and Son’s Wilfrid Bramble) repeatedly asks the boys to autograph a group photo, which he makes forgeries of and attempts to sell. In the press conference scene, George poses for a photographer whose snaps appear on screen as a contact sheet. In the ‘Can’t Buy Me Love’ sequence, the slow motion shots of the band jumping references their already established iconography, particularly Fiona Adams’ photo of the band leaping behind Euston Station, which was used on the cover of the EP Twist and Shout. The band is seen through various TV monitors in the studio’s control room, and there’s a visual gag involving large beetles in the background while the band rehearses on stage. Through editing, mise-en-scene and blocking, the film distinguishes the flesh-and-blood Beatles at its centre, from the two-dimensional avatars most fans were used to seeing.

The level of fame The Beatles experienced during the making of the film was intense and new. Watching it with 60 years of hindsight, in the era of stan culture, phone chucking, and parasocial relationships, it’s striking to see the light-headedness with which the film portrays the intense fandom.

The fans presented a problem for production, and Owen observed how the band’s movements were restricted by the mania surrounding them. But the film’s purpose was to serve Beatlemania, so the feeling of constraint was expressed through surrealism and humour – for example, during ‘I Should Have Known Better’, literally placing the band in a cage while schoolgirls try to touch them like zoo animals.

This attitude seems to have been couched in reality. A documentary called The First US Visit, shot by the Maysles brothers just weeks before production on this film started, shows that, at this stage, The Beatles treated their fame with humour and bemusement. The darker, more dangerous side to fan behaviour had not yet reared its head.

More recent films about pop stars tend to walk a fine line between appreciating fandom – because without it, where would the star be? – and exploring the toll it takes on the artist. Of films about celebrities who have reached the levels of fame comparable to The Beatles, two stand out: One Direction’s This Is Us and Taylor Swift’s Miss Americana.

Both films feature their subjects interacting with fans, but they’re in much more controlled environments, like meet and greets (which are surreal in their own way). Modern celebrities know the double-edged sword of fame: they know that they need to connect with fans, but the implications for their personal safety are on a whole other level to what was considered when The Beatles were filming A Hard Day’s Night. They live in a world that, for better or worse, The Beatles helped usher in. This is all the more tragic when considering that 16 years after filming, John Lennon would be shot and killed by a fan whose warped justification for the act was that Lennon had become, in his unstable mind, “a phoney”.

But this would all happen later. For the time being, John, Paul, George and Ringo took Beatlemania in their stride, building their public personas on the fly. In fact, that carving out of four distinct personas for The Beatles was another invention of Alun Owen. According to Paul Du Noyer (writing in MOJO):

“Owen watched the four personalities and amplified them for effect. Though each of The Beatles would come to find their respective stereotypes stifling, it was an accidental stroke of marketing genius. At that time, the British and American publics had only the vaguest notion of individual Beatles. In fact their defining qualities, to most adult minds, were the identikit mop tops and peculiar accent. It was through A Hard Day’s Night that The Beatles first emerged as four distinct entities, immeasurably adding to the interest and complexity of the group.”

This set the template for the way in which musicians are marketed to this very day, from Take That to the Spice Girls, to BTS and TXT.

Yet the film also goes a long way to reinforce the idea that The Beatles are strongest when they are together as a unit. When Ringo decides to go AWOL, thanks to some meddling by Paul’s grandfather, he proves to be completely inept at navigating the world. He nearly gets into a fight, is rejected by women, and causes minor havoc at a pub. The scene is played for comedy, but it also shows us a glimpse of a world without The Beatles: drab, hostile, devoid of humour. It reinforces the idea that four Beatles are better than one, and the freedom they crave is better experienced as a group. Like Nowell-Smith said: “The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.”

A Hard Day’s Night is a bundle of contradictions: a scripted comedy that feels authentic, a celebration of image making that both critiques and revels in the process, a commercial product that’s genuinely artistic. Its lightning-in-a-bottle quality is proven by the fact that it didn’t set a formula: aspects of the film have permeated pop culture separately, but there’s no A Hard Day’s Night 2. That’s fine, because even though the film turns 60 this year, it never gets old”.

With there being talk around The Beatles appearing the biopic films, Rubber Soul getting the Giles Martin treatment, and just the fact that Ringo Starr and Paul McCartney are still massive fans of the band and can tell us first-hand what it was like, I have been thinking about A Hard Day’s Night and what it means to me. A near-perfect film featuring my favourite band, I think it was ahead of its time and had this brilliant script that was given to a brilliant director. How Richard Lester made this huge impact, and what A Hard Day’s Night means today. Anyone who has not seen it, I would implore them to do so. I can’t seem to find it on streaming platforms, but this YouTube video gives us the entire film. Go and get Samira Ahmed's book too, as it is not only a great companion; how she writes about the film is extraordinary and has received glowing reviews like this. I think that The Beatles’ 1964 debut film is one of the most extraordinary things…

EVER committed to film.

FEATURE: Spotlight: Rowlene

FEATURE:

 

 

Spotlight

Rowlene

__________

THERE are not a lot…

of interviews from this year with Rowlene. She has releases some incredible singles this year. Bittersweet is her latest, and it is magnificent. I did want to spotlight this South African queen. I want to start out with an interview from 2022. NOTION chatted with Rowlene around the release of her E.P., Frequency:

“The South African singer-songwriter was born and raised in Cape Town, finding a love for performance in various singing and dancing competitions as a child. Breaking a musical hiatus with singles “Only (feat. WurlD)” and “Would You Like That”, and now heading to LA and Europe, she’s proving an artist to get on your radar. We caught up with Rowlene to discuss her process, a collaboration with WurlD and career rollercoaster so far. Dive in!

Can you talk me through the process of putting together the EP?

It was such a majestic process, I found everything I wasn’t looking for and now I’m in a space where I feel understood and respected more than ever before.

Growing up in Cape Town and later moving to Johannesburg – do you think these have contributed as influences to your music?

Not really, I think it may have inspired me more than influenced. Everyone who I was surrounded by, their grind and hustles has been so inspiring to watch and learn from. Seeing people push the boundaries and showing up as the best versions of themselves and still staying true through the creation process it just gave me hope for my future.

With six platinum records and having performed multiple stages across the continent, do you have a particular venue you love or a favourable memory from a past live show?

Rocking the Daisies was definitely a crazy experience. Something I want to still do is perform at Afro Nation, Coachella, The O2 Arena London and Madison Square Garden”.

Rowlene is gearing up for the release of her new album, Some Strings Attached. I am writing this on 14th August. He album comes out on 21st August. It is a perfect time to connect with Rowlene. There are a couple of recent interviews. I do think that she has a growing fanbase here in the U.K., though she probably has a larger following in South Africa. I do hope that she plays here soon. It is clear that Some Strings Attached is a very personal album. Maybe her most revealing work to date. This Sahiphopmag feature gives us a little insight into Some Strings Attached:

“For Rowlene, the album represents years of emotion, reflection and rebuilding. Taking to Instagram, the Cape Town-born artist gave fans a glimpse into the deeply personal story behind the project, revealing just how much of herself went into creating it.

“I’ve held these songs close for a long time. Every lyric, every late night, every version of me that had to exist for this album to become what it is,” she shared.

The album digs into the complicated emotions that follow loss, particularly the process of finding your footing after relationships come to an end. Rowlene has previously explained that heartbreak does not define all of her  music, but this particular body of work required her to confront that part of her story.

Over the past few years, she has focused on learning how to rebuild and rediscover herself, with each song capturing a different point along that emotional road.

Even the album’s title speaks to those unresolved connections. Some Strings Attached explores the invisible ties that can remain long after a relationship or friendship has ended, making the project particularly relatable to anyone who has had to let go while still carrying pieces of what once was.

Fans will also have an opportunity to experience the album live shortly after its release. Rowlene is scheduled to host an album launch show at Hard Rock Café in Sandton, Johannesburg, on 22 August, one day after the album drops”.

The Guardian recently recommended Rowlene. They raved about her music and suggested that people connect with it. I am very new to her music, though I am instantly engrossed. She is such a phenomenal artist that I would love to see play in London. Such a powerful and compelling voice. Her songs might seem personal to her, yet they will be familiar and relatable to so many of her listeners:

“Rowlene Bosman learned to sing in a Cape Town school choir, and the discipline never left her: she is a precision vocalist in a scene that rewards volume. Most South Africans first heard her in 2018, delivering the hook on Nasty C’s SMA – she was the first signing to his Tall Racks label – and the featured artist circuit kept her busy for years. But while South African pop stampeded towards amapiano, Rowlene held her ground as a balladeer, writing slow, confessional R&B in which heartbreak is examined instead of danced away. Her 2020 debut album 11:11, a set of aching, close-quarters soul songs, brought a South African music award nomination for best pop album, and three of her originals – Cupid, Stay and the Nasty C collaboration I Need You – landed on the soundtrack of Netflix’s SA teen crime drama Blood & Water, carrying her voice far beyond home.

Hurts 2b Reminded, from her new album Some Strings Attached, is the best argument yet for that patience. Over spare, unhurried production with a faint Afropop pulse ticking underneath, she sings about the ambush of memory: the places and small details that resurrect someone you thought you had let go. The twist is who she is mourning: not the dead, nor an ex, but friends who are alive and well yet simply elsewhere, people whose lives moved on without her. Losing them, she has said, was the price of finding herself. After 10 years of stealing the show from other artists, she sounds ready to headline her own”.

I am not sure if NME or Rolling Stone UK will chat with Rowlene next week. So I am only going with the interviews that are out there. A look back to Glamour South Africa and their conversation from May. This was when Rowlene was still finishing her album and we did not know what we do now. I am excited to see what is next for her. I feel there will be a lot of international dates. One of the greatest artists of her generation:

“What creative process do you go through when writing your songs?

I basically just sit with my team and get in the zone. Throwing ideas around and getting inspiration from that. Sometimes it doesn't happen and I experience writer’s block, which is okay. We can try again tomorrow. Let’s get to know each other instead, maybe I’ll get inspired by that. I try not to overthink the process and just let it happen. Trust the process. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t and that’s okay.

What moment in your career would you say shaped you and who you are as an artist?

A moment in my career that I would say shaped me and who I am as an artist, I think would be losing friends along the way. In life we outgrow people and we all go our different ways. You make some, you lose some and I’m really grateful for the people I currently have around me.

Your voice is silky and soothing on your latest single, Sweet Escape and we can’t stop listening to it. What was the inspiration behind the song?

A lot of the time as female artists we create music and sing for fun, although that is all good and well, for this song I wanted to create something sexy, witty, and fun. I wanted to make women feel sexy and with doing that I’m also showing a different side of myself.

What advice would you give young women/girls who wish to pursue a career in music?

I’m going to tell them what I wish I was told, which is educate yourself as much as you can about whatever you want to pursue. Don’t rush to get signed. Invest in yourself. Experiment. Download beats if you have to. Get a feel for things, because you may find that you don’t actually like singing or performing, but rather enjoy writing songs. Understand yourself and push yourself to the best of your ability or you’ll just get twisted in other people’s narrative and get pushed around if you don’t stand up for yourself”.

Some Strings Attached is going to be one of this year’s best albums. The brilliant Rowlene should be on your radar. This South African artist is a phenomenal talent that has decades ahead. I have just connected with her music, but I know that she is going to be a major mainstream and world-straddling artist. As I have said before, I do hope that she comes and plays in the U.K...

VERY soon.

___________

Follow Rowlene

Instagram:

https://www.instagram.com/rowlene_sa

TikTok:

https://www.tiktok.com/@row1ene

Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/RowleneSA/

YouTube:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCzzbbmM4bAlK0aXjBVs1hJw

Spotify:

https://open.spotify.com/artist/0pEJe38UHfdkFEEaPgwH0P?si=l4vdsKNGSSy6bbWDuK5NaQ