FEATURE: Kate Bush: The Deep Cuts: Blow Away (For Bill)

FEATURE:

 

 

Kate Bush: The Deep Cuts

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush in 1980/PHOTO CREDIT: Mondadori/Getty Images

Blow Away (For Bill)

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AN album I have mentioned…

a few times when it comes to this feature, I wanted to revisit 1980’s Never for Ever. Kate Bush’s third album, I think that many people listen to it for its singles – Babooshka, Army Dreamers and Breathing. There is not a lot of investigation regarding its non-singles. I think that some of her most intriguing songs are on this album. All We Ever Look For, The Infant Kiss and Delius (Song of Summer) are among those I would urge people to listen to and seek out. A song that many people would not include in their favourite songs from Never for Ever, I do feel that Blow Away (For Bill) is a treasure that should be appreciated more. The song also inspired a Scottish fanzine, Blowaway. It was short-lived, and it was issued three times in 1985 and early-1986. During its short run, it included a two-part exclusive interview with Michael Hervieu. It is a shame that this song was not exposed and performed more. The title refers to Bill Duffield. He was a lightning assistant/engineer who tragically died after the warm-up gig for The Tour of Life in 1979. Kate Bush, hard hit by his death, immortalised her friend through song. I think that Blow Away (For Bill) is underrated and gets short shrift. Alongside Violin and Egypt, Blow Away (For Bill) is the least-appreciated and played. I don’t know if I have ever heard this played on the radio. Given the fact that it was important to Bush and she wanted to pay tribute to a young man that was lost too soon, this track deserves more respect Before going on, and thanks to the Kate Bush Encyclopedia, we get some interview perspective and interpretation around a song that I really love:

“‘Blow Away’ is a comfort for the fear of dying and for those of us who believe that music is perhaps an exception to the ‘Never For Ever’ rule.

KATE BUSH CLUB NEWSLETTER, SEPTEMBER 1980

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush/PHOTO CREDIT: Andy Phillips

So there’s comfort for the guy in my band, as when he dies, he’ll go “Hi, Jimi!” It’s very tongue-in-cheek, but it’s a great thought that if a musician dies, his soul will join all the other musicians and a poet will join all the Dylan Thomases and all that.

None of those people [who have had near-death experiences] are frightened by death anymore. It’s almost something they’re looking forward to. All of us have such a deep fear of death. It’s the ultimate unknown, at the same time it’s our ultimate purpose. That’s what we’re here for. So I thought this thing about the death-fear. I like to think I’m coming to terms with it, and other people are too. The song was really written after someone very special died.
Although the song had been formulating before and had to be written as a comfort to those people who are afraid of dying, there was also this idea of the music, energies in us that aren’t physical: art, the love in people. It can’t die, because where does it go? It seems really that music could carry on in radio form, radio waves… There are people who swear they can pick up symphonies from Chopin, Schubert. We’re really transient, everything to do with us is transient, except for these non-physical things that we don’t even control…

KRIS NEEDS, ‘LASSIE’. ZIGZAG (UK), NOVEMBER 1985”.

Blow Away (For Bill) is an interesting song. A demo version of it appeared on YouTube back in 2010 (though I can’t locate it or the 1979 lone live performance). The phrase, “Put out the Light, then put out the light” is from Shakespeare’s Othello. One of the most interesting aspects of the track is the name of departed artists. We hear name-checked Minnie Riperton, Keith Moon, Sid Vicious, Buddy Holly and Sandy Denny. There are songs that Kate Bush never played live. You do wonder what they would have sounded like on the stage. Blow Away (For Bill) was only performed once live. Kate Bush debuted the song on 18th November, 1979 during a performance at the Royal Albert Hall during an event celebrating seventy-five years of the London Symphony Orchestra. There is not a whole lot of positivity in the media for the song. It is a shame. Any reviews I read around Never for Ever call the track inessential, meandering, unfocused, average or something else. There has been very little love for it. When MOJO named Kate Bush’s best fifty songs earlier this year, they placed Blow Away (For Bill) at forty-two:

“Blow Away

(From Never For Ever, 1980)

KB fears the tug of that stupid club.

The jazz tow of the bass and crisp piano-guitar counterpoints suggest Steely Dan’s sophisto-rock. But it’s unlikely that Donald Fagen ever expressed the looming, tantalising proximity of non-being so viscerally, if he ever felt it. Where does music go when we die? wonders Bush. Is it part of our souls? With the recent loss of Tour Of Life lighting engineer Bill Duffield, these were live issues for the ever-sensitive singer, and fed this track’s haunting, dissociative feel”.

I would love to see an animated video for Blow Away (For Bill). Seeing these lines comes to life: “Our engineer had a different idea/From people who nearly died but survived/Feeling no fear of leaving their bodies here/And went to a room that was soon full of visitors”; “Put out the light, then, put out the light/Vibes in the sky invite you to dine/Dust to dust/Blow to blow/Bolan and Moony are heading the show tonight”. As I say. Nearly everything written about Blow Away (For Bill) is half-hearted, or feels that the lyrics are lazy and do not coalesce. That it is a nice idea for a song, though it doesn’t really have impact or real depth. I would argue against this. It is a gem from Never for Ever. Five years ago, this feature explored the fascinating Blow Away (For Bill):

“While we’re dealing with mortality, we have to deal with the jaw-dropping fact that Bush quotes Othello in this song. “Put out the light/then put out the light” is her Shakespeare line of choice. In the context of the song, the quote is the opener for the meandering third verse. The lines that follow never quite cohere into a strong verse (“dust to dust/blow to blow”), but it’s worth thinking about why Bush copped this Othello quote. The line comes from Othello’s ending, in which Othello is preparing to murder his wife Desdemona in her sleep, falsely believing her to be an adultress. The line is a Shakespearean double-entendre, referring both to snuffing out Desdemona’s life and to her pale skin (the race politics in Othello are among the most fascinating and analyzed in all of literature). The actual meaning of this line is, of course, lost when deprived on context. Yet it’s an interesting line for Bush to lean on. It frames the deaths of these popular stars — and Sid Vicious — as classical tragedies, the downfall of great artistic figures. It risks being hagiographic, but at the same time there’s something compelling about the strangeness of this framing.

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush performing during the London Symphony Orchestra's seventy-fifth anniversary concert at the Royal Albert Hall, London, on 18th November, 1979

The use of Buddy Holly as a poster child for rock tragedy harkens back to another Seventies songs featuring his death, Don McLean’s “American Pie.” That paean to the fifties which has caused many boomers to explode phallic blood vessels is more grossly nostalgic than “Blow Away.” Tom Ewing has a great write-up of Madonna’s “American Pie” cover on Popular (which you frankly should read instead of wasting time on this blog), so I won’t discuss it in too much depth here, but suffice it to say that the song is a veritable tome of song references by a songwriter who can’t get over the music of his youth (Ewing hilariously mocks McLean’s unsubstle “Eight Miles High” namedrop). Ewing describes “American Pie” as “a theological dispute between Buddy Holly and Mick Jagger.” Holly is an ideological ploy for McLean’s rockist sectarianism. Little insight is offered into the workings of Fifties music. What McLean gives the listener is a nostalgia package: memory is what he trades on. In McLean’s mind, Altamont didn’t strike the killing blow to the Sixties dream: it was dead when it started. Mick Jagger ever getting on stage was the cardinal sin for “American Pie.” McLean’s use of “The Day the Music Died” isn’t a simple metaphor for the deaths of a few rock ‘n’ roll singers. In McLean’s view, it’s the point an entire tradition is co-opted and desecrated by these Lennon-McCartney whippersnappers.

Bush, of course, isn’t writing a song about the careers of Buddy Holly and the other deceased either. But “Blow Away” where differs from “American Pie” isn’t especially nostalgic — its points of sentiment were largely contemporary deaths. When Keith Moon overdosed, one of the biggest quartets in rock was partially dissolved. Punk discovered new proverbial dangers in Sid Vicious’ death. When the Seventies ended, a lot of assurance about how musicians lived and worked died with them. “Blow Away” can be read as a testament to this, chronicling the way popular music responds to the deaths of its idols. Framing the song as she does around a room where one can meet Minnie Riperton and Marc Bolan, she places deceased musicians in a paradise of their own. Certainly she’s lionizing these figures — which is maybe not a great move in a song namedropping alleged murderer Sid Vicious — but she’s engaging in ideas beyond “my generation of music is cooler than yours.” Think Bob Seger’s “Old Time Rock and Roll,” but for people who still get laid.

There are reasons for this. Unlike McLean, Bush is going to keep writing songs people care about. She’s still paving the way for the music of the Eighties. While “Blow Away” is one of the less synthy tracks on Never for Ever, it’s more ambient than some of the songs on Bush’s first two albums. The Martin Ford Orchestra’s strings gives the song space, and Bush’s piano playing often has moments of silence which let the song breathe. The actual rhythm of the song is minimal, lacking the urgency of more rock-inflected music. It’s almost New Age, but in a genuinely spiritual way.

So what does “Blow Away” think of the afterlife? Well, it clearly thinks there is one. The dead have souls in Bush’s music. Her universe is populated by spectres — “The Kick Inside” and “Hammer Horror” demonstrate that. “Blow Away” fills their slot on Never for Ever — the song for those beyond the grave. Yet “Blow Away” is more optimistic about their chances of a happy eternity. Consciousness may thrive after death, but Bush has finally liberated her deceased characters of their mortal woes. Part of this is a matter of taste: everyone knows Keith Moon is in hell, but in 1980 it wouldn’t have been politic to say it in a song. Yes, there’s reverence for these musicians in this song, but the nostalgia is alleviated by the thoughtful weirdness of the song. It’s not the most radical song on the album, but it’s assuring that Bush’s optimism for the power of artistic imagination extends beyond the grave.

Performed live on 18 November 1979 at Royal Albert Hall. Recorded September 1979 at London AIR Studios. Personnel: Kate Bush — vocals, piano. Preston Heyman — drums, percussion. Max Middleton — Fender Rhodes, string arrangement. Brian Bath — acoustic guitar. Martin Ford Orchestra — strings”.

In September, it will be forty-five year since Kate Bush started recording Never for Ever. A short time after the completion of The Tour of Life, she produced this wonderful album alongside Jon Kelly. One of her most underrated works, there are so many great songs that do not get focus. I feel that Blow Away (For Bill) is among them. So much apathy among those who write about it. It is a beautiful and heartfelt cut that stemmed from a place of loss. Bush wanted to include in title – though it is often shortened to Blow Away – the name of someone who she knew for a brief time but meant a lot to her. For that reason alone, the third track on her third studio album is…

A wonderful tribute.

FEATURE: Take Your Best Shot: The Huge Importance of Music Photography

FEATURE:

 

 

Take Your Best Shot

IN THIS PHOTO: Róisín Murphy/PHOTO CREDIT: Christian Angerer for Ibiza Style Magazine

The Huge Importance of Music Photography

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I do feel that…

PHOTO CREDIT: Matt Hardy/Pexels

the importance of visuals in music are perhaps less important than they were. If not less important, one cannot argue against the fact that there has been a change and shift. I don’t think that music videos are as valued and prominent as they used to be. Artists still make them, though we don’t really have music T.V. anymore. Videos are viewed in private and rarely shared on social media as being this amazing or innovative thing. I remember when I was a child, there was a real lure and attraction discovering a music video that was hugely original and eye-catching. Maybe the more digital music becomes, the less we associate music with the visual. I do think that there is a sad loss of that medium. Artists maybe do not have the budget to make really big or groundbreaking videos. Those that do are getting streams and likes based on their popularity rather than the quality of the video. There are features that highlight the best music videos of the year, though the best of the best cannot really stand up against the best of the past. Less determination for artists to equal and better. The same could be said of album covers. We do have some stunning examples each year. I am curious whether there is that appeal of making a really phenomenal album cover. One that can challenge the all-time best. Maybe I am wrong, though it is clear that there is perhaps less to play for. Artists do not need that visual magnetism to get their albums sold. I still feel that there is a real need for album covers to be as strong and good as they can be. So that vinyl is passed down for decades more, the pull of the album cover is paramount. If we feel music is more about streaming and less about making the visual side of things engaging, then we risk losing something very meaningful and important.

IN THIS PHOTO: Jesse Jo Stark/PHOTO CREDIT: Phoebe Fox (this article is well worth a read)

It is all about an artist’s identity. Putting their stamp on a video or album cover. The same could be said for music photography. There is a corner that argue it is a medium that is less important in the digital age. If we can all take photographs ourselves and there is no real ‘difficulty’ filtering and manipulating a photo, then what value do photographers add?! The thing is, they are professionals who think about the right camera to use. The right conditions and lenses. You cannot really get the same feeling and look from a smartphone than you can a real camera. It is about concept too. You do get photographers who will take basic portraits or simple shots. There is nothing wrong with that. Also, a very packed and too busy photo can be overwhelming and too much. It is about striking that balance. A wonderful music photograph draws the eye and opens the mind. The reason I have selected that photo of Róisín Murphy as the main one is that it is beautifully composed. It looks like this throwback to the 1950s or 1960s. The colours and what she is wearing. At first, you cannot tell if she is standing up and the record player and albums are stuck to the wall, or it is a shot of her on the floor and the camera angle is deceiving. You also wonder what she is thinking. You immerse yourself in the world of that photo shoot. She is creating a character and a story. Kudos to Christian Angerer for bringing so much to that shoot. Not only do you want to read the interview the photos are associated with. You also see Róisín Murphy in a different light. Seek out her music. Photography can have that pull. They create this identity and narrative. Not something that you can get from an amateur. I think the sheer mass of photos shared online distils the artform. It is good people can document their lives, though there is this assumption that modern technology makes traditional photographers obsolete or less distinct.

IN THIS PHOTO: Karol G/PHOTO CREDIT: Vijat Mohindra via Billboard

That is not the case. Especially with music photography, it is much more about taking the shot. Artists still need photos taken to strengthen their portfolio. It shows that artists are serious. I know that not every artist will have the opportunity to be photographed for magazines and websites. They may have to hire a photographer. There is also that split between concert photography and other shoots. Taking a great shot of an artist in action take a different set of skills to a composition. Live photography seems to be about trying to capture the mood of a going or getting that definitive image. If you have more time to compose a photo that creates its own challenges. It is a fascinating medium. Truly brilliant music photographs can ensure and inspire for years to come. I am glad there is recognition of the best photographs from each year. Those who say that anyone can be a photographer and it is not important these days should look at the best music photos of the year and think about the talent and detail involved. How there is this strong connection between music and photography. The Abbey Road Music Photography Awards are relatively new:

“Photography has defined some of the greatest moments in the history of music. The Abbey Road Music Photography Awards celebrates, showcases and supports the global community of music photographers and the images that create and shape culture, connect music fans to the artists they love, and define music iconography for generations to come. This year we've returned for our third edition, delivering the next chapter of a long-term vision for supporting, showcasing & enabling the best in music photography, firmly establishing us as the foremost competition in music photography”.

 IN THIS PHOTO: YUNGBLUD/PHOTO CREDIT: Tom Pallant

I really love a great music photograph. I am more a fan of studio compositions and those we can associate with the image of Róisín Murphy at the top of this feature. That said, I have admiration for live photography. The skillset it takes to capture an image from a gig that stands in the mind. The patience and instinct that is needed. Putting yourself in a position where you can get the best shot too. The same for studio photography and stuff on location. Choosing the right spot and getting the concept right. Trying to consciously bring the best out of your subject without being too forcefully. Making the image seem natural when it is posed and staged. That is a really hard thing. You compare all of this with what people share online and it is clear that amateur photography does not compare to professionals. Music is still very visual, so we need to recognise the importance of music photographers. It is sad that videos are losing their appeal and seem to be less regarded as they were years ago. The same with album covers perhaps. Music journalism and print media is still alive. Great photography can win artists new fans. It can be a hugely powerful promotional tool. I wonder how much we think of the photographers and what they add. Photography is as subjective as anything, so we all get different things from photos. I prefer compositions that are not straight portraits. Throw in something that is a bit conceptual and imaginative. A straight portrait can be powerful, though it is harder grab attention and stay in the mind. The best live shots are ones where you feel like you are at the gig and capturing this moment that nobody else has seen. We need to regard music photographers more highly than we do. Understand how important the medium is and how difficult it is. Even so, it is an industry that is always looking for new talent. Music photography will not die. Amateurs with smartphones are not taking their place and never could! There is so much more to music photography that goes beyond having a phone. There is a knowledge, passion, set of skills that you and me to do not possess. It is high time that we give these creatives…

MORE exposure.

FEATURE: Kate Bush: The Tour of Life: When Kate and Del Met

FEATURE:

 

 

Kate Bush: The Tour of Life

IN THIS PHOTO: Del Palmer and Kate Bush performing in 1985/PHOTO CREDIT: ZIK Images/United Archives via Getty Images

When Kate and Del Met

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ONE of the most interesting…

IN THIS PHOTO: Del Palmer and Kate Bush in 1985/PHOTO CREDIT: Dave Hogan/Getty Images

chapters in Kate Bush’s life is when she met Del Palmer. We sadly lost him in January at the age of seventy-one. It was a huge shock for the Kate Bush fan community. One of the most important people in her life, he was almost like family. The two were friends and colleagues for well over forty years. It was an amazing bond. In addition to Palmer playing on most of Kate Bush’s albums, he was also her engineer for years. A pivotal rock and comfort during some very tough times in Bush’s life, I get the feeling that they were both different and similar. Able to bounce ideas off of one another and deflect each other’s stress. When Bush was working tirelessly during recording of The Dreaming and it was released in 1982, Palmer would have been a huge support. Both of them working very closely on that album. Their collaboration continued on and you could tell how essential their chemistry was during 1985’s Hounds of Love. Palmer was Bush’s musician and engineer right up until her most recent album, 2011’s 50 Words for Snow. You know, if he were still with us, they would be working on something together. I hear lots of stories about Palmer. How he has turned up meet fans at local events and conventions. Perhaps spurred on by Kate Bush, everyone says how down-to-Earth he was. A regular person who was great to be around and really connected with people. Palmer was proud of working with Kate Bush and performed in a tribute band dedicated to her. He was featured in multiple interview and documentaries. This was someone that was woven into the fabric of Kate Bush’s career and life.

IN THIS PHOTO: Del Palmer in 1993

I know that I wrote about Del Palmer this year after he died. I was keen to mark his life and react to that tragic and unexpected news. It is clear how much he is missed. It is so hard to talk about Kate Bush and her music without mentioning Del Palmer. The story of how they met and how their relationship blossomed is fascinating. Again, a nod and salute to Graeme Thomson and his biography, Under the Ivy: The Life and Music of Kate Bush. His writing about how Kate Bush and Del Palmer met is engrossing and vivid. That first spark and curiosity began when Palmer was rehearsing with Kate Bush. They played together in the KT Bush Band. Playing a string of gigs around London and the South. They enjoyed a brief career playing pubs and clubs prior to Bush stepping into the studio to complete recording of The Kick Inside in 1977. When Bush was still a teenager, there was this bond and connection between her and Del Palmer. Palmer had an attraction to Bush when they rehearsed at Greenwich Baths. That intrigue. Fellow bandmates Brian Bath and Vic King remember talking about a gig at Lewisham’s Black Cat. Suspecting something might be happening between Bush and Palmer. Neither thought they would be a long-lasting thing. From Palmer and Bush playing together and socialising at the Bush family home at East Wickham Farm, life on the road – a local circuit – brought them closer together.

When they came together and started to turn their working relationship into a romantic one, Bush was eighteen and Palmer was twenty-four. In spite of the age gap, there was no real issue and judgment. Bush was very mature and Palmer was a good influence. Not someone who was taking advantage. Bush was always attracted to older men. That feeling was that anyone close to Kate Bush was too subjective. Everything she does was great. Maybe her father – who she would often play songs to when she was first writing tracks – would have some constructive feedback but, mostly, I think her family were too close and lacked objectivity. Del Palmer was very fond of Kate Bush, though he was an outsider who could see any minor flaws and make suggestions. That could cause some blowback and tension. Kate Bush never too comfortable hearing anything negative about her. Someone exposing some of her weaknesses. From the glowing positivity she got from her family, it must have been strange hearing some more balanced feedback. That honesty from Del Palmer was maybe a shock at first. Bush used Palmer’s critique and opinions professionally. Relying on him as a sounding board and trusted friend, you can trace that long and natural relationship back to the very start. Bush said she could not find young men attractive. Palmer was very different to Bush’s inner circle and family. He was this loveable and straight-talking guy who swore a lot and liked fast cars. It seems like a mismatch, though there was this contrast that worked really well! They had a lot of common. Palmer, such a fan of Bush’s work, was as interested in Bush professionally and as an artist as he was romantically.

I often think about them meeting. Sort of finding each other through mutual friends. Those first gigs as part of the KT Bush Band. I can imagine Bush being naturally attracted to Del Palmer because of his humour, kindness and directness. Not in a bad way. Someone who respected Bush and did not want to lie. He was fascinated by her incredible talent. Not many women leading bands in the late-1970s. A beguiling and original artist, the two had this easy and strong bond. That grew and developed through the years. From Del Palmer being in her band, he then assumed more responsibility when it came to Kate Bush’s music. Both of them side by side in the studio for years and then, when they spent hours honing tracks and spending all that time together, they would hang out as a couple. Quite private, the fact that they did not have any major fallouts (apart from the odd bigger row) during their time together speaks volumes. Kate Bush’s songs are so positive towards men. I think part of that has to do with Del Palmer. This very supportive and dedicated partner and fellow artist. As one of the most important people in her life, I don’t think we saw the full range of grief Bush experienced this year when we learned of Palmer’s death.

The private turmoil. All of those memories. Rather than make this morbid, I think about the great moments they had together. The videos of Bush’s Palmer appeared in. The photos and times when they were at Kate Bush fan conventions together. One of the most crucial moments in Kate Bush’s career (and life) was when she and Del Palmer met. Now that he has gone, I am not sure we will get to know the details and full story. How they both really felt. They broke up in the late-1980s – though some sources say later – but remained good friends. When Bush’s mother died in 1992, Palmer was still there for her and was seen in public with Bush. Their friendship and closeness remained long after they broke up. Her trusted right-hand man and one of the few people she trued around her music, we all still miss Del Palmer. Let’s not get sad and sombre. Instead, let’s cast our mind back to the 1977 and the two on a small stage somewhere in London before things really exploded. The feelings and thoughts in both of their heads. Neither knowing they would fall for each other and spend decades in each other’s lives. To have seen them as part of The KT Bush Band. It must have been thrilling and awe-inspiring…

PHOTO COMPOSITE: Kate Bush News

TO have been there.

FEATURE: This Is Yesterday: Manic Street Preachers’ The Holy Bible at Thirty

FEATURE:

 

 

This Is Yesterday

Manic Street Preachers’ The Holy Bible at Thirty

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ONE of the greatest albums of the 1990s…

PHOTO CREDIT: Dave Tonge/Getty Images

turns thirty on 29th August. Manic Street Preachers’ The Holy Bible was a period of change for the Welsh quartet. Their third studio album was the final one to feature Richey Edwards. He would have writing credits on 1996’s Everything Must Go, through he disappeared in 1995. Edwards was dealing with severe depression, substance abuse, self-harm and anorexia nervosa during the writing and recording of the album. The Holy Bible reached number six in the U.K. It was not a worldwide success. Perhaps some found it too dark or heavy as a listen. It is one of Manic Street Preachers’ most important, open and accomplished albums. To mark its upcoming thirtieth anniversary, there are some features that I want to bring in. I am not sure whether there is going to be a special and expanded vinyl reissue of this stunning album. The first feature is from Albumism. They celebrated twenty-five years of The Holy Bible in 2019:

“Despite its dour worldview, antagonistic posture, and, at the time, quite poor sales, The Holy Bible has been recast as a triumph of extreme art, a perception that the fans and the band themselves have been happy to help promote. The record has also been honored with two in-depth retrospective reissues—one on its tenth anniversary and another on its twentieth—followed by a tour and a cumulative performance at Cardiff Castle in which the band dolled themselves up in military regalia and spun the record out in its entirety followed by another set of crowd-pleasing hit singles.

So what more can be said?

I’ll offer here a personal perspective of the record because, in essence, this is all I have, what any of us really have, and an argument I have made in many of my writings on Manic Street Preachers: a version of the band that is ours and ours only.

Manic Street Preachers had made no sense to me until late 1996 and only through the lens of Britpop did they emerge in my line of sight. There had been previous echoes of the band as my listening tastes broadened and developed. My older sister owned the band’s second record Gold Against the Soul (1993) on cassette tape. I stole it from her shelf, listened to the first few tracks and tossed it aside. It wasn’t Iron Maiden, Metallica, Guns N’ Roses or Def Leppard enough for me. It was too emotional, too soft. I overheard a radio broadcast about the disappearance of Edwards and shrugged it off as another casualty of rock & roll excess. I had succumbed to American rock and grunge, where my interests lay until Oasis blew up and my focus returned to the music scene that was happening within my own shores.

Manic Street Preachers lay on the periphery. Not Britpop enough, not hard rock enough. When they released the single “Australia” from their mega-selling post-Bible record, Everything Must Go (1996), something just clicked. I was hooked and obsessed with their history almost instantly.

After receiving Everything Must Go as a Christmas present, the record stayed in my CD player for six months solid. For my birthday the following July, I was gifted the band's debut record Generation Terrorists (1992). A CD copy of Gold Against the Soul was acquired at some point (possibly my sister gave me a copy as I have no recollection of purchasing it) and towards the end of the summer I geared up towards buying The Holy Bible, a record I'd only read about in passing from snippets in the music press, the consensus perspective being that the record was a bit "dark.”

In the blistering summer of 1997, I made my way to the local HMV and found the record in the stacks. I returned home and slipped it into the player, took out the inlay booklet that contained the lyrics and hit play on my machine.

Confusion. Utter, utter confusion.

The opening lines of the opening song "Yes" read "for sale, dumb cunt same dumb questions.” The tune to “Yes” was also a bit nauseating. The second song was titled "Ifwhiteamericatoldthetruthforonedayit'sworldwouldfallapart" and seemed, like its title, to contain too many words for the music to accommodate. The third song was called “Of Walking Abortion.” I motioned my finger further down the track listing: “Mausoleum.” “Die in the Summertime,” "The Intense Humming of Evil.” The description of “dark” did not quite cut it. The Holy Bible was scathing, unrepentant, horrifying.

Throughout the record, small snippets of recorded dialogue can be heard. On “Mausoleum” the voice of British author J.G. Ballard summarizes his 1973 novel Crash by saying, “I wanted to rub the human face in its own vomit, and force it to look in the mirror.” This single quotation perfectly encapsulates The Holy Bible at its core. The record wishes to put the listener on trial. The vitriol is directly pointed at you (“who’s responsible / you fucking are” - “Of Walking Abortion”).

This did not gel with the brash naive glitter of the band’s debut record or the stauncher and reserved intelligence of Everything Must Go. The surrounding Britpop scene was about having a lark and enjoying life. Anthems like Blur’s "Girls & Boys," Supergrass' "Alright" and to an extent the holler of “we only want to get drunk” from the Manics’ own “A Design for Life” surely confirmed this.

The summer of 1997 was a jubilant time. Cool Britannia, Noel and Meg, Liam and Patsy, Damon and Justine all loved up on the front pages of the daily newspapers, Tony Blair and Gordon Brown in the offices of parliamentary power and pushing a liberal-left agenda on the country. It felt great to be young and alive. The Holy Bible was something else, something that could not be understood in the confines of a small bedroom on a summer’s day in the new clothes of a third way liberal democracy. No disillusionment had crept into my pretty decent and laddish existence. Yet.

To think of The Holy Bible as an anomaly, a blade that punctures the narrative of the band, is a mistake. It has to be heard as a perfectly executed part of the evolution in sound. The real spanner in the works came with the disappearance of Richey Edwards that changed the direction and tone of the remaining members. The confrontation heard on Generation Terrorists and The Holy Bible was scaled back and could never really be repeated, though they certainly tried on 2001’s Know Your Enemy.

No more youthful proclamations of “I laughed when Lennon got shot” as they had delivered on “Motown Junk” or “I am stronger than Mensa, Miller and Mailer” as they had boasted on “Faster.” Now the band’s approach was “analysis through paralysis” (from the EMG era B-side “Dead Trees and Traffic Islands”), or in other words, treading on the shadow of Edwards whilst still, in essence, remaining the same band to themselves and their fans, new and old.

So, yes a lot has been written and said about The Holy Bible. And what I've written here is not original nor has it added anything new to the discussion about this record. I've lightly trod on the same ground everyone else has. Everyone is guilty.

And yet, despite all of this content, the record still offers a fascination that seems, 25 years later, insatiable. I want to read more. I want to know more. I want to see and hear other perspectives. Even if we tread over old ground, it is old ground trod in a fresh pair of shoes. To know what others think and feel about not just the The Holy Bible, but any Manics release, any part of the band's history, is to be enlightened by that singular experience that no one else has had.

And now we turn to another perspective, that of writer David Evans, who recently authored The Holy Bible installment of Bloomsbury’s 33 ⅓ series of music books.

When did you become a fan of Manic Street Preachers, and how have they, as a band, influenced you as a writer and thinker?

I became a fan of the Manics in 2001, when I was in my mid-teens. I remember being dimly aware of them when they were at the height of their popularity in the 1990s, but I was more interested in the likes of Steps at the time. I’d bought a compilation CD called Q Anthems, which was full of some really quite awful music. But “A Design for Life” was on there, and that was the hook. Soon afterwards I got hold of Simon Price’s brilliant biography of the band, which taught me the history, and worked my way through their back catalogue.

Beyond the music, the thing that really drew me in was an idea that permeates everything they’ve done—that pop music at its best is deeply embedded in society and entwined with wider culture. The Manics’ records were like mini-encyclopedias that featured quotes from films and literature and encouraged you to strike out and explore new cultural landscapes.

There was a Reithian element to their approach: they wanted to inform and educate, as well as entertain. Without their influence, I would never have studied philosophy at university, or gone on to write about Herman Melville, whose name I first came across on the sleeve of an early Manics single. They completely changed my life, and there are lots of other fans with similar stories.

You decided to write about one particular Manic Street Preachers album, The Holy Bible. Why did you select this album and why do you still think it resonates 25 years after it was released?

The Holy Bible will always be associated with Richey Edwards’ disappearance in 1995, not long after the album’s release, and that’s where a lot of the lingering interest comes from. For many people, The

Lyrically speaking, the album has come under great scrutiny, especially in the wake of the disappearance of the record’s main author, Richey Edwards. What’s your perspective on The Holy Bible’s lyrical themes and Edwards’ legacy?

Richey Edwards and Nicky Wire shared lyric writing duties in the Manics, but The Holy Bible is mostly Richey’s work (aside from “This is Yesterday,” one of the gentler lyrics on the record). The Holy Bible’s themes include sex work, American imperialism, fascism, serial murder, genocide and political correctness. The band are from a staunchly socialist area in South Wales and always espoused left-wing causes, and the album can be read in that light. They are standing up for the underdog and standing against imperialism and capitalist excess, although a couple of the lyrics could be construed as libertarian in outlook”.

In the features that are out there, you get a lot of depth and insight. I would recommend that you read the entire article. I have been taken a fair bit from each. In 2021, Guitar.com saluted the genius of The Holy Bible. I have been thinking more deeply about the album after reading this feature:

“Lust, vice and sin

Though Edwards was its prime instigator, the collective agreement to pursue a darker direction had stemmed from a shared sense that the band was at an impasse, following the muted reception that met their previous record. “There was a realisation that we hadn’t got as big as we thought we would have.” Manics’ bassist and additional lyricist Nicky Wire reflected, back in a 2014 interview with NME, who also admitted that the switch was spurred by the band wanting to be ‘100 per cent truer to ourselves’. James Dean Bradfield, too was conscious of the band beginning to slide into a predictably ‘rockist’ niche.

In pursuit of this truer sound, the band resisted label pressure to record in a luxurious studio in sun-drenched Barbados and instead decamped to Cardiff’s minuscule Sound Space Studios. It was here the four set to work on concocting the more upfront sound which was more in-keeping with their formative influences, such as Joy Division, The Clash and Magazine.

Though friend and engineer Alex Silva was on hand to capture and engineer the four, no overall producer was designated. Silva told the R*E*P*E*A*T Fanzine that “I think at the time, the band had an ideal, James said that ‘No albums have been produced since Led Zeppelin III’. So in that case, they felt there was no need for a producer as such – maybe because the term ‘producer’ carried too much weight for them. I’m fine with my credit, I just recorded what was there.” Another guiding hand who would enter the frame later in the process came in the shape of mixer Mark Freeegard, who told the same fanzine that the recording choice to initially capture the album on 1-inch tape factored into the demo-like sound the band were striving for.

For The Holy Bible sessions, Bradfield minimised the number of guitars, and stuck largely to his trusty white Gibson Les Paul; a staple instrument that he’d purchased from a Denmark Street guitar shop back in the early 1990s. It’s a guitar that has appeared in some form on every MSP record. “It is my most valuable six-stringed friend” he lovingly expressed to Guitarist in 2014. Bradfield also used a buttercream Fender Jazzmaster for a handful of other songs, including the tonal switch of the glistening open-G-forged This Is Yesterday – a gorgeous composition that serves as the record’s brightest moment, a lone glimmer of candlelight in the stygian abyss.

James used both a Marshall amp through a 4×12 cab, as well as a Vox AC30 throughout the recording, with the occasional use of Soldano amp, output through the same Marshall cab. Though this was the core of the rigid and deliberately minimal set-up, Bradfield’s Fender Twin Reverb was occasionally wheeled into the studio to wrangle a few more interesting tones. Pedals were also kept at a relative minimum, though an unmistakable BOSS Hyper-Fuzz (rumoured to have actually been owned by Richey Edwards) is regularly deployed. A CH-1 Super Chorus (with a super fast oscillation) augments the sound of Faster’s opening squeal and is used in more slowly oscillated form for the racing barrage of Of Walking Abortion’s intro. Other effects were achieved with rack mounted units, such as the Marshall Time Modulator.

Though Edwards shaped the record from a conceptual standpoint, he never actually recorded any guitar parts himself, entrusting the more capable Bradfield to meticulously lay down each part. On the resulting tour however, Richey was known for sporting an elegant Thinline Fender Telecaster (later to be used by Bradfield) as well as his own Les Paul Standard.

I am an architect

Working from Edwards’ unstructured, essay-like lyrics, James assembled tight chord sequences, layered with turbulent eddies of noise, while also slotting Richey’s words into immaculate top-line melodies. It was a challenging, unconventional approach; “Some of the lyrics confused me. Some were voyeuristic and some were coming from personal experience. I remember getting the lyrics to [album opener] Yes and thinking ‘You crazy fucker, how do I write music for this?’” he recalled in the liner notes for the tenth anniversary edition of the record.

From the outset, Bradfield’s supreme gift for riff-craft is palpable. Propulsive opener Yes’s lead riff in E major manages to set both the jogging pace of the track, while also being spiky enough to mirror the bubbling paranoia of its lyric. As Bradfield fiercely delivers Edwards’ fractured observations on the parallels between prostitution and the broader notion that ‘everyone has a price’, this lasooing, spritely riff keeps the arrangement energetic, trickling out the scale’s notes rhythmically while a punctuated hammer on G♯ from F♯ contributes to a sense of unease. Jumping to a fuzzed-up, punkier tone for what is technically a pre-chorus (though in reality serves as the first of two different choruses for the song), the band ramp up the intensity with a sequence that switches to A major, before sliding back to E, a tonal switch of a C♯ and G♯, before a leap to a B major bridges us toward the chorus proper – a cacophonous, doom-laden ascent from E to C♯m, leading us to a wavering wobble over the precipice of a 7th position E5 power chord. It’s an exhilarating start that decrees the shifting violent sonic tone of the record.

The volatility is kept as the second track’s laddering 6-note riff jostles for attention, untangling itself to reveal the ferocious assault of Ifwhiteamericatoldthetruthforonedayit’sworldwouldfallapart. In lieu of a conventional chord sequence, Bradfield arpeggiates a deathly-sounding Cmaj7 shape, fretted down in the E note of the A string on the 7th fret. This macabre motif frames a venomously spat lyric, as Edwards’ words unpick the hollow fallacy of the exported American dream. A hard-lurch into a rhythmically double stopped E major chord ushers in what sounds like a cavalry charge, surging down a hill, as drummer Sean Moore thunders on his kit militaristically, and James swings between four valiant-sounding chords.

This newer, more intense, version of the Manics wasn’t just the result of stomping on a fuzz pedal and hammering out a salvo of power-chords, Bradfield’s writing on The Holy Bible is more carefully constructed than ever. The spindly, palm-muted arpeggios of She Is Suffering sounds like an inverse, gothic re-working of The Police’s Every Breath You Take while the perilous atmosphere of the tense Die In The Summertime finds Bradfield creatively playing off Edward’s lyric with a rigid two-note riff. “It’s quite a muso album” Bradfield claimed at the 2015 NME Awards, “It’s all very interlocked with each other – and it’s very fast.”

Even a close listen to the record’s punchy post-punk triumvirate of Revol, Faster and P.C.P affirms Bradfield’s commitment to housing and enhancing Edwards’ potent themes above all. Faster in particular is notable for its squalling high-oscillation Chorus pedal wail, as well as its thorny, push-and-shove verse part; both sections built from two wildly different, but complementary, variations of the same two notes (G♯ and A). The pulsing heartbeat of the verse part allows for the record’s most fluid stream-of-consciousness tirade. “I remember reading the first line of Faster – ‘I am an architect, they call me a butcher.’ – and I thought ‘Fucking hell, I can’t fuck this up, I’ve got to write some great music to this”, Remembered Bradfield, in Kevin Cummins’ Assassinated Beauty.

No birds

Interspersed throughout the record, are a series of – often chilling – spoken word audio samples (captured with Sean Moore’s newly purchased S1000 Akai) taken from a range of films, documentaries and interviews. These clips preface the thematic concerns of the songs-proper, such as the haunting clip of Irene MacDonald, the mother of Jayne MacDonald – a victim of atrocious serial killer Peter Sutcliffe – which prologues Edwards’ capital punishment-oriented Archives of Pain. This song proved to be a controversial one, with a seemingly pro-death penalty lyric that would perturb analysts for decades to come. Driven by Nicky Wire’s sludgy bass line, James sheds some high register rivulets of sound before snapping in line with Wire’s brutal riff-march. Haunting chorus-soaked arpeggios frame its chorus section, as Edwards’ most sinister lyrics yet are delivered. A fittingly odd arrangement for a particularly grim piece.

At its darkest, The Holy Bible underscores its writer’s unrelentingly bleak outlook on humanity, and the shape of the systems that govern it. It’s unquestionably a troubled mind that lay behind Of Walking Abortion’s indictment of humanity’s indifference to suffering, The Intense Humming of Evil’s fragments of barbarous holocaust imagery and Mausoleum’s black-skied, corpse-ridden landscape. But, it’s 4st 7lb where Edwards’ own personal pain reveals itself more candidly. The first song recorded for the album, this remorseless semi-self-portrait of a struggling anorexic, also illuminates his gift for poetic lyricism. For the track, Bradfield opted to set a tormented tone with an off-kilter, jittery riff, adrift amongst waves of feedback. The arrangement builds out with snaking fuzz riffs and staccato chord punctuation, as well as an ethereal, chorus-drenched second section, which features some harmonious Les Paul licks. It’s a painterly approach that wrings out every drop of the lyric’s underlying emotional heart”.

There is one more feature I want to source from before wrapping up. Ringer marked twenty-five years of The Holy Bible. Discussing this masterful work that was released in a year and at a time when Britpop was coming through. Few albums could be further away from that sound than Manic Street Preachers’ third studio album. I think it still sounds as affecting and singular as it did when it came out nearly thirty years ago:

“There’s also a fine line between vulnerability and exhibitionism, and the record’s emotional affect is derived from how deeply Edwards was reaching into his own pain. At several points, he was hospitalized for anorexia, and on the devastating “4st 7lb,” the narrator—who seems to be a teenage girl, though her identity is left deliberately vague—recounts the brutal details of an eating disorder, guiding us through a thorny labyrinth of contemptuous self-loathing (“Mother tries to choke me with roast beef”), twisted narcissism (“I want to be so pretty that I rot from view”), and ghostly metaphor (“Choice is skeletal in everybody’s life”). It culminates in the most beautiful, horrifying, and prophetic line Edwards ever wrote: “I want to walk in the snow and not leave a footprint.”

1994 was the year of The Downward Spiral, Live Through This, and Ready to Die, so it’s not like Edwards’s melancholy was without competition—or context. For kids coming of age in the early ’90s, the alt-rock paradox was that bands were glomming onto a genre that couldn’t choose between catharsis and agony and decided to conflate them. The melodrama inherent in Eddie Vedder’s every yelp wasn’t just commodified—it was aspirational.

It’s worth noting that in a market saturated with potent bad-mood enhancers, The Holy Bible’s methodology was one of stringent deglamorization; where the Manics had previously positioned themselves as sardonically heroic figures, here they worked with self-effacement to put the songs and their sentiments first. The one pop-flavored track, “This Is Yesterday,” has the buoyancy of early-’90s alt-rock (like something off of Smashing Pumpkins’ Siamese Dream), capturing, for three elusive and ecstatic minutes, a sensation of idealized nostalgia before the harsh, descending chords of “Die in the Summertime.” It’s gruesome, but also human-scaled: In a decade where R-rated Alice Cooper disciples like Rob Zombie and Marilyn Manson gleefully flashed their parental advisory stickers and successfully carnivalized and commodified darkness, Edwards’s songwriting opted for wrenching cinema verité over cartoonish horror show.

From its King James–baiting title on down, through its confrontational cover art (a triptych of a scantily clad obese woman) and meticuloysly designed liner notes (which included photos of abandoned concentration camps in sync with Holocaust-themed album tracks “Mausoleum” and “The Intense Humming of Evil”), The Holy Bible was a scandal waiting to happen. The Manics did their best to play the part of provocateurs, with Bradfield performing “Faster” on Top of the Pops clad in a paramilitary-style balaclava. It was album promotion as a form of guerrilla warfare. (The BBC got over 25,000 complaints via telephone.)

Critics raved the record to the skies, while consumers were more ambivalent: It reached no. 6 in the U.K. charts and claimed instant cult status. Two years later, the Manics would break through comercially with Everything Must Go, yoked to the stomping, magisterial “A Design for Life”—a song whose skyscraping chorus would make even Noel Gallagher grit his teeth with envy. During their brief but spectacular commercial peak, the Manics-minus-Richey would tap a rich vein of populist emotion; The Holy Bible was more like a bundle of raw, exposed nerves.

In 2009, the Manics released Journal for Plague Lovers, an album whose selling point was that its songs were all written using posthumously published lyrics by Richey Edwards. Unsurprisingly, it remains their strongest 21st-century recording, purposefully evoking its predecessor without resorting to mere grave-robbing. After spending years mourning, quoting, excoriating, and exorcising their friend—with highly varied results—the Manics let him do the talking. “Once we actually got into the studio … it almost felt as if we were a full band,” Bradfield said in 2009. “It [was] as close to him being in the room again as possible.”

Masterpieces don’t need sequels—spiritual or otherwise—but Journal for Plague Lovers honored its heritage and reenergized a group who’d been verging on self-parody.

“I think that if a Holy Bible is true, it should be about the way the world is,” Edwards told a Swedish television station in 1994. “That’s what I think my lyrics are about … [the album] doesn’t pretend things don’t exist.” It’s that simultaneously abrasive and fragile quality—an escape from escapism, a denial of denial—that still rings out on every track. In a moment when the vast majority of rock music has deliberately evacuated any pretense of seriousness or larger meaning, The Holy Bible seems like an ancient relic: a towering monument to displeasure. It is hard to say, exactly, who an album like this for. But it is undoubtedly, for real”.

On 29th August – though some sites and sources say 30th August -, Manic Street Preachers’ The Holy Bible turns thirty. It is one of the biggest albums of the 1990s. After its release, everything changed for the group. Losing Richey Edwards in 1995, they would have to regroup and reframe on 1996’s Everything Must Go. To many, The Holy Bible remains the best work from them. It is hard to argue against that. You only need to listen to it once to be pulled into its world. It is a truly…

UNFORGETTABLE listening experience.

FEATURE: “I Was There!” Before the Dawn at Ten: The Excitement Around Kate Bush’s Return to the Stage

FEATURE:

 

 

“I Was There!”

PHOTO CREDIT: Trevor Leighton

Before the Dawn at Ten: The Excitement Around Kate Bush’s Return to the Stage

_________

MOST Kate Bush fans remember where they were…

PHOTO CREDIT: Ken McKay/REX

when she announced that there would be a new residency, Before the Dawn. Originally intended as a fifteen-date residency, because of demand, that then expanded to twenty-two nights. I shall come to the tension and atmosphere that was building outside the Eventim Apollo for that first night on 26th August, 2014. The contrast between what was happening outside the venue and backstage on that opening night. The sort of people who mixed together to welcome Kate Bush back to the stage. One reason why we were rocked by the announcement on 21st March, 2014, was that there had been little word from her about it. If you think about the few years before that, nobody was expecting a residency or any live work. Kate Bush put out two albums in 2011. Director’s Cut arrived in May. 50 Words for Snow came out in November. Apart from Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God) being remixed in 2012, there was not a lot of activity. Also in 2012, Bush made her first public appearance after a decade as she accepted the South Bank Sky Arts Award in the Pop category for 50 Words for Snow. Tickets for Before the Dawn sold out in fifteen minutes. There were pre-sale tickets that were available to fans who signed up to her website. After such a surge in demand, seven extra dates were added. There was this explosion of interest and a rush to get tickets. The ticket actually went on sale on 28th March. One of the most exciting things that has happened in her career. In the sense there was already this anticipation and curiosity. I love how the announcement made us feel. A complete shock! Thirty-five years after The Tour of Life, Kate Bush was back in terms of large-scale live work. There was a mixed blessing with it being a residency rather than a tour.

The fact that she performed in Hammersmith and did not need to travel meant there was more energy for the performance. Not having to move around. She liked 1979’s The Tour of Life, though it was exhausting. So much travel and energy need to keep the show moving. Now, near her home, she could enjoy herself a bit more by not having to worry about logistics and transportation. Though, ‘enjoy’ might not be the right word when it came to Before the Dawn. Bush revealed to Matt Everitt in a 2016 interview – when discussing the live album of Before the Dawn -, how she was terrified each time going on. It was not really until the end of the final show (1st October, 2014) when she could relax. One of the downsides about staying in London was that so many fans could not attend. Being based around the world, the cost and commitment of coming to see her perform was too high. Even though a lot of international fans attended, many couldn’t make that sacrifice. Also, as tickets sold out in fifteen minutes, it meant that those not fast enough missed out. So many people (me included) regretting the fact that there were no tickets left! Prior to that first night on 26th August, 2014, there was speculation what Before the Dawn would consist of. Most people interested in the potential setlist. As it was called Before the Dawn, many figured that Aerial’s A Sky of Honey could feature.

That is a song cycle about an entire summer’s day. She did perform the sublime and epic A Sky of Honey and Hounds of Love’s The Ninth Wave. I remember press trying to uncover what might be included. In The Guardian’s review of the opening night of Before the Dawn, they discussed the fact that not a lot was leaked or known before that first night:

“There have been a lot of improbable returns to the stage by mythic artists over the last few years, from Led Zeppelin to Leonard Cohen, but at least the crowd who bought tickets to see them knew roughly what songs to expect. Tonight, almost uniquely in rock history, the vast majority of the audience has virtually no idea what's going to happen before it does.

The solitary information that has leaked out from rehearsals is that Bush will perform The Ninth Wave, her 1985 song cycle about a woman drowning at sea – which indeed she does, replete with staging of a complexity that hasn't been seen during a rock gig since Pink Floyd's heyday – and that she isn't terribly keen on people filming the show on their phones.

The rest is pure speculation, of varying degrees of madness. A rumour suggests that puppets will be involved, hence the aforementioned mannequin, manipulated by a man in black and regularly hugged by Bush during her performance of another song cycle, A Sky of Honey, from 2005's Aerial.

The satirical website the Daily Mash claimed that, at the gig's conclusion, Bush would "lead the audience out of the venue, along the fairy-tale Hammersmith Flyover and finally to a mountain where they would be sealed inside, listening to Hounds of Love for all eternity”.

I shall get to the atmosphere that must have been building in Hammersmith on 26th August, 2014. I love how Peter Gabriel almost gave the game away! As Graeme Thomson notes in his book, Under the Ivy: The Life and Music of Kate Bush, in 2000, Gabriel revealed to the world that Kate Bush had a new son. That was not public information. It soon was! I can imagine that his old friend gave him a call and perhaps gave him a stern warning! So trustful and forgiving, Kate Bush must have made it known to Peter Gabriel that she was working on Before the Dawn. Gabriel spoke to Graeme Thomson on 26th February, 2014 and said how the and Bush did not really talk that much. Some cards exchanged and the odd bit. Intriguingly, he did say that her period of quiet might be interrupted soon as she has been working on something. Knowing what that meant (I assume), he almost gave everything a month before Kate Bush announced Before the Dawn! Few expected something new. Going back to my earlier thread, in fact, it was a Kate Bush re-recording of Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God) that featured at the London Olympics in 2012. I guess it is technically a remix as the vocal was new but there was an edit and rejig of the song. A blend of the new and existing. In any case, in March 2013, Bush asked her young son Bertie whether she should go back on the stage. He encouraged her. Kate Bush was keen to connect with an audience after recording and being away from the stage for so long. Among her collaborators and choice of people, she invited Adrian Noble (former creative director of the Royal Shakespeare Company) to co-direct. Author David Mitchell was asked to help write dialogue that would sew together The Ninth Wave. The two hit it off right away.

I am wandering slightly, though I will end with that first night and moments before doors opened. Bush and Mitchell were a dream team. With Mitchell more of a sounding board – as Graeme Thomson writes in his biography of Kate Bush -, drafts would be changed and worked up. It was part of an incredible eighteen months of preparation. Credit to the KT Fellowship rather than Kate Bush, this was a troupe and group effort. Actors and singers were auditioned without being aware of what it was for. There was so much secrecy around Before the Dawn. That collective bond made Before the Dawn such a familial and spiritual thing. I love how the rehearsals were quite low-key. Bush rehearsed in an old school building. It was similar to the atmosphere and dynamic of The Tour of Life rehearsals. Smaller spaces and buildings. Intimacy and focus. Different departments and people would work in different rooms. Whether that was an office or gymnasium. That school environment was one of discipline and respect. Those working with Bush asked not to talk about what they were working on. The same obsessiveness and attention to detail that Bush displayed during The Tour of Life’s preparation – from set designs and costumes and everything else – went into Before the Dawn. Making sure the tickets and programmes were as beautiful, inviting and detailed as possible. The lack of PR and hype from Kate Bush is not something other major artists would do. Making sure that the announcement would be a surprise and no insights and secrets would be given out.

PHOTO CREDIT: Ken McKay/Rex

The press reacted with archive pieces, features, hagiography, song rankings and everything Kate Bush-related! A flurry of interest and column inches that ranged from the interesting to filler and recycled. Even so, one cannot deny that Kate Bush had taken people by surprise and dropped a beautiful and life-changing bomb! The same sexist and ageist criticism that Madonna faced prior to her recent Celebration Tour was applied to Kate Bush in 2014. Many asking whether a woman in her fifties could pull off such a physical feat. In the next feature about Before the Dawn, I shall talk about some of the celebrities in attendance. The BBC commissioned a documentary, The Kate Bush Story: Running Up That Hill, which I shall dissect in another feature. It is not great…though it was a useful accompaniment and addition to all the writing and discussion about Kate Bush around her new stage venture. Bush herself was eager for people not to take photos and videos. Asking people not to use their phones or tablets, most observed her request. It was quite strict when people got inside the venue. One of the first artists to ask audiences not to photo or film her shows, this approach has been taken up by so many artists. From Jack White to Adele, Beyoncé and Prince, many legends have adopted this policy. Recently, Bob Dylan announced that he would ask people to switch off their phones when he arrives in the U.K. later in the year for a series of dates. It provoked retaliation from Damon Albarn (who seems to be annoyed by everything these days!).

Even if many artists don’t mind phones at their gigs, it does distract audiences and the performer. Crappy videos get leaked - and it is all intrusive and unnecessary! People watching phones rather than the gig! Kate Bush (and all others) was right to ban phones. She wanted people to be there in the moment and not feel the insane need to document everything and, in the process, annoy others and waste a ticket price not engaging with the show. With about 16 degrees centigrade showing on the thermometer and there being about 78% humidity, on a drizzly afternoon (but a drier night) on a Tuesday, people lined up excitedly outside the Eventim Appollo in Hammersmith. A historic night on 26th August, 2014, inside the venue, Kate Bush would have been backstage nervously pondering. After such hard work, secrecy and passionate input, this was it! People outside already excitedly saying how pleased they were to be there. The day after, they would take to social media to proclaim: “I was there!”. Little did they know they would witness one of the greatest live performances of the century. Drama, beauty, theatrics and a note-perfect star, I can only imagine the contrasting thoughts in the minds of the thousands of fans…and Kate Bush. The pressure and expectation on her shoulders. As she was in her first costume and getting her in-ear microphones fitted (the first time she had used them; it meant she could move around stage and hear the other musicians clearly). Last-minute checks and chats about the show.

Kate Bush knew she would come on to Lily. After that, it was a case of ensuring that each song was delivered as tightly and professionally as possible. Having not experienced a crowd as excitable and expectant since the last date of The Tour of Life – 14th May, 1979 at the then-named Hammersmith Odeon (Eventim Apollo) -, this was a big moment. The audience that packed in to the venue came from all corners and walks of life. The critical reactions were ecstatic! Bush was perhaps too nervous and focused to realise the impact her performance was having. How everything came together. Having imagined how her ideas would form and be executed, the rapturous reaction that first-night audience gave her on 26th August, 2014 made it clear that her hard work, secrecy and incredible vision had paid off! What was realised nearly ten years ago was a rare but always-stunning live performer showing that she had not missed a beat. Few artists could take thirty-five years away form major performance and nail it! Before rounding off, NME reacted to the first night of the phenomenal Before the Dawn:

“Outside the venue, there is a sense of celebration and heightened anticipation. I’m experiencing the same fizzing anxiety I had when trying to buy a ticket to one of the shows. Lots of people I speak to say they’re feeling “nervous.” There are costumes, t-shirts of Bush from all eras and lots and lots of velvet. Like many of the fans congregating on this drizzly, grey August day, Kate Bush changed my life. It feels good to be part of a tribe; I’m wearing a maroon velvet dress like the one in ‘The Sensual World’ and have a makeshift Kate Bush symbol tattoo on my hand. Some, though, have gone to a huge amount of time and effort to show their appreciation. I speak to a few punters outside the Apollo.

Chad, Los Angeles: “It cost me thousands of dollars in total to get here from the US but it’s totally worth it because Kate is an artist who puts her work and her relationship with her fans above commerce, above making money. That’s why she takes a long time to make an album because she cares so much about the outcome and that means more to her fans than anything.”

Ben: “We were lucky because Cloud (pictured above) got a pre-sale code as she’s been a fan for a long time but while I was trying to get the tickets she was having a fit. I’ve never seen someone so possessed, literally holding on to the walls, crying to the Lord. Every time I clicked, she screamed. It was very intense. But we got them!”

Emerson, San Francisco: “I’m a perfumer so I actually see Kate as all these layers to build this ultimate perfume, so I’m here just to be in awe of her.”

Andrea, Brooklyn: “I said to my friends that if I die after tonight then everything should feel totally OK with it. Everything else is a bonus from here on out.”

Stuart: “She’s an artist that stayed true to her self. She’s never followed fashion, she’s followed her art. I saw her in 1979 which was fabulous.”

Inside the venue, there’s tension in the air around the merchandise stall which features pendants, a first aid kit (all becomes clear later on), fish masks and the usual t-shirts, mugs and posters. People queue up for over an hour worried that they’ll miss out.

The programme is snazzy as hell and written at length by Bush herself with all sorts of interesting detail. It smells like it has real oil paint on it.

Act I

The show can be split into four parts, starting with a traditional beginning, which almost acted like a trick false start. Bush, all in black with a fringed cape-cardigan, bare foot and hair long to her lower back, stood before an impressive seven-piece band featuring two extensive drums kits with various percussion: in the programme notes she says the two key people at the start of the project were the lightning designer and the drummer. She saw the drummer as the “heart” of the project.

The Gayatri prayer – an old Vedic mantra – opened ‘Lily’, a track from ‘The Red Shoes’. ‘Hounds of Love’, ‘Joanni’, ‘Top of the City’, ‘Never Be Mine’, ‘Running up that Hill’ and ‘King of the Mountain’ followed and thus ended the ‘hits’ section of the set. Her voice sounded exquisite and remained rich, powerful and controlled through the night.

She thanked Mark Henderson, the lightning designer, and her son Bertie McIntosh, who she said had been there for 18 months and ‘pushed the button’ for her to do the show. “It’s been an adventure and it’s only just beginning,” she beamed. Bertie provided vocals and acted in the part of the son and the painter later on. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

There is something about Bush’s vocal delivery that made me hear lyrics as if it were for the first time. They way she sang the “wind is whistling” during ‘King Of The Mountain’ imitated the wind whistling through the venue. Though I’ve heard the lyrics “snow and Rosebud” from the same song thousands of times before I’d never actually imagined the literal imagery. It was an enriching symptom of the show I hadn’t expected.

Act II

Just when we thought we were in for a greatest hits set – although it seemed unlikely that Bush would choose such a traditional template – everything turned completely upside down. Yes, the rumours were true. We were going to watch ‘The Ninth Wave’, the second suite to ‘Hounds Of Love’ (1985), a concept album about a “person who is alone in the water for the night.”

Confetti canons trumpeted the change of gear; yellow pieces of paper with a verse from Tennyson’s The Coming Of Arthur, the poem the ‘ninth wave’ phrase is from. Rumbling thunder and gathering crowds gave way to a film part with an astronomer reporting a phone call from a sinking ship.

Billowing silk sheets, towering spikes that gave the impression the stage was in the stomach of a whale, helicopter search lights, lasers and a drag-on living room were just a few of the surreal facets of stage design that told the story of a woman lost at sea, struggling to stay a live during her dark night of the soul, surrounded by Fish People – a reference to her record label – inept coastguards with tails and stunning music. A soliloquy about sausages sat alongside a moving scene of Bush’s character visiting her son and partner knowing that she might never see them again.

From the first few notes of ‘And Dream Of Sheep’, which saw Bush in the lifeboat ring you’ll recognise from the tour pictures, the audience sat stunned and with baited breath. This wasn’t music with theatre and a splice or two of film thrown in; somehow the team had balanced together the three elements to create something else and rewritten the rule book of live performance along the way. It was a reminder of how avant-garde she is.

Act III

The stage shifted so the band was far left and an enormous ceiling-high Moroccan-style door stood on the right out of which a puppeteer walked with jaw-droppingly impressive skills. The puppet would remain throughout the act embraced by Bush at times as if it might be a comfort to her to have it (him? Bertie?) there as a prop. It was impossible to gauge what could be next. And it was fittingly perfect: the whole second side of ‘Aerial’ (2005), ‘The Sky Of Honey’.

You could call this part the nature segment. The backdrop changed between stunning close-up footage of British birds such as geese, gulls, chaffinches, robins and blue tits flying with the motion of their wings seen in crystal-clear detail. Never has a pigeon looked so romantic. During ‘An Architect’s Dream’ a huge screen appeared with Bertie (16, pictured above) acting the part of the painter. The main background at times resembled the burnished painting by Russian artist Ivan Aivazovsky called The Ninth Wave.

It was during this point that Bush’s impeccable movement and skilled control, taught by Lindsay Kemp in the late 70s, shone through, though her dancing was – comparably to the tour 35 years ago – at a minimum. This kinetic effect was mesmeric, as was the visuals showing a vivid crimson sunset and hyper-realistic tawny moon spinning on its axis.

‘A Sky Of Honey’ is an elemental album filled with natural sounds, including Bush herself imitating bird song, and the visuals mirrored the music, with murmurations of starlings a particular highlight. The effect was pastoral, calming and warm although typically the fairy-tale had a dark undercurrent; at one point it looked as though the puppet was savaging a sea gull and a spatter of scarlet blood hit the screen. It had that feeling of the surreal moment between waking and dreaming. Towards the end Bush had a prosthetic winged arm in the Edward Scissorhands vein before being suspended in air and flown briefly in blackbird guise to enormous cheers. Again, the lyrics sounded completely different live. I’d never realised how beautiful and evocative the line “the stars are caught in our hair” from ‘Nocturn’ was.

Act IV

“Thank you so much for such a wonderful, warm and positive response,” said Bush before closing the show. As she sat at the piano, some might have assumed she’d break into an older classic such as ‘The Man With A Child in His Eyes’ or ‘This Woman’s Work’. Oh no. ‘Among Angels’ from ’50 Words For Snow’ was followed by a euphoric version of ‘Cloudbusting’.

After she left the stage, the crowd cheered and applauded for a good 10 minutes but there was no re-entrance. There was a sense that the audience were stunned as we filed out of the Apollo; there was just so much to digest and process.

It is no ordinary artist that can tackle life, death, synchronicity, identity, spiritual transformation, empathy and the chaos of relationships with idiosyncratic ease in the space of a few hours. Some may have wanted to hear more of the older hits – music from her first four albums, including ‘Wuthering Heights’ was eschewed – but there was no denying the vitality, creativity and huge amount of work and character that’s gone into the Before The Dawn tour. Though perhaps it surprised people when watching it, the show was perfectly ‘Kate’. In an interview with Simon Reynolds in the 90s, she made this comment, which rings true today”.

From major celebrities to new fans, everyone joined together in appreciation and love for Kate Bush! I am not sure whether there are going to be many tenth anniversary features or anything special closer to 26th August. There should be. No ordinary concert or live performance, this was seismic and epochal! As Kate Bush and the KT Bush Fellowship spilled backstage and breathed out, they knew that they had delivered something magical! After Kate Bush took out her in-ears and absorbed the air and atmosphere of the Eventim Apollo, her players and cast would have been excited and releived! In the Hammersmith summer air, fans made their way in all directions. Discussing what they had just seen. Disbelief and a state of bliss! That night, I doubt few would have been able to sleep or even wanted to! The volume, drama and epic-ness of that performance ringing in their ears and around their heads. They were recalling with smiles and breathlessness a live performance like no other that had happened only a matter of hours…

BEFORE the dawn.

FEATURE: A Perfect Shot in St John’s Wood: The Cover of The Beatles’ Abbey Road at Fifty-Five

FEATURE:

 

 

A Perfect Shot in St John’s Wood

PHOTO CREDIT: Iain Stewart Macmillan

The Cover of The Beatles’ Abbey Road at Fifty-Five

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THERE is a lot written about…

PHOTO CREDIT: Iain Stewart Macmillan

the cover of The Beatles’ Abbey Road. The final album they recorded, it was released on 26th September, 1969. On 8th August that year, the band shot the cover of the album. It is, in my view, the greatest album cover ever. So iconic and discussed. Many people reacting to conspiracy theories and supposed symbolism in the shot. This pure moment where we capture John Lennon, George Harrison, Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr outside EMI/Abbey Road Studios in St John’s Wood on a warm day. One of the great things about the Abbey Road cover is the sense of the still and mobile. There is movement from the band members, yet there is this feeling of stillness. Like someone has covertly captured the guys walking across a zebra crossing. I never thought it seemed too posed and planned – even though, of course, it was. There is a lot of detail in the shot from Iain Stewart Macmillan. I want to come to a few features about the iconic photoshoot. There are features that look at some of the theories about the images. The ‘Paul is dead’ theory. First, this feature from last year takes us inside a fabulous day in August 1969:

“On August 8, 1969, on a street in north-west London and almost directly outside a celebrated recording studio, one of the most famous ever album covers was shot.

Photographer Iain MacMillan took the image that would adorn the cover of the brilliant new record named after the street where he stood, Abbey Road. The zebra crossing, almost exactly in front of the studio where The Beatles had created the vast majority of their body of work, was about to become one of the most recognized sites in London.

Before the shoot began, MacMillan, a friend of John Lennon and Yoko Ono’s, had taken Paul McCartney’s initial sketch idea of the potential cover image and added detail of exactly how the famous quartet might look on the crossing. The street sign of Abbey Road that adorned the back cover of the album was taken by MacMillan on a junction with Alexandra Road that no longer exists.

PHOTO CREDIT: Iain Stewart Macmillan

Linda McCartney was also on hand to take some extra shots, before traffic was stopped by a solitary policeman and MacMillan got on his stepladder to take six images of the group crossing the road. Perhaps the four most famous men in the world walked crossed the road three times. McCartney took the lead in choosing the fifth of the transparencies to be used, partly because it was the only one that showed the group walking in exact time together. In 2012, one of the five outtakes sold at auction for £16,000.

What else did The Beatles do that day?

That afternoon, The Beatles and George Martin were inside Abbey Road, rather than outside, to resume work in a session for the upcoming album, recording “Ending,” which would become “The End.” The studio time was booked for 2.30pm, so as Mark Lewisohn reported in his Complete Beatles Recording Sessions, to kill time after the photo session, Paul took John back to his Cavendish Avenue house, George Harrison went with Mal Evans to London Zoo, and Ringo Starr went shopping. The Abbey Road album would be released seven weeks after the photo shoot, as The Beatles’ recording story came towards an end”.

Prior to moving on to features that deal with conspiracy theories and symbolic references in the cover shoot, American Songwriter highlighted an immortal photo. For a band who were known for their incredible album covers, Abbey Road stands out on top. It is a mesmerising image that will endure for generations to come. Maybe this feeling that they are striding away from Abbey Road and their lives together. Or they are confidently walking into the studio to record. There is that sense of importance about the photo by Iain Stewart Macmillan:

“Macmillan reportedly only had about 15 minutes to get the shot after The Beatles walked out onto Abbey Road. (The famous road was the location of EMI Studios, now Abbey Road Studios, where The Beatles recorded some of their music in Studio Two of the building.) The final photo was taken from up high on a stepladder.

Additionally, the album cover for Abbey Road remains the only original cover to completely omit the actual album title or band name. “I insisted we didn’t need to write the band’s name on the cover,” Kosh explained in a previous interview with BBC. “They were the most famous band in the world after all.”

What you might’ve missed

While the Abbey Road album artwork is immediately recognizable, there are a few details that might’ve evaded the average eye.

For one, did you notice that only McCartney is barefoot and out of step? Or that Harrison is the only Beatle donning a jean outfit instead of a Tommy Nutter-designed suit? Whether you did or not, the details are there, adding little intricacies to a photo that captured the personality and success of The Beatles.

Oh, and one more thing, the license plate on the white Volkswagen Beetle (LMW 281F)? It was repeatedly stolen after the album was released. Now, what kind of fan would do that? We would never dream of doing such a thing…”.

As whack and insane as conspiracy theorists are, they exist. For decades, they have been over-analysing events and spouting nonsense. Unfortunately, the cover to Abbey Road was not immune to crackpot theories. It is interesting to entertain them for the sake of this feature, as sadly, there were some who did believe Paul McCartney was dead. In fact, almost as much has been written about conspiracy theories around the cover shoot as a celebration of the shot and the beauty of it. This Biography feature from 2020 explores theories around the rumour McCartney had died:

“Ask your friends to name the biggest hoax of 1969 and you might hear the "Paul Is Dead" rumor. For much of the late 1960s, hearsay about the Beatles had been building up until the strange meme hit newspapers everywhere: that Paul McCartney fatally crashed his Aston Martin in 1966 and for years had been replaced by an impostor. Conspiracists based their claim on a car accident report involving one of McCartney’s cars. They also note years’ worth of clues found in song lyrics and on album covers ranging from Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band to the Magic Mystery Tour.

The speculation over McCartney’s demise was at an all-time high when the band’s Abbey Road album cover was later released in September 1969. For many, the cover may simply show the band harmlessly walking across London’s Abbey Road, but for some Beatlemaniacs, the imagery was a kooky dissertation in morbid symbolism. Was it a grand conspiracy or an elaborate marketing scheme? Here are eight symbols pointed out over the years in no particular order of truthiness:

It’s a funeral procession

That’s what theorists likened to the photo of the band crossing the North London Street. They point out that John Lennon’s white suit symbolized the color of mourning in some Eastern religions while Ringo Starr is donned the more traditional black. What they neglect to point out, however, is that George Harrison is wearing denim — the color of mourning in Canada.

McCartney's cigarette in his non-dominant hand

Paul held his cigarette in his right hand, even though he is a lefty.

McCartney’s feet are bare

Why? It’s a reminder, theorists say, that in some cultures the dead are buried without their shoes.

The license plate

In the background we see a Volkswagen Beetle with the plate "LMW 28IF" Conspiracists claim this to mean that McCartney would be 28 if he were alive. (Nevermind the fact that he would actually have been 27 if the rumor were true.)

The police van

Parked on the side of the road is a black police van, which is said to symbolize authorities who kept silent about McCartney's fatal fender-bender.

The girl in the blue dress

On the night of McCartney’s supposed car accident, he was believed to have been driving with a fan named Rita. Theorists say the girl in the dress featured on the back cover was meant to be her, fleeing from the car crash.

Connect the dots

Also on the back cover are a series of dots. Join some of them together and you can make the number three — the number of surviving Beatles.

Broken Beatles sign

On the back cover, we see the band’s name written in tiles on a wall and there’s a crack running through it. Of all the symbols, this one turned out to be the most meaningful, and sad. Although the release of Abbey Road was followed with ample evidence that McCartney was alive and well, what the public didn’t know was that the Beatles had secretly broken up. Abbey Road would be the band’s penultimate studio album, and the group would call it quits only a year later”.

I am going to end with a Classic Rock. Although it was a magical day in North London in 1969, instead of there being this unanimous celebration of the cover photo for Abbey Road, many espoused macabre theories. It is a shame that it almost overshadows all the brilliance of the photo. How eye-catching and sense-altering it is:

“In keeping with the pencil sketch that Paul McCartney had given to photographer Iain Macmillan, the cover of The Beatles' classic Abbey Road simply shows the four musicians walking across the zebra crossing outside Abbey Road Studios in North London.

The famous cover shot was one of six taken by Macmillan at 10am on August 8, 1969. As a policeman held up the traffic, the photographer had just 10 minutes to balance on a stepladder and get the shots. The result was striking and iconic. But few could have imagined the reaction it got.

Shortly before the release of the Abbey Road album, an American newspaper ran a story that claimed Paul McCartney had died in a car accident in 1966, and that the current ‘Paul’ was actually a lookalike called William Campbell. The rumours gathered pace and when Abbey Road arrived that October, its sleeve was pronounced by conspiracy theorists as final proof of Macca’s demise.

Inevitably, the ‘clues’ were somewhat tenuous, McCartney was out of step with his bandmates; his eyes were closed, and he wasn’t wearing shoes (like a buried body); he held a cigarette in his right hand (despite being left-handed); over his shoulder was a Volkswagen with a number plate interpreted as ‘28IF’ (ie McCartney would have been 28 if he lived; although actually he would have been 27).

The order in which the four Beatles were arranged was also deemed significant. John Lennon, bearded and dressed in white, represented Jesus. Ringo Starr, in a sober black suit, was the undertaker. George Harrison’s jeans and denim shirt made him the gravedigger.

Of course, McCartney has always dismissed these clues as nonsense. “We were wearing ordinary clothes,” he once protested. “I was barefoot because it was a hot day. The Volkswagen just happened to be there.”

McCartney’s supposed ‘death’ is old news these days, of course, but the Abbey Road sleeve continues to make headlines. In 2003, US poster companies sparked controversy by air-brushing Macca’s cigarette out of the image”.

On 8th August, it will be fifty-five years since that remarkable photograph by Iain Stewart Macmillan was taken. I love the outtakes of it. What was actually captured and used for Abbey Road is the greatest album cover ever. So brilliant and timeless in its seeming simplicity. I hope that the anniversary will compel people not only to discover more about the album cover shoot for Abbey Road. Also listen to the album itself. Perhaps the greatest album from The Beatles, it has a fittingly outstanding cover. Although some would argue against the fact it is the best album cover ever, to me it will…

ALWAYS be the best.

FEATURE: Cover Versions: Is It Possible for Modern Artists to Equal the Greatest Album Art Ever?

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Cover Versions

Is It Possible for Modern Artists to Equal the Greatest Album Art Ever?

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IT is interesting debating…

whether the album cover is regarded as highly now as it was years ago. Last week, Rolling Stone published a feature where they ranked the one hundred greatest album covers ever. There were some surprises in the pack. Aside from the fact that kicking off the one hundred was Spinal Tap, there were some notable omissions. Kate Bush’s Hounds of Love not making the list. Also, in terms of the top ten, Joy Division’s Unknown Pleasures was at one. The Beatles’ Abbey Road, which I think is the best album cover ever, was at two. Usual suspects like Pink Floyd’s The Dark Side of the Moon and The Clash’s London Calling were in the top ten. An unexpected but worthy addition, Cyndi Lauper’s She’s So Unusual, was in there. It raised debate as to what people were looking for when it comes to a classic album cover:

“THE ALBUM IS the best invention of the past century, hands down — but the music isn’t the whole story. The album cover has been a cultural obsession as long as albums have. Ever since 12-inch vinyl records took off in the 1950s, packaged in cardboard sleeves, musicians have been fascinated by the art that goes on those covers, and so have fans. When the Beatles revolutionized the game with the cover of Sgt. Pepper, in 1967, it became a way to make a visual statement about where the music comes from and why it matters. But the art of the album cover just keeps evolving.

So this is our massive celebration of that art: the 100 best album covers ever, from Biggie to Beyoncé to Bad Bunny, from Nirvana to Nas to Neil Young, from SZA to Sabbath to the Sex Pistols. We’ve got rap, country, jazz, prog, metal, reggae, flamenco, funk, goth, hippie psychedelia, hardcore punk. But all these albums have a unique look to go with the sound. The most unforgettable covers become part of the music — how many Pink Floyd fans have gotten their minds blown staring at the prism on the cover of Dark Side of the Moon, after using it to roll up their smoking materials?

What makes an album cover a classic? Sometimes it’s a portrait of the artist — think of the Beatles crossing the street, or Carole King in Laurel Canyon with her cat. Others go for iconic, semi-abstract images, like Led Zeppelin, Miles Davis, or My Bloody Valentine. Some artists make a statement about where they’re from, whether it’s R.E.M. repping the South with kudzu or Ol’ Dirty Bastard flashing his food-stamps card to salute the Brooklyn Zoo.

Many of these covers come from legendary photographers, designers, and artists, like Andy Warhol, Annie Leibovitz, Storm Thorgerson, Raymond Pettibon, and Peter Saville. Some have cosmic symbolism for fans to decode; others go for star power. But they’re all classic images that have become a crucial part of music history. And they all show why there’s no end to the world’s long-running love affair with albums”.

I am going to discuss The Beatles’ Abbey Road cover, as it turns fifty-five on 8th August. What I notice about the top twenty from Rolling Stone’s list is the 1970s is the most prolific decade. The 1990s not too far behind. Not too much from the 1980s. I was surprised that Madonna’s Like a Prayer cover was not in the top twenty. What I did notice is that only two albums from the past twenty years made the top twenty – Beyoncé’s Lemonade from 2016 at fifteen; Kendrick Lamar’s 2015 release, To Pimp a Butterfly, at twelve. Two albums released within a year of each other. Nothing from the past nine years. Look right up the top fifty, and only four other albums from the past twenty years join Lemonade and To Pimp a Butterfly. The most recent entry is SZA’s SOS (2022). That was ranked twenty-sixth. In terms of the best-ranked album covers, most of the inclusions are from albums that have been in other lists. Nirvana’s Nevermind at ten. An album cover often included in the top five. I wonder whether it is the quality of the album that dictates how we feel about a cover. If the songs seem to match the cover and there is this connection, people are more attached to the artwork. Few albums with striking covers and poor songs are deemed a classic when it comes to the artwork. Most of the albums with lauded covers have amazing music within. Is it possible to love an album cover for an album that is a disappointment? What is clear that albums that many of us grew up with and we fell in love with their covers are still hugely regarded. The passing of time has done nothing to diminish their appeal and power. It’s the same as human attraction. You can have all these emotions and feelings seeing someone you see as beautiful. That intensity grows when you learn more about them. That first impression and look is vital. It can rule the heart and change your life. I think that way about albums. If there is a cover that does not catch the eye and heart, I am less compelled to check out the album. If I do, then I often feel that there is a missed opportunity regarding making a better cover.

Whilst we might see a smattering of album covers from the twenty-first century in the highest positions, the biggest takeaway is the majority of the album covers from Rolling Stone’s list are from the past century. Most actually from more than thirty years ago. One could argue that this is subjective. All rankings are subjective. They only express the opinions of a very small selection of people. However, there is some universal truth. I am not sure whether most people, if asked, would have a personal top twenty where recent album covers were featured. I can think of a few albums from the twenty-first century that would be in mind. Alongside Amy Winehouse’s Frank (2003) would be Lorde’s Melodrama (2017) – that did make the top one hundred. There have been some great album covers from this century. If you look at Billboard’s top one hundred album covers from last year, there is a lot of crossover with Rolling Stone. Not that many modern examples making the top twenty. One could say that the streaming age means that there is less emphasis on album covers. That the artwork would be ignored. Others might say that there is such a saturation of albums now that many classics are being missed. Is there generational bias. Writers who grew up with classic albums more likely to love their covers rather than modern examples?! I there is some truth to all those statements. Many artists still put a lot of thought into album art. Pride themselves on how important that is. However, more and more, there are lacklustre covers when, in the modern age, there is this need to create something that could rank alongside the absolute best ever.

I think it is possible, in the next decade, we will see cases of covers that can challenge some of the all-time best. Maybe not as iconic as anything from The Beatles. Even so, there is this notable lack of modern album covers in ranking lists. Maybe visuals are less prominent and important. Music videos not seen as much as decades ago. There was a lot of emphasis on album covers at a time when we didn’t have the Internet. No option to post videos or edit photos like we can now. Fewer promotional avenues. Now, artists use TikTok, Instagram and have different ways of marketing an album. The rise in vinyl, I hope, leads to artists re-prioritising album covers. Major artists who can sell millions of units should not sit back and let the hype and their name do all the world. Many albums are going to be kept for decades to come. So many of the albums I grew up around stick in the mind because of their covers. Such vivid memories of discovering them. There are features that give tips about what makes an effective album cover. It is harder to stand out because of the quantity of albums coming out. The music industry has become more about visuals and images. If artists are posting photos all the time, how easy is it to have an album cover that stands out?! Some might say who really cares whether an album cover is great. So long as the music is brilliant. I would argue against that. Many people buy an album on the strength of a cover. Others will pass an album down through the generations because of the image. A truly moving album cover tells a story or gives you an indication of what the album’s story and intention is. A boring or unambitious cover can be jarring and also mean an album passes some by. Now more than ever, there is a need for the rise of the album cover. Artists really pushing themselves. As Rolling Stone’s top one hundred shows, most of the very best are from decades past. We really need to reverse this and show that, today, artists still value…

THE art of the album cover.

FEATURE: Oasis’ Definitely Maybe at Thirty: Inside the Epic Live Forever

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Oasis’ Definitely Maybe at Thirty

Inside the Epic Live Forever

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I am looking ahead…

to 29th August. That is when Oasis’ amazing debut, Definitely Maybe, turns thirty. There are some anniversary editions that you can buy. A white marble two-L.P. edition is well worth having. There is also more options here. It is going to be exciting to mark one of the most important albums of the 1990s. One that launched Oasis to the rest of the world. I have already written about Definitely Maybe. I am going to cover it again before 29th August. I wanted to use this opportunity to spotlight the most acclaimed and loved songs from the album: the sublime and epic Live Forever. Often cited as the greatest Oasis song ever, it is the third track on Definitely Maybe. I often wonder why it was not chosen as the closing track. It would have been a perfect way to end. The ending track of Definitely Maybe is Married with Children. There are some interesting and insightful features that talk about the story behind Live Forever. How it was this response to the downbeat and often depressive music coming from U.S. Grunge. American Songwriter looked inside the classic Oasis song earlier in the year:

“Noel Gallagher wrote “Live Forever” as a response to the negative and depressing messages of grunge music, which had come to dominate rock music stations and label rosters in the early ‘90s. Gallagher singled out Nirvana’s “I Hate Myself and Want to Die” as a song that particularly motivated him to put a more positive message out into the world. Specifically, Gallagher said, “I can’t have people like [Kurt Cobain] coming over here, on smack, f—ing saying that they hate themselves and they wanna die. That’s f—ing rubbish. Kids don’t need to be hearing that nonsense.”

With “Live Forever,” Gallagher wanted to express his gratitude for getting to have another day to be alive. In the song’s verse (which is repeated three times throughout the song), Gallagher emphasizes how he is focused on the possibility of each day, rather than worrying about other people’s affairs. And then he goes on to articulate that he can find beauty anywhere, even in things that can be painful.

Maybe I don’t really wanna know
How your garden grows
‘Cause I just wanna fly

Lately, did you ever feel the pain
In the morning rain
As it soaks you to the bone

In the choruses, Gallagher continues to espouse his positive outlook. In the second chorus, he asserts that there are reasons to be happy, even if we don’t get what we want. Having life turn out differently than what we hoped for just gives us a reason to be curious about how things actually did turn out.

Maybe I will never be
All the things I wanna be
Now is not the time to cry
Now’s the time to find out why

One part of Gallagher’s message is open to interpretation. He finishes up the second chorus with I think you’re the same as me / We see things they’ll never see / You and I are gonna live forever. Given that Cobain was a major inspiration for Gallagher’s lyrics, one has to wonder if this was a direct appeal to the Nirvana frontman—for him to understand that he, too, could find joy and wonder in life.

Even though Gallagher took issue with Cobain’s lyrics and song titles, he was a fan. And if these lines were directed at him, then the Oasis guitarist is saying he feels a kinship with his fellow rock star. Then again, Gallagher could have been speaking to grunge musicians—or any musicians—in general and encouraging them to appreciate what they have. Or maybe he was addressing all of us.

Nirvana was not the only band that influenced Gallagher when he was writing “Live Forever.” The melody that begins the verses was adapted from The Rolling Stones’ “Shine a Light.” Specifically, Gallagher borrowed the melody that Mick Jagger sings for the line “May the good Lord shine a light on you.” He eventually developed it into the slightly different melody his brother Liam sings: “Maybe I don’t really want to know.”

The Impact of “Live Forever,” Which Started It All

If not for “Live Forever,” Oasis may not have ever existed in the form that we have come to know. Noel Gallagher was the last member of the Definitely Maybe lineup of Oasis to join the band, and it was “Live Forever” that convinced the existing members to accept Gallagher as a member and as their songwriter.

“Live Forever” was the first Oasis song to place on Billboard’s Radio Songs chart, peaking at No. 39. It also reached No. 2 on their Alternative Airplay chart and No. 10 on their Mainstream Rock chart. It was the first Oasis single to place in the Top 10 of the UK Singles Chart, as well. Definitely Maybe, then, would peak at No. 58 on the Billboard 200 and No. 1 on the UK Official Albums Chart.

Oasis would go on to have even greater commercial success with their follow-up album, (What’s the Story) Morning Glory?, and their Top 10 single “Wonderwall.” Sometimes, songs don’t get enough credit for the role they play in catapulting an artist into the public’s consciousness. “Live Forever” certainly played that role for Oasis, and it bears some of the responsibility for the mammoth success of “Wonderwall.” It remains one of Oasis’ most popular songs in its own right”.

Released as a single on 8th August, 1994, it is a perfect opportunity to celebrate Live Forever. Thirty years after its release, this amazing and stirring anthem is still inspiring people. Its messages might have fitted more into the political and music scene of 1994. Its optimism against the backdrop of today might seem jarring or ineffective. I want to come to this feature, and their insight of Definitely Maybe’s standout track:

“The melody is inspired by Shine A Light by The Rolling Stones. The song can be found Exile on Main St. and is, most likely, written in reference to Brian Jones’ struggles. Noel drew inspiration from the chorus part: “May The good Lord Shine A Light on You.”

Allegedly, Noel Gallagher composed parts of the song using John Squire’s Gretsch G6122. The Stone Roses guitarist. Producer Mark Coyle was a roadie for The Stone Roses and lent the guitar to Gallagher.

The songwriter later told Q Magazine that he was convinced he’d written a classic from the time that the song was finished. Noel Gallagher presented a fully composed Live Forever to the band for the first time in early 1993 during rehearsals. The band was in awe of it. Guitarist Paul “Bonehead” Arthurs reportedly confronted Gallagher about the song being an original composition. “Maybe I just wanna fly” remains one of the most enduring phrases in pop music.

Oasis reaching the musical mainstream

Noel Gallagher later said that writing Live Forever finally gave him a life goal. The group would soon achieve great commercial and critical success. Oasis, particularly brothers Liam and Noel, would earn a reputation for their confidence and outspokenness.

Part of the iconic music video was shot in New York’s Central Park. The cover of the CD single shows John Lennon’s childhood home, 251 Menlove Avenue. It was bought by Yoko Ono who donated it to the National Trust.

The song has had an enduring legacy. In a poll conducted on Oasis’s official website, this song was voted Oasis’s best song. Also, in Q magazine, in October 2008, Liam Gallagher stated that this song is his favorite Oasis song. In a 2018 Radio X poll, Live Forever was voted as the best British song of all time. To claim the title, Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody, and Oasis’ won Don’t Look Back In Anger were beaten by this epic track.

It was a time when Gallagher could seemingly do no wrong. Non-albums singles like Acquiesce or Whatever would chart highly. The band was playing Britain’s biggest arenas. And, even Oasis bootlegs of the brothers’ bickering, could elicit the public’s attention. The rise and fall of Britpop, maybe, can be charted through the Manchester group’s evolution.

And, its writer, Noel Gallagher has not yet tired of hearing the song. In 2011 he talked about how the song measures up to music’s greatest compositions”.

Before finishing up, I want to come to a feature from PASTE. It is interesting reading about how Live Forever has changed people’s lives. Rather than writing about the song in terms of its chart success – it reached ten in the U.K. and was a success in the U.S. -, people talk about how it personally affected them. Such is the power and depth of Live Forever. For me, at the age of eleven, it was a big moment. I had not really heard anything like it. A moment of uplift in a music scene that was lacking this sort of pomp and optimism:

“For me, one of those songs was Oasis’ “Live Forever.” Though I didn’t hear the song when it came out on August 8, 1994 (I would’ve been -2 years old), when I encountered it in my early teens, it was a much-needed lightbulb moment. I hadn’t yet developed my passion for music at the time. I was mostly listening to what everyone else my age was listening to, which at the time, meant whatever T-Pain or Sean Kingston song happened to be popular for that month.

After stumbling on the band’s music videos on YouTube, I quickly became obsessed. I didn’t come from a family that was interested in music. I’d love to say that my parents played original Beatles, Stones and Coltrane records around the house or even that I raided my sibling’s collection of Paramore and My Chemical Romance CDs, but I can’t. All the music that I became enthralled by in my teenage years was stuff that I had dug up on my computer in solitude.

As a teen, my perception of rock music was that it only consisted of two categories: classic rock like The Beatles, Bruce Springsteen or AC/DC and whatever angsty bands were popular in the 2000s like Green Day, Panic at the Disco or Blink-182. Though I’ve since come to appreciate those two styles of rock, I had no connection to them as a teen. Classic rock was just music that boring parents listened to, and the whole pop-punk and emo thing wasn’t for me. Growing up in Ohio in the ’00s, I soon realized that most people in the states were much more interested in albums like American Idiot than an English band like Oasis who most considered past their prime.

I hadn’t heard a band like Oasis before. Liam Gallagher’s voice was gritty and rough but not so much that he couldn’t carry a beautiful, moving melody. People compared his voice to a mix between John Lydon and John Lennon and I always loved that idea of his edgy-meets-emotional vocal style. The band dressed in denim, sunglasses, button-down shirts and fancy parkas and jackets. They didn’t have ripped jeans. They weren’t dressed in all black with crazy hair or piercings. They looked cool but relatable, and even though tons of British people dressed just like them, to me, it was as if they had been transported from Mars.

“Live Forever” was the third single that the band released from their 1994 debut album, Definitely Maybe. For me, the song partially symbolized my disillusionment with a lot of the pop-punk that was coming out at the time, much of the same way that it represented the split between American grunge and Britpop in the ’90s. Like pop-punk, grunge often felt angsty to the point of self-destruction while Britpop was charming and uplifting. By 1993, Nirvana had become worldwide sensations and they released a track called “I Hate Myself and I Wanna Die.” I never was drawn in by these kind of lyrics as a kid, even if I really did hate myself and want to die. I had low self-esteem and no sense of self, but I thought if I listened to lyrics like that, it would just make those feelings more real. Instead of facing those feelings head on, I wanted to fast-forward past those dark thoughts to a time where I was happy and sure of myself. Britpop, Oasis and “Live Forever” were the antithesis of this kind of tortured rock star that was mythologized in other genres.

When I heard Liam Gallagher sing lines like “Maybe you’re the same as me/ We see things they’ll never see/ You and I are gonna live forever,” it was motivating and empowering. Despite the band’s constant fighting between brothers Liam and Noel, they were the last band to sulk or feel sorry for themselves. Their unshakeable self-confidence (or arrogance) was exhilarating, and it was everything I needed to hear as a shy teen. The song continues with the idea that all you had to do was dust yourself off and you could take over the world: “Maybe I will never be all the things that I want to be/ But now is not the time to cry/ Now’s the time to find out why.”

It was one of those songs you could listen to and strut down the street with your head held high and your chest puffed out. Even though I probably looked like an idiot, I felt like I had the whole world in the palm of my hands. When Noel Gallagher’s first melancholy guitar solo hits, it cries out like a siren and makes you remember that things aren’t always so happy-go-lucky, but when Liam’s vocals return, everything is okay again, and you’re back on cloud nine.

One of the reasons the song is so encouraging and believable without being preachy or cheesy is because of the Oasis brothers’ story. The Gallaghers came from a poor family in working-class Manchester, born to Irish immigrants and the sons of an abusive, alcoholic father. If two poor, foul-mouthed boys from Manchester could take over the UK and the rest of the world with their music after a meteoric rise, why couldn’t I at least have some confidence in myself that I could be somebody and achieve something great if I worked hard? Oasis were one of the first bands I loved and without them, I’m not sure where I would be right now”.

On 29th August, Oasis’ Definitely Maybe turns thirty. Before that, on 8th August, the album’s third single turns thirty. It was released after Supersonic and Shakemaker, I think this was the biggest release from Definitely Maybe. Still regarded as their creative peak. I hope that it gets plenty of radioplay on its thirtieth anniversary. I am going to end with the acclaim and critical reaction to Live Forever:

“While Oasis' first two singles, "Supersonic" and "Shakermaker", were modestly received, it was "Live Forever" that "got the world's attention". "Live Forever" became Oasis' first top-ten hit, reaching number ten on the UK Singles Chart in 1994. In 1995, the song charted in the United States, reaching number two and number ten on Billboard's Modern Rock Tracks and Album Rock Tracks charts, respectively. Noel Gallagher commented on the praise given to the song: "People said to me after 'Live Forever', 'Where are you gonna go after that?' And I was like, I don't think it's that good. I think it's a fucking good song, but I think I can do better."

"Live Forever" has garnered additional acclaim years after its release. In 2006, "Live Forever" was named the greatest song of all time in a poll released by Q; the song had ranked ninth in a similar Q poll three years prior. In 2007, "Live Forever" placed number one in the NME and XFM poll of the 50 "Greatest Indie Anthems Ever". Pitchfork labelled the song as Oasis' best-ever track and said of the song: "It's an honest, aspirational sentiment just as the photo of John Lennon's childhood home on the single's sleeve is an honest, tasteful exhibition of fandom." The music site went on to praise the song for its 'fearless optimism'. On 2 April 2018, Live Forever reached number one on Radio X's Best of British poll. On 5 April 2021, "Live Forever" reached number one on Radio X's Best of British 2021 poll. On 10 April 2023, it reached number one for the third time”.

A tremendous and rousing song, it is hard to believe that Live Forever is thirty. I remember it being released into the world and the excitement around the song. To this day, it remains hugely played across radio. I will write more about Definitely Maybe ahead of its thirtieth anniversary on 29th August. “Maybe you're the same as me/We see things they'll never see…

YOU and I are going to live forever”.

FEATURE: The Wedding List: Kate Bush News Updates: After the Repackaging and Merchandise…

FEATURE:

 

 

The Wedding List

PHOTO CREDIT: Fish People

Kate Bush News Updates: After the Repackaging and Merchandise…

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I realise that this is quite niche…

PHOTO CREDIT: Trevor Leighton

though it taps into something that fans are wondering about. If you look at the official Kate Bush Twitter account, most of the updates we have seen over the past few years have been about reissues or merchandise dropping. Take things back the past thirteen months or so. After celebrating one billion streams of Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God) in June 2023, there was then not a lot posted for the next year. What we have seen are announcements about older work. New Hounds of Love merchandise was dropped in November. Though it gives fans that option to buy some really cool things – I fancy a T-shirt or an umbrella! -, there is also the issue around cost. We all love Kate Bush. It is no surprise how much I admire her and her work. I like investing in Kate Bush-related books. I have not got much in the way of merchandise. This was around the time Bush reissued her studio albums for independent record stores. Redesigning the vinyl with unique colours and looks. So close to Christmas, it was a chance for fans to get their hands on something very special. Again, if you look at the albums, they can cost about £40 or more for vinyl. If you have the originals, maybe it would feel a bit much investing in anything extra. I was tempted to get the new version of The Kick Inside. It is unavailable at the moment, though the newly-redesigned vinyl was over £30. I guess worth it if you love the album. A special Baskerville Edition of Hounds of Love came out. Understandable that this was released. Given the increased popularity of Hounds of Love following 2022’s Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God)/Stranger Things explosion, there were a new generation coming to the original.

https://t.co/C2nOEItRnN pic.twitter.com/6ZOafmfna9

— Kate Bush (@KateBushMusic) December 1, 2023

In terms of cost, again, it was quite high for fans. Various options and boxes can set you back, depended on how much you spend. As something to treasure and keep for years, I guess the investment is worth it. For those who love the original Hounds of Love and wanted to add to it, I suppose paying £138 for the single-vinyl Baskerville Edition is a bit rich. In December 2023, the Cloudbusting umbrella came back in stock. A nice and nifty brolly, it is £40. Quite nice to get and, as it was so close to Christmas, it was offering gift options. Kate Bush donated two signed boxsets to War Child UK. There then came The Dreaming (Escapologist Edition). Rather than them being expanded and with no stuff, there was this new packaging and design. I can appreciate how Kate Bush wanted to keep the momentum going with her albums. Attracting new fans and trying to make sure people were as enticed by physical music as possible – rather than going to streaming sites and hand-picking. Maybe the prices put some casual fans off investing. In 2024, there was a January announcement that the Kate Bush store was up and stocked. Great options like hoodies and a jigsaw. It was interesting seeing how the posts were announced and branded. I think there was a drive when the albums were reissued to put special focus on Hounds of Love. It was more about Fish People – Kate Bush’s record label – and taking it away from the albums and more towards a wider arc. Her empire.

PHOTO CREDIT: Fish People 

On 24th January, there was another push regarding merchandise. The only two updates that have come onto the Twitter page concern merchandise. Well, for Record Store Day Kate Bush was the Ambassador. There was a special reissue of Eat the Music. From 1993’s The Red Shoes, it put focus back on the album. The latest update from the Kate Bush Twitter account is about a bit of merchandise. You can get Fish People-branded bath towels and towels for the beach. It is summer, so it is good that there is a Kate Bush-related accessory you can take with you. At £40 a pop, it is a fairly pricey towel. Before moving on, there are a couple of observations. Kate Bush clearly loves her fans. I never feel she wants to exploit them or make herself richer. The success of Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God) last year would have made millions. Rather than this being her seeing how much fans will invest, it is providing options for those new to her work – and the old guard who have supported her for decades. Without new music coming out, there is always a danger that people will feel she is obsolete. Retired. Engaging in any way means that she is still current and there is that possibility. Branding things with Fish People also puts her label first. The unofficial name for her fans, it does seem odd for an artist who would not want to release music to promote her label. I don’t buy that she is merely all about reissues and repackaging. Merchandise is great, though the news of a beach towel or a T-shirt, or even a studio album with a new design might not cause the same thrill as something new – even if it is something unheard or unseen.

Personally, I would go for a Fish People T-shirt and could be tempted to part with some cash for a new reissue of Never for Ever. This year has and will be one with plenty of Kate Bush love and merchandise. Whether it is her official line or books about her. We have an upcoming book by Leah Kardos for 33 1/3 about Hounds of Love. Graeme Thomson’s Under the Ivy: The Life and Music of Kate Bush has been a huge success. If all of this movement and exploration of Kate Bush means that more people discover her work then that is a really good thing. I have been bemoaning how the young generation are not aware of Kate Bush. Merchandise definitely is a way of getting people into Kate Bush. They can then check out the music. Reissuing her albums too. I do wonder whether the existing and dedicated fans will be more interested in books and merchandise compared to younger listeners. With so much attention being on the digital and quick, something that is an investment and physical might have a harder time penetrating a generation that maybe relies more on the intangible. Even if more vinyl and physical music is being sold, there needs to be the entice of something new on unheard. I remember reading some of the reaction when it was announced a Fish People-branded bath and beach towel was out. A few days ago, we saw some people balk. Others who thought it was another bit of selling and retrospection from an artist who, until a few years ago, rarely did any of that.

Kate Bush recorded a song called The Wedding List for 1980’s Never for Ever. I have been thinking about a wedding list. In terms of gifts for the couple rather than a guestlist. The desire that many fans have. Sure, most would love to have the albums and merchandise. Bush is very much still present in the music industry. I do feel that putting out Fish People through music and merchandise is not as much about profit and money than it is preparing for something. Clearing out the old to make way for the new. With every announcement we get through social media, perhaps there is this feeling that Bush is relying more on her past work and putting that to people. Concentrating on merchandise rather than anything new. Of course, she owes us nothing. That is the thing. She doesn’t need to announce she is retiring or not making any music. Kate Bush has done enough to earn rest for the rest of her life! She has released ten studio albums and given the world so much. It does not even need to be a new album. As Before the Dawn is ten next month, many have been wondering if anything related to that will be released. I understand it would technically be issuing something older. Unlike albums, those who could not attend the residency would get something new. If a DVD or on a streaming service, it would be a dreamed to see one of those filmed nights. Of course, when we all look to Kate Bush’s social media, there is the hope that something bigger will come about. Again, it does not have to be an eleventh studio album. It is important to appeal to older and new fans. Putting out merchandise and existing albums does make her more visible and discussed. In terms of continuing that, there are possibilities with documentaries and podcasts that could add to this.

PHOTO CREDIT: Fish People

As I have written about many times, there is this tension and excitement. Feeling that, one day, there will be something we were hoping for. I have recently put out a feature asking how we can keep Kate Bush’s music alive and very much at the forefront years and decades from now. Unless there is something fresh, bigger and a continued campaign, there will be a bigger problem keeping Kate Bush in the minds of a generation who will be used to the new and instant. Perhaps less interested in a legacy artist. Not that a new album will completely change that. It does mean that an impression we have about Kate Bush is re-examined. I was discussing this with someone on social media. How there is still this image of her being weird and reclusive. Something that has never been shaken free! I guess you could say many legacy or older artists cannot connect with younger people. Most have documentaries and more discussion about them. We can’t really rely on a Stranger Things moment each generation. Even if her streaming numbers have increased and other songs have seen a boost – including Army Dreamers, Babooshka and Oh to Be in Love -, that might have been the result of Stranger Things. So many missed out on that. It was a distinct moment that has died down. The lack of awareness about Kate Bush’s name and music among a certain generation can only worsen unless there is something new. Whatever that is. That also needs top be joined with a reframing of how we see Kate Bush and what her music means. That is goes deeper than one song. I love seeing her albums reissued and there being merchandise available to buy. She loves her fans and, in turn, they have repaid her by their support and buying her stuff. Now, at a crucial moment when so much has been brought back out and revamped, there is this desire for a change. If it something to do with Before the Dawn or a new project, most people would place this on the top of…

THEIR wedding list.

FEATURE: Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl: Why Chappell Roan’s Experiences with Her Fans Raises a Lot of Questions

FEATURE:

 

 

Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl

PHOTO CREDIT: Lucienne

Why Chappell Roan’s Experiences with Her Fans Raises a Lot of Questions

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THIS is an experience…

a lot of artists will share. It is not necessarily the bigger you get the more destructive and intrusive fans can be. Sure, those who have millions of fans will find they get a lot more fans invading their privacy. Less able to switch off and have any sort of privacy. Because of social media and how we interact today, rising artists get this too. I think it may be worse for female artists. Not only are they subjected to more sexual harassment and that side of thing. I also think, when it comes to their private life, women are subjected more to fans who blur boundaries. Most fans are respectful and give artist space. However, there are cases of artists who are stepping back from music because of fans’ intrusiveness and obsessiveness. Chappell Roan is a terrific young artist who released one of the year-best albums last year with The Rise and Fall of  a Midwest Princess. She is someone I hope will be in the industry for years to come. However, as we can see from this NME article, she has found fans getting too close. Rather than there being this distance and professional courtesy, many have made her feel scared, violated and threatened. A sort of creepy and inappropriate sense of intrusion:

“Chappell Roan has revealed that she’s actively avoiding getting more popular than she already is after fans have begun displaying “stalker vibes” – see what the pop star had to say below.

Over the last year or so, Chappell Roan has organically become one of the fastest growing pop stars in the world, having performed opened Olivia Rodigo‘s ‘Guts’ tour before putting on headline-making performances at Coachella and Governors Ball this year.

However, the pop star has revealed that she’s uncomfortable with the level of fame she’s attained, and that fans have begun displaying worrying behaviour that makes her feel unsafe.

Speaking on the latest episode of the Comment Section podcast with Drew Afualo, Roan said: “People have started to be freaks — like, [they] follow me and know where my parents live, and where my sister works. All this weird shit.”

Roan recalled: “This is the time when a few years ago when I said that if [there were] stalker vibes or my family was in danger, I would quit. And we’re there. We’re there!”

She told Afualo: “I’m just kind of in this battle… I’ve pumped the brakes on, honestly, anything to make me more known. It’s kind of a forest fire right now. I’m not trying to go do a bunch of shit”.

This is not an isolated case. Artists such as Rihanna and Taylor Swift have had to deal with stalkers. In many cases, it is a single person who is culpable. For some artists, there are sections of their fanbase that cross the line. I know it doesn’t apply to most of Chappell Roan’s fanbase, though when you have quite a large section who are being disrespectful and encroaching into her private life, it does call into question the relationship between artists and fans. I suppose music has always had their problem. Some fans who feel it is their right to know everything about an artist. That obsession and need to dig and step where they have no business going. I am not saying fans need to have a wary distance. It is an artist’s right how much of themselves they give up online. Many want to remain quite private because it can be quite risky and exposing being too open. In any case, it is not up to fans to say what an artist should reveal. Whether they should be more person and interact more. Chappell Roan tours and gives fans opportunities to see her in the flesh. She also connects with them online and gives interviews. That is her professional obligation. It can be distressing for artists knowing that many of their fans follow them around or know their family. When they take things far too far and go from being fans to bordering on stalking. It has a massive impact on an artist’s mental health and security. I think it is the security element that is most worrying. Artists such as Ethen Cain have asked fans to be more respectful to one another at her gigs. It is bad enough when there is bad behaviour at gigs. Also having fans who are too intense and choose to go where they have no business.

PHOTO CREDIT: Pixabay/Pexels

It makes me think about fan culture and that relationship between artists and their supporters. I am not sure what the first steps are. There needs to be this understanding from fans that artists’ family and friends are off limits. That there is this boundary that cannot be crossed. I feel social media and the Internet age has not been a total blessing for artists. It does give them a greater reach and interaction with fans. There can be more of a bond. Less distant than how things used to be. The bad side is that many fans feel like they are quite alright to treat artists like friends. That there is no issue making them feel uneasy by getting involved with their family. It would be awful if we got to a place where artists gave the bare minimum and there was no real interaction and reveal. Just keeping things strictly to music. It is not okay that artists such as Chappell Roan have to think about their career and what they say because of their fans. That small percentage of her fanbase punishing the rest. It does seem to be female artists who are enduring more cases of obsessive and inappropriate fans. That feeling that they are their families are being stalked. In such a dangerous and increasingly dark and violent work, there is a wider worry of how far will fans go. It is not only about privacy and ensuring an artist’s family are protected. There is also that very real concern about personal safety. We need to start talking more about fans and their interaction with artists. How there cannot be more cases that are similar to Chappel Roan’s. How the industry can protect artists. We, as music lovers, respecting artists and not making them feel uncomfortable. It is distressing, angering and disturbing when some fans take things…

A step too far.

FEATURE: The Digital Mixtape: Jeff Buckley’s Grace at Thirty: The Artists He Inspired

FEATURE:

 

 

The Digital Mixtape

 PHOTO CREDIT: Mikio Ariga

Jeff Buckley’s Grace at Thirty: The Artists He Inspired

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ON 23rd August…

we celebrate thirty years of one of the all-time best debut albums. One of the best albums ever. Grace from Jeff Buckley. Although it got some mixed reactions upon its release in 1994, in years since, it has been recognised as a masterpiece. Fitting into a scene in 1994 where nothing like this existed, critics did not know what to make of it. There was so much buzz around Jeff Buckley prior to release. Perhaps critics expecting something different. If it did not connect with the media as it should in 1994, now, we see Grace as a classic. We sadly lost Jeff Buckley in 1997 at the age of thirty. He recorded other songs and was in the process of recording his second album before he died. It means what he left us was this one album. Though we remember and play the songs from Grace, I think one of the most profound and obvious impacts of the album is the artists it influenced. Think about those who have cited it and Jeff Buckley as an influence. So many artists through the years. I wanted to mark the upcoming thirtieth anniversary of Grace with a playlist featuring songs from artists who have definitely been inspired by Grace. You can either hear it in their music, or they have mentioned Jeff Buckley as someone important to them. It will be bittersweet marking thirty years of Grace on 23rd August. It is clear that Jeff Buckley’s 1994 debut album is…

A thing of rare beauty.

FEATURE: Spotlight: Imogen and the Knife

FEATURE:

 

 

Spotlight

PHOTO CREDIT: Ruby Pluhar

Imogen and the Knife

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THE amazing E.P…

Some Kind of Love came out on 19th July. From Imogen and the Knife, it is one that I would recommend everyone check out. Before getting to some other interviews, I want to bring in, in its entirety, an interview from DORK. They spoke to Imogen and the Knife about her anticipated and phenomenal debut E.P. Giving us an insight into the five tracks:

“Rising talent Imogen and the Knife has unveiled her eagerly anticipated debut EP ‘Some Kind of Love’, a poignant exploration of love’s multifaceted nature. Hailing from Newcastle but now based in South-East London, Imogen crafts a unique world that draws inspiration from iconic artists like Kate Bush and Nick Cave while carving out her own distinctive voice.

The five-track EP weaves together deeply personal narratives, from recurring dreams to formative sisterly bonds, all united by their examination of love in its various forms. Imogen’s commitment to her craft shines through in lyrics that cut straight to the heart, living up to the surgical precision implied by her moniker.

Here, Imogen takes us on an intimate journey through ‘Some Kind of Love’, track by track, for our latest Artist’s Guide.

MOTHER OF GOD

Mother of God is a play-by-play of a recurring dream I had during a pretty turbulent and transitional time in my life. The images were already there: the boat-shaped house, the knife with my initials on it, the mosaic of faces.

“Mother of God! This can’t be the only one” is a waking realisation that, unless addressed, the dream and the pain won’t leave. Which is apt because after it was written, the recurring dream, at least, did.

IF IT WON’T TALK OF RAIN

This is essentially a musing on my upbringing as a fiercely proud northerner and musician, what this meant as a young woman choosing to leave home, how I continue to navigate a torn identity, the men in my life and how they’ve shaped me, how I love them, how it’s complicated. Northerners are rooted in a culture of song and place, and there’s a defiant and bleak romanticism ingrained in us. It commanded my outlook on life, and this track is an exploration of the spectrum of love, joy, pain and torment that comes with it. Ultimately, what use is my voice, as a Northerner and as a woman, if I’m not exploring all shades of what makes that?

RED (IS MY COLOUR)

This is one of those songs that fell out fully formed, which usually happens when I’m searching for something. I guess it’s a broad question of legacy, womanhood and our learned behaviour that shapes the continued degradation of women. It asks what it would truly mean to start again without any influence of heritage or structures; what parts of us are unknowingly intrinsic to the cycle of hurt. The song addresses you, myself, anybody. It’s less of a call to arms and more of an invitation to look inward.

PARIS NIGHT

This one is for my younger sister. I somehow managed to whisk her away to Paris at the last minute on a particularly bleak weekend (Boris had just won the election), and it was a really formative time in our relationship.

I didn’t really know what was going on with my life, and she was just about to leave school. It was a strange, quiet, apprehensive bubble of time. I remember looking at her and thinking, “I’m not sure what we’re going back to; I’d rather just stay here”.

My nearest know I’m not quiet about her being the most precious thing on the planet to me. It’s not the first or the last song about her, but it’s maybe the best.

SOME KIND OF LOVE

The EP opens and closes with a dream.

I was very close with someone when I was a kid, I don’t really know them much anymore, but they found their way into a dream I had, and we had a really moving conversation. Of course, it was my brain that made up what they were saying and how we interacted – the layers of that are really interesting to me. I figured it’s some kind of love that keeps them floating about my subconscious.

I titled the EP after this song because each track explores love of some kind in its own way. Love shapes my experience of this world. It’s beauty and it’s pain. I hold a lot of it. Sometimes, I’m not sure where to put it, and then, sometimes, a collection of songs appears”.

PHOTO CREDIT: Aaron Wyld

The moniker of Imogen Williams, this London-via-Newcastle talent is someone being tipped for great things. Getting under the radar of some big websites and magazines. NME were among those to chat with Imogen and the Knife about Some Kind of Love. Intrigued by a game-changing E.P., it is interesting discovering what the E.P. means to her. Some of the artists that have influenced her:

“That sense of freedom imbues her new EP ‘Some Kind Of Love’, which arrives this Friday (July 19). You only need to hear the breadth of its first few singles to know how adventurous this new direction is. ‘Mother Of God’ is a choppy, sultry bop drawing from the brooding grittiness of her icon PJ Harvey, while the tender piano-led ‘If It Won’t Talk Of Rain’ is an intimate, lovelorn ballad where Williams ponders: “If he takes me for dinner / can he wave my fee / I guess music is love and my loving is free.”

Such candid themes haven’t come for Williams totally out of the blue. Having originally established herself as a solo artist back in 2018, releasing piano-driven pop under her first name, she sees the era of ‘The Knife’ as more of a subtle reinvention. “It’s more of a continuation and a growth. I’ve always been writing like this, it’s just developed and taken on new forms.”

NME: So how did the concept of ‘The Knife’ come about and why change it up now?

“I’ve been playing my own music from the age of 15 so there’s definitely been lots of reinventions as I’ve gone through life. Everyone changes as they get older and it’s felt apt to do that with my music. After my brief break, I started putting on live nights back in 2022. I did a series called ‘Imogen And Friends’ in London and Newcastle which restored my faith in the fact that music is never going to leave me. At the same time I had all of these songs lying about, so it really spurred me on to set about making the record of my dreams.”

Your music has always been deeply personal. What does ‘The Knife’ itself mean?

“‘The Knife’ is about reclaiming. I was born with hip dysplasia which meant that I had loads of corrective surgeries from a young age. That’s definitely one of the reasons why I make music and have always found solace in it. I’ve been living with chronic pain my whole life and being under the knife was a huge part of growing up. So it’s the reclaiming of that surgical knife, but I also wanted to allude to the fact that I have a band and it takes a village: it’s my producer, it’s the piano, it’s so much more than me.”

You’re massively proud of your Newcastle roots as an artist as well. How does that come through in the new direction?

“That part of me gets stronger the more I’m away from the north and Newcastle, but I feel really lucky to have that connection. Much like the Irish and Welsh, so many northerners are born into a culture of song. I think that’s so beautiful and it’s really important to me and it’s underpinned all of my writing. I understand that I’m a storyteller and that’s been passed down through my family. For me, it comes back to this culture of song and of community and of love, really. That’s the main thing for me and maybe that isn’t talked about enough. I spend so much of my time being so nurtured by my community up there.”

Love is of course a massive overarching theme of the EP. Did that present itself quite early on in this period of self-discovery?

“I refer to the EP as a patchwork of songs because they’re from quite a few different times in my life. I just cherry-picked the tracks that I love from across the last couple of years. When I put them together I found that they’re all exploring love in some way or another. It explores what love can be in all different capacities and I think that was a nice way to tie them all together. All of my songs are fuelled by love in some capacity. Love infiltrates absolutely everything I do.”

You’ve cited everyone from PJ Harvey to CMAT to Lana Del Rey as inspirations. I guess the common thread is these powerful women who have always done it on their own terms?

“They’re all massively important to me. PJ Harvey has been a huge one, I channel her musically but more importantly the way she navigates her art and life. She managed to remain artful and mysterious and elusive while being really cool and brash. I love CMAT, her performance at the Big Weekend actually reduced me to tears. it made me realise I’d been so devoid of women just going for it. She sounded so beautiful while screaming like a siren and talking about the most devastating stuff ever through a lens of drag and comedy. It was the perfect show”.

I am going to finish with an interview from The Line of Best Fit. More about her background and path to where she is now. Formerly trading under the name IMOGEN, the new name and sound came after a period of rest. She is now creating her truest and most memorable music. It all bodes well for an artist we will be hearing from years down the line:

“She moved to London to take the infamous popular music course at Goldsmiths, a degree that launched many artists before her. “Newcastle to New Cross,” she jokes. “That really challenged what I thought I was doing. It wasn't necessarily a songwriting course, it wasn't really a music course, it was more of a philosophical, existential, constantly asking the question, ‘What are you bringing to the world as a musician and why is it important that your voice is heard?’ It was so important and it was such an incredible education to have.”

Having made music under her full name while playing in Newcastle, after graduating from Goldsmiths she dropped the Williams and continued to gig and record her brooding and capacious, emotionally-driven pop balladry. But after a few years and the stop-start of the pandemic, she found herself questioning everything. “I think what I've really struggled with, and still do to an extent, is the idea of shoehorning this inherently anti-capitalist, anti-structural thing - which is music making and wanting to connect with other humans through the art of songwriting and performing - into this insanely capitalist structure,” she says. “I just didn’t know if that's what I wanted to do.”

After a few weeks of soul-searching she stripped everything back to its beginnings. She began to put on her Imogen and Friends live nights around London and in Newcastle, she began working on new material with writer/producer Alex Parish, and she added a new suffix to her artist persona, Imogen and the Knife.

During the pandemic, Williams had applied for a role with the Ivors Academy, the body for UK songwriters and composers. She found herself accepted onto their board of directors. “It gave me a sense of belonging but also extreme validation, which I didn’t have before,” she smiles.

Armed with a new sense of identity and confidence, she applied for PRS’ Momentum Fund, landing the funding to bring her new project into fruition. Working alongside Parish, the pair put everything into the creation of an EP. “Obviously we went to RAK Studios. I was like, well, if I’ve got the money!” she laughs. “I got all my friends to play on it and I got to pay them, just people I knew and loved. It just felt so wonderful and I really feel like you can hear that it was made in that room. I like to think it’s money well spent.”

Released next month, Some Kind of Love is an expansive and elegantly orchestrated collection of dark, progressive, and sonically captivating pop echoes. From the grinding bass pulse of first single “Mother of God,” masterful in its dynamics, to the stark confessional of follow-up “If It Won’t Talk of Rain,” the EP showcases Williams’ direct narratives and joyfully unreserved compositions.

New single, “Red (is My Colour)”, out today, is an elegant cut of classic songwriting with dark undertones, its delivery soft but its lyrics sharp. “It’s a constant question of what are we doing? Why does this perpetual cycle of violence towards women and non-men keep happening?” she explains. “I’m not really accusing anybody, it’s more like, everybody, nobody and me. It’s just posing a lot of questions, because I have them all the time.”

PHOTO CREDIT: Ruby Pluhar

Having secured new management off the back of the recordings, Williams decided to keep everything close to home and release through the company’s own imprint, Vertex Music. “It felt so natural to go in a homely direction in a way that just felt right. It felt like a well-oiled machine. It felt like everyone’s vision aligned and it just kept it in the family. It’s made the whole process a lot easier and less daunting,” she says.

As Imogen and the Knife, Williams has created a world within which she can step back and let her music take on its own life, from the most devastating riffs to the lightest sentiment, her songs are free from her own boundaries and realities. “Some of them are rageful, some are desperately sad, some are joyful,” she says. “It’s just ruminating on different kinds of love and how the lens through which I see everything is just this lens of love. I think it’s the thing that really just propels me through life”.

Some Kind of Love is among the best and original E.P.s of the year. I am excited to see where Imogen and the Knife heads next. Having discovered her relatively recently, I am curious to see what happens next. A wonderful artist with a singular talent, her captivating music…

CUTS deep.

____________

Follow Imogen and the Knife

PHOTO CREDIT: Aaron Wyld

Official:

https://imogenandtheknife.com/

TikTok:

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

Instagram:

https://www.instagram.com/imogenandtheknife

Twitter:

https://x.com/imogen_theknife

Spotify:

https://open.spotify.com/artist/4nfBa9tw0IWAdtirqqmrbY?si=5C8bbMNASL-LwE9YIiHEWg

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https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCclITd99Hs0KwIJ9996vRCQ

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FEATURE: Say My Name: Destiny's Child’s The Writing's on the Wall at Twenty-Five

FEATURE:

 

 

Say My Name

Destiny's Child’s The Writing's on the Wall at Twenty-Five

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EVEN though the album was…

 IN THIS PHOTO: Destiny’s Child in 1999/PHOTO CREDIT: REX/Shutterstock

released in Japan on 14th July, Destiny’s Child’s The Writing’s on the Wall came out in the U.S. on 27th July, 1999. Because of that, I wanted to mark twenty-five years of one of the most important and still underrated albums of that decade. As the group were unhappy with their 1998 debut album, Destiny’s Child, they sought more creative control and direction of the follow-up. Selecting a range of producers and collaborators, the results show. The Writing’s on the Wall is a more eclectic, confident and consistent album. With the vocal arrangements and compositions bolder and more experimental in places, this was an album that took Destiny’s Child to the next level. Mixing unconventional with classic, we get R&B, Neo-Soul and a range of other genres mixed together. In terms of the album itself, The Writing’s on the Wall was intended  a concept album around the Ten Commandments. Each of the tracks represented a different state or sin. Infidelity, deception and separation for example. There are religious themes and references through the album, though I think most people love The Writing’s on the Wall because of the blend of vocals and the incredible songs. There was a lot of issues and controversy around the album due to the departure of original members, LeToya Luckett and LaTavia Roberson. Internal group strife and split. Farrah Franklin and Michelle Williams stepping in. I always think of Destiny’s Child as led by Beyoncé. She is very much the driving force of the group. Even though there was a change of personnel and not everything was as harmonious as it could be, the second album from Destiny’s Child is incredibly strong.

I want to bring in a few features about The Writing’s on the Wall. Consequence wrote about the album in 2019. They discuss and dissect the group changes and spotlight the amazing and timeless songs. Without doubt, one of the finest albums of the 1990s. Hugely influencing R&B and putting Destiny’s Child among the greatest and most important girl groups ever, one cannot deny the sheet importance of The Writing’s on the Wall:

“Because it was already clear that Beyoncé was the star. She was the leading voice on Destiny’s Child, but she would dominate on 1999’s The Writing’s on the Wall. The group dynamic had changed. From a young age, the girls had performed together. Now one was elevated above the others. As they were finishing The Writing’s on the Wall, this was bothering LaTavia Roberson and LeToya Tuckett.

It didn’t help that Matthew Knowles was paying himself above the standard management rate. He had financed the group and then quit his job to pursue this dream. He now felt entitled to a bigger share of the financial success. And that success was coming quickly. A month before their second album dropped, lead single, “Bills, Bills, Bills,” debuted at No. 84. Five weeks later, it was the No. 1 song in the country.

Written by Kevin “She’kspere” Briggs along with Kandi Burress of Xscape, the song brought new attitude to Destiny’s Child. If their debut album was about anything, it was about trying to find love. Now Destiny’s Child cared about something more: Respect. The protagonist of “Bills, Bills, Bills” isn’t some idle sugar baby. She’s tired of loaning out her car, her cell phone, her credit cards, and more. She’s an independent woman exhausted with her dependent man.

Buoyed by “Bills, Bills, Bills”, The Writing’s on the Wall entered the charts as the No. 6 album in the country. It opens with a playful, Godfather-inspired sketch. The girls are introduced with mobster names. In need of counsel, they seek out “Destiny’s Child’s Commandments for Relationships.” Every song is introduced with a menacing commandment, so yes, The Godfather is being blended with the Bible. It’s silly and fun, even if it does go on a bit long. The first song is introduced with Thou Shalt Not Hate.

After that comes Thou Shalt Pay Bills, Thou Shalt Confess, and Thou Shalt Not Bug. These four resulting songs fit together like gears in a clock. The glow-up of “So Good” whirls into “Bills, Bills, Bills”. With Missy Elliott’s help, “Confessions” spins into the catchy kiss-off of “Bug a Boo.” It’s a killer four-track run.

“Bug a Boo” is another single from She’kspere and Burress. Looking back, it’s clear She’kspere and Burress, an R&B trailblazer with Xscape, deserve at least some credit for shaping Beyoncé’s image. The attitude in these Destiny’s Child songs is, to a certain extent, the attitude of the ghostwriters. On the other hand, imagine She’kspere starting with the thin voices and clumsy flows of TLC and then moving on to Beyoncé. On “Bug a Boo”, Beyoncé just about sings faster than Lisa “Left Eye” Lopes ever rapped. Better yet, you can hear every word. This is the album where we start to appreciate Beyoncé’s incredible technical skill.

“Bug a Boo” was the last music video featuring Roberson and Tuckett. In December of 1999, they began a lawsuit. They hoped to get a new manager, someone objective who wasn’t related to Kelly Rowland and Beyoncé. They wanted a more standard financial arrangement with their manager. They wanted to be taken seriously as founding members of one of the most popular groups in the world.

They didn’t know they’d been kicked out until they saw the new music video on MTV.

Perhaps Roberson and Luckett had a point, and Matthew Knowles was stealing from them. Perhaps they took some bad advice. Perhaps they would have been unhappy as semi-anonymous backup dancers, always standing behind Beyoncé in slightly worse light. Or maybe they had been part of the group for so long that they couldn’t imagine it without them. Now, like Big Brother and the Holding Company, they are footnotes in someone else’s story.

Michelle Williams and Farrah Franklin appeared in the “Say My Name” music video, pretending to sing Roberson and Luckett’s parts. The controversy helped promote the song, as did the color block music video directed by Joseph Kahn. The story within the song is wonderfully specific. The cheating didn’t happen in the past; it is currently happening during this phone call. 

Produced by Darkchild (“The Boy Is Mine”), “Say My Name” is actually quite weird. The music starts out simply enough, with a melodic guitar and sharp 808s. But the chorus fills up with all sorts of musical boings and wobbles, with guitar wahs and electric beeps. It’s the melody, though, that is the most striking aspect of the song. The notes comes in staccato bursts, demanding perfect precision from vocal chords and tongue. Today we take for granted the influence of hip-hop on pop music. Destiny’s Child is a big reason why.

There aren’t many dull spots on The Writing’s on the Wall, but they have in common that they waste Beyoncé. “If You Leave” is a group duet with the ladies of Destiny’s Child and the gentlemen of Next. It’s a boilerplate ballad, like a B-side from K-Ci and JoJo. “Temptation” has a boring, undemanding melody. Considering the steamy subject, there’s a real lack of heat.

But altogether, and especially for a pop album, the non-singles are remarkably good. “Now That She’s Gone” would sound pathetic in a collection of love songs, but here it sounds vulnerable, like a rare moment of weakness. “Hey Ladies” vibrates with rage and frustration. The lyrics veer about for targets, sometimes twisting into self-loathing before lunging again at the cheating man.

The album’s layout is easy on the ear. Some albums frontload the singles and backload the ballads, which is like getting all the taco meat in one bite and all the sour cream in another. Here, there’s a really nice distribution of the uptempo, the down-tempo, and the earworms.

The Writing’s on the Wall produced one more single, “Jumpin’ Jumpin’”, which became their second No. 1. Having conquered radio, there was nothing left for Destiny’s Child to do but rule the clubs. The music video was the last to feature Farrah Franklin. She wasn’t a good fit for the group. Rather than replace her, Destiny’s Child downsized to a trio. Fittingly, Beyoncé recorded, “Jumpin’ Jumpin’” by herself, and so hers is the only voice we hear anyway.

By the end of the promotional cycle for The Writing’s on the Wall, the thing that was already happening behind the scenes exploded in front of our eyes. Beyoncé was the star. When two of the founding members disagreed, they were no longer part of the group. I don’t want to minimize their experience, which was no doubt full of mental distress. It’s hard thinking you’re part of the core and being told you’re not. Most of us would struggle. But it feels like they missed out. If you’re not a Destiny’s Child superfan, you might’ve already forgotten their names”.

Can we really talk about Destiny’s Child in 1999 and not mention Beyoncé?! She was already established herself as someone who could forge a solo career. An incredible talent who was very much at the heart and centre of the best moments from The Writing’s on the Wall. Even so, it is as group effort. In 2019, Stereogum marked twenty years of Destiny’s Child stunning sophomore album:

“Around the same time Destiny’s Child were making that first album, Timbaland and Missy Elliott were reshaping the way rap and R&B would sound. Timbaland’s production — globular bass, tricky counter-melodies, sci-fi beep-whirrs, weird rhythmic hiccups, vast expanses of negative space — was a radical departure from the relatively straightforward swingbeat of its era. It took rap music months to absorb those new ideas, and it took R&B years. But by the time Destiny’s Child made their mind-bogglingly successful sophomore album, it had happened. Three months before The Writing’s On The Wall hit stores, TLC’s sublime “No Scrubs” made it to #1. On that song, producer Kevin “She’kspere” Briggs took a glimmering and processed acoustic-guitar figure and ran it through a post-Timbaland prism, supercharging it with clicks and blips and stutters. That style became the template for Destiny’s Child, who did great things with it and who got huge in the process.

he’kspere produced five songs on The Writing’s On The Wall, including two of the four singles. He co-wrote all five of them with his then-girlfriend Kandi Burruss, the former Xscape member and current Real Housewife. When Destiny’s Child brought She’skpere and Burruss to Houston, the duo were told that there was only space for one more song on the record. But the duo gave them “Bug A Boo,” and the group ended up building the entire album around that sound. Beyoncé, in particular, had a flair for it. Thanks in part to her father’s boot camps, she was able to sing intricate and sophisticated melodic lines over these intricate and sophisticated tracks. She was also able to personalize the songs. All four members of Destiny’s Child got co-writing credits on the album’s songs because they would rewrite the lyrics, twisting them into the right shapes. But Beyoncé in particular could sing this stuff like she meant it.

That post-Timbaland sound is all over The Writing’s On The Wall. Superstar producer Rodney Jerkins brought it to the eventual #1 hit “Say My Name,” refracting and atomizing a traditional R&B ballad into a skittering, panting masterpiece. Beyoncé co-produced “Jumpin’, Jumpin’,” another future hit, building a club jam out of oscillating synth-lasers. Missy Elliott herself produced and rapped on “Confessions,” adding a computerized alien moan. There are more conventionally mid-’90s R&B moments all over The Writing’s On The Wall, like “Sweet Sixteen” or “If You Leave,” the duet with the R&B boy band Next. There’s even a lovely album-closing rendition of “Amazing Grace” that’s clearly there to show the group’s pure vocal bona fides. But this is an album with its heart in the future.

It’s also an album with a cynical, jaded, sometimes-transactional view of love. All through the album, men are letting down the members of Destiny’s Child. On “Bills, Bills, Bills,” they’re mad at no-account men sponging off of them. On “Bug A Boo” and “Say My Name,” they’re suspicious, sure their men are creeping. On “Jumpin’, Jumpin’,” they’re ready to cheat themselves. After all, who needs a healthy relationship when the club is full of ballers with their pockets full grown? When a full-grown Beyoncé went back into accusatory mode years later on Lemonade, she had the weight of cultural memory working for her. We’d already known since she was a kid that she wasn’t taking any bullshit.

But Destiny’s Child itself became a cynical, jaded, transactional entity soon afterward. Original members LaTavia Roberson and LeToya Luckett tried to separate themselves from Mathew Knowles, convinced that Beyoncé and Kelly Rowland were getting more money and attention. They found out that they were out of the group when they saw other girls lip-syncing their parts in the “Say My Name” video. They sued. Thanks to the resulting public-relations shitstorm, Beyoncé spent the next year or so in damage-control mode. But there was no lasting damage. In the end, Destiny’s Child got even bigger, and The Writing’s On The Wall kept selling.

It sold, and it sold. The Writing’s On The Wall debuted at #5, and it never climbed any higher. But as all four singles rolled out, the album kept moving units. Its biggest sales week came after it had been out for a year. In the end, it moved more than eight million copies. And it turned Beyoncé into a star. Beyoncé, who dominated every track on The Writing’s On The Wall, was young enough to take immediately to the new sounds that were suddenly reshaping R&B aesthetics. And she’d practiced hard enough that she had the technical skills to handle tracks like that while still broadcasting personality all over them. She was made for her times. She became a conqueror”.

I am going to end up with another great feature. This one ranked the tracks on The Writing’s on the Wall. Also in 2019, Stylist wrote how Destiny’s Child captured an impressively full picture of what it is be a woman. Teenagers when the album was released, it is startling mature and confident. So worldly-wise and experienced. Feminist and empowering, it is small wonder The Writing’s on the Wall inspired so many others. Feminist-themed and led music by everyone from Rihanna to Megan Thee Stallion. Two years later, in 2001, Survivor was released. It featured the classic line-up of Beyoncé, Michelle Williams and Kelly Rowland. I still think The Writing’s on the Wall is the group’s best album:

“Despite being only 17 when the album was released, Destiny’s Child had already cultivated a feminist message that stood out amid the saccharine girl-pop and heartbroken ballads of their contemporaries.

For artists who had lived so little, they managed to capture an impressively full picture of what it meant to be a woman

Playing off the theme of the 10 commandments, interludes like “Thou shall know when he’s got to go” punctuate songs about financial freedom, toxic relationships and sexual expression.

For artists who had lived so little, they managed to capture an impressively full picture of what it meant to be a woman.

There are the unashamed celebrations: opener So Good is boastful, laughing in the face of anyone who ever doubted them. Club anthem Jumpin’ Jumpin’ is an ode to having fun with your friends – and, more importantly, without your partner. Temptation tells the tale of a woman lusting after a man, a refreshing flip of the age-old script.

PHOTO CREDIT: Getty Images

Then there are the warnings: beware of the scrub who won’t pull his weight, says Bills, Bills, Bills. Remove yourself from obsessive, claustrophobic relationships, says Bug A Boo. Don’t ignore the signs of a cheater, says Say My Name.

And it was these, the original “leave him, sis” anthems, that were far and away the biggest singles from the album. They validated so many women’s romantic experiences, giving us permission to point our fingers and nod our heads at each other in recognition.

They weren’t mopey, sentimental songs about heartbreak. They were knowing. They were powerful. They were full of fight.

And it’s no coincidence that, over the next 20 years, Beyoncé would weave this empowering magic into a personal brand – it’s evident on everything from Run The World (Girls) to Single Ladies to Sorry.

Michelle Williams’ depression post signals a change in our approach to seeking help

With writing credits on 11 of The Writing’s On The Wall’s 16 tracks and the lion’s share of the vocals, it’s fair to say this was a warm-up for baby Beyoncé.

Her father was no fool making the young Destiny’s Child sit and study videos of The Jackson 5 and The Supremes for hours on end – it was always the plan that Beyonce would go the way of Michael Jackson and Diana Ross, rising from a successful group to become a world-dominating star in her own right.

The fact that someone as talented and luminous as Kelly Rowland could be overshadowed is truly testament to Beyonce’s dazzling star quality, even as a teenager.

And as early as The Writing’s On The Wall, she was already head and shoulders above the rest, straining to get ahead. She was experimenting with what worked, what connected with women everywhere, and she’s been honing that craft ever since.

Why every woman needs to watch Beyoncé’s empowering Homecoming documentary

The chopping and changing of the group’s line-up would have detracted from the music in most cases, but the drama became background noise as we focused firmly on the woman standing in the spotlight.

A seminal classic, The Writing’s On The Wall was the official announcement that a star had been born. It gave us the first taste of the proud, joyful feminism so many of us were lucky enough to grow up on. Thou shall listen to it on repeat”.

On 27th July, it is twenty-five years since The Writing’s on the Wall was released in the U.S. A seminal and hugely groundbreaking album, it launched Destiny’s Child to the world. Iconic songs like Say My Name and Bills, Bills, Bills. The album still sounds fresh and alive today. You can see the artists it has influenced and how it changed R&B. A massively successful achievement from Destiny’s Child, The Writing’s on the Wall has lost one of its power…

AFTER quarter of a century.

FEATURE: Live to Tell: The Announcement of the Madonna Biopic, Who’s That Girl

FEATURE:

 

 

Live to Tell

IN THIS PHOTO: Madonna in 1987/PHOTO CREDIT: Alberto Tolot

The Announcement of the Madonna Biopic, Who’s That Girl

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THERE was a lot of build-up…

PHOTO CREDIT: Madonna

when Madonna previously announced her biopic. Originally, she was writing it with Diablo Cody. Cody has no regrets about losing the project with the Queen of Pop. I think the explanation why the film didn’t materialise is because the script was not to Madonna’s liking. Perhaps not what she had in mind. Others have separate theories about what happened. Regardless, it was a blow, because it was shaping up to be a magnificent proposition. With Julia Garner cast in the lead, we possibly could have seen a representation of Madonna in 1986 or 1987. I was envisaging Madonna’s True Blue era (1986). There have been films and documentaries about Madonna. Not biopics as of yet where the Queen of Pop is at the centre. Since the project was abandoned, Madonna has been on her worldwide Celebration tour. This astonishing and acclaimed series of gigs around the world, one could forgive her for wanting to rest and spend time away from the limelight. Some might fancy a Madonna album. Instead, it seems like there is this desire to get her biopic going again. I am sure we will hear more news in the coming weeks. There are Madonna albums coming later in the year. The fortieth anniversary of Like a Virgin in November. Bedtime Stories turns thirty in October. News has broken that we could soon see a much anticipated biopic. Here is some more details:

“Madonna’s biopic has risen from the ashes. The highly-anticipated project, which has been years in the making and was pronounced “dead” last January, is officially back on the cards.

On July 16, Madonna shared an Instagram video of herself working on the script for her biopic. In case you forgot, Madonna is self-directing and co-writing the film’s screenplay which will focus on her career and her “broader, unvarnished story.”

“I Need A-lot of Bandz to make this………..OKAY,” she captioned the video in which she could been seen seated behind a typewriter.

The “Material Girl” first announced the biopic back in 2020 after someone else had attempted to write her life story. She revealed that she was working with the Oscar-winning screenwriter Diablo Cody on the script (though, she was since replaced by Erin Cressida Wilson), which was given the tentative title of Little Sparrow at the time. Of course, much conversation was had about who would play Madonna. Alexa Demie, Sydney Sweeney, Barbie Ferreira, Florence Pugh, Bebe Rexha were all speculated to have earned the role at one point.

It was Julia Garner, however, who ultimately pulled away from the pack. She was reportedly offered the part in 2022 (before the project was called off due to the singer’s Celebration world tour) and is back in the mix for its revival. Per Entertainment Weekly, the Inventing Anna actress is still attached to the lead.

From plot details, cast updates, and a working name, here’s everything to know about Madonna’s biopic, below.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Madonna (@madonna)

Does the Madonna biopic have a title?

Madonna’s Instagram post keyed fans in on a potential title. While there’s no confirmation just yet, it appears that the project will be called Who’s That Girl.

The title references the singer’s 1987 comedy film and song of the same name.

What is Who’s That Girl about?

Madonna previously stated that the project will follow her “struggle as an artist trying to survive in a man's world as a woman, and really just the journey,” which she called “happy, sad, mad, crazy, good, bad, and ugly.”

The film will likely feature major milestones of her career—writing “Like a Prayer,” her smash hit “Vogue”—and more, less-documented narratives like her connection to New York City’s ballroom scene.

Who is in the Who’s That Girl cast?

Garner, so far, is the only name who is all but confirmed to appear in the cast. Julia Fox has been rumored to play Madonna’s longtime friend Debbi Mazur and even met with the singer to discuss the part.

“I mean, I’d still love to but I genuinely don’t know,” Fox said of the role recently, adding that she “might have already aged out of that casting”.

It would be amazing if Julia Garner was to play Madonna. In turns of the setting, I guess it would be the mid-1980s. We will get to discover more in time. I think, when it came to reservations before, it was whether Madonna could carry this off on her own. In terms of writing and directing the film. That seems to be the case now. Madonna is a good director, though one feels that an objective outsider who is a Madonna fan would be a better choice. Perhaps a too subjective lens, one wonders whether other hands and eyes would make the biopic stronger. However Who’s That Girl turns out, it is going to be a huge event. With others trying to tell her story, this is the moment that Madonna can tell her true story. It is likely to be raw, quite unflinching and filled with incredible music. Whether it is going to be purely personal or whether there are some elements of fantasy, fans around the world will flock to see it. It has been a very long and successful career for Madonna. Over forty years since her debut album, she has changed the face of popular music. I have been thinking and there have not been that many representations of Madonna on the big screen. In terms of using her music or telling her story. I guess there was fear that Madonna would sue or criticise. It is always a bit risky when an artist writes and directs a biopic. Maybe they are not going to be critical and objective. Having that necessary editing and filter which could turn a potentially okay film into something magnificent. Such is the importance of Madonna’s story, you do wonder how it could go.

I think fans are hopeful and exciting. She does not need to prove herself. It is a rare moment where the woman behind some of the greatest Pop music in history lets you into her life. Having a biopic that is about a very specific time period would be too restrictive. It would be a struggle to make a convincing and focused film it was career-spanning and took in a lot of time. What is likely is going to be Madonna survival and rise. Perhaps multiple actors playing her in different periods. Featuring her wiring some iconic hits, but more about he overcoming sexism and misogyny and succeeding in a male-dominated music industry. Rather than it being a traditional biopic or jukebox musical type of thing, you feel this is going to be closer to a tough and inspiring film with music scoring it. Some darker edges and controversial moments. Madonna is the only person who knows the truth and will not hold back. It seems like she wants to tell her story in her own words. When we find out about casting and the exact plot, we’ll get a clearer picture of what is in store. It is amazing that a project that was once thought dead and beyond revival is being picked up. No doubt buoyed by her triumphant world tour and the love people showed her, there would be this same interest for a cinematic release. What will critics make of a Madonna-penned and directed film?! Are they going to prejudge?! It is a gamble for her to shoulder so much, though you know that it is going to be compelling and memorable. If some doubted her and tried to put her down, there is no denying how everyone is eating their words. Such a singular and strong artist who has survived and conquered. Nobody now is asking…

WHO’S that girl?

FEATURE: Songs for Our Daughters: Laura Marling’s Comments About Motherhood, and Reflection for the Music Industry

FEATURE:

 

 

Songs for Our Daughters

PHOTO CREDIT: Tamsin Topolski/Vogue

Laura Marling’s Comments About Motherhood, and Reflection for the Music Industry

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WHEN she released the album…

IN THIS PHOTO: Laura Marling and her daughter/PHOTO CREDIT: Tamsin Topolski

Song for Our Daughter, Laura Marling was not yet a mother. That has recently changed. I am going to come to an interview where she discusses motherhood. This is a songwriter, only thirty-four, who has been in the industry for many years. Song for Our Daughter is her seventh studio album. Her eighth, Patterns in Repeat, is out in October. She is without doubt one of the most astonishing songwriters of her generation. Her way with words and the scenes and images she conveys through her music are passionate, intimate, detailed, poetic and rich. For many years, I guess one of the main focuses was on other people. On characters. Many songs about herself. I guess, with a daughter now in her life, that will shift. It made me think about the impact motherhood surely has on female artists. How it can provide huge and fresh inspiration, though also perspective and clarity. For Marling, I guess there is that need and desire to be more home-based and spend time with her young daughter. On the other hand, a new album will bring with it touring demand. Trying to see fans and make sure that she is committed to that. It is a hard balance. One can understand why she would focus her energies and priorities more to her daughter than being as busy and full-on with music as before. I want to start with an interview from The Guardian from earlier this month. Some sections about new motherhood and how that has affected and infused Marling:

“Laura Marling is wondering whether to sacrifice her career for motherhood. The 34-year-old singer-songwriter, who first found fame with her enchanting yet earthy folk as a teenager, has decided to stop touring completely after becoming a parent. In fact, she might pack in the whole music thing entirely. “One of the great privileges of my life is turning out to be that I started my career early, and I can sort of wind it down,” says Marling with cool-headed contemplation: her conversational trademark.

We are in the living room of her London house, which is being redecorated – everything is piled into boxes; the one next to me is crowned with a baby music book and multicoloured blocks. Marling is on the floor, absent-mindedly pushing the legs of her trousers up over her knees and back down again. “There’s a part of me that feels like, will I just disappear? Maybe it would be nice to go and get old out of the spotlight – like Kate Bush.”

Marling is remarkably cheery at the prospect of professional oblivion. Since having her daughter in February last year, motherhood has become her new calling: “I was like, I only want to be doing this, everything else is secondary.”

That is one side of the story, anyway. The other is that Marling will be releasing her eighth album, the characteristically exquisite Patterns in Repeat, this autumn. She wrote it during the first three months of her daughter’s life. “I was just bouncing a BabyBjörn and playing guitar all day. It was all written looking her in the eye,” she says with total serenity and (somehow) not a hint of smugness. Marling was “high as fuck after giving birth, for six months. Literally psychedelically high,” a mood compounded by the realisation that parenthood hadn’t eroded her songwriting skills. “I felt such huge relief that it hadn’t changed that channel at all; I felt like the cat that got the cream.” After she had finished the album, she recorded it in a studio that she set up in the living room.

Marling feels her own beatific experience of motherhood is underrepresented. She found pregnancy itself “very painfully heteronormative – and I never use words like that, can I just say. But I was like: ‘Wow, there is no getting away from tits and ass,’ whereas that was never my pronounced feature!” But her new life with her daughter was unmitigated joy, and she struggled to find “anyone [saying]: I’m so happy that this has changed my life in this way.” Patterns in Repeat does just that, sometimes extremely literally. The closing track features the couplet: “I want you to know that I gave it up willingly / Nothing real was lost in the bringing of you to me.” On opener Child of Mine – a lush hymn to the cosmic joys and terrors of the mother-child bond – she vows she is “not gonna miss” a single moment of her daughter’s life. She is not wrong about her talents remaining intact; Child of Mine is the most beautiful thing she has ever written”.

For all her newfound focus on motherhood, there is the small issue of family finances. Marling admits that “touring was the biggest way I made money, and I do need to keep making money.” To that end, she is wooing subscribers to her Substack newsletter, also titled Patterns in Repeat, a series of richly referential, characteristically thoughtful essays on her life and the art of songwriting: “I’ve been doing it for nearly 20 years, and I’ve got quite a nice little collection of things to say”.

PHOTO CREDIT: Tamsin Topolski

It is interesting what Laura Marling says about her particular experiences of motherhood not really being discussed. I wonder whether there is reluctance from some in music to talk about the highs and lows of motherhood. Whether that is the physical and emotional strain or the unmitigated fulfilment and joy. Of course, women who are new mothers discuss this in their songs. There are beautiful and personal lines written about that bonding and experience. Is there a reluctance from some to talk about the full breadth and depth of motherhood, lest it alienate fans or seem too personal and possibly unrelatable?! I wonder if the industry as a whole is still accommodating to mothers. There is still so much pressure for artists to tour. For many, this is the only way they make money. The realities of being on the road means that many mothers spends days, weeks and even longer away from their children. Laura Marling’s seeming peace with potentially ending her career to dedicate her time to motherhood is commendable. I wonder whether part of that is to do with touring and the near-impossible task of being able to do so in a meaningful way and spend time at home. There are articles like this and this that talk about how to be a touring musician and a mother. There is still this sad realisation that many women coming into music might choose music over motherhood. The grim reality of doing both and how it is hard to do it all. There are so many positives, though. As Laura Marling discussed in that interview with The Guardian. Before that, this interview from last year saw musician Katie Melua and FOH Engineer Bryony October chat about  how they balance life and motherhood on tour. They also discussed reasons why bringing a child on tour is a realistic option more productions could look into:

“I can’t justify encouraging young women to consider a career in the live music industry without addressing the fact that having a child could effectively end your career,” began Bryony October, FOH Engineer for Ward Thomas and Katie Melua. The latter artist was currently sitting next to October nodding along profusely in the grand setting of Birmingham’s Symphony Hall – hours before doors opened to punters keen to hear some of the singer-songwriter’s latest material, along with hits from Nine Million Bicycles and The Closest Thing to Crazy. At a cursory glance, as the crew set about putting the final pieces in place, this tour seemed much like most others. However, a closer look at the bus passenger lists reveals this tour is travelling with two people under the age of three.

For Melua’s latest outing, the singer-songwriter had opted to bring her seven-month old son, Sandro, out on the road with her, taking inspiration from her long-serving FOH Engineer whose young son, Jesse, was also joining the crew on the tour – a decision the two mothers agreed sent a strong message to the wider touring industry.

Long-time readers may remember that October and her partner, Jake Vernum, spoke to TPi almost a year ago about the struggles of being new parents while both still working in the live events industry [see TPi #268]. During that time, October explained how she had brought her son out on the road with her, sometimes with Vernum coming along to handle parental duties and also recruiting her mother to take on childcare duties.

Both during that interview and again when TPi spoke to October in Birmingham, she explained how she felt that having a child was career suicide, as an extended break from the road would mean that clients new and old would simply stop calling.

“I’ve had nothing but positive feedback since that article last year. People seemed delighted and surprised that this was happening as it was a concept that was seemingly impossible for the crew at least. I feel I’ve given women a bit of hope that having a child doesn’t have to be a career ender,” reported October.

“Bryony has been a huge inspiration for me to take the leap into motherhood,” explained Melua. “Admittedly, many of my close friends are either full-time mothers or successful businesswomen who have nannies helping them raise their children. I didn’t know any mothers who toured, so when I saw what Bryony was doing it, it made me feel like I could as well. There really hasn’t been any major differences in terms of logistics on this tour – it just required good communication with the entire team and a choice of which bus to go on.”

The tour featured a family and a crew bus with the crew split between the two. “If any of the band or crew want some peace, they had a choice to go on the other bus, although we have found the family bus is actually a lot quieter,” laughed Melua. “Last summer when Jesse was out with us, we only had one bus, which we kept segregated with Jesse and his carer using the family lounge at the back”.

If some artists are able to balance motherhood and touring, many others find that they have to make a difficult choice. Many women might consider not having children because their careers will suffer. I wonder whether there is enough support for women in music who have children. For women in general. Think about women who work in professional studios and those right throughout the industry. Fewer opportunities to begin with, they also find that their careers will be affected massively if they have children when in a job. Maybe Laura Marling is in a position where she can financially and personally afford to take steps back. Others are not so fortunate. It does call into question whether the industry is accommodation of and supportive towards women. It still very much seems geared towards men. What does come out of motherhood is the experiences and fulfilment. This can either feed directly into the music and lead to the most astonishing and satisfying songs of an artist’s life. Also, there is something that goes deeper than many other songs. A viewpoint and dynamic that many of us are either unfamiliar with or can never experience. A potent, moving and very personal paen that can also resonate with many other people. We will hear this on Laura Marling’s new album, Patterns in Repeat. Again, I wonder if there is this encouragement of new mothers very much being honest, open and broad about their experiences of motherhood.

From the almost unheard of toughness and struggles through to how it can be so nourishing, enriching and life-changing. Few artists maybe going to those lengths. It is a shame. I hope that Laura Marling’s words and music will inspire others. That there is more examination of motherhood and its wonders. If motherhood can very much ignite songwriting juices and elevate a career, there is still that struggle for mothers on tour. It can be very hard for new mothers to have a professional career life they did before children. Not able to do the same tour dates and travel as far. Maybe having to take a baby on the road and find compromises. Maybe some can take to platforms like TikTok to compensate for less touring or make revenue. It is not ideal. Many women might not want to. Others might feel comfortable. It is a shame. What should be a very positive and incredible experience – new motherhood – might mean a lot more sacrifice. More than any other career. There is the other side to the page. The motivation for so many incredible new songs. A whole new perspective. It would be great if there was a way where new mothers in music could have more support. Not having to decide whether they want a career or motherhood. It is unacceptable. How can things change?! The industry recognising how important motherhood is to artists. How it is essential that women can still enjoy their careers and be supported. That stories about motherhood and its beatific benefits are highlighted and encouraged. A wider range of voices on the subject. The industry does need to get behind women and help lessen that burden or having to either wind down their career or balance things. Laura Marling’s word hit me and made me think more widely about women in music and motherhood. A subject that should be talked about…

A lot more.

FEATURE: The Men I Love: Kate Bush’s Feminism, Attitude Towards Men and Positivity

FEATURE:

 

 

The Men I Love

PHOTO CREDIT: Trevor Leighton

Kate Bush’s Feminism, Attitude Towards Men and Positivity

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I am going to discuss this more…

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush at the launch of Never for Ever in 1980/PHOTO CREDIT: Getty Images

in an upcoming feature about when Kate Bush met Del Palmer. Their relationship. For this feature, I am reminded of how Kate Bush’s attitudes towards men and relationship with feminism is very different to so many other artists. In a modern sense, few could call Kate Bush overtly feminism. She hardly discussed the importance of women in music and name-checked other female artists who she was inspired by. In fact, the vast majority of artists Kate Bush was influenced by growing up were men. Nearly every musician and singer she worked with were men. That slightly changed by the time she got to 1989’s The Sensual World. When you think about all the people Bush has worked alongside, it is a vastly male landscape. One might think this that she is not an artist who could be considered a feminist. Perhaps not giving opportunities to women like she should. Although she has employed women for The Tour of Life and Before the Dawn, listen to her albums, and there are not many female voices – both vocally and musically. In the 1970s, when Bush was starting out, it was a post-feminist world. She rarely discussed her music and recording with her boyfriends. Whether it was as not to threaten their masculinity – that she was perhaps more successful and acclaimed – or they would be too demanding of her time. Indeed, as Graeme Thomson wrote in Under the Ivy: The Life & Music of Kate Bush, whilst friends around Kate Bush were getting married and settling, Bush’s steely single-minded focus on music and her career was perhaps very different to what was expected of women at the time. If the lack of women in her music collection, interview quotes and personnel suggested someone who was against her own gender and was not a feminist, the way Bush approached her career and ordered her priorities suggests a different kind of feminism. Someone who was, without knowing, inspiring other female artists. In a male-dominated scene, Bush was keen to prove herself and not be told what to do. That strength and maturity stood her own and defined her career.

Maybe a whole strand and discussion I cannot do justice to here, think of the women in music who cite Kate Bush as an influence. How they approach their careers. If you look at feminist artists of today, Bush might not compere or seem to relate. She was not vocal about other women too much or especially keen to work alongside them for the most part. It wasn’t all that unusual through the 1970s and 1980s. It was a very male-dominated environment. Most of the session musicians and producers were men. There was so much misogyny and sexism in the media. Hard for women to really be taken seriously. Maybe not instinctive or natural for female artists to work with other women unless they were in a band. Most of the successful female artists of the 1970s and 1980s worked mostly with men. In some respects, maybe things have not moved on too far. One of the reasons why I wanted to write this feature was to explore a side of Bush’s personality and music that actually make her music empowering and feminist in a way that is not shouted, accusatory, political, sloganeering or conventional. Rather, it is Bush’s approach to men. I can’t really think of a song in her catalogue where she is angry at men or slams them. Few other female artists can claim that there are no examples of anger and backlash against men. Men cannot really claim that either. Kate Bush’s approach to men has been one of admiration, curiosity and desire. Respecting their child-like quality without patronising and endorsing any kind of immaturity, nasty side or sexism coming from men. Finding the good and positive sides. I think that has made a huge impression. Not only on the listeners, but also for women coming through who were intrigued and compelled by Bush’s music. From The Man with the Child in His Eyes - recorded in 1975 - through to some of her later work, she has always had this patience and respect for men.

Can you really connect this unusually positive approach to men with feminism? Maybe some people raised eyebrows listening to her songs. The way she was quite open and forward about her desire for the male form. For their bodies and minds. Not someone who felt the need to be bashful and prudish. She argued why anything was wrong with thinking and feeling this way. Again, today, some might feel that this is not feminist. I appreciate how women feeling independent, empowered and accepted is crucial. This often means a certain autonomy and distance from men and their control. Kate Bush has never been soft, submissive or second to anyone. Her strength and sense of passion and pride means that she has always been able to balance healthy personal and professional relationships. Someone who had a lot of respect and affection for men, though never at the expense of her career and space. This is all reflected in her music. No sense of bitterness, feeling trapped and heartbroken. Even after she broke with Del Palmer, songs from around that time were sad and regretful and never angered and blame-shifting. There was this mature sense of reflection, strength and understanding. One could look at the very healthy relationship her parents had. The love and unending support she got from them. Even if she grew up in a comfortable environment, she would have known people who were in far less stables homes. Parents separating or fighting. A time when there was a lot of domestic violence and huge misogyny in society and behind closed doors. With two older brothers who were very caring and inspiring in terms of poetry, music and, to add, supportive of everything their sister did, this all moulded how she considered male companionship and relationship.

Having David Gilmour as a mentor. Another strong male role model, his passion, faith and support also affected and influenced how she viewed men. There is a lot more to discuss on this matter. Almost this unique and unflinching positivity towards men. When so many of her peers react to heartache or struggles in relationship with harsher words and sentiment – a natural reaction and mindset for any songwriter of any gender -, Kate Bush has always remained respectful and curious. More compelled to get beneath the skin and inside the mind of her male lovers, friends and inspirations. Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God) was literally her asking for men and women to swap places to they could better understand one another. It remains her defining song. Is it important to think of Kate Bush as a femninist? Even if, at a very early stage of her career, she provided an unwise and naïve quote about what a feminist was (I think she thought they were butch, hairy-legged and unwomanly), that is not to say Bush is anti-feminist. Her feminism and strength comes from the way she has forged this career on her own terms. How she has influenced generations and, to this day, remains one of the most distinctly brilliant and pioneering songwriters and producers. The way she worked alongside men but was calling the shots. In relationships but not beholden to them or relying on the men she was with. At all times she was fascinated and moved by them. This wisdom and love through her lyrics that spanned decades. If that stems all the way from her childhood or a conscious decision she made early in her career to have this attitude towards men, there is no doubting how it makes her music come across. Would she be as popular and unique if her songs were similar to her female peers?! If she wrote break-up tracks or was vengeful or angered?! These types of lyrics are perfectly fine and are part of modern feminist artists’ work. There is something about Kate Bush and her approach to men that marks her out. Individually, how she was blazing a trail for other women at times when the scene was focused towards men. Where women were belittled, marginalised and seen as vastly inferior (to men). This all goes to show and highlight that Kate Bush is…

AN awe-inspiring woman.

FEATURE: Heaven: Talking Heads’ Fear of Music at Forty-Five

FEATURE:

 

 

Heaven

Talking Heads’ Fear of Music at Forty-Five

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MAYBE the finest album…

PHOTO CREDIT: United Archives/Getty Images

from Talking Heads, Fear of Music turns forty-five on 3rd August. Recorded at locations in New York City during April and May 1979, it was produced by Brian Eno and Talking Heads. If someone asked me where to start with Talking Heads, I would recommend Fear of Music. Alongside well-known songs like Life During Wartime, I Zimbra, and Cities, there are great under-heard songs like Air, Heaven and Drugs. There is competition when it comes to the ultimate Talking Heads album, Maybe their debut, Talking Heads: 77, 1980’s Remain in Light or 1983’s Speaking in Tongues. I think that Remain in Light is their peak, though it is great to have conversation and discussion about this. As it turns forty-five very soon, I wanted to bring in a few articles about this incredible release. Prior to getting to some reviews, a couple of interesting features give us an insight into a masterful work from a legendary band. In 2019, Albumism dived into and explored Fear of Music:

“Made up of David Byrne (lead vocals, guitar), Tina Weymouth (bass), Chris Frantz (drums), and Jerry Harrison (keyboards and guitar), Talking Heads were a tried and true New York art-rock band. Spawned when three of its members met while attending the Rhode Island School of Design, the group made its bones playing in the punk and rock clubs of Manhattan during the mid to late ’70s.

The band had released the critically acclaimed Talking Heads: 77 (1977) and More Songs About Buildings and Food (1978) before beginning to draw some nationwide attention. After performing a cover of Al Green’s “Take Me to the River” on American Bandstand, people really started to take notice. And so the group reacted in the most peculiar way possible, recording and releasing Fear of Music, their third album, 40 years ago.

Fear of Music is an enigmatic album. The lyrics can seem to defy interpretation. Sometimes they are bellowed in thick, affected accents. Occasionally they are literally gibberish. Reading through the lyrics to some of the songs, it’s never quite clear whether or not Byrne is fucking with us. Like, did he really record a serious-minded song warning about the effects of air on human life? And not pollution, but, like, actual air?

Musically, Fear of Music is alternately busy, harsh, chaotic, mechanical, and occasionally stripped down. Both Byrne and famed producer Brian Eno, who had begun working with the group during the recording of their second album, utilized a whole host of studio wizardry to transform the group’s art-rock stylings into something almost unrecognizable

Fear of Music is a tough nut to crack, and much more talented writers than myself have spent thousands of words trying to decipher it. In 2012, famed author Jonathan Lethem wrote an entry in the 33 1/3 book series about the album. Unlike other entries in the 33 1/3 series, there were no interviews with the members of the band or others involved in the recording process or “making of” anecdotes from inside the recording studio. Instead, the book documents Lethem’s obsession with the group and Fear of Music as a whole, attempting to analyze the album and discuss its significance to Talking Heads’ legacy, as well as his deep and personal relationship to the long player, as it was integral to his musical development. Lethem later admitted in interviews that the album was “a really slippery subject” and just as inscrutable to him when the book was written as when it was originally released.

While I certainly love Fear of Music, I don’t share the same four-decade attachment to it. It came out when I was four years old, and I discovered it about 20 years ago when I began to really delve into the band’s discography. I appreciate it for being not only one of the group’s strangest albums, but also one that served as the bridge between their punk and avant-garde days into their attempts to expand their musical influences.

One such example of the group branching out musically is the album-opening “I Zimbra,” an amalgam of afro-beat and disco. It’s Fela Kuti as filtered through CBGBs filtered through NYU. Or in the reverse order. In a move that represents both the Talking Heads of this period and Fear of Music overall, Byrne, Eno, and the band chant phrases from “Gadji beri bimba,” a poem by Dadaist Hugo Ball.

It terms of subject matter and themes, when they can be discerned, Talking Heads seem to be concerned with exploring different facets of city life and the fear present in these environs. Byrne sings about the overt and beneath-the-surface difficulties that denizens of urban centers face, from existential dread to seemingly mundane minutiae. Many of the song titles seem purposefully bland, (“Paper,” “Heaven,” “Air,” “Electric Guitar,” etc.), allowing Byrne to deal with the topics in either a straightforward or, more often, abstract manner.

“Mind” is one of the album’s early highlights, a rock jam where Byrne vents his frustration with someone who appears completely resistant to change. It features the best guitar work on the album, especially the itchy, echoing main riff. “Cities” plows headlong at a madcap pace, guitars and keyboard charging with reckless abandon. The lyrics seem like a stream of thought on Byrne’s part, vacillating between prosaic and ridiculous. But even as he contemplates the benefits and costs of living in the city, lyrics like, “But it all works out, sometimes I'm a little freaked out” reflects the feelings of uneasiness that many can feel living in the city.

“Life During Wartime” is one of the best-known entries on Fear of Music. One of the group’s concert performance staples, the version that appears on the Stop Making Sense (1985) live album is already one of their most acclaimed recordings. The original version doesn’t have the same intensely frenetic energy, but it’s still an arresting piece of songwriting.

The song is a first person account of the rigorous life of a Weatherman-inspired revolutionary, attempting to scrape by on an austere existence in the heart of NYC. Subsisting on peanut-butter sandwiches and living without any of the basic luxuries (no headphones or record players allowed), he coordinates with his comrades as they attempt to blend in with the city’s population, while planning and instigating civil insurrection. Lyrics like ”I got three passports, a couple of visas, you don't even know my real name” and “I changed my hairstyle so many times now, I don't know what I look like” are integral in making it seem real and immediate.

“Animals” is another of the aforementioned “This is a joke, right?” songs on Fear of Music. The song is outright belligerent, with Byrne railing against the untrustworthiness of… animals? “I know the animals are laughing at us / Don't even know what a joke is / I won't follow animals' advice / I don't care if they're laughing at us,” he barks over a driving guitar riff. I’m sure there’s some subtext that I’m missing here, but in the meantime, I can’t make heads or tails of it.

IN THIS PHOTO: David Byrne/PHOTO CREDIT: Chris Walter/WireImage

But overall, Fear of Music is at its best when Talking Heads get overtly weird. The creepiness of “Memories Can’t Wait” lends to its awesomeness. Byrne’s vocals are heavily laden with effects as he sings over a menacing guitar riff, as he explores the thought process of someone trapped by his own memories, unable to rest, due to his owns regrets on how he’s lived his life.

“Drugs” is Fear of Music’s true masterpiece in experimental rock and ambient music, with Byrne and Eno taking the song “Electricity,” a staple of their live performances, and turning it into something that’s both minimalist and complex. The story goes that Byrne and Eno worked separately, cobbling together disparate pieces into a darkly psychedelic piece that sonically approximates the feeling of taking drugs. Chimes appear frequently, with other odd elements being incorporated into the piece, such as frogs croaking and disembodied vocals. It’s a fittingly disquieted coda to a truly peculiar piece of work”.

In 2021, Guitar.com saluted the genius of Fear of Music.  An absurdist masterstroke, they also spotlighted the “jarring and impulsive role” guitars plays through the album. I have found a new appreciation for Fear of Music after researching it. I hope there is a lot of celebration and new words written about it ahead of its forty-fifth anniversary on 3rd August:

“Never listen to electric guitar” commands a typically unbalanced David Byrne on Fear of Music’s penultimate cut, aptly dubbed Electric Guitar. With any other band, you’d likely expect that a track titled after this most cherished of instruments would foreground it prominently – a flashy lead break here, pummelling chords there. But Talking Heads were not like other bands. And, Fear of Music is quite unlike any other album. In fact, the closest Electric Guitar comes to such a moment is probably a skittish, minuscule riff that darts away from the songs’ taut chorus in abject terror. Strident stadium rock, this was not.

This is Fear of Music, Talking Heads’ third album, and their second (of three) that they would make in collaboration with Brian Eno. Across its eleven tracks, the interplay of the band’s instruments with each other and Eno’s synthetic froth is explored, leading to some of the band’s most arresting songs, wherein the conventional mechanics of a post-punk band are upturned, dissected and re-organised. The wonderful results encompass a spectrum of often warring tones, textures and moods.Ghosts in a lot of houses

Though Fear of Music would be the second part of a trilogy of Eno-collaborations (culminating in the venerated polyrhythms of Remain in Light), this wasn’t at all the initial plan. Though sessions for the new record initially took cues from the Eno’s often chopped-up working methods, the man himself would only be called back into service after a creative roadblock was hit.

Putting aside some early ideas to pursue a more disco-oriented direction, Talking Heads decided to get back to basics, setting up live in Frantz and Weymouth’s loft – their former practice space. “We came into our loft, we set our instruments up. We then did something we’d never done before, we brainstormed, or we jammed.” Weymouth told The South Bank Show in 1979, when explaining the Fear of Music writing process. “Half the time it was awful, But then all these little interesting things would happen and that would get recorded on tape, and David would take it home. He’d pick out the parts that went along with his lyrical ideas.”

But, without the guiding hand of Eno, the group faltered. A quick phone call later, and the synth sage delightedly returned to co-produce the record. Before long, the sketchy, half-formed ideas began to find their footing, as Eno encouraged even more loose-form songwriting. Guitarists Jerry Harrison and David Byrne worked tightly together, making sure their respective melodic and riff figures combined, or – more interestingly – didn’t.

Byrne recalled in his superb book, How Music Works, that, from the outset of their working relationship, Eno had suggested the band play totally live in the studio, “Without all of the typical sonic isolation. His semi-blasphemous idea seemed worth a try, despite the risk of it resulting in a muddy recording. Removing all that isolating stuff was like being able to breathe again. The result sounded – surprise! – more like us.” Further impediments to band harmony were removed further as the new album got underway, and studio recording equipment was largely kept outside within a pair of mobile recording studio vans. These vans were unobtrusively parked outside and wires were carefully threaded through the building and windows so they could capture the sound from the loft.

Putting aside some early ideas to pursue a more disco-oriented direction, Talking Heads decided to get back to basics, setting up live in Frantz and Weymouth’s loft – their former practice space. “We came into our loft, we set our instruments up. We then did something we’d never done before, we brainstormed, or we jammed.” Weymouth told The South Bank Show in 1979, when explaining the Fear of Music writing process. “Half the time it was awful, But then all these little interesting things would happen and that would get recorded on tape, and David would take it home. He’d pick out the parts that went along with his lyrical ideas.”

But, without the guiding hand of Eno, the group faltered. A quick phone call later, and the synth sage delightedly returned to co-produce the record. Before long, the sketchy, half-formed ideas began to find their footing, as Eno encouraged even more loose-form songwriting. Guitarists Jerry Harrison and David Byrne worked tightly together, making sure their respective melodic and riff figures combined, or – more interestingly – didn’t.

Byrne recalled in his superb book, How Music Works, that, from the outset of their working relationship, Eno had suggested the band play totally live in the studio, “Without all of the typical sonic isolation. His semi-blasphemous idea seemed worth a try, despite the risk of it resulting in a muddy recording. Removing all that isolating stuff was like being able to breathe again. The result sounded – surprise! – more like us.” Further impediments to band harmony were removed further as the new album got underway, and studio recording equipment was largely kept outside within a pair of mobile recording studio vans. These vans were unobtrusively parked outside and wires were carefully threaded through the building and windows so they could capture the sound from the loft.

That ain’t allowed

Byrne was growing into a masterful rhythm guitar player by this point, as evidenced by the flurried chords underpinning the verse of Air, the tense muted chug of Animals and the almost Chic-like slick funk that circles the congas of I Zimbra. Meanwhile, Harrison was keen to accentuate the guitar landscape with laddering riffs and subtle arpeggiations. The eastern sounding riff which surges with an electricity between the lurching F and G chords that open Paper is a notable example of the pair’s approaches working harmoniously in tandem. Byrne’s funk guitar playing would only strengthen as the years passed, leading engineer Eric Thorngreen to eventually describe him as “One of the best rhythm guitar players who ever lived.” (Sound on Sound).

Though exact details around the precise gear that was used on the album is hard to verify, tone was most likely provided by a pair

Byrne was growing into a masterful rhythm guitar player by this point, as evidenced by the flurried chords underpinning the verse of Air, the tense muted chug of Animals and the almost Chic-like slick funk that circles the congas of I Zimbra. Meanwhile, Harrison was keen to accentuate the guitar landscape with laddering riffs and subtle arpeggiations. The eastern sounding riff which surges with an electricity between the lurching F and G chords that open Paper is a notable example of the pair’s approaches working harmoniously in tandem. Byrne’s funk guitar playing would only strengthen as the years passed, leading engineer Eric Thorngreen to eventually describe him as “One of the best rhythm guitar players who ever lived.” (Sound on Sound).

Though exact details around the precise gear that was used on the album is hard to verify, tone was most likely provided by a pair of Fender Twin Reverb amps, and Byrne was rarely seen without one of his two identical ‘63 sunburst Fender Stratocasters at the time. His tight Strat tone is unmistakable on tracks such as the bouncy Life During Wartime – the record’s first single, and perhaps the most ‘conventional’ sounding track on the record. At least from an instrumental point of view. Its bluesy double-stopping riff in A minor, tightrope-walks back and forth across Frantz and Weymouth’s robust groove. On the track, Byrne also paints one of the album’s most visceral lyrical landscapes – lyrically depicting a future wherein a revolutionary character keeps his head down within a violent dystopia.

Memories Can Wait

Upon release, on 3rd August 1979, Fear of Music was immediately recognised as being both a darkly hued, unsettling record as well as something quite special indeed by critics, and a notable evolution of the band’s musical universe. Despite critical adulation, this “brilliantly disorienting” (Rolling Stone) album failed to break significant commercial ground on either side of the Atlantic, though time has rightly shone more light on the album’s importance not just in the unfolding narrative of its creators, but to the broader progress of pop as the 1970s reached a downbeat climax.

Though the band’s third collaboration, Remain In Light is often held as the band’s singular greatest recorded achievement, it’s here amid the tense, paranoid musical landscapes of Fear of Music where the most balanced combination of the ‘Heads’ propulsive, wiry energy and Eno’s near-academic, investigative creative ethos is heard. As Simon Reynolds perfectly summed up in Rip it Up and Start Again, “Fear of Music represented the Eno/Talking Heads collaboration at its most mutually fruitful and equitable. His role encompassed being a kind of fifth player and an editor who spotted ‘little playing ideas that might have been accidents, or accidents of interaction’ that the band might otherwise have missed.”

On Fear of Music, you can hear a band adjusting themselves from being just four members of an oddball post-punk guitar band, into an expansive and multifarious musical vehicle. Diversifying their instrumental flavours, dabbling with complicated syncopation and taking their sharp instrumental textures in unconventional directions, Fear of Music marked a perfect bridge between what the band were, and what they would become. It remains, even on its own terms, a bewitching listen”.

I am going to end with a couple of reviews for Fear of Music. Undeniably one of the best albums of the 1970s, it was the start of a remarkable trilogy of albums from Talking Heads. This is what AllMusic noted about the third studio album from David Byrne, Jerry Harrison, Tina Weymouth and Chris Frantz:

“By titling their third album Fear of Music and opening it with the African rhythmic experiment "I Zimbra," complete with nonsense lyrics by poet Hugo Ball, Talking Heads make the record seem more of a departure than it is. Though Fear of Music is musically distinct from its predecessors, it's mostly because of the use of minor keys that give the music a more ominous sound. Previously, David Byrne's offbeat observations had been set off by an overtly humorous tone; on Fear of Music, he is still odd, but no longer so funny. At the same time, however, the music has become even more compelling. Worked up from jams (though Byrne received sole songwriter's credit), the music is becoming denser and more driving, notably on the album's standout track, "Life During Wartime," with lyrics that match the music's power. "This ain't no party," declares Byrne, "this ain't no disco, this ain't no fooling around." The other key song, "Heaven," extends the dismissal Byrne had expressed for the U.S. in "The Big Country" to paradise itself: "Heaven is a place where nothing ever happens." It's also the album's most melodic song. Those are the highlights. What keeps Fear of Music from being as impressive an album as Talking Heads' first two is that much of it seems to repeat those earlier efforts, while the few newer elements seem so risky and exciting. It's an uneven, transitional album, though its better songs are as good as any Talking Heads ever did”.

I am going to end up with a review from Pitchfork. Discussing the album in 2020, they wrote how Fear of Music took Talking Heads from New York Art Punks to a spectacular Pop Group. For anyone who has never heard Fear of Music, I would advise that you seek it out. It is a phenomenal listening experience that demands repeated spins:

“Fear of Music can be read, in part, as an attempt to throw buckets of conceptual cold water on everything that had made the Talking Heads beloved, or to at least submit it to rigorous forensic testing. They experimented with their songwriting process; instead of working from Byrne’s compositions, they entered the studio cold, jamming together until the shape of something promising emerged. As they did on More Songs About Buildings and Food, they enlisted Brian Eno as producer, but this time Eno played a much bigger role: It was Eno who suggested a Table of Contents approach to the tracklist, which turned the song titles into a litany of proper nouns, and it was he who furnished the Hugo Ball poem for inspiration when Byrne was struggling with writer’s block.

As a band of former design students, the Talking Heads thought harder than most about presentation, about the telling power of surfaces. On Fear of Music, they repeatedly drew attention away from the picture to gesture at the frame: The radio announcement for the album was a simple, stilted intonation—“Talking Heads have a new album/It’s called Fear of Music”—repeated over and over. The album cover was a black obelisk, alternately bumpy and smooth but admitting no light and emitting no clues. There was a song called “Electric Guitar,” and the refrain, as the electric guitars gnashed their teeth in every available space, was “Never listen to electric guitar.” The bittersweet futility of this command neatly encapsulated a band that was a tangle of conflicting impulses in 1979. They shunned every method that had worked for them before, attempting perhaps to become a different version of themselves, and yet they only purified their essence. In jettisoning old methods and throwing themselves into new ones, they embraced the only true underlying force of their music: relentless interrogation.

The album plays out like a series of mini-stand up routines about the absurdity, or the pointlessness, of human observation. Each song contains at least one declaration of seeming authority (“Hold on, because it’s been taken care of”; “Find myself a city to live in”), which Byrne goes on to repeat with increasing mania and decreasing confidence. As the music subdivides itself into a million tiny repeating phrases, you feel a grasping mind trying and failing to find purchase.

“Everything seems to be up in the air at this time," Byrne observed mildly on “Mind,” with deadpan irony. On Fear of Music, he became our metaphysical straight man, able to defamiliarize the world, object by object, with his through-a-telescope gaze and his curious tone. He describes his “Mind” like some peculiar object that has crash-landed in his living room. “Drugs won’t change you/Religion won’t change you/What’s the matter with you?/I haven’t got the faintest idea,” Byrne mutters. Imagine a multi-tentacled alien attempting to put on a pair of pants; this was Byrne trying to make sense of reality.

The scratching sound on “Cities” mimic pencils blackening every inch of a paper’s free space, and the keyboards, the vocals, strike with the force of a typewriter hammer smacking paper. This was writing and thinking as a percussive act, each note a small panicked violence on reality, the force and insistence belying the foreknowledge that all this would disappear eventually. Cities would fall to war, the good times would end, were always ending—if Byrne wasn’t going to break his bug-eyed poker face to spell all this out to you, Jerry Harrison’s guitars and keyboards were going to scream it. The guitar that intrudes at the end of “Mind” is like a pained groan, begging Byrne to shut up. The ratcheting sound ringing throughout “Cities” sounds like a scythe trying to sever the talking head from its body, once and for all.

At the center of Fear of Music is “Life During Wartime,” inarguably one of their five most iconic songs. The lyrics ratchet paranoia all the way to the top: We open with a van loaded with weapons, rumored but not seen, and a gravesite “where nobody knows.” A triumph consists of finding some peanut butter to last you “a couple of days.” Everything else—records to play, letters to write, identity crises to have (“I’ve changed my hairstyle so many times now…”) is just quaint, a reminder of better times when we were allowed to be miserable for our own little reasons. Significantly, it’s the calmest that Byrne had ever sounded on record to that point—all the quavers in that reedy voice were suddenly smoothed out. The panic is always in the anticipation; when the disaster hits, we’re oddly calm. “The sound of gunfire, off in the distance/I’m getting used to it now.” I’m getting used to it now—is there any proclamation of success bleaker?

The song, and Byrne’s vocal performance, offered a premonition of the shellacked hair and hard angles of his big-suit, early-’80s Stop Making Sense era, which would begin in earnest with 1980’s masterpiece Remain in Light. There was an incipient pitilessness to the American air; the country had just elected Reagan. New York City was a pyre of burning tenements and a city teetering on the brink of financial ruin. When chaos descends, talk is the first thing deemed cheap. So Byrne burned his notebooks, as the lyrics went, and all that was left was the burning in his chest that kept him alive. Civilization is a privilege; anxiety is a privilege; worrying about paper and minds and dogs and drugs are privileges, and they might constitute the best and sweetest moments of your life. That’s the joke, that’s both the setup and the punchline: You think you’re miserable now? This misery is the good part.

And that would be the epigraph of Fear of Music if it weren’t for “Heaven.” It’s a song that Byrne almost didn’t write, based on a melody he nearly threw away. Eno heard Byrne humming it to himself and drew the song out of him, like a forced confession. The band in heaven plays your favorite song, plays it all night long. It’s a place where nothing ever happens; everyone leaves the party at the same time, and every kiss begins again exactly the same. The song is a prayer for order, a cessation of observation. When the act of observation, which grants us our humanity and fuels our neurosis, falls away—what’s left? Pure experience, untouched by anything else. “There’s a party in my mind, and I hope it never stops,” Byrne says on “Memories Can’t Wait.” Maybe the best moment happens when everyone leaves”.

On 3rd August, we mark forty-five years of Talking Heads’ Fear of Music. It is not only one of the best albums Talking Heads released. It is among the greatest albums ever released. To be fair, Talking Heads released five incredible albums in a row. Their debut, Talking Heads: 77, into More Songs About Buildings and Food. Fear of Music was an evolution and new step up that kept this golden streak going. With Brian Eno as producer, Remain in Light was another masterpiece. There then came Speaking in Tongues (which the band produced themselves). Although 1985’s Little Creatures was a slight dip in quality, it was still another acclaimed release. To many, Fear of Music remains the pinnacle of Talking Heads’ creative output. There is stiff competition. However you feel, one cannot deny the fact Fear of Music deserves new respect and investigation ahead of its forty-fifth anniversary. All these years later, it remains…

A true masterpiece.

FEATURE: Oblique Strategies: Eno: Reinventing and Reframing the Possibilities of the Music Documentary

FEATURE:

 

 

Oblique Strategies

Eno: Reinventing and Reframing the Possibilities of the Music Documentary

_________

AS someone not fully aware of…

Brian Eno’s brilliance and incredible career, I have done a lot of looking back and catching up. There is a lot of new focus about his work and brilliance through the documentary, Eno. I am going to come to a couple of reviews for it in a minute. I think that music documentaries are a hard thing to get right. One of the big issues is keeping the length down. Able to make something both concise and authoritative. Having it be balanced and engaging to new fans and long-serving alike. It is almost an impossible task for any filmmaker to make a music documentary that pleases everyone and can fit everything else in. That is why Eno interests me. Perhaps it is the other end of the spectrum. In the sense that its innovation means no two viewings of the documentary are the same. It means that so many hours of audio and footage can be included so that you do not have to restrict yourself to one single narrative and piece. Here are some more details about Eno:

“Brian Eno is the subject of a new career spanning documentary that is uniquely generative: a film that’s different every time it’s screened. Compiled from hundreds of hours of video footage, music and interviews, the film explores Eno’s music, art and ideas, giving the viewer personal insights into his creative processes.

Accompanying this groundbreaking new film is a soundtrack that serves as a companion audio journey touching on Eno’s output throughout his rich career. The 17 tracks included on the album feature work from early solo outings such as 1974’s ‘Taking Tiger Mountain’ and 75’s ‘Another Green World’, acclaimed collaborations with the likes of David Byrne, John Cale, Cluster and more recently, Fred again… all the way through to music from his latest album, ‘FOREVERANDEVERNOMORE’, and his 2021 appearance at the Acropolis in Athens with brother, Roger”.

IN THIS PHOTO: On 11th July, Brian Eno spoke to Lauren Laverne on BBC Radio 6 Music about Eno/PHOTO CREDIT: BBC

I will get to a couple of reviews for Eno before moving on. In their five-star write-up, The Guardian stated how it is quite hard to review the documentary. With every viewing being different, you can only really give your account of events. It won’t apply wholly to anyone else who watches Eno. It is a fascinating project none the less. Something that has not really been done before:

“How do you capture the mercurial character, the elastic creativity and the prolific and endlessly inventive output of an artist such as Brian Eno – member of Roxy Music, producer of David Bowie and others, musician, activist, artist – in a conventional documentary? The answer, as director Gary Hustwit realised, is that you can’t. The traditional approach of the average music documentary – a dutiful plod through talking-head interviews and archive footage – might pin down a few of the biographical facts of Eno’s life and work, but it could hardly be further removed from its spirit.

And so Hustwit, who first worked with Eno in 2017 when the musician created a score for the film Rams (about the German designer Dieter Rams), decided to think outside the box. The result is an extraordinary work that takes its cue from Eno’s auto-generated musical projects. Using specially developed software (dreamed up in collaboration with creative technologist Brendan Dawes), Hustwit has created an exhilarating and innovative cinematic experience: a generative film that is different every time it screens.

It proves to be a uniquely challenging project to review – the version of the film that I viewed will never be seen again. My iteration, in which David Byrne and Talking Heads featured prominently, was thoughtful and philosophical; I imagine there are far more angular and abrasive possible versions (I would be fascinated to see an incarnation that touched on Eno’s tricky collaboration with Devo, for example). What is particularly striking, however, uniting most critics so far, is how elegantly the film flows; there is a curious, intuitive logic weaving together these randomly chosen scenes and clips. It’s an outstanding achievement”.

There are always restrictions with music documentaries. Truly great ones can fit everything in and give a complete portrait of an artist or music event. I don’t know whether there will be attempts by anyone else to follow from Brian Eno and do something similar. I am interested whether Eno will have an impact on how music documentaries are made and perceived. This is what the BFI said about Eno:

“To tackle a tireless explorer of music as a system of rules and patterns, the American documentarian Gary Hustwit has found an appropriately complex strategy. Not for Brian Eno a by-the-book compilation of archive footage and talking heads (Eno got one of those in 2011, with the epic but conventional Brian Eno: The Man Who Fell to Earth 1971-1977). Instead, Eno is a fascinating honeycomb of interlocking sequences, each tackling a different facet of his artistic methods and philosophy or a moment from his career, and playing in a jumbled order, which can change from day to day or from screening to screening.

Common to many of these particles are warm, unguarded interviews with Eno at his home and studio in Norfolk, where he’s seen layering sounds at his computer and out admiring shrubs in his garden. Indeed, it seems that for him sound-making is a quasi-horticultural pursuit. His interest in generative music derives from his thrill in planting something and watching it grow; in seeing complexity arising out of simplicity. “I like things that don’t look like they’re changing,” he says.

Hustwit’s jigsaw-puzzle pieces include invigorating sequences about Eno’s notebooks, his breakfast habits (or denial of them) and his invention of the ‘oblique strategies’ cards with which he throws haphazard instructions into his artistic projects. Roxy Music, David Bowie and a mixing-desk session with U2 are in the blend too. It doesn’t really matter what order these come in: each of these collaborations are the molecular elements that form a larger pattern of creative endeavour.

From helvetica font (Helvetica, 2007) to the industrial designer Dieter Rams (Rams, 2018), Hustwit has shown a preoccupation with creative systems and processes. His fragmented scheme here brings to mind François Girard’s prismatic look at another mathematically minded artist, Thirty Two Short Films About Glenn Gould (1993) – though the short films are now randomised, like a playlist set to shuffle.

The attempt to create an aleatoric, generative cinema to match Eno’s methods – via bespoke software which Hustwit developed with creative technologist Brendan Dawes – is inspired. If there is a flaw in the conception, it’s in the stubborn limitations of the medium. Watching the sequences in different orders may get the neurons firing off in new directions and making serendipitous connections but the film itself doesn’t grow, can’t grow, in any organic way.

More controllably, the transitions between sequences are accompanied by rows of jumbled letters on screen and a digital scrambling sound: corny and very un-Eno signposts that the thing we’re watching is changing”.

I do like music documentaries, though there always seem to be flaws or drawbacks. What you find is that the filmmaker either does not dive deep enough or things are quite sanitised. You have a picture of that subject that is missing details and truth. The restrictive length of documentaries means it is naturally difficult to create true balance and richness without things being too long. Then you risk it being bloated and people’s attentions wandering. Eno, as I said, is an extreme example of how you can have a documentary that omits nothing and everyone has their own unique experience. This regenerative visual experience is intriguing. In any respect, I do wonder whether we are now in a position where music documentaries can have these limitless possibilities. Or at the very least there are few restrictions. You could make a documentary about, say music of a particular decade or band, and ensure that everyone goes away happy. I like the idea of having different viewing experiences. Maybe not infinite or endless. You could have something slightly different over five or six different versions. I don’t know. Regardless, we have technology that allows us to take documentaries to new places. Eno is proof of that. Whilst some note that this regenerative and new approach to documentaries means we can never get to the core of a subject or feel this sense of completion, it does mean that everyone who sees Eno has their own perspective. That is a wonderful innovation that is so…

EXCITING to see.

FEATURE: The Maths of Music: Exploring and Pondering the More Analytical and Fantastical Side of A Beautiful Artform

FEATURE:

 

 

The Maths of Music

PHOTO CREDIT: mahdi chaghari/Pexels

Exploring and Pondering the More Analytical and Fantastical Side of A Beautiful Artform

_________

I have been thinking about…

IN THIS PHOTO: Professor Hannah Fry

how, when we talk about music, we often do so in very personal ways. There is passionate journalism and brilliant discussions. How analytical do we get about this incredible artform? In terms of using numbers, equations and mathematics to look at different sides of music. Some may say that seems quite dry, cold and uninteresting. That is not the case. I have been thinking about Professor Hannah Fry and how she applies numbers and mathematics to subjects from love and life. She appears on Lauren Laverne’s BBC Radio 6 Radio morning show for The Maths of Life. Where she applies probability, statistics and numbers to a range of unusual and fantastic thoughts, subjects and scenarios. It is always revealing and fascinating. I guess The Maths of Life is a natural extension from The Mathematics of Love: Patterns, Proofs, and the Search for the Ultimate Equation. This is Fry’s 2015 book:

“The roller coaster of romance is hard to quantify; defining how lovers might feel from a set of simple equations is impossible. But that doesn’t mean that maths has nothing to offer.

This book pulls back the curtain to reveal the patterns in love that can be explained through maths and offers  up a valuable new perspective on matters of the heart: What’s the chance of us finding love? What’s the chance that it will last? How does online dating work, exactly? When should you settle down? How can you avoid divorce? When is it right to compromise? Can game theory help us decide whether or not to call?”.

Professor Hannah Fry also presented Magic Numbers. This was a multi-part series where she took viewers through the evolution of maths. Thinking about that title and, in musical terms – according to De La Soul – how three is the magic number, it made me think about how Fry can reveal so much about important events, figures and sides of life through mathematics. It is not purely about numbers. However, when even thinking about the number three and how this can apply to so many different things in music. In terms of albums, songs and chart successes.

I am not sure whether it is her area of expertise and passion. I was wondering about music and how there is not a podcast or series where maths is applied to music. In terms of its history, popularity and more unusual sides. I love Fry’s essays for The New Yorker like Why Graphs Are a Matter of Life and Death. Making mathematics and its importance perhaps more accessible. So many people think it is an inaccessible, difficult, one-dimensional or unnecessary subject. How it doesn’t really apply to life and have any significant meaning. Mathematics runs through everything in life. From the everyday to the decisions we make to wider world events, I wonder whether this can be applied to music. I am going to come to that in a second. First, from an interview earlier this year, Professor Hannah Fry spoke about mathematics’ broader appeal and making it more accessible. After their bio (“Hannah Fry is the IMA President for 2024 to 2025. She is a professor in the mathematics of cities at University College London. Hannah is an author and presenter, who hosts numerous podcasts and television shows, including The Curious Cases of Rutherford & Fry, The Secret Genius of Modern Life and Uncharted with Hannah Fry”), there were some interesting discussion points:

“What advice would you give to a mathematician who aspires to communicate their research to a wider audience?
OK, buckle up because I’ve got some tips.

The very first rule of communicating, before you do anything, is that you have to start off with who your audience is. What is it that they want? What is it that they know? And what is it that they’re interested in? If you start off with identifying that, then you can plot a path to where you want to take them.

Almost always when I see communication done, it goes in the opposite direction. It starts off with people saying, ‘This is what I want to tell people.’

Really good communication is not about you. It should never be about you, and it should never start with you. It has to start with the people you’re talking to. And maybe that even starts with listening before talking to find out where people are. I think that’s the absolute number one rule.

The second thing that’s worth saying is that a lot of mathematicians think the public or non-technical people won’t really understand or aren’t really interested in big ideas. I’ve never found that to be the case. I’ve never once found a limit to the level of technical detail that people are interested in finding out. The only limit is their motivation to do so.

Let me see if I can give you an example. During the pandemic I was still recording programmes and so I would get taxis into town. Once when I was in a taxi, I had this really long conversation with the cab driver (who I’d never met before) about exponential functions, logarithmic axes and basically differentiation. Essentially, you know, like the rate of change and the rate of rate of change. We had this really long conversation about it.

Can you imagine me having this conversation with somebody where they’re quizzing me about this stuff in 2019 or even in 2024? It would never happen in a million years, but during Covid a random person asked about logarithmic axes. There was a reason to care so he was motivated to understand, and then actually there was no limit to how much he wanted to know about it.

When you’re trying to communicate technical ideas to people, you have to create a motivation instead of starting with the technical idea. I think that’s really essential. You have to put in the work to get people to commit to listening to you. You have to get their permission. That’s a better way to phrase it. You have to get their permission to talk to them, and that’s something that’s earned, right? Not demanded. I spend a lot of time thinking about how you do that.

Ultimately, I think right at the heart of it, every human is fundamentally the same. We all like surprise, we all like intrigue, we all like mystery, we all like humour and we all like wonder as well. If you can use some of the narrative storytelling tricks that appeal to every single person, then I think that you can very easily dress up technical ideas in a way that doesn’t feel like you’re just giving a boring lecture.

How important do you think the work you do is in broadening the appeal of mathematics?

I hope it makes a difference. It’s really difficult to tell. I do get lots of amazing letters from young people and a lot of families as well. I always joke that my two main audiences are middle-aged men and teenage girls.

When panel show requests come in, I do think about them because I am stepping quite far away from my original intention of something (like documentaries) that is quite a worthy cause – actively changing the perception of this subject, which you and I both know to be so much more, so much deeper, so much more joyful, so much more glorious than the average person thinks it is.

What I decided was that actually you’re not going to change everybody’s mind. Obviously. You’re not going to suddenly make everyone in the country into mathematicians. But I think that if you can just have a positive association with the idea of a mathematician then that in itself can have some positive benefit”.

PHOTO CREDIT: Lum3n/Pexels

Most of the writing we read about music is from a personal perspective. Reviews and interviews. You do get features that look at different subjects and news breaking. How often do we apply subjects like science and mathematics to music? Professor Hannah Fry uses mathematics and applies it to areas of love and life. Whether it is statistics, graphs, data or anything else, it brings to life some fascinating ideas and discussion points. Really quite engrossing, educational and thought-provoking. I have never seen this done with music. Whether it is a mathematical study of decades of music, the number three, the changing nature of love songs – with statistics and graphs to back up some interesting findings -, I would be really fascinated to see a podcast or series where something akin to Professor Hannah Fry’s The Maths of Life/Mathematics of Love applied to a music landscape. I love how she can bring universal and obscure themes, people and subjects to life in real, passionate depth through mathematics. I don’t think we really look at the common and obscure of music in an analytic or scientific way. It is always the same sort of approach discussion and narrative. I am not sure, whether it came to life, who would present such a thing. Exploring music through a more mathematical lens would be engrossing. Changing how we discuss and uncover the full beauty of music is important. Making these discoveries. Reframing assumptions and questioning how we see and perceive music. Going deep and broad. Discovering, what in fact, is…

THE magic number.

FEATURE: Among Angels: Kate Bush: The Divine, Mystical, Spiritual, Philosophical and Mysterious

FEATURE:

 

 

Among Angels

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush in a promotional image for 2011’s 50 Words for Snow

Kate Bush: The Divine, Mystical, Spiritual, Philosophical and Mysterious

_________

I can’t quite recall…

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

when I last covered this subject. I know I have done it before. I have been reading the new issue of Graeme Thomson’s Under the Ivy: The Life and Music of Kate Bush, and I at near the beginning still. One of the sections that caught my eye is when Thomson discusses some of the things Bush writes about. In terms of her subject matter, of course she is influenced a lot by literature and film. From television, there is Wuthering Heights and Delis (Song of Summer). From film, she got inspiration from The Innocents (The Infant Kiss), Night of the Demon (Hounds of Love), La Mariée Était en Noir (The Wedding List), The Red Shoes (The Red Shoes). Even though he claims Get Out of My House was inspired by the Stanley Kubrick film, The Shining, Bush was actually influenced by the original book from Stephen King (she also alludes to Pinocchio in that song too). No matter. The point is that Bush was looking at the screen and page for a lot of guidance. That was not the only area she traversed that was away from the personal and ordinary. One of the most interest corners of her musical palette is the darker, more spiritual and curious side. Whether it Bush talking about mysticism, religion or strange creatures and mythical figures, it is one of the most interesting aspects of her writing. Bush was not raised in an especially strict religious family, though the fact that the Bush household was full of art and conversation meant that, inevitably, so many different ideas and theories would have come into her life. In the sense it wasn’t perhaps the same upbringings many of her peers would have in the 1950s and 1960s. Whether it was various T.V. shows or literature that also opened Kate Bush’s imagination up to what exists beyond the ordinary and tangible, I am not too sure. It was clear that she had a very curious mind.

One could argue that she was born spiritual and curious. That was always the way. Perhaps so. I also think that the art and words she was exposed to contributed. Bush was compelled by the poetry that her brother Jay wrote. Bush wrote poetry in school. Uninspired and a bit trapped by the conventional and rigid structure there, it is only natural that she would have let her mind wander. There are a few examples of the mystical and spiritual coming into her songs pre-The Kick Inside. Those early demos. However, you can really hear it from her debut onwards. Right up until her latest album, 2011’s 50 Words for Snow, you can sense those strange beings and odd spirits. Not just a childhood and teen fascination. On The Kick Inside, aside songs of love and passion, we also hear about topics that many listeners in 1978 might have considered or been exposed. I would say there are three songs that look at the otherworldly, mystical and unconventional in that sense. Strange Phenomena is in part about menstruation. It is also about coincidence. The opening lines, “Soon it will be the phase of the moon/When people tune in” takes us somewhere magical and spiritual. The repeated mantra, “Om mani padme” translates to “praise to the jewel in the lotus” (Padma is the Sanskrit for the Indian lotus (Nelumbo nucifera) and mani for ‘jewel’, as in a type of spiritual ‘jewel’ widely referred to in Buddhism). One can say that Bush’s interest in Buddhism and spiritually might have come from listening to bands like The Beatles. Indian influences perhaps from George Harrison. A lot of the 1960s culture. Peace and love. Perhaps. I think it this vibrant and intellectually keen young woman who was never attracted to the ordinary and conventional. This rebellion defined her entire career.

Think about Wuthering Heights and the fact that it is about the ghost of Catherine Earnshaw trying to grab Heathcliff’s soul away. This figure that appears at Wuthering Heights in the cold and wants to come inside. Bush weas influenced by the 1967 T.V. adaptation of the Emily Brontë novel. I love these images of spirits and the chill of the night. It takes from a very specific and particular part of the book. Rather than it being about the passion of their relationship and the beauty of the Yorkshire Moors, it is haunting and this strange obsessions. Her debut single signalled that here was an artist with a mindset and approach different to anyone else around her! Them Heavy People is perhaps the most overt nod to the philosophical and spiritual. This pursuit of knowledge how it enriched Kate Bush. These teachers and voices whose words and philosophies she absorbed. Consider lines like this: “They open doorways that I thought were shut for good/They read me Gurdjieff and Jesu/They build up my body/Break me emotionally it's nearly killing me/But what a lovely feeling!”. That reference to ‘Heavy’ in the title. Those people who have depth rather than them being oppressive or depressing. They were ‘rolling the ball’ to her. That gift of knowledge that lifted out of teenage confusion and blues. Enlightenment and understanding. People would interpret songs like Them Heavy People and Strange Phenomena and lead their mind to sex or the erotica. I have seen these theories online. Many song on The Kick Inside are about sex, though examples of where she embraces the purer and more spiritual should be interpreted as such – and not everything is about lust and sexual.

Maybe Lionheart has fewer examples of the mystical and philosophical. However, the opening track, Symphony in Blue, does nod to the divine. The divine of sex (“Good for the blood circulation”). Bush seeing herself at the piano and the fear of death and doom leaving her as she plays. It is quite a deep and challenging thing to write about. Thinking of her own mortality as a teenager. How different colours represent sex and death. There is a section of the song that sticks in my mind. God would appear several times through her songs. Here, his presence and influence is described in a very curious and beautiful way: “When that feeling of meaninglessness sets in/Go blowing my mind on God/The light in the dark, with the neon arms/The meek He seeks, the beast He calms/The head of the good soul department”. Think about 1980’s Never for Ever and examples of the spiritual and strange. Blow Away (For Bill) was about the sad loss of lightning assistant Bill Duffield. He died in a freak accident after the warm-up performance of 1979’s The Tour of Life. Placing Duffield in the heavens alongside other departed artists like Minnie Ripperton, Marc Bolan, Keith Moon and Sid Vicious. Lines that nod to the divine and otherworldly: “From people who nearly died but survived/Feeling no fear of leaving their bodies here”; “Put out the light, then put out the night/Vibes in the sky invite you to dine”. I think there was always a belief in Kate Bush that people lived on. Someone who perhaps did not want to accept that this is it. That spirits continue to live on after death. Whereas some might feel that the strange and otherworldly was more a part of her early career, I think that her mid/late-career work has more examples. From Hounds of Love onwards. There is an example from The Dreaming that I want to get to next.

I may have missed some examples and cases where Kate Bush brings ion the God-like, spiritual, philosophical and strange into her music. There may be other examples on The Dreaming (1982). Influenced by Stephen King’s The Shining, many critics of the time interpreted Get Out of My House as being about Kate Bush’s mindset. The stress and paranoia she might have felt pushing herself producing this album. The feelings that were in her head. Whereas songs beforehand has a lightness and beauty about them, this is dark and demented. Previous spiritual, philosophical and religious theorising and illumination replaced by something more sinister and strange. Not that this was a pivot moment. Instead, Bush was thinking more about subjects such as possession and something more threatening: “Woman let me in!/Let me bring in the memories!/Woman let me in!/Let me bring in the Devil Dreams!”/I will not let you in!/Don’t you bring back the reveries/I turn into a bird,/Carry further than the word is heard”. Hounds of Love is where we really get a lot of the spiritual and transcendent. Maybe it reflected something changing in Kate Bush’s life. In The Dreaming was a denser and slightly eerie listen, Hounds of Love did have some of that. It was also about understanding and acceptance. Kate Bush bravery revealing her fears and cowardice on songs such as Hounds of Love. Think about Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God) and how it is about a man and woman swapping places so they can better understand one another. Bush, as the narrator, wanting to do a deal with God.

Hounds of Love’s title track opening with the lines of “It's in the trees!/It's coming!”. That dialogue from Night of the Demon, again, there is reference to the strange and sinister. Darkness and light mixing alongside one another. A few songs on the album’s second side, The Ninth Wave, mention spirits and witchcraft. Or the idea of being a witch. The 1985 masterpiece is a blend of colours and emotions. About acceptance and revelation. Passion and discovery. About survival and soul-searching. Waking the Witch, at a time in The Ninth Wave when the heroine is losing hope and strength, plays with this idea this woman almost being a witch-like figure. When speaking with Richard Skinner in 1992, Bush said of Waking the Witch: “I think it’s very interesting the whole concept of witch-hunting and the fear of women’s power. In a way it’s very sexist behaviour, and I feel that female intuition and instincts are very strong, and are still put down, really. And in this song, this women is being persecuted by the witch-hunter and the whole jury, although she’s committed no crime, and they’re trying to push her under the water to see if she’ll sink or float”. Lines that stand out include these: “You won't burn (red, red roses)/You won't bleed (pinks and posies)/Confess to me, girl (red, red roses, go down)/Spiritus Sanctus in nominee/Spiritus Sanctus in nominee/Spiritus Sanctus in nominee/Spiritus Sanctus in nominee”. Again, redemption, faith and belief coming into her music: “Bless me, father, bless me father, for I have sinned”. You could be talking about a priest or even her own father. Watching You Without Me and Hello Earth could be interpreted to be about dying and the spiritual. The former almost puts the spirit of the woman lost at sea at her family home. Them waiting for a call to make sure she is okay. This feeling that the woman is watching over them as they wonder where she is. Hello Earth is a song I always feel is the heroine looking from the skies to the sea. Maybe having lost her fight to stay alive, her spirit is watching on – though Bush originally implied the woman was rescued and it was not a case of her dreaming about being rescued.

There aren’t too many examples of the spiritual, occult, heavenly, philosophical, mystical or strange on the next two albums. I guess there is strangeness. In terms of songs’ themes, there is more of the personal. I guess you could say that The Red Shoes’ (1993) Lily is about Lily Cornford. A friend of Bush’s, she worked as a colour healing therapist. This is what Bush said about Cornford “I met her years ago and she is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. She is very giving and I love spending time with her. She believes in the powers of Angels and taught me to see them in a different light, that they exist to help human beings and are very powerful as well as benevolent forces. She taught me some prayers that I found very useful (particularly in my line of work), she helped me a lot and I guess I wanted to pass on her message about our Angels – we all have them, we only have to ask for help”. Again, I might be missing some prime examples of songs on The Sensual World (1989) and The Red Shoes. I think I might finish with examples of Aerial (2005) and 50 Words for Snow (2011) of the more otherworldly and mystical. King of the Mountain is a sort of ode to Elvis Presley. The spirit of the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll being on a mountainside somewhere. Either as a spirit or having retreated there. “Elvis are you out there somewhere/Looking like a happy man?/In the snow with Rosebud/And king of the mountain”. The first single Kate Bush released since 1994 (And So Is Love) takes us to a very unusual place. Never conventional or predictable, King of the Mountain looks at this legendary artist and puts him in this spiritual and unusual place. A song filled with intriguing lines: “Why does a multi-millionaire/Fill up his home with priceless junk?”.

Maybe 50 Words for Snow is the album where you get the most examples of Kate Bush exploring the spiritual, mythical and divine. I am not sure whether it has anything to do with her age or that she was almost nodding back to the start of her career or childhood teachings. That curiosity that she had when she was young. Think about songs like Lake Tahoe. This ghostly spirit of a woman rising from a lake. When interviewed by The Quietus in 2011, this is what Kate Bush said to John Doran about Lake Tahoe: “It was because a friend told me about the story that goes with Lake Tahoe so it had to be set there. Apparently people occasionally see a woman who fell into the lake in the Victorian era who rises up and then disappears again. It is an incredibly cold lake so the idea, as I understand it, is that she fell in and is still kind of preserved. Do you know what I mean?”. There are at least two other songs on the 2011 albums where we are taking to a spiritual or mythical place. I named this feature Among Angels, though Bush has not really discussed the song. Even so, there are lines in it that obvious nod to angels: “I can see angels standing around you/They shimmer like mirrors in summer/But you don’t know it/And they will carry you o’er the walls/If you need us, just call/Rest your weary world in their hands/Lay your broken laugh at their feet”. There are a couple of other songs from 50 Words for Snow that I want to cover off before finishing this feature.

Misty is all about fantasy. Whereas there are some darker songs on 50 Words for Snow, there is something magical about Misty. Even though it does end sadly (the snowman melting in the bed), you can look at The Snowman and a slight nod to that as a source of inspiration. However, this being Kate Bush, she took that idea of brining a snowman to life to a new place. This tryst and sensual encounter! Even if the logistics would suggest it would not be the most comfortable experience, I love the imagery and thoughts in the song. If Bush dismissed it as a bit of a silly idea, it does take us back to the start of her career and the sort of imagination she brought to her music. Going beyond the ordinary and tested. This is what she said to BBC’s Front Row in 2011: “It’s a silly idea. But I hope that what has happened is that there’s almost a sense of tenderness. I think it’s quite a dark song. And so I hope that I’ve made it work. But in a lot of ways it shouldn’t because… It’s ridiculous, isn’t it, the idea of the snowman visiting this woman and climbing into bed with her. But I took him as a purely symbolic snowman, it was about…No John, he’s REAL (laughs)”. Going back to that interview from The Quietus, Bush spoke about what Wild Man is about: “Well, the first verse of the song is just quickly going through some of the terms that the Yeti is known by and one of those names is the Kangchenjunga Demon. He’s also known as Wild Man and Abominable Snowman. (…) I don’t refer to the Yeti as a man in the song. But it is meant to be an empathetic view of a creature of great mystery really. And I suppose it’s the idea really that mankind wants to grab hold of something [like the Yeti] and stick it in a cage or a box and make money out of it. And to go back to your question, I think we’re very arrogant in our separation from the animal kingdom and generally as a species we are enormously arrogant and aggressive. Look at the way we treat the planet and animals and it’s pretty terrible isn’t it?”. Bush has always been curious about things outside of the explainable. Whether it is god, spirits, angels, karma or anything else, it has defined some of her best moments. Bush and this idea of creatures and the mystical. Maybe that comes from films and T.V. where beasts and ghosts lingered. Bush being exposed to these visual stimulus and sources of inspiration. A woman who has been fascinated and lead to the unusual and divine. When it comes to that word, Kate Bush is…

THE most divine of all.