FEATURE: Kate Bush: Something Like a Song: Kashka from Baghdad (Lionheart)

FEATURE:

 

Kate Bush: Something Like a Song

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush in 1978/PHOTO CREDIT: Brian Aris

Kashka from Baghdad (Lionheart)

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IN November…

Kate Bush’s second studio album, Lionheart, turns forty-seven. Following nine months after The Kick Inside, it was a rushed album in many ways. EMI determined to get a follow-up to a very successful debut. Bush was not able to write many new songs. Only three, in fact. Kashka from Baghdad is one that she pulled from her archives. Perhaps primed for The Kick Inside, it was not included for some reason. When it came to a second studio album, Bush did have to consider songs that might not have fitted with The Kick Inside. Not released as a single but undoubtably a highlight of the album, I last wrote about the song in 2022. Focusing on it as a deep cut, it is from an underrated album. Consider the ten tracks on Lionheart and the streaming numbers. Every track has been streamed over a million times but, considering how this is Kate Bush and she is a major artist, one would hope the tracks would be listened to more. Even though Wow (the album’s second single) has been streamed nearly ten millions times, Kashka from Baghdad is hovering under one-and-half million. It has not been featured on a T.V. show or film soundtrack. It did get exposure in 1979 when Kate Bush performed it as part of The Tour of Life. It was performed live for Michael Aspel in 1978, though it has not been discussed much in the modern age.

Kashka from Baghdad dates back to 1976. Amazing to think that Kate Bush wrote this song when she was eighteen (or possibly seventeen). No artist her age was writing songs like this! The documentary I have included above is around Kate Bush’s The Tour of Life. There is a short section where her brother, Paddy Bush, is interviewed and stands over an instrument. That is a  strumento da porco. He plays it on Kashka from Baghdad. It adds something unusual and exciting to the song. Giving it an extra sense of spice and the exotic. I love how this song was performed for Ask Aspel. Kate Bush originally wanted to perform In the Warm Room, though the show’s producers felt it was perhaps too risqué or sexual. Instead, they gave the green light to a song about two homosexual lovers. Before moving along, the Kate Bush Encyclopedia have some interview archive where Bush spoke about the inspiration behind Kashka from Baghdad:

“That actually came from a very strange American Detective series that I caught a couple of years ago, and there was a musical theme that they kept putting in. And they had an old house, in this particular thing, and it was just a very moody, pretty awful serious thing. And it just inspired the idea of this old house somewhere in Canada or America with two people in it that no-one knew anything about. And being a sorta small town, everybody wanted to know what everybody what else was up to. And these particular people in this house had a very private thing happening.

Personal Call, BBC Radio 1, 1979”.

I am going to come to a great feature from Dreams of Orgonon that I referenced back in 2022 when writing about Kashka from Baghdad. One that warrants repetition. It is interesting how Kashka from Baghdad fits alongside more sexual songs on Lionheart such as In the Warm Room and Symphony in Blue. A fair few of the songs on The Kick Inside had a similar mood and feel (Oh to Be in Love, L’Amour Looks Something Like You, Feel It etc.). In some interviews from 1978, there were mentions to Kashka from Baghdad. It is included in this chat Kate Bush had with Harry Doherty for Melody Maker in November 1978:

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

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

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

No doubt Kate Bush was keen to explore so many different types of love and relationships through her music. I am interested what Dreams of Orgonon observe about the song. Kate Bush’s relationship with queerness and queer fandom is huge. She has inspired the L.G.B.T.Q.I.A.+ community and influenced queer artists like St. Vincent. Quite a few of her songs are queer friendly. Very few deal directly with homosexual relationships. Whilst it was a positive step and commendable, in terms of race relationships and representation, is the track misjudged or problematic? This article explores those questions:

“Kashka from Baghdad” thus articulates a certain type of sexual desire. It expresses a desire for a threesome. The disjointed chorus is a wail of barely suppressed lust. “I long to be with them.”  The demo makes it clear some shame comes with these feelings: “what would I do if I were seen?/what would I do if they knew my feelings?” So the slash has another player, distant from the action and narrating it from an outside position. This makes explicit the song’s voyeurism (“I watch their shadows/tall and slim in the window opposite”). Kashka and his lover are spied on. They’re desirable because they present some Other path to ecstasy (a four-word concept that explains every fetish in Bush songs).

There are major issues with this. Bush is a heterosexual woman who doesn’t do a stellar job of checking her privilege at the best of times. “Kashka” is no exception. The problem with Bush’s particular brand of slash fiction is that heterosexual pleasure is the altar on which gay acceptance is sacrificed. Kashka can only self-actualize by surrendering his homosexuality to heterosexual consumption.

Homosexuality is a spectre that haunts the song. It’s never allowed to appear onstage. It’s hearsay or it’s a shadow on the wall, something nobody in the song sees up close (“old friends never call there/some wonder if life’s inside at all”). It’s the stuff of gossip and its pleasure comes from its illicitness. Bush clearly has no problem with the illicit. In fact, she clearly considers it a good thing. But she still falls into the trap of speaking of it in hushed tones, something naughty that must be kept behind closed doors rather than pushed into the light.

This makes her treatment of Kashka’s gay life as a matter of secrecy distressing. The polite heterosexual audience needs its eyes shielded from the gay sex it’s teased with. Yes, remaining in the closet is a safety measure for many if not most gay people. But it takes a severe toll on one’s mental health. In “Kashka” the closet is a place where great, magical events happen (“at night they’re seen laughing”). The difficulties of closeted life don’t enter the equation. Bush reduces Kashka and his partner to an instrument of pleasure and titillation.

There’s a certain half-bakedness to the song as well. It awkwardly traverses through D minor and D major before exploding into the chorus in F major. “Kashka” sounds ill at ease, as if its singer is almost afraid to sing it. But indeed she sings it as if it’s naughty. And, well, yes, songs about gay sex are naughty.

One suspects this is why Bush decided to perform it on children’s television. The sheer gall of performing “Kashka from Baghdad” on a program for children like Ask Aspel is awe-inspiring and probably the best thing about the song. And the cherry on top is that Bush chose it as a replacement for “In the Warm Room,” a staunchly heterosexual track with lyrics like “her thighs are soft as marshmallows.”

There’s some courage in “Kashka.” But for the most part it’s Bush striking for gay representation and mostly landing on gay objectification. Kashka and his lover aren’t properly given the song. Why do they never go for walks? Because Bush gentrified the road.

Demoed in 1976. Recorded between July and September of 1978 at Super Bear Studios in Berres-les-Alpes, France. Personnel: Kate Bush — vocals, piano. Charlie Morgan — drums. Del Palmer — bass. Harmonies, stramento da porco, mandocello, and panpipes — Paddy Bush. Andrew Powell — joanna strumentum, production. Stuart Elliot — percussion”.

It is important to discuss the lyrics and themes explored through Kashka from Baghdad. That idea that the song could have been about gay representation and something that stood out in 1978. At a time when there were very few songs that were talking positively and proudly about gay relationships. However, I think that it is a very important track where Bush was not trying to objectify or gentrify. Instead, as a teenager, perhaps she did not have the experience and vocabulary to write a song that took a different angle. I don’t think Bush was being titillating and childish. The fact that we are discussing and dissecting this song forty-seven years after it was first heard shows that it is very important. In terms of its composition and vocal performance, I think it is one of Kate Bush’s best from her first two albums. There is this sense of desire and forbidden love (“I watch their shadows/Tall and slim/In the window opposite/I long to be with them”) and taboo (“Kashka from Baghdad/Lives in sin, they say/With another man”). Some beautiful instrumentation. Paddy Bush on strumento da porco, mandocello and panpipes; Andrew Powell (who produced Lionheart with assistance from Kate Bush) on joanna strumentum. Some wonderful bass from Del Palmer. Charlie Morgan and Stuart Elliott on percussion. Kate Bush on piano. I really love Kashka from Baghdad and feel that it is an important song that, whilst perhaps a little naïve or problematic in places, is fascinating and important to discuss. A gem from 1978’s Lionheart that people…

NEED to listen to more.

FEATURE: Elizabeth Alker’s Everything We Do is Music: How 20th-Century Classical Music Shaped Pop: An Essential Book for Every Music Fan

FEATURE:

 

 

Elizabeth Alker’s Everything We Do is Music: How 20th-Century Classical Music Shaped Pop

IMAGE CREDIT: Faber & Faber

An Essential Book for Every Music Fan

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I have known…

IN THIS PHOTO: Little Simz and the Chineke! Orchestra at the Royal Festival Hall, London, during this year’s Meltdown Festival (which Little Simz curated)/PHOTO CREDIT: Pete Woodhead

Elizabeth Alker’s work for a while now.; Years ago, whilst working for BBC Radio 6 Music, she presented the music news. Now, on BBC Radio 3, she hosts Unclassified and Classical Live. I have written some features recently about Classical music. How Pop artists are performing live with orchestras. It is not just a cynical way to appear grander and classier. They know that this incredible addition adds something incredible to their music. I think that Classical music is still seen as niche and orchestras are not just reserved for that world. Like Pop/Rock and Classic have nothing in common. Whether performing alongside Dua Lipa or another artist, uniting these different spheres is extraordinary. It means that Pop fans and those who come to see the artist are introduced to music and a genre they might not know about. It is not cheapening Classical and making it more pop culture. I think that it gives it long overdue attention. It is not only Pop with a capital P that uses Classical musicians. Little Simz recently performed with the Chineke! Orchestra. That took place in June during her Meltdown Festival set. A perfect combination, these songs were given nuance because of the orchestra. I think we will see a lot more of this going forward. However, it is not a new phenomenon for Classical and Pop worlds to meld. This has been something that has been present for decades. Maybe not as fulsome and epic and fifty-two-piece orchestras and massive Pop artists (Dua Lipa) playing at the Royal Albert Hall. Think of groups like The Beatles and how Classical artists can be heard in their songs – most noticeably Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band’s A Day in the Life.

This brings me to Elizabeth Alker’s book, Everything We Do is Music: How 20th-Century Classical Music Shaped Pop. It is released on 28th August through Faber & Faber. (I might check out the Audible version). People might not realise how extensive the usage of Classical music is in the history of Pop music. Specifically, the previous century. Alker has been promoting the book at the moment. As a music fan who is keen to not only broaden my horizons and knowledge but also learn more about the Pop world in general, this is fascinating! I listen to BBC Radio 6 Music a lot but do not tune into BBC Radio 3 as much as I should. I do not listen to modern Classical music. I know how important this is. Considering the debt Pop music owes to Classical artists, I am compelled to investigate shows like Unclassified. Not only modern Classical artists too. I don’t think we can think about Pop music in the twentieth-century without recognising the influence of Classical music:

“A panoramic exploration of the ways in which pop and rock were transformed by the pioneering visionaries of classical music.

The worlds of pop and rock owe a much greater debt to the classical canon than we realise. A direct and fascinating lineage draws from the experimentalism of Pierre Henry to The Beatles' 'Tomorrow Never Knows', from Stockhausen to Donna Summer's 'I Feel Love' and from Bruckner to Sonic Youth via Glenn Branca.

In Everything We Do is Music, Elizabeth Alker shines a light on the fertile ground that exists between the borders of classical music and pop. She showcases the innovators of the former and their fans and collaborators in the latter, and explores how together these artists challenged the notion that such musical worlds are mutually exclusive.

** Featuring interviews with Sir Paul McCartney, Steve Reich, Nils Frahm, Soweto Kinch, Jonny Greenwood, the Blessed Madonna and more. **”.

I am going to move to an interview with The Times. Elizabeth Alker explains how this great divide that has always seemingly existed by the disparate worlds of Pop and Classical are starting to blur. There is a harmony, relationship and chemistry that has been present in twentieth-century Pop music and influenced and shaped it sound – and continue to this day:

“It started when I was a kid and my dad played Tubular Bells by Mike Oldfield,” Alker says, who grew up in Rochdale, the child of classically trained pianists and music teachers, of her mission to bring classical and pop under the same umbrella. “He would get really excited and say, ‘Wait for this!’ as the various instruments came in. Hearing pop infused with the spirit of classical music was interesting to me.”

Alker’s argument is that many of today’s classical musicians grew up listening to pop and are informed by it. “Anna Meredith is a good example,” she says, citing the Mercury prize-nominated Scottish composer. “She likes going to karaoke bars and singing power ballads.”

Then there is the American composer Rhys Chatham and his involvement in no wave, the late-Seventies New York movement of which Sonic Youth and the singer Lydia Lunch were a part, where musical ability was rejected in favour of ideas and attitude. Chatham’s revelation came from seeing the punk pioneers the Ramones at the insalubrious Manhattan dive CBGB’s in 1976.

“Chatham told me that because he had trained in a classical way he was too stiff,” Alker says. “People can train for years in classical music and still come up with something really boring. He went to punk bars where people were throwing beer over each other. Playing one chord with real attitude will impact an audience far more than a symphony played with no attitude. It is the spirit of the thing that people latch on to.”

As Alker points out, behemoths of the western classical tradition such as Mozart and Vivaldi were, like all the best rock and pop stars, larger-than-life characters possessed of both manic intensity and great tunes. “And composers like Bartok and Dvorak looked at what was happening in folk music, which is what Bob Dylan did. The music of Vaughan Williams sounds like England. That isn’t so different from the pastoral psychedelia of the early Seventies.”

Hang on a minute, rock’n’roll is essentially the blues speeded up — how can classical music be as important to the story as Alker says it is? “Jean-Michel Jarre is very good on this,” she replies. “He went to gigs by British groups at the Paris Olympia in the Sixties, saw how their sound came from America, believed it could be infused with the European classical canon and realised it was possible through electronics.”

IN THIS PHOTO: Elizabeth Alker/PHOTO CREDIT: Jake Millers

The Second World War played a key part. Alker explains that advancements in technology accelerated due to the war, with new studios set up throughout Europe to make propaganda broadcasts. In the decades that followed pioneering European composers such as Pierre Schaeffer and Pierre Henry used their classical training on this technology and the studio space available to them. “The development of electronica in Europe ran parallel to the explosion of blues-based rock’n’roll in America,” Alker says. “And combining it all were the Beatles.”

Alker spoke to Paul McCartney, who attended concerts by European electronic composers such as Karlheinz Stockhausen and Luciano Berio just as the Beatles were changing pop with Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band and the White Album. “Paul was gloriously unpretentious about it,” she says. “He went to find pioneering classical music and brought it back into the Beatles’ sound, which George Martin allowed and facilitated. He said at one point, ‘We don’t work music, we play music.’ Paul was unburdened by academia. He didn’t care if people took him seriously or not and it was so refreshing.”

Over in Germany and Japan the shame of being on the losing side of the war, not to mention embracing fascism, required a total reinvention. “Stockhausen was creating a new electronic sonic palette from scratch, which has symmetry in Germany building a new culture from the ashes,” Alker says. “Kraftwerk then looked to Stockhausen as the touchstone for the new German tradition. And the parallels with Japan were obvious. Both countries were using machines to build themselves up again, which led to a classically trained musician like Ryuichi Sakamoto forming [the Japanese electro-pop pioneers] Yellow Magic Orchestra.”

There are plenty of other rabbit holes Alker heads down: the droning intensity of the Velvet Underground being a product of the viola player John Cale studying under the composer La Monte Young. Ambient house taking its cue from the sampling techniques of the New York composer Steve Reich. In Everything We Do Is Music Alker breaks down the idea that classical and rock and pop are distinct traditions with nothing to do with each other and argues that goes all the way to the lifestyle”.

IN THIS PHOTO: Paul McCartney with Brian Epstein at Abbey Road Studios/PHOTO CREDIT: David Magnus/Shutterstock

I am going to end with an extract of an interview between Elizabeth Alker and Paul McCartney that appears in Everything We Do is Music: How 20th-Century Classical Music Shaped Pop. McCartney explaining and exploring how people like John Cage and great Avant Garde composers were hugely instrumental. How he owes a debt to them. It is a fascinating interview that appears in full in the book. Elizabeth Alker writing for The Guardian. If you are a Beatles/McCartney fan or not, what the icon says about the role and influence of Classical composers and innovators has not only infused his writing and music. It extends right through the world of Pop in the twentieth-century – and, as mentioned, Pop of today:

“In the mid-1960s, as well as topping the charts, turning a generation of teenage girls hysterical and finding themselves the focus of obsessive media attention, the Beatles were also engaged with, and

The Beatles, McCartney tells me, also took their cue from the 1956 piece Radio Music by John Cage for one of the band’s most famous songs: “Cage had a piece that started at one end of the radio’s range,” he says, “and he just turned the knob and went through to the end, scrolling randomly through all the stations. I brought that idea to I Am the Walrus. I said, ‘It’s got to be random.’ We ended up landing on some Shakespeare – King Lear. It was lovely having that spoken word at that moment. And that came from Cage.”

Two men who certainly did that were French composer-engineers Pierre Henry and Pierre Schaeffer who, in the late 1940s and early 1950s, pioneered a style of composition called musique concrète. Working in Parisian studios set up for propaganda broadcasts during the second world war, the pair used turntables and tape machines to forge an entirely original method of composing which, in line with French movements in art and philosophy at the time, sought to deconstruct established ideas and build from scratch a new means of making music.

This was iconoclasm driven by an erosion of trust in a ruling class that had led millions to their deaths during two brutal international conflicts. Schaeffer and Henry recorded natural or found sounds on to magnetic tape – the bark of a dog, the whistle or chugging of a train, a cackling voice – and then, using tape machines to slow down, speed up or reverse the original sound, they created collages of altered or “manipulated” recordings that are completely bewildering and mesmeric. Our ear is lured by that which is familiar and then unsettled by its abstraction. The suggestion is that all is not what it seems – the very essence of psychedelia.

“Not everything we see is clear and figurative,” McCartney says to me, pointing to a Willem de Kooning painting next to us on the wall. “Sometimes when you’re asleep or you rub your eye, you see an abstract: your mind knows about it. We know about this stuff. It was the same with music. We were messing around, but our minds could still accept it because it was something that we already kind of knew anyway. Even though we were in another lane to more classical composers, we were kind of equal in that we also wanted freedom.”

After buying a pair of his own Brenell tape machines, McCartney set about looping and spooling these ideas into the work he had to do for “his day job”. He describes the recording of Tomorrow Never Knows, “which was shaping up to be kind of a far-out Beatles song”. McCartney remembers carrying a plastic bag full of tape loops – on which he’d recorded various sounds at home – to Abbey Road during sessions for Revolver. “I set up the tape machines to create popping, whirring and dissolving sounds all mixed together”.

The result is a myriad of strange musical textures and meditative drones, a sonic vacuum into which all our troubling thoughts and feelings are swallowed up and disappear. It’s a big part of what made the Beatles as colourful as the recreational substances that were so popular at the time. It’s also the alchemical element in their work that helped put them in a different league, in terms of their legacy and influence.

Eventually John Lennon also procured a pair of Brenell machines and entered new realms of experimentalism. This produced the hypnotic track Revolution 9: “John was fascinated and he loved the craziness of it,” McCartney says. He, meanwhile, preferred to use these new studio gadgets “in a controlled way”, working within the pop-song format, cherrypicking interesting stylistic elements and twisting them into the Beatles’ established song-writing template.

Together the pair fashioned a new, intelligent and avant garde-informed kind of pop music – a reminder, as if we need it, of the magic of the Lennon-McCartney partnership. The push and pull of two genius creatives working together to upend the status quo. “You think, ‘Oh well our audience wants a pop song,’”.

My quest into the roots of this trippy magic in the Beatles’ music is just one of many explorations I made into the way the 20th century’s most innovative pop musicians borrowed from the classical avant garde, for my book Everything We Do Is Music. In it, I draw a line from John Cale’s drone in the Velvet Underground to the extraordinary Indian classical-inspired sounds in music by La Monte Young; and connect the blistering microtonality of Polish sonorism to the angst-ridden rock of Radiohead. The feminist philosophies of Pauline Oliveros formed a blueprint for techno, meanwhile, and US composers such as Edgard Varèse, John Cage, Steve Reich and Philip Glass found ways to reflect the energy and freneticism of the urban metropolis in their work. In each case, I found that artists on both sides of the pop/classical divide reached across it, disregarding those things that usually separate us – education, class, nationality, gender – to do something epochal”.

Pop and Rock have been transformed by Classical music and its innovators. For the reviews that have arrived already (“Revelation after revelation . . . I love music more for reading it.' Guy Garvey; 'Alker joins the dots by following myriad musical ley lines. A fascinating journey into sound.' Mark Radcliffe; 'Reveals so much about the hidden connections between the sounds we love . . . A must read.' Sara Mohr-Pietsch”), it sounds like every music fans needs own this book! On Tuesday, 2nd September, Elizabeth Alker will be in conversation with Mary Anne Hobbs (BBC Radio 6 Music) at Foyle’s Bookshop on London’s Charing Cross Road (107). You can get your ticket and hear what is likely to be a fascinating discussion between two friends an music lovers. How perhaps the worlds of BBC Radio 3 and BBC Radio 6 Music are linked. In a wider sense, a delve into the vital role Classical music and its composers played in shaping Pop music last century. Its legacy and effects being felt, evolved and continued now. There is no doubting that Everything We Do is Music: How 20th-Century Classical Music Shaped Pop is one of the most essential and must-read music books…

OF this year.

FEATURE: The Great American Songbook: Outkast

FEATURE:

 

 

The Great American Songbook

IN THIS PHOTO: Outkast’s André 3000 and Big Boi

Outkast

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THIS feature series…

PHOTO CREDIT: Kenneth Cappello

is about American artists and songwriters who are extraordinary and hugely influential. For this part, I am focusing on one of the most influential Hip-Hop acts ever. Outkast formed in Atlanta, Georgia in 1992 and consist of Big Boi (Antwan Patton) and André 3000 (André Benjamin, formerly known as Dré). I will end with a mixtape of twenty essential Outkast songs. Before that, below is some biography that tells the story of a legendary and enormously influential Hip-Hop duo:

“Benjamin, who grew up in Decatur, and Patton, a native of Savannah, met as tenth graders at Tri-Cities High School in the East Point area of Atlanta. Their mutual interest in rapping led them to form a group, and they soon began a relationship with Organized Noize, a production team headed by Rico Wade, which operated out of an unfinished basement studio known as “the Dungeon.” Through Wade and the so-called Dungeon Family, the rappers met LaFace Records founders and producers Antonio “L.A.” Reid and Kenneth “Babyface” Edmonds, who signed the two to a contract when they were both seventeen years old.

Their first single, the Christmas song “Player’s Ball,” spent six weeks at the top of the Billboard rap charts in 1993. The duo released their first album, Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik, in 1994, which yielded two more successful singles. Produced by the Organized Noize team, the album featured a guest appearance by fellow Atlanta hip-hop group Goodie Mob and sold more than a million copies. In 1996 OutKast released ATLiens, which featured several songs produced by the duo, including the hit song “Elevators (Me and You).” With this album Benjamin developed a persona of a mystical, abstemious “poet” that stood in contrast with Patton’s image as a partying, womanizing “player.” The album met with widespread critical and commercial acclaim, selling more than a million and a half copies.

Patton and Benjamin solidified their creative control by producing most of the songs on their next album, Aquemini (1998), which reached sales of 2.5 million copies. The album yielded another hit single for the group, “Rosa Parks,” and the song’s namesake, the civil rights–era legend Rosa Parks, filed a lawsuit against the group, but a judge eventually affirmed OutKast’s right to use her name in the song.

The album Stankonia (2000) represented a tour de force for OutKast and their label LaFace. The album, which sold 4 million copies, was primarily produced by OutKast, and was greeted with near-universal critical acclaim. The single “Ms. Jackson” became their first number-one pop single, and the album garnered five Grammy Award nominations and won two Grammy Awards. Subsequently, they toured as the opening act for hip-hop singer Lauryn Hill, using a live backup band and cementing their position as representatives of hip-hop music’s creative vanguard. Following the release of Stankonia, the pair started their own record label, Aquemini Records, and in mid-2001 (a year that also saw the introduction of another venture, OutKast Clothing) released the label’s first record, by rapper Slimm Calhoun.

OutKast released Speakerboxxx/The Love Below in 2003, which proved to be an enormous commercial, critical, and crossover success, earning the duo three Grammy Awards, including the award for Album of the Year, demonstrating the record’s strong appeal to a pop music audience. The album produced two hit singles, “Hey Ya!” and “The Way You Move.” In 2004 “Hey Ya” achieved multiplatinum status with the Recording Industry of America for number of downloads sold. That same year OutKast received the Atlanta chapter of the Recording Academy’s Atlanta Hero Award, along with producer Dallas Austin, concert promoter Alex Cooley, and pianist Chuck Leavell.

In 2005 the duo released Outskirts: The Lost Remixes, and in 2006 they starred together in the musical film Idlewild, set in the South during the 1930s. That same year they released an album of the same name that was inspired by, but not a soundtrack to, the film.

Benjamin’s acting career began a few years before his work on Idlewild. He moved to Los Angeles, California, in 2002 to pursue an acting career and landed his first small role in the film Hollywood Homicide (2003). He next appeared in the 2005 films Be Cool, Four Brothers, and Revolver (with a U.S. release date of 2007). In 2006 Benjamin began providing the voice of Sunny Bridges in the animated television program Class of 3000 (2006-7), followed by roles in the films Battle in Seattle (2007) and Semi-Pro (2008).

The duo followed separate paths in the years that followed, with Patton releasing a series of well received solo works, including his acclaimed debut, Sir Lucious Left Foot: The Son of Chico Dusty (2008). Though he occasionally collaborated with other artists, Benjamin would not release a full length album until 2023, when he dropped New Blue Sun, an entirely instrumental work consisting largely of woodwinds”.

I am going to come to that mixtape. Terrific tracks from Outkast. If you are a huge fan of theirs or do not really know about them, I hope that this assortment of songs is of interest. Big Boi and André 3000 at their very best. It goes to show why they…

ARE so revered.

FEATURE: John Lennon at Eighty-Five: Exploring Five of His Masterpieces

FEATURE:

 

 

John Lennon at Eighty-Five

IN THIS PHOTO: John Lennon in 1971/PHOTO CREDIT: Iain MacMillan

Exploring Five of His Masterpieces

__________

LOOKING ahead to…

IN THIS PHOTO: John Lennon and Yoko Ono sitting next to George Adamy’s artwork Month of June 1970, in New York on 4th September, 1971/PHOTO CREDIT: Iain MacMillan/Yoko Ono Lennon

9th October, that is when we remember John Lennon on his eighty-fifth birthday. It is sad that we lost the legend almost forty-five years ago now. However, rather than make this morbid or tragic, I want to use this birthday feature to spotlight and explore five of his songwriting masterpieces. Three of them were with The Beatles and two of them are solo songs. Demonstrating his songwriting genius and versatility. I am going to go inside In My Life, I Am the Walrus, Strawberry Fields Forever, Imagine and Jealous Guy. Some would include others or remove one or two, but I think we get a good representation of his brilliance. One Beatles song from 1965’s Rubber Soul (In My Life), and two from 1967’s Magical Mystery Tour E.P./album (I Am the Walrus and Strawberry Fields Forever; the latter of which was a double A-side with Penny Lane). Imagine was from the 1971 album of the same name. Jealous Guy is taken from Imagine too. I am going to start out with the standout track from The Beatles’ Rubber Soul. Even if Paul McCartney might claim he wrote some of In My Life, it is a John Lennon song. One of his most personal and tender. Maybe not renowned for that beforehand, it showed a new side to his songwriting. It is a beautiful song that so many people can relate to. A piece of work that Lennon referred to as his first major work as it was one he wrote about his own life. There are claims that Paul McCarney wrote the melody. However, the majority of In My Life is from John Lennon. Thanks to The Beatles Bible for some background to the song and some interesting interview archive:

“Lennon regarded ‘In My Life’ particularly highly, citing it – along with ‘Strawberry Fields Forever’, ‘I Am The Walrus’, and ‘Help!’ – as among his best.

For ‘In My Life’, I had a complete set of lyrics after struggling with a journalistic vision of a trip from home to downtown on a bus naming every sight. It became ‘In My Life’, which is a remembrance of friends and lovers of the past. Paul helped with the middle eight musically. But all lyrics written, signed, sealed, and delivered. And it was, I think, my first real major piece of work. Up till then it had all been sort of glib and throwaway. And that was the first time I consciously put my literary part of myself into the lyric. Inspired by Kenneth Allsop, the British journalist, and Bob Dylan.

One of the first songs to be recorded for Rubber Soul, The Beatles recorded the rhythm track of ‘In My Life’ on 18 October 1965. This they did in three takes, after a period of rehearsal.

The instrumental break was left without a solo, as the group was undecided as to how it should sound. This dilemma was solved on 22 October by George Martin.

‘In My Life’ is one of my favourite songs because it is so much John. A super track and such a simple song. There’s a bit where John couldn’t decide what to do in the middle and, while they were having their tea break, I put down a baroque piano solo which John didn’t hear until he came back. What I wanted was too intricate for me to do live, so I did it with a half-speed piano, then sped it up, and he liked it.

George Martin
Anthology”.

IN THIS PHOTO: John Lennon in Austria in 1965/PHOTO CREDIT: Roger Fritz

The Pop History Dig provide some wonderful details about In My Life. What they write and have collated about the song’s legacy. How it affected John Lennon’s songwriting. How it has affected other people. It is without doubt one of the greatest songs from The Beatles. You cannot hear anything but John Lennon’s voice in the song:

“However, what is most notable about “In My Life,” in addition to its role in the evolution of the Beatles’ and Lennon’s music, is the song’s usage and popularity since 1965.

Among Beatles fans, and even non-fans, “In My Life” has become a favored piece of music. It is heard frequently at weddings, anniversaries, funerals and other occasions, whether family celebrations or more somber public occasions where nostalgia and reflection are called for. Some who have grown up with the song, have requested in advance that it be played at their funerals as a remembrance and farewell song.

According to SongFacts.com, “In My Life” was played at Kurt Cobain’s funeral in 1994. Cobain was the frontman for the rock group Nirvana. The Beatles were an early and important music influence on him. Cobain had cited Lennon as his “idol” in journals he kept during his time with Nirvana. At the 2010 Oscars ceremony, James Taylor performed “In My Life”during the “In Memoriam” segment, honoring film stars and entertainers who died the previous year. And among everyday people, too, the song has resonance in a variety of ways. “Charles” of Bronxville, New York, for example, adding a comment at SongFacts.com, noted:

…When my daughter was born, she was delivered by C-Section. I was in the delivery room and got to hold her. Once she was bundled up, the Dr. said I should take her out to the waiting area while they closed the incision. I took her out and held her. I sat there with tears rolling down my face and sang this song to her. I thought it should be the first. I still do.

“Mister P” of Magnolia, Texas, also writing on SongFacts.com, noted: “As fine a song as ever penned. It took several decades of maturing for its lyrics to finally hit me. I don’t know how such a young man could create such mature lyrics.” Lennon was 25 years old when he wrote “In My Life”.

Let’s move to two epic and beautifully unusual songs from Magical Mystery Tour. I Am the Walrus only appeared on the Magical Mystery Tour E.P. and album and was never released as a single. I am going to return to The Beatles Bible, because there are some crucial and revealing interview archive material. It is criminal that I Am the Walrus was never released as a single:

“Lennon had wanted ‘I Am The Walrus’ to be The Beatles’ next single after ‘All You Need Is Love’, but Paul McCartney and George Martin felt that ‘Hello, Goodbye’ was the more commercial song. The decision led to resentment from Lennon, who complained after the group’s split that “I got sick and tired of being Paul’s backup band”.

The song was written in August 1967, at the peak of the Summer of Love and shortly after the release of Sgt Pepper. Lennon later claimed to have written the opening lines under the influence of LSD.

The first line was written on one acid trip one weekend, the second line on another acid trip the next weekend, and it was filled in after I met Yoko.

John Lennon, 1980
All We Are Saying, David Sheff

‘I Am The Walrus’ was a composite of three song fragments. The first part was inspired by a two-note police siren Lennon heard while at home in Weybridge. This became “Mr city policeman sitting pretty…”

Hunter Davies recounted the beginnings of the second part in his authorised 1968 biography of The Beatles:

He’d written down down another few words that day, just daft words, to put to another bit of rhythm. ‘Sitting on a cornflake, waiting for the man to come.’ I thought he said ‘van to come’, which he hadn’t, but he liked it better and said he’d use it instead.

The third part of ‘I Am The Walrus’ started from the phrase “sitting in an English country garden” which, as Davies noted, Lennon was fond of doing for hours at a time. Lennon repeated the phrase to himself until a melody came.

I don’t know how it will all end up. Perhaps they’ll turn out to be different parts of the same song – sitting in an English garden, waiting for the van to come. I don’t know.

John Lennon
The Beatles, Hunter Davies”.

In 2017, The Atlantic analysed I Am the Walrus fifty years after its release. A song that could mean nothing or everything, it is an undoubted John Lennon masterpiece. One that has not been matched by anyone. Again, this is one of the greatest Beatles songs. Completely different to In My Life, it shows that there were no limits to Lennon’s songwriting imagination and depth:

“Nonsense comes in many shapes and sizes. You can use relatively plain language to conjure absurd or incongruous images, like the act of sitting on a cornflake. You can juxtapose words that don’t seem like they belong together, like semolina and pilchard (coarse wheat and sardines, an odd mix—though Hunter Davies says they were both “foods from the ’50s that we all hated”). You can make new, silly-sounding words by playing with preexisting words, like rhyming expert with texpert, or melding crab and locker into crabalocker. Or you can make goo-goo noises.

Lennon fills out the chorus with the purest of nonsense. In the lyrics printed in the Magical Mystery Tour gatefold, it says GOO GOO GOO JOOB, but most prefer to transcribe it as goo goo ga joob or goo goo g’joob. The third syllable is unstressed, both in terms of the syncopated meter and the phonology of the nonsense words, so it’s not a full-fledged goo.

It’s unforgettable gibberish, though it often gets mixed up in people’s memories with coo coo ca-choo from Simon & Garfunkel’s “Mrs. Robinson,” as the two songs came out around the same time. “I Am the Walrus” was recorded in September 1967 and released on record that November. The Graduate hit movie theaters in December, featuring an early partial rendition of “Mrs. Robinson,” but the complete version with coo coo ca-choo in it didn’t come out until April of the following year, on the album Bookends. So Paul Simon might have been nodding at Lennon, but not vice versa.

Some Beatle-ologists claim that goo goo ga joob is taken from James Joyce’s stream-of-consciousness epic, Finnegans Wake. It certainly sounds Joycean, and it would be nice to think of “I Am the Walrus,” Finnegans Wake, and Carroll’s Alice stories forming a kind of wordplay-laden intertextual triangle. Finnegans Wake, after all, has many echoes of Carroll, and the eggman Humpty Dumpty figures in it as well, with his great fall paralleling the Fall of Man. One would-be expert-texpert on the “Turn Me On, Dead Man” website wrote that goo goo ga joob are “the last words uttered by Humpty Dumpty before his fall”.

I will move to a couple of John Lennon solo songs in a minute. However, before moving on, it is worth noting another 1967 classic. Maybe there was lysergic influence that helped shape I Am the Walrus and Strawberry Fields Forever. Strawberry Fields Forever is often voted as the greatest Beatles track ever. Further proof of John Lennon’s brilliance. The Beatles Bible is once again at hand to provide some interview archive about a song that formed part of the double A-side alongside Paul McCartney’s Penny Lane:

“Like ‘Penny Lane’, ‘Strawberry Fields Forever’ was a nostalgic look back at The Beatles’ past in Liverpool. Strawberry Field was the name of a Salvation Army children’s home near John Lennon’s childhood home in Woolton.

I’ve seen Strawberry Field described as a dull, grimy place next door to him that John imagined to be a beautiful place, but in the summer it wasn’t dull and grimy at all: it was a secret garden. John’s memory of it wasn’t to do with the fact that it was a Salvation Army home; that was up at the house. There was a wall you could bunk over and it was a rather wild garden, it wasn’t manicured at all, so it was easy to hide in.

Paul McCartney
Many Years From Now, Barry Miles

With his childhood friends Pete Shotton and Ivan Vaughan, Lennon would roam the grounds of Strawberry Field. Additionally, each summer there would be a garden party held in the grounds, which he especially looked forward to.

As soon as we could hear the Salvation Army band starting, John would jump up and down shouting, ‘Mimi, come on. We’re going to be late.’

Mimi Smith
The Beatles, Hunter Davies

Through the lens of LSD, however, the song turned from simple nostalgia into inward reflection. Lennon’s self doubt came to the fore, at times clouded by inarticulacy and hallucinogenic sensations.

He later described ‘Strawberry Fields Forever’, along with ‘Help!’, as “one of the few true songs I ever wrote… They were the ones I really wrote from experience and not projecting myself into a situation and writing a nice story about it.”

The second line [sic] goes, ‘No one I think is in my tree.’ Well, what I was trying to say in that line is ‘Nobody seems to be as hip as me, therefore I must be crazy or a genius.’ It’s the same problem as I had when I was five: ‘There is something wrong with me because I seem to see things other people don’t see. Am I crazy, or am I a genius?’ … What I’m saying, in my insecure way, is ‘Nobody seems to understand where I’m coming from. I seem to see things in a different way from most people.’

John Lennon, 1980
All We Are Saying, David Sheff”.

Earlier this year, Music Radar wrote about Strawberry Fields Forever. A song that Lennon claimed was the best that he wrote for The Beatles, Lennon claimed it was “psychoanalysis set to music”. It was so far ahead of its time. I don’t think we have heard a song like it. Artists might try and channel the spirit of Strawberry Fields Forever. However, it is distinctly the work of John Lennon and cannot be equalled:

“On 13 February 1967, Strawberry Fields Forever was released as a double A-side with Penny Lane.

In line with the band’s usual practice of not including tracks released as singles on albums, Strawberry Fields Forever was omitted from Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, a decision which George Martin later acknowledged was a “dreadful mistake”.

Strawberry Fields Forever/Penny Lane was the first Beatles single since Please Please Me in 1963 not to reach No. 1.

The song reached No. 2 in the UK, kept from the top slot by Englebert Humperdinck’s Please Release Me.

Music writer Peter Doggett noted that the failure of Strawberry Fields Forever/Penny Lane to reach the top slot was “arguably the most disgraceful statistic in chart history”.

Doggett described Strawberry Fields Forever as "the greatest pop record ever made" adding that it is “a record that never dates, because it lives outside time”.

The stunning inventiveness of Strawberry Fields Forever left both fans and critics bewildered and breathless.

It was the sound of The Beatles taking a huge creative stride forward.

In the States, the song marked the point at which writers sought for the first time to elevate pop to a higher cultural plain. A 1967 feature in Time magazine led the way:

“[The] Beatles have developed into the single most creative force in pop music. Wherever they go, the pack follows. And where they have gone in recent months, not even their most ardent supporters would ever have dreamed of.

“They have bridged the heretofore impassable gap between rock and classical, mixing elements of Bach, Oriental and electronic music with vintage twang to achieve the most compellingly original sounds ever heard in pop music”.

There are many masterpieces Lennon wrote as a solo artist. Whether on his solo albums or with Yoko Ono, I could have included so many other. Working Class Hero (from 1970’s John Lennon/Plastic Ono Band) or #9 Dream (from 1974’s Walls and Bridges). However, I want to feature two from 1971’s Imagine. I shall start with the title track. In 2018, the BBC ran a feature that coincided with the release of the book, Imagine John Yoko. Ono was finally credited as a co-writer of Imagine in 2017. Although it is a co-write, it is still John Lennon at the core. Him driving the song. Therefore, I can consider it his masterpiece and Yoko Ono’s:

“It is the ultimate peace anthem; an ode to idealism. But Imagine is also a song about love. When it was composed, in 1971, John Lennon and Yoko Ono had been together for three years. She was lambasted by some as the ‘dragon lady’ who had broken up Lennon's marriage to Cynthia – and, in the process, The Beatles. Yet, as a new book from Thames & Hudson suggests, Ono was misrepresented – even when it came to being credited for a song’s creation. In a 1980 interview reprinted in Imagine John Yoko, Lennon admits that Ono was equally responsible for Imagine; in 2017, Ono was formally recognised as co-writer of the iconic song.

As the book shows, through a collection of rarely seen photos and archive interviews along with insider accounts detailing the making of the album, Lennon and Ono inspired each other from their first meeting.

I always had this dream of meeting an artist woman I would fall in love with – John Lennon

In 1966, Lennon went to a preview of Ono’s show at the Indica gallery in London, and wanted to contribute to a piece called Hammer a Nail in. But Ono was reluctant to let him, as she recalls in an archive interview in the book. “I said, ‘All right, if he pays five shillings, it’s okay,’ because I decided that my painting will never sell anyway.”

IN THIS PHOTO: John Lennon and Yoko Ono at a roadside telephone booth in New York, June 1971/PHOTO CREDIT: Yoko Ono Lennon

Lennon had another idea, adding in the interview: “I said, ‘Listen I’ll give you an imaginary five shillings and hammer an imaginary nail in, is that okay?’ And her whole trip is this: ‘Imagine this, imagine that.’”

Ono replies: “Imagine, imagine. So I was thinking, ‘Oh, here’s a guy who’s playing the same game I’m playing.’ And I was really shocked you know, I thought, ‘Who is it?’”.

The song, in a way, deals with imagining another world on the level of two people – as well as in a larger sense. “George Orwell and all these guys have projected very negative views of the future. And imagining a projection is a very strong magic power,” said Ono. “I mean that. That’s the way society was created. And so, because they’re setting up all these negative images, that’s gonna create the society. So we were trying to create a more positive image, which is, of course, gonna set up another kind of society.”

Lennon referenced humans’ desire to fly – “which might’ve taken us a long time, but it took somebody to imagine it first”. He explained his reasoning. “People said, ‘You’re naive, you’re dumb, you’re stupid.’ It might have hurt us on a personal level to be called names, but what we were doing – you can call it magic, meditation, projection of goal – which business people do, they have courses on it. The footballers do it. They pray, they meditate before the game… People project their own future. So, what we wanted to do was to say, ‘Let’s imagine a nice future.’”

Ono describes how they felt about Imagine at the time: “We both liked the song a lot but we honestly didn’t realise it would turn into the powerful song it has, all over the world… We just did it because we believed in the words and it just reflected how we were feeling”.

I will end with a song that is distinctly John Lennon. Completely his D.N.A. Jealous Guy is also from 1971’s Imagine. Like In My Life six years earlier, Jealous Guy is hugely honest and open. John Lennon opening his heart and soul. A song about the possessive nature of love and devotion, it was this apology and decleration to Yoko Ono. Udiscovermusic took us inside the song for their feature of 2024:

“One of John Lennon’s best-known and most-loved songs, “Jealous Guy” first saw the light of day on his 1971 Imagine album, before Roxy Music had a No.1 hit with their version, released in February 1981 as a tribute to the then recently murdered ex-Beatle. Even by the time John finished his version, however, the song had already been through a number of incarnations.

‘I was dreaming more or less’

“Jealous Guy” began life during The Beatles’ time studying Transcendental Meditation with the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi in Rishikesh, India, in spring 1968. Both Lennon and McCartney composed songs inspired by a lecture given by the Maharishi about humans’ position as the sons of mother nature. Paul’s “Mother Nature’s Son” is one of “The White Album”’s more gentle moments, while John wrote “Child Of Nature,” a song that began “On the road to Rishikesh, I was dreaming more or less,” sung to the melody that would become familiar to millions as “Jealous Guy.”

The Beatles recorded a demo of the song in May 1968 in preparation for inclusion on “The White Album.” That Esher demo is a tender performance, with mandolin adding a Mediterranean flavor to the piece. For whatever reason, however, the song didn’t make the album; Lennon reintroduced it during the Get Back sessions of January 1969.

‘I was a very jealous, possessive guy’

By the time the song reappeared in 1971, only the melody remained. Encouraged by Yoko Ono to “think about something more sensitive,” John penned a new set of lyrics that seemed to address his changing attitude towards women. Talking to journalist David Sheff in 1980, he revealed: “The lyrics explain themselves clearly: I was a very jealous, possessive guy. Toward everything. A very insecure male. A guy who wants to put his woman in a little box, lock her up, and just bring her out when he feels like playing with her. She’s not allowed to communicate with the outside world – outside of me – because it makes me feel insecure.”

This certainly ties in with a subject John spoke about at the time of recording the Imagine album. In an interview with the BBC’s Woman’s Hour radio show, conducted at his Tittenhurst home, where the album was recorded, he talked about his changing view of relationships: “When you actually are in love with somebody you tend to be jealous, and want to own them and possess them one hundred percent, which I do… I love Yoko, I want to possess her completely. I don’t want to stifle her, you know? That’s the danger, that you want to possess them to death.”

‘So flabbergasted I can’t play’

The song was recorded at the eight-track studio that John had built at Tittenhurst Park, near Ascot, on May 24, 1971. A number of notable musicians contributed to the recording, among them in-demand session musician Nicky Hopkins, whose distinctive, gospel-tinged piano makes the song instantly familiar from the off. As Yoko later put it: “Nicky Hopkins’ playing on ‘Jealous Guy’ is so melodic and beautiful that it still makes everyone cry, even now.”

Drummer Jim Keltner described the session as “like being in a dream,” noting, “Nobody in the world ever played piano like Nicky Hopkins, and Klaus [Voorman] has such a tremendous deep feel on the bass. Having John’s voice in your headphones, glancing up and seeing him at the microphone – 1971 – fresh from The Beatles and such a tremendous musician and songwriter – singing this beautiful, haunting little song. You only have a few moments of those in your life as a musician and that was one of them.”

Also present at the session were Joey Molland and Tom Evans from Badfinger. Molland later wrote of the session: “In walks John Lennon and he’s really bug-eyed, really gone – ‘Hello everybody!’ He was shouting. It was 11 o’clock at night and he’d just gotten out of bed… I was just in awe, just ga-ga. Then he sits down on the stool and starts playing ‘Jealous Guy’ and I’m so flabbergasted I can’t play”.

Five songs that showcase the songwriting genius of John Lennon! Whilst Paul McCartney might have assisted with In My Life and Yoko Ono co-wrote Imagine, they are still very much his work. I am glad that Yoko Ono was finally credited for Imagine. On 8th October, the world will remember John Lennon on what would have been his eighty-fifth birthday. Surviving Beatles Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr no doubt will share some words and love. One of the greatest songwriters the world will ever see, no doubt people will have views as to which other songs can be considered John Lennon masterpiece – there are dozens when you think about it! These are five that are particularly important to me. Songs from a phenomenal artistic voice that…

WE all dearly miss.

FEATURE: Kate Bush’s Hounds of Love at Forty: Nineteen: Inside Guido Harari’s Fascinating Photoshoot

FEATURE:

 

Kate Bush’s Hounds of Love at Forty

 ALL PHOTOS: Guido Harari (except the Hounds of Love cover; photo by John Carder Bush) 

Nineteen: Inside Guido Harari’s Fascinating Photoshoot

__________

THE penultimate feature…

of my twenty-feature run celebrating the fortieth anniversary of Kate Bush’s Hound of Love on 16th September sort of returns to the very first feature. For that, I looked at the cover shoot and that brilliant shot from her brother, John Carder Bush. How it took a long time to set up. However, the final result, where Bush is lying with her dogs, Bonnie and Clyde, is perfect! For the final feature, I am going to explore the legacy of Hounds of Love. I will take from PROG’s recent edition, where they celebrate forty years of Hounds of Love. One of the sections that particularly appealed to me is there they look at some of the promotional images from 1985. Those taken by Guido Harari. Taking his words and photos from his book, THE KATE INSIDE, we get an insight into the importance of these images and how the session took place. His personal recollections of working with Kate Bush. They collaborated between 1982 and 1993, though the photos he took around Hounds of Love might be his finest. I am going to quote from the article in PROG and some of the standout words from Harari. He remembers how Bush would not fax or do anything like that. She preferred to call. She called Harari to see if he would be up for shooting her early promotional images for Hounds of Love: “My heart was pounding as I set out to meet Kate and discuss the shoot at (East) Wickham Farm”. Up to this point, Guido Harari has photographed the likes of Peter Gabriel and Joni Mitchell. This was arguably his most important and best assignment. As he revealed: “But this offer from from Kate was too good to be true, and within days I flew to London”.

I do love the romance of him being called and then flying out to London (from Italy)! The excitement of spending valuable time with Kate Bush and capturing these early promotional images for what would be deemed her greatest work. He did not know that at the time. However, there is also the responsibility of coming up with concepts that would do justice to Hounds of Love and maybe match the mood of the album. After Bush sent a car to the airport to transport Harari to Welling, he started looking out at these “Flemish -looking skies filled with clouds, wondering what on earth to expect”. I guess his time with her for The Dreaming was done in studios and various locations. This was him meeting Kate Bush at her family home. Once he got there, Bush took him to the recording studio she had specially built. With no window between the recording and control rooms, he was not lucky enough to get a preview of the album. That might have helped his creative process and feel of the shoot. However, Bush rightly wanted Hounds of Love to remain private until she was ready. Bush told Harari how she moved from the city to countryside and took eighteen months to write and record this material. The rest of the time she spent recognising her own environment. “When you work intensely, if you want to stay in control of everything you do, it just takes much more time”. That was in response to Harari asking if she moved to the country to retain her sanity (Bush’s word, but that was his gist!). “The house seemed so silent, so quiet and so removed from the outside world”. Bush did not mind, as she said she didn’t have a thriving social life anyhow. “People who come here are not necessarily people I know, but people who are involved in my projects”. Bush said the way she worked is very “mental”, so she needed to get away from distractions and could not work out of these studios that cost a lot. Working hugely long days all week was too much.

Guido Harari noted how Bush was the warmest person he had met. Nothing like the people you see in her videos. In the sense you get these characters that can be more steely or bold. Softly-spoken and very hospitable, he asked her about the multiple voices that she brought into her music. A way of transcending the song and music. Bush said how writing a song was like writing a play. “You can almost hear a conversation going!”. Guido Harari realised how Gered Mankowitz has covered a lot of ground with his shots of Kate Bush taken during her first two albums – 1978’s The Kick Inside and Lionheart –, and her brother John Carder Bush had developed these conceptual covers and fascinating shots. Bush, by 1985, was definitely making her videos more cinematic. Guido Harari, it appears, made suggests regarding locations – which Bush quietly skipped over or vetoed. “She took me aback by saying there was no need for further avenues.  She had no fixed ideas except the general notion of a full day photo shoot”. Bush wanted a good range of photos that would be good for the press but, with no preconceived concepts or guidance, he had to capture the real Kate Bush with no mask. No script. It was quite daunting! Nobody had expressed such openness and honesty. Made him feel as trusted and spoken so softly. This was something that struck Guido Harari. “Time dims the memory a bit, but as I recall we very quickly decide that the best idea was to play together”. There is no huge planning ahead with celebrity shoots. When the lights are on and the Polaroids are coming out, Guido Harari said how you face the “challenge of chemistry, of shifting moods, and keeping contact with your subject at a high level”.

Back in Milan on 25th June (1985), Guido Harari and his assistant Neri Oddo spent the day painting cloth backdrops for the shoot. On 26th, they flew back to London and checked in at Waverley House, which was conveniently located close to Holborn Studios. The following day they were at the studio and ready. Noticing how there was a tiny door in the middle that would lead to a dressing room. Everything was taking shape. There was the painting of paper backdrops and setting up the lighting. The next day, the shoot would happen. Polaroid packs and Nikons armed and ready! Film holders out the bag and begging to be held. In a state of excitement, they ran across the road to a market to grab some crates which they used to fashion Japanese blinds that would “create a mood that would go with one of Kate’s kimonos”. On 28th, on the morning of the shoot, the expectation was making its weight felt. Kate Bush walked in with her hair and makeup artist, Tina Earnshaw. Refreshingly and wonderfully, there was not a pack of publicists, managers, record label people that were monitoring everything and making demands. This was Kate Bush and the absolute bare minimum in terms of personnel. Such a relief for a photographer who was flying blind a little in terms of the final vision and how the shoot would pan out! Not having to defer to record label flunkies and have his work scrutinised and changed, it was a dream start! Hair and makeup took about an hour. Even though this was Kate Bush pretty much at the height of her popularity and creative peak, there was no pressure at all. “The process was so unmannered, so matter-of-fact – so gloriously without bullshit”.

Guido Harari admired how Kate Bush could have this faraway look and then descended into giggles. You get these individual portraits and you can sense a mood, though it only tells a specific moment and expression. Getting a series of shots where she goes from straight to in stitches is more fluid and revealing, I feel. In order to break any ice that was there, Harari asked Bush to run around the studio so he could see the goofier side of her. Capturing her unguarded, he wasn’t meant to have any film in the camera. Like dance warm-up – which Bush would be familiar with -, this was a way to loosen up and prepare. Before getting down to the serious stuff! Instead, Bush was pulling funny faces and acting like a child; not sure of what was happening but very game and accommodating. In those days, they would create crescendos with makeup and clothing. Often going from the more casual to elaborate. “I love the series of photos with the pillbox hat. It was probably the only time Kate would wear high heels on the shoot, so I suggested  she walk “against the wind” pretending she was losing her balance”. It is fascinating hearing these behind the scenes nuggets from Guido Harari. How he would overexpose the film one stop to avoid costly retouching. At one point, he saw Kate Bush’s dressing room door ajar – he would never venture in usually out of respect for her privacy – and he could overhear this conversation between her and Tina Earnshaw. Bush had this very heavy Japanese makeup on and her hair wasn’t quite set. She had some residue and makeup on her shoulders and her T-shirt. Seizing the opportunity for this unique and spontaneous shot, he dragged Bush into the studio and made sure powder did not fall off. Trusting Harari’s vision and process. He grabbed some red lipstick and put a smudge on her lips. Bush acknowledged him and gave her approval with a smile. I covered this a bit when recently including this very shot in a feature about Kate Bush and Guido Harari. Howe this shot (below) is among the most iconic. It definitely stands out as being unusual, vulnerable and very alluring!

They moved onto the Japanese blinds and kimono. The mood shifted to dark. At this point, they had been shooting for twelve hours without lunch or a break. There had been minimal conversation amidst the set changes. It is testament to the patience and professionalism of Kate Bush that she kept going but gave her all at all points! “We’d run of energy, but decided to proceed with two more shots with kimonos, including the one with Kate bathed in blue light against a blood-red backdrop”. At around one in the morning, Bush asked Harari if he was a bit tired. They binned the idea of one last shot with UV lights. Harari was “pretty sure we had a great number of beautiful images that would please both Kate and EMI. The shoot certainly did the business for Hounds Of Love: photos would be published all over the world and years later in the boxset This Woman’s Work”. You can purchase THE KATE INSIDE and get a physical copy of this wonderful book with those shots. From the initial phone call, right through to that tiring early-morning hour where they wrapped up, it was quite a process! No doubt so many happy memories for Guido Harari (and Kate Bush). What we got are some of the best images of Kate Bush. You can see the trust and respect between them. How comfortable she felt. Someone Bush trusted and knew would deliver something special, we all have our favourite Guido Harari Hounds of Love photos. I love that look of her in Japanese makeup with the smudge of lipstick. I also love the shot with her in a gold jacket and her with eyes closed (at the very top of this feature). So enticing, romantic and peaceful, it has been a treat exploring the process and itinerary of a fabulous photoshoot! This beautiful union between a genius and warm-hearted artist and…

A masterful photographer.

FEATURE: The Digital Mixtape: Jimi Hendrix’s Best and Deep Cuts

FEATURE:

 

 

The Digital Mixtape

PHOTO CREDIT; Gered Mankowitz/Iconic Images

Jimi Hendrix’s Best and Deep Cuts

__________

ON 18th September, 1970…

PHOTO CREDIT: Bent Rej

the world lost Jimi Hendrix. Aged only twenty-seven, it was a huge shock to hear of the death of one of the greatest artists of his generation. A virtuoso guitar player and hugely underrated singer and songwriter, I am putting together a mixtape of big songs and some deep cuts as we mark fifty-years since Jimi Hendrix died. His legacy remains. He has inspired so many other artists and guitarists and is still considered to be among the best (if not the best) guitarists ever. Such a powerful and intelligent player, his peerless talents will come to the fore at the end. However, before I get there, I want to drop in some biography. So, for anyone not au fait with his music and career, we can learn more about Jimi Hendrix:

“Widely recognized as one of the most creative and influential musicians of the 20th century, Jimi Hendrix pioneered the explosive possibilities of the electric guitar. Hendrix’s innovative style of combining fuzz, feedback and controlled distortion created a new musical form. Because he was unable to read or write music, it is nothing short of remarkable that Jimi Hendrix’s meteoric rise in the music took place in just four short years. His musical language continues to influence a host of modern musicians, from George Clinton to Miles Davis, and Steve Vai to Jonny Lang.

Jimi Hendrix, born Johnny Allen Hendrix at 10:15 a.m. on November 27, 1942, at Seattle’s King County Hospital, was later renamed James Marshall by his father, James “Al” Hendrix. Young Jimmy (as he was referred to at the time) took an interest in music, drawing influence from virtually every major artist at the time, including B.B. King, Muddy Waters, Howlin’ Wolf, Buddy Holly, and Robert Johnson. Entirely self-taught, Jimmy’s inability to read music made him concentrate even harder on the music he heard.

Al took notice of Jimmy’s interest in the guitar, recalling, “I used to have Jimmy clean up the bedroom all the time while I was gone, and when I would come home I would find a lot of broom straws around the foot of the bed. I’d say to him, `Well didn’t you sweep up the floor?’ and he’d say, `Oh yeah,’ he did. But I’d find out later that he used to be sitting at the end of the bed there and strumming the broom like he was playing a guitar.” Al found an old one-string ukulele, which he gave to Jimmy to play a huge improvement over the broom.

By the summer of 1958, Al had purchased Jimmy a five-dollar, second-hand acoustic guitar from one of his friends. Shortly thereafter, Jimmy joined his first band, The Velvetones. After a three-month stint with the group, Jimmy left to pursue his own interests. The following summer, Al purchased Jimmy his first electric guitar, a Supro Ozark 1560S; Jimi used it when he joined The Rocking Kings.

In 1961, Jimmy left home to enlist in the United States Army and in November 1962 earned the right to wear the “Screaming Eagles” patch for the paratroop division. While stationed at Fort Campbell, Kentucky, Jimmy formed The King Casuals with bassist Billy Cox. After being discharged due to an injury he received during a parachute jump, Jimmy began working as a session guitarist under the name Jimmy James. By the end of 1965, Jimmy had played with several marquee acts, including Ike and Tina Turner, Sam Cooke, the Isley Brothers, and Little Richard. Jimmy parted ways with Little Richard to form his own band, Jimmy James and the Blue Flames, shedding the role of back-line guitarist for the spotlight of lead guitar.

Throughout the latter half of 1965, and into the first part of 1966, Jimmy played the rounds of smaller venues throughout Greenwich Village, catching up with Animals’ bassist Chas Chandler during a July performance at Caf‚ Wha? Chandler was impressed with Jimmy’s performance and returned again in September 1966 to sign Hendrix to an agreement that would have him move to London to form a new band.

Switching gears from bass player to manager, Chandler’s first task was to change Hendrix’s name to “Jimi.” Featuring drummer Mitch Mitchell and bassist Noel Redding, the newly formed Jimi Hendrix Experience quickly became the talk of London in the fall of 1966.

The Experience’s first single, “Hey Joe,” spent ten weeks on the UK charts, topping out at spot No. 6 in early 1967. The debut single was quickly followed by the release of a full-length album Are You Experienced, a psychedelic musical compilation featuring anthems of a generation. Are You Experienced has remained one of the most popular rock albums of all time, featuring tracks like “Purple Haze,” “The Wind Cries Mary,” “Foxey Lady,” “Fire,” and “Are You Experienced?”

Although Hendrix experienced overwhelming success in Britain, it wasn’t until he returned to America in June 1967 that he ignited the crowd at the Monterey International Pop Festival with his incendiary performance of “Wild Thing.” Literally overnight, The Jimi Hendrix Experience became one of most popular and highest grossing touring acts in the world.

Hendrix followed Are You Experienced with Axis: Bold As Love. By 1968, Hendrix had taken greater control over the direction of his music; he spent considerable time working the consoles in the studio, with each turn of a knob or flick of the switch bringing clarity to his vision.

Back in America, Jimi Hendrix built his own recording studio, Electric Lady Studios in New York City. The name of this project became the basis for his most demanding musical release, a two LP collection, Electric Ladyland. Throughout 1968, the demands of touring and studio work took its toll on the group and in 1969 the Experience disbanded.

The summer of 1969 brought emotional and musical growth to Jimi Hendrix. In playing the Woodstock Music & Art Fair in August 1969, Jimi joined forces with an eclectic ensemble called Gypsy Sun & Rainbows featuring Jimi Hendrix, Mitch Mitchell, Billy Cox, Juma Sultan, and Jerry Velez. The Woodstock performance was highlighted by the renegade version of “Star Spangled Banner,” which brought the mud-soaked audience to a frenzy.

Nineteen sixty-nine also brought about a new and defining collaboration featuring Jimi Hendrix on guitar, bassist Billy Cox and Electric Flag drummer Buddy Miles. Performing as the Band of Gypsys, this trio launched a series of four New Year’s performances on December 31, 1969 and January 1, 1970. Highlights from these performances were compiled and later released on the quintessential Band of Gypsys album in mid-1970 and the expanded Hendrix: Live At The Fillmore East in 1999.

As 1970 progressed, Jimi brought back drummer Mitch Mitchell to the group and together with Billy Cox on bass, this new trio once again formed The Jimi Hendrix Experience. In the studio, the group recorded several tracks for another two LP set, tentatively titled First Rays Of The New Rising Sun. Unfortunately, Hendrix was unable to see this musical vision through to completion due to his hectic worldwide touring schedules, then tragic death on September 18, 1970. Fortunately, the recordings Hendrix slated for release on the album were finally issued through the support of his family and original studio engineer Eddie Kramer on the 1997 release First Rays Of The New Rising Sun.

From demo recordings to finished masters, Jimi Hendrix generated an amazing collection of songs over the course of his short career. The music of Jimi Hendrix embraced the influences of blues, ballads, rock, R&B, and jazz a collection of styles that continue to make Hendrix one of the most popular figures in the history of rock music”.

I shall leave things there. The incredible and much-missed Jimi Hendrix died on 18th September, 1970. It was a hugely sad moment. However, rather than mourn his loss, we should celebrate his wonderous body of work. Those live performances which have been etched into history. Nobody can match him when it comes to the guitar in my view. Even though he is no longer with us, Jimi Hendrix’s legacy and genius will…

BURN bright for generations.

FEATURE: Pulling Out the Pin: Kate Bush's The Dreaming at Forty-Three

FEATURE:

 

Pulling Out the Pin

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush signs copies of The Dreaming for fans at the Virgin Megastore, Oxford Street in London on 14th September, 1982/PHOTO CREDIT: Pete Still/Redferns

Kate Bush's The Dreaming at Forty-Three

__________

THIS album anniversary…

might get buried a little, as there are two huge Kate Bush anniversaries in September. Never for Ever turns forty-five on 8th September. Even bigger is the fortieth anniversary of Hounds of Love, which happens on 16th September. However, the album that fitted between the 1980 and 1985 releases is 1982’s The Dreaming. On 13th September, Kate Bush released her fourth studio album. If you consider Never for Ever as a bridge between her first two albums – The Kick Inside and Lionheart (1978) – and where she was heading and Hounds of Love as her apex and her most accomplished album as a producer, then The Dreaming was the moment that Bush entered a new world. Producing solo for the first time and experimenting more than we had heard before, many cite this as her least commercial album. In terms of the songs, there are few that are single-ready and as accessible as tracks on Never for Ever and Hounds of Love. However, I think it is one of her richest and most fascinating albums. Not only an audio representation of an artist pushing boundaries and utilising technology around her. I think The Dreaming provides a window into Kate Bush’s psyche around 1980, 1981 and 1982. How she wanted to push her sound forward but, at the same time, there was this stress, expectation and hectic workload. Releasing such a detailed and layered album solo as a producer and writing and performing all the songs. Bush was still promoting Never for Ever towards the end of 1980, but The Dreaming was already coming together at that point. She barely gave herself chance to rest. After Never for Ever reached number one, EMI would have been keen for Bush to follow that up with an album quicker than she did – though it was only two years until The Dreaming came out!

To highlight the brilliance of this album ahead of its forty-third anniversary, I want to introduce some features. I will start out with some extracts from a couple of 1982 promotional interviews. However, before I get there, I want to quote from an interview Bush was involved with in 1986. In the years since The Dreaming was released, when asked about the album, she looks back with some shock and surprise. Like she had gone mad. How there was all this anger. It was her being ‘an artist’. However, I think The Dreaming is one of her absolute best albums. As a songwriter and producer. Thanks to the Kate Bush Encyclopedia for their resources around The Dreaming. This interview is really interesting:

“I have no doubt that those who buy singles because they like my hits, are completely mystified upon hearing the albums. But if it comes to that, they should listen to itloudly!If a single theme linkedThe Dreaming, which is quite varied, it would be human relationships and emotional problems. Every being responds principally to emotions. Some people are very cool, but they are silenced by their emotions, whatever they might be. To write a song, it’s necessary that I be completely steeped in my environment, in my subject. Sometimes the original idea is maintained, but as it takes form, it possesses me. One of the best examples would be this song that I wrote on ‘Houdini’: I knew every one of the things that I wanted to say, and it was necessary that I find new ways that would allow me to say them; the hardest thing, is when you have so many things to fit into so short a space of time. You have to be concise and at the same time not remain vague, or obscure. The Dreaming was a decisive album for me. I hadn’t recorded in a very long time until I undertook it, and that was the first time that I’d had such liberty. It was intoxicating and frightening at the same time. I could fail at everything and ruin my career at one fell swoop. All this energy, my frustrations, my fears, my wish to succeed, all that went into the record. That’s the principle of music: to liberate all the tensions that exist inside you. I tried to give free rein to all my fantasies. Although all of the songs do not talk about me, they represent all the facets of my personality, all my different attitudes in relation to the world. In growing older, I see more and more clearly that I am crippled in facing the things that really count, and that I can do nothing about it, just as most people can do nothing. Making an album is insignificant in comparison with that, but it’s my only defense.

Yves Bigot, ‘Englishwoman is crossing the continents’. Guitares et Claviers (France), February 1986”.

Many critics were baffled by the dense soundscapes on The Dreaming. Wondering why the tracks were like they were. Wanting something perhaps simpler and less layered, maybe Bush took some of this on board for Hounds of Love. Though it is a layered album that is ambitious and widescreen, it is not quite as dense and smoggy as The Dreaming. More natural. Natural light. The Dreaming was originally released on L.P. and tape. Unlike Never For Ever, the L.P. was packaged in a regular sleeve, featuring the lyrics on the inner sleeve. In 2023, a smokey-colour vinyl was released. The first 1982 interview I am taking from is Karen Swayne's KERRANG! interview. I do love the fact KERRANG! were interviewing Kate Bush! It is quite a revealing chat. Bush stating how she wants The Dreaming to endure and be remembered:

“Were you pushing it more to create different sounds?

"In a way. But I probably used to push it more in other ways. I went through a phase of trying to leap up and down a lot when I was writing songs. I used to try to push it almost acrobatically. Now I'm trying more to get the song across, and I have more control. When I'm trying to think up the character is when it needs a bit of push."

Do you always try to put yourself in the role of a character, then?

"Yeah, normally, because the song is always about something, and always from a particular viewpoint. There's normally a personality that runs along with it.

"Sometimes I really have to work at it to get in the right frame of mind, because it's maybe the opposite of how I'm feeling, but other times it feels almost like an extension of me, which it is, in some ways."

You have been accused in the past of living in some kind of fantasy world. Would you say you refuse to face up to reality?

"Now. I think I do, actually, although there are certain parts of me that definitely don't want to look at reality. Generally speaking, though, I'm quite realistic, but perhaps the songs on the first two albums created some kind of fantasy image, so people presumed that I lived in that kind of world."

Where do you get the ideas for songs from?

"Anywhere, really. They're two or three tracks that I had the ideas for on the last album but never got together. Others come from films, books or stories from people I know. That kind of thing."

What about Pull Out the Pin, a song about VietNam? Was that something you'd always wanted to write about?

"No, I didn't think I'd ever want to write about it until I saw this documentary on television which moved me so much I thought I just had to."

The title track concerns the abuse of Aborigines by so-called civilised man. Where did that interest come from?

"That's something that's been growing for years. It started when I was tiny, and my brother bought Sun Arise [a hit of the early 1960s by Rolf Harris.]. We thought it was brilliant--to me, that's a classic record. I started to become aware of the whole thing--that it's almost an instinctive thing in white man to wipe out a race that actually owns the land. It's happening all around the world."

Do you hope to change people's opinions by what you write?

"No. Because I don't think a song can ever do that. If people have strong opinions, then they're so deep-rooted that you'll never be able to do much. Even if you can change the way a few people think, you'll never be able to change the situation anyway.

"I don't ever write politically, because I know nothing about politics. To me they seem more destructive than helpful. I think I write from an emotional point of view, because even though a situation may be political, there's always some emotional element, and that's what gets to me."

The thoughts and ideas are expressed through a variety of sounds, an adventurous use of instruments and people--from Rolf Harris on dijeridu to Percy Edwards on animal impressions! Kate has also discovered the Fairlight, a computerised synthesiser.

"It's given me a completely different perspective on sounds," she enthuses. "You can put any sound you want onto the keyboard, so if you go 'Ugh!', you can play 'Ugh!' all the way up the keyboard. Theoretically, any sound that exists, you can play.

"I think it's surprising that with all the gear around at the moment, people aren't experimenting more."

Whatever you may think of Kate Bush, you could never say that she's not been prepared to take risks. In the four years that have passed since her startling first single Wuthering Heights, she has grown increasingly adventurous and ambitious, creating music that she hopes will last longer than much of today's transient pop.

Of The Dreaming she says: "I wanted it to be a long-lasting album, because my favourite records are the ones that grow on you--that you play lots of times because each time you hear something different."

Never particularly a public fave, her last live shows were three years ago, and although she plans to do some in the future, they'll take at least six months to prepare. [Try six years and counting.]

She admits that she found her initial success hard to cope with at times.

"I still find some things frightening. I've adjusted a hell of a lot, but it still scares me. There are so many aspects that if you start thinking about are terrifying. The best thing to do is not even to think about them. Just try to sail through”.

I shall move on in a minute. I am trying to include interviews I have not sourced often. This Poppix interview appeared in the summer of 1982. I do wonder whether, when these interviews appeared, people who were not aware of Kate Bush were converted. It is interesting that she appeared in Pop magazines, but also more fringe publications:

“The album is entirely produced by Kate Bush, something she has never done before, her previous albums being co-produced by her and Jon Kelly. [Actually the first album was produced by Andrew Powell, and the second by Powell with the assistance of Kate.] So why did she decide to do the production of the album herself?

"After the last album, Never For Ever, I started writing some new songs. They were very different from anything I'd ever written before--they were much more rhythmic, and in a way, a completely new side to my music. I was using different instruments, and everything was changing; and I felt that really the best thing to do would be to make this album a real departure--make it completely different. And the only way to achieve this was to sever all the links I had had with the older stuff. The main link was engineer Jon Kelly. Everytime I was in the studio Jon was there to helping me, so I felt that in order to make the stuff different enough I would have to stop working with Jon. He really wanted to keep working with me, but we discussed it and realised that it was for the best." [Phrased with typical Bush delicacy.]

Sat In Your Lap, Kate's last major hit in the British charts, is also included on the album.

"We weren't going to put it on initially, because we thought it had been a single such a long time ago, but a lot of people used to ask me if we were putting Sat In Your Lap on the album and I'd say no, and they would say 'Oh why not?' and they'd be quite disappointed. So, as the album's completion date got nearer and nearer, I eventually relented. I re-mixed the track and we put it on. I'm so glad I did now, because it says so much about side one, with its up-tempo beat and heavy drum rhythms--it's perfect for the opening track."

You mentioned earlier that you wanted the album to be different, to be a change. Is that aspect of change particularly refreshing to you? Is it important for you to keep changing?

"Yes, it's very important for me to change. In fact, as soon as the songs began to be written, I knew that the album was going to be quite different. I'd hate it, especially now, if my albums became similar, because so much happens to me between each album--my views change quite drastically. What's nice about this album is that it's what I've always wanted to do. For instance, the Australian thing: well, I wanted to do that on the last album, but there was no time. There are quite a few ideas and things that I've had whizzing around in my head that just haven't been put down. I've always wanted to use more traditional influences and instruments, especially the Irish ones. I suppose subconsciously I've wanted to do all this for quite some time, but I've never really had the time until now."

Your songs are nearly always based around a story of sorts. Is it important for you to have a meaning behind your songs?

"Oh yes, I think it gets more and more so, because although on the first two albums the songs were always based on something, they weren't all that strong; but now I get more involved with the ideas behind a song, and I do my best to make the concept as vivid and as solid as I can. On the new album, for instance, there is a track about the legendary ecapologist Houdini. During his incredible lifetime Houdini took it upon himself to expose the whole spiritualist thing--you know, seances and mediums. And he found a lot them to be phoney, but before he died Houdini and his wife worked out a code, so that if he came back after his death his wife would know it was him by the code. So after his death his wife made several attempts to contact her dead husband, and on one occasion he did come through to her. I thought that was so beautiful--the idea that this man who had spent his life escaping from chains and ropes had actually managed to contact his wife. The image was so beautiful that I just had to write a song about it." [The full story is quite complicated, but Mrs. Houdini later stated that no such contact was ever made. Kate has indicated in other interviews--conducted presumably a bit later than this one--that she was aware of the dubious aspects of the story, but that the beauty of the concept and imagery were no less true for that.]

"Now that the album is completed, it doesn't mean that my work has ended. There are so many things that I want to do connected with music, and I want to do them as soon as possible. In fact, I see myself being pretty well committed for the next couple of years. I'd like to do a show with both this and the last album, and there are a few videos as well, but I just don't know if or when I'll get the time.

"As for tours, well, I haven't got any planned, but I'm beginning to think about it. THe last tour was so much effort, and it cost so much money, and we actually spent about four months rehearsing for it, so the thought of another one is a little bit daunting. It's such a big thing to commit yourself to--it's like a whole year taken out of your life. It scares me a bit”.

There are a couple of features that I want to come to before wrapping up. In 2022, Lauren Thorn wrote for Medium as to how The Dreaming has left its mark on the Pop work. A masterpiece album that is not as mad and alien as people think, it was Bush taking a different direction. It is the case that people expect artists to repeat themselves and we get comfortable with a particular sound. When they do something very different then we ask why. And how we can’t connect with the album. It is only years later when you appreciate the brilliance of the album and that decision to move on. That is the case with The Dreaming:

“Produced entirely by herself, The Dreaming is a testament to Kate Bush’s creativity. At the time of its recording, she had already carved out a niche for herself with her first 3 albums. Songs like Babooshka and Wuthering Heights defined her as a theatrical, siren-like popstar, showcasing her hypnotic soprano voice and uniquely literary lyrics. Many of the songs for these albums were written over the course of her teen years, brought into EMI, recorded, produced, and then compiled into albums. The Dreaming was the first album for which Kate wrote entirely new material, thus allowing her newfound creativity and artistic freedom. To add to this, she handled all production and songwriting duties. The songs of The Dreaming have minimal credits, often only including background singers and Kate’s brother, Paddy. Kate used The Dreaming to fully capitalize on this independence, creating some of the most original music of the 1980s.

Upon its release, however, The Dreaming received mixed reactions. The consensus among critics was one of confusion and mild approval. Writing for Smash Hits, Neil Tennant described the album as “Very weird… obviously trying to become less commercial.” Melody Maker called the album, “initially… bewildering and not a little preposterous,” but admitted that if you would, “ try to hang on through the twisted overkill and the historic fits…there’s much reward.” It was not a complete commercial failure, but was Kate Bush’s lowest-selling album to date, remaining on the UK Hot 100 for only 10 weeks and peaking at number 3. Its lead single, There Goes a Tenner, did not chart at all in the UK. The Dreaming received only a silver certification. Bush seemed to view the album with an inkling of shame, referring to it as her ‘she’s gone mad’ album.

Despite its lukewarm critical reaction, The Dreaming was a pioneering work of pop music. It made extensive use of the Fairlight CMI, a synthesizer that would come to dominate the music of the 80s. With this new technology, Kate created a maximalist labyrinth of sound that captured the zeitgeist of the decade, despite the album being released only in its third year. There are hints of The Dreaming everywhere in 80s music, from Depeche Mode to Siouxsie and the Banshees, to The Smiths. And, although the album leverages the musical trends of the 80s such as New Wave and Post Punk, it still remains, firmly and fiercely, its own unique work.

Even now, The Dreaming’s influence can be heard in pop music, from radio-friendly hits to art-pop masterpieces. On her widely adored 2020 album Fetch The Boltcutters, Fiona Apple achieved many of the same feats Kate Bush pioneered on The Dreaming. The wild emotive singing, complex lyrics, and frantic clattering production express the same sort of feminine rage so potently articulated by Bush in 1982. On a much more accessible note, Lady Gaga’s Born This Way utilizes synthesizers in a similar way to Bush in 1982, creating an atmosphere of mania and density. MARINA’s 2010 single Mowgli’s Road borrows heavily from The Dreaming, with its quirky vocal performance and heavily percussive production. Artists such as Imogen Heap and Bjork have cited Kate Bush and The Dreaming as influences in their work, and her innovation set the stage for the success of artists like St. Vincent, Julia Holter, and Joanna Newsom. The Dreaming was even influential in Kate’s own career, allowing her to broaden her production skills and preparing her to create what is more commonly thought of as her definitive masterpiece, Hounds of Love.

The Dreaming was not a critical or commercial success. It was, however, a cultural one. While it seemed inconsequential upon release, its influence has seeped deep into the core of pop music. It has received a critical reappraisal as well, receiving positive reviews from publications such as Pitchfork and NPR. There will never be another album like The Dreaming, but there will be many more who try”.

On 13th September, Kate Bush’s The Dreaming is forty-three. It is an album that I really love. In terms of rankings and where critics place it alongside her other studio efforts, it usually fairs well. Rough Trade ranked it second in 2023. NME placed The Dreaming fourth in 2019. Stating this is about “about adventure beyond borders”. In 2022, SPIN put The Dreaming in third: “Writing in in The Village Voice, Robert Christgau called it “the most impressive Fripp/Gabriel-style art-rock album of the postpunk refulgence”. A remarkable creation from a music pioneer who went on to release six other albums that are all vastly different, The Dreaming is this fascinating middle point between Never for Ever and that older/early sound and Hounds of Love. Even if many critics rank the album high, I still think that The Dreaming lacks the…

RESPECT it deserves.

FEATURE: Spotlight: EMEREE

FEATURE:

 

Spotlight

ALL PHOTOS: Margot Stewart 

EMEREE

__________

HERE is an artist…

that you know is primed for a long future in music. EMEREE is “the project born by Melbourne’s standout musician, producer, and multi-instrumentalist Gabrielle Emery. Her music confidently shines alongside contemporary R’n’B fusion artists RAYE and Cleo Sol. The homage to classic soul in the ilk of Amy Winehouse is woven into EMEREE’s self-produced records. Combining her four-octave vocal range, Motown grooves, 90’s R&B flair and warm production makes EMEREE unmissable. Feeling both warmly familiar and undeniably unique in 2024 is no mean feat. As a writer, her lyrics often explore the realms of sexual identity and female empowerment with addictive honesty. With her works generating over 50 million streams on DSPs and millions of views on TikTok, EMEREE is solidifying herself as one-to-watch in the Australian industry”. EMEREE recently played the Great Escape in Brighton. Her mixtape, Maybe I’m Just Too Sensitive (I Am), is out on 11th September. She was also one of NME’s Essential Emerging Artists for 2025, where they said the following:

“From: Melbourne, Australia
For fans of: Amy Winehouse, Raye
A spellbinding blend of contemporary R&B and soul tied together by one of the most incredible new voices out of Australia, EMEREE’s debut EP ‘Gold’ marked the Melburnian as one to watch. Bold yet introspective, her music – which she says she makes “for crazy bitches” – approaches matters of the heart (and the bedroom) from a distinctively queer female perspective with a refreshing warmth and candour. GY
Key track: ‘Smooth Honey’”.

There are a few interviews from this year I want to get to. Couch Mag spoke with EMEREE around the release of her then-new single, Eyesore. This is an artist I discovered through NME, and I am looking back at older interviews and listening to her music. This is someone I am committed to staying with. I will come to an NME interview to end things:

“· Your latest single “Eyesore” has been described as “petty, polished, and revenge that smiles while it stings”. What sparked the idea for this track, and how did you land on its tone?

One specific person absolutely inspired this one, and I don’t usually write that way (or admit to it). He had the biggest ego I’d ever experienced, so I didn’t feel too bad. I wrote this after having to block and completely remove him from my life. There’s plenty of context laced throughout the song, but my favourite is the end of the second verse, “and she’ll help me burn you out with sage”. This was inspired by a time when he actually said to me, “At least I didn’t turn any girls gay”.

·  The DIY music video is packed with vintage horror and camp. What inspired the visual concept, and how involved were you in the direction and styling?

There’s actually a WILD movie that inspired me that I watched with my housemate called ‘Isle Of Lesbos’. It’s a low-budget queer movie from the 90’s and it’s so wild and that definitely inspired the aesthetic and ‘intentionally low-budget’ feel of the video. Obviously there’s also influence of Sabrina Carpenter in there, but it’s mostly 80’s campy horror movies. I made it entirely DIY with my friends, and edited it myself whilst travelling.

·  There’s this magnetic duality in your music: glossy pop production with razor-sharp lyrics. How do you balance those worlds in your writing and sound?

Because I’m a producer, I’m often working in rooms with different writers and artists, and I think the best thing you can do is step outside your comfort zone and write truthfully – and even a step beyond that and go more theatrical. I used to write very safely when I was younger, and I am now often in rooms with writers where they’ll say, “Oh I don’t know if I want to say that it might be mean/raw/too much. I’m always the one to go WRITE IT! Anything you can write, I can write meaner”. I think it’s a great way to get better writing from people. The moment you stop thinking about how it’s going to be interpreted, the more relatable your lyrics will become. At the end of the day, it’s just art. This is where you can explore those characters and make things that aren’t necessarily your true self. I produce based on my instincts and my influences, and there’s always a lot of R&B and Soul influence. I am always trying new things with my production and it’s also an area where I like to explore beyond ‘safe’.

·  You’re known for championing female and queer voices in music. How do identity and empowerment shape your creative output?

It’s amazing once you find your community, how much it shapes you. I really struggle being away from my people now which is not something I have experienced before. I have a very strong foundation of queer and neurodivergent communities around me back home, and so travelling often takes it out of me, as that can be harder to connect to. I think finding your community and realising that they do exist and you’re not alone helps to create more vulnerability and truth in your lyrics, because I know there’s an audience there for it”.

The next interview is from Contact Music. EMEREE spoke about what it was like being honoured by NME as one of their one-hundred artists to watch. Her single, Spring Cleaning, addresses a domestic abuse ordeal, and what her long-terms goals are. I do hope that she comes and plays in the U.K. at some point. Fans over here would love to see her on stage:

“CM: Did fellow Australian singers, such as Kylie Minogue, Iggy Azalea and many others, inspire you to become a musician?

E: I wouldn't necessarily say the big Australian artists. Some of the music that I listened to was people who aren't necessarily quite as big, but their music found a fan base for themselves somehow, just because they've found a way to connect to people. And I think that's really cool. I think my ideal career would be like Mark Ronson, where you get to produce for all the artists, because I love producing so much, and it's so fun. But you also get to have your own project and get to be a little bit freer with it. You get to experiment more because you've got the production as well, so you can do the commercial hits with them. And then kind of focus on really exploring your own project.

CM: It's nice to do a bit of both, isn't it? I suppose it changes up the routine.

E: Yeah, it does. Getting to produce, you're working with someone else's vision. And there's just nothing more powerful than collaboration. And it's such a cool thing to get to be a part of someone's art.

CM: You've mentioned in the past that the type of music that's inspired you is 1950s and 1960s, soul and gospel. What is it about those genres from that time period that you fell in love with?

E: I just like how raw it is. I love the groove of that era of music, all the soul that is in it. I like how things aren't as clean. And that's something that I really try and reflect, even in my more modern productions, I really like to keep things a bit more raw, and I don't clean, quote, unquote up the mix as much, and I leave frequencies in that other people might take out because I want all that authenticity. And I really like to record real instruments in real rooms and really utilise the space that I'm in, because I think that's such a crucial part of those sorts of records; you can just feel that everyone was just in that room.

CM: You've been named as one of the top 100 artists to watch in 2025 by NME. What does that mean to you?

E: Oh, that was crazy. The manager called me and then sent me the email. And I was like, 'I know NME. WHAT?' And then I looked at the other people on the list, and I was like, 'How did they even know that I existed?' It was just really crazy. I think that's been the craziest thing over the last year. Before, I was putting myself forward to get any opportunity, but now they're just coming to me, which is wild and amazing, and I'm grateful.

CM: Spring Cleaning's lyrics are incredibly powerful, and you address your domestic violence experience through that. How proud are you of the single?

E: It's been really good. I feel like I had to because in the lead up to it coming out, I was quite obviously vulnerable. I hadn't talked about these things publicly at all, and I've still kept a lot of the details very private, purely from a safety perspective. It was really special how many people reached out to me, and because it's such a common issue, people really resonated with it, and it's been really nice to see it received, especially on the other side of the world. And I love that it was co-written with three other women. It was such a special writing experience because I really hadn't been able to put my feelings into words in that kind of way. And these women really helped me. I was spilling everything out, and they were turning it into poetry. And I was like, 'Wow.'

CM: Why did you feel it was important to address your experience through Spring Cleaning?

E: I just want to get this f***** out of my head. And it's just about taking back the space in your brain that a traumatic experience like this takes up. It happens to be for domestic violence for me. When you go through something very traumatic, such as PTSD or anything like that, it just takes up such a huge space in your brain. And I was like, 'I'm just so sick of thinking about this person.' It's not about them anymore. It's actually about me, and that's what the whole song is really about.

CM: What would you say your one long-term goal is for the rest of your music career?

E: I just want to be making music every day. That's really all I care about. As long as I can make music every day, and I can pay to have a roof over my head”.

I am going to end with NME’s recent interview. I have chosen passages where we get to learn about EMEREE as a producer. Her perspective on the industry and the fact that there is still imbalance. She also discusses how she is in the U.K. recording at the moment. I cannot wait to hear what the mixtape, Maybe I’m Just Too Sensitive (I Am), has to offer:

“But before she got heads turning as an artist in her own right, EMEREE started out producing music behind-the-scenes for others in the Australian music industry, including Tyla Jane (2021’s ‘Energy’) and Sophia Petro (2023’s ‘Memory of You’). While the singer enjoys being in the spotlight now, she admits that she still finds touring and performing “a lot more draining” than being in the studio working on music – whether for herself or others.

“I just love being a producer and I really resonate with that side of my craft more,” she says, adding that the “ideal situation” would be to follow the career path of someone like Mark Ronson. “Being in studios every single day, working, producing, writing, doing whatever for those artists. Then, I get to completely let loose with my project and just do whatever weird things that I want to, rather than having to focus on, ‘Oh, this needs to be good for charts.’”

At the same time, EMEREE is more than aware how male-dominated the production side of music can be. “It’s just immensely harder to be taken seriously [as a female producer] for some reason. They think I know how to use GarageBand or could fumble my way through Logic, but I’ve done a whole ass audio engineering degree,” she says. “I’m still getting in those rooms, and people will be like, ‘Oh, so when’s the producer getting here?’ And I’m like, ‘I’m the producer.’ And they’re like, ‘Oh, yeah. But when’s the engineer getting here?’”

She believes that “things need to start changing in those big rooms” and for women to be properly credited for the work they’ve done. “There’s plenty of female artists who also do a lot of their own production, like Ariana Grande, who does all her vocal production,” she adds. “It’s about realising that there might be some internalised misogyny, of having this view of what a producer should look like.”

For now, EMEREE is enjoying living the life of a burgeoning artist and producer, flying across the world to London and doing “50 days back-to-back of at least one session every single day” and still not being tired after. “I literally never get sick of being in the studio,” she tells NME, admitting that she has “a stupid amount of music in the backlog” awaiting release. “I think it’s good that I always start and finish my songs myself. And I don’t think that’s ever gonna change. And I don’t really want it to”.

If you have not followed EMEREE yet then make sure that you do. She is an extraordinary human who is among the best rising artists around. Such a tremendous producer and songwriter, it is going to be so interesting watching her career grow. The mixtape, Maybe I’m Just Too Sensitive (I Am), is out on 11th September. Someone that needs to be…

ON your radar.

_________

Follow EMEREE

 Instagram:

https://www.instagram.com/itsemereemusic/

TikTok:

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

Spotify:

https://open.spotify.com/artist/3OGgjzkamLnNDmUi9RZDG9?si=NBeADoAIR1S8aKBHzgztvA

YouTube:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC0zrCexxMj-EKUqCLEZDrEA

FEATURE: How to Reappear Completely: Radiohead’s Kid A at Twenty-Five

FEATURE:

 

 

How to Reappear Completely

Radiohead’s Kid A at Twenty-Five

__________

I am a little conflicted…

shining a light on this album and, with it, heaping praise on Radiohead. Owing to Thom Yorke and Johnny Greenwood’s stance on the genocide in Gaza and their views regarding Israel and playing in the country, it has left me a little cold. Thom Yorke’s recent statement provoked a lot of anger. Johnny Greenwood’s views in 2024 also led to a backlash. However, as there are more than two members of Radiohead and I am looking back at an album that was released in 2000 – I am probably not going to promote any new work that comes – then I shall proceed. Kid A was released on 2nd October, 2000. The follow-up to 1997’sa OK Computer, this was perhaps one of the greatest sonic shifts from Radiohead. Releasing an album in a new century, they were not going to repeat what came before. Even though OK Computer had some more experimental touches and was a step up from 1995’s The Bends, Kid A was a new chapter. Inspired by artists like Aphex Twin and Autechre, Thom Yorke was suffering with writer’s block. I think thinking in a different way and stepping away from guitar music opened something inside of him. Bringing in elements of modern Classical music with Krautrock, Yorke wrote impersonal, artist lyrics; cutting up phrases and assembling them at random. It was a different approach that was necessary. I am not sure Radiohead could have produced an album as good as Kid A if they stuck to the template of OK Computer. As it is, Kid A is seen as one of their best albums. Certainly one of the best albums of the first decade of the twenty-first century.

I am going to come to some features about the album. There are a couple of Kid A books worth getting. Those that provide some context and history. The 33 1/3 book by Marvin Lin is well worth exploring. This Isn’t Happening by Steven Hyden is another book that tells how Kid A divided critics at the time but has since been hailed as a classic. A lot of critics gave Kid A a scathing or unkind review in 2000 but, since, have reassessed. A band that people had a certain expectation of releasing an album like Kid A might have seemed like a shock. However, it was a very necessary and rewarding move from Radiohead. I want to start off with this article from Billboard. They recall how Pitchfork’s Brent DiCrescenzo awarded Kid A a perfect ten in 2000 when it was released. It caused this incredible reaction and anticipation:

“Pitchfork was on the front lines of this boundary-pushing reconfiguration of music criticism and consumption. Hyden notes how innovative it was for a review to be posted online the day an album came out, rather than in print a week or even month later. Schreiber was a massive Radiohead fan himself, and says that the rollout was extremely calculated. He had been building toward the release by stacking every section on the website with Kid A content, and he even reached out to Radiohead fan sites to let them know they were giving it a 10/10 so they could share the link.

“I remember the date like a birthday,” he says. “The web traffic was literally off the charts. I used a very small, local ISP and had a basic hosting plan, and the analytics maxed out beyond a certain point, which we reached that day.”

The review was much more than just its staggering score. DiCrescenzo managed to capture the historical awe of that moment with some of the most flamboyantly earnest, absurdly effusive, and borderline nonsensical bits of prose to ever be published in a legitimate music publication. Like many of his reviews, it was extremely long-winded and brazenly unhinged from the journalistic form and temperament of the time. If it were any other album then his review might’ve been a huge whiff; for the spectral Kid A, his extravagant style was undeniably effective.

“It sounds weird to say, considering I reviewed music for a living for years, but I kind of hate record reviews,” DiCrescenzo tells Billboard now. “They are formulaic and rely on oddly canonized vocabulary – nobody talks like this in real life. So, I wanted my reviews to make the reader feel [how] the record made me feel. If the record made me laugh, I’d try to make the audience laugh.

Other DiCrescenzo reviews would include imaginative scenarios, like emailing Jesus about Stereolab or being in a DJ competition against Basement Jaxx. (The latter pan, like many such Pitchfork reviews from the site’s early days that are no longer congruent with the publication’s current views, has since been deleted from the site’s official archives.) But he emphasizes that there wasn’t a sliver of irony in this one. As Schreiber describes it, DiCrescenzo was “trying to make you see fireworks.” He recalls that DiCrescenzo’s Kid A review was overdue, and by the time he had turned it in the piece had to be online the following day. Therefore, he didn’t have time to talk over the piece with the writer, or make any significant edits.

“I did realize from the first pass that it was going [to] open us up to some amount of ridicule,” Schreiber says. “But I also knew it was going to make waves. I wanted Pitchfork to be daring and to surprise people, and Brent’s review, as usual, totally exceeded that standard.”

In addition to its literally starry-eyed opening line, the piece included such passages as:

“Kid A makes rock and roll childish.”

“Comparing this to other albums is like comparing an aquarium to blue construction paper.”

“The experience and emotions tied to listening to Kid A are like witnessing the stillborn birth of a child while simultaneously having the opportunity to see her play in the afterlife on Imax.”

DiCrescenzo says he hasn’t read the review in a couple decades, and doesn’t remember the specifics of writing it. Instead, what’s stuck with him over the years are the events that lead up to it: The magic of staying in Florence, Italy with a good friend and watching Radiohead perform in a piazza — which is the scene he describes in the review’s opening — and the act of pirating the record online and experiencing it the same way ordinary Radiohead zealots were”.

I am going to come to Albumism and their twentieth anniversary retrospective from 2020. They write that, whilst some Radiohead albums were for sharing and playing out loud, Kid A was more for isolation and privacy. Something that seemed quite private. Though not in a bad way. It took many fans a while to get their heads around the new direction:

“With 1997’s OK Computer widely acclaimed as one of the best albums of all time bearing down on Thom Yorke and co, Radiohead took time to regroup and rediscover where they wanted to go next.

Over a 15-month period, they recorded enough material to warrant a double album release. But feeling the music was so weighty and dense, the decision was to whittle the tracks down to a single release and preserve the remainder for the equally glorious follow up Amnesiac (2001).

Whereas OK Computer was the pinnacle of their alternative rock rewriting, Kid A was something else entirely drawing from glitching electronica, fusing  elements of jazz, ambience, art-rock and even alt-hip hop.

The result is beautifully challenging.

Dark, ominous, isolating and dense, Kid A makes no apologies or tries to soften its bleak spikey moments or its harsh crisp beats that crackle and cackle beneath Yorke’s borderline obtuse vocals, which ache one moment and bristle the next.

But it’s all by design. An experiment with focus.

From the unnerving electronic unwinding of the multilayered “Everything In Its Right Place” that became an instant electronica classic upon its release through to the final sustained notes of closer “Untitled,” the album doesn’t let up.

The synth-led “Everything In Its Right Place” feels at once claustrophobic and freeing, as Yorke’s vocals scrub against your ear and manipulated samples swirl around you. The plodding propulsion of the synth line and subtle bass drum keep the track focused, as a new world seems to appear before you.

“Kid A” with its chiming ambience and skipping back beat creates a mood of sinking into the sound and letting it envelop you. The vocal treatment feels as if you are trying desperately to tune in to Yorke’s frequency as the track slowly ratchets up the tension and lets you peak above the sonic horizon spiraling you down in the final moments.

That tension is unleashed on the bass heavy purge of “The National Anthem” that blends the alt-rock Radiohead had come to define with a cacophony of brass and beats. It’s a revelation of a track with such forceful forward propulsion that becomes a sensory overload of the highest order.

All the bluff and bluster fall away to sweet moments of calming like the serene “How To Disappear Completely” and the ambient soaked “Treefingers,” which is comforting and soothing. Further in the album, “Motion Picture Soundtrack” offers a collision of edge-of-your-seat tension and quiet reflection.

Tracks like the guitar jangle of “Optimistic” and the soft skipping of “In Limbo” and the blissful one-step-forward, two-step-back “Morning Bell” further broaden Radiohead’s musical language whilst playing with its well-established lexicon. They act as the bridging tracks of the band’s turning point as they move into more experimental electronica sounds.

Perhaps the best example of this is the album’s standout track “Idioteque,” which mixes crunchy beats with atmos and eerie synth beds. Hard pounding and glitch field, the track is a panicked jolt of energy that shoots up your spine. As the track builds and builds, there’s a myriad of aural delights to pick out, an off-beat bass run here and there, twirling percussive elements, malfunctioning melody. It’s the cornerstone for which new musical adventures would be built upon and cast further afield the group’s later releases.

As mentioned earlier, Kid A is a headphone masterpiece filled with sonic exploration and glitching beats. To truly immerse yourself within it you need to plug in and tune out the distractions of the outside world, as it pushes you further into the inner sounds. And you’ll find great comfort in the isolation”.

The Quietus reappraised Kid A in 2000. Radiohead going from Creep to bleep. Many fans and critics wanted a copy of Kid A in 2000. This album was about venerated Rock and how it was deemed superior to everything. This idea that Electronic music and other genres were inferior. Radiohead would head more back in a Rock direction for 2003’s Hail to the Thief. However, Kid A was a necessary evolution and shift:

“The fusing of electronics into existing forms, or even – clutches pearls – on it’s own, seem to have to aroused a certain rowdy ire, in the UK. The work of Stockhausen, for example, was trod in by Sir Thomas Beecham, rather than heard. LFO, with their seminal ‘LFO’ single, were famously taken off the air halfway through, and described by Radio 1 DJ Steve Wright as “the worst record ever” (high praise indeed from a person who made prank calling a career). Marc Almond, during his Soft Cell years, was cruelly lampooned on Not The Nine O’Clock News as only speaking via a pre-recorded vocal track (and if you’ve seen Almond sing as many times as I have, you know he doesn’t need any help). For Radiohead to do more than dabble in electronics was perhaps always destined for choppy waters, no matter how earnest the rationale behind it.

I’d suggest Kid A, as a whole, is familiar as Radiohead. For all the manipulated vocals and electronics, there are acoustic and electric guitars, and “proper” vocals. The album continues their path of consolidation of what they were known for, adding new sonic flavours with each album. The Bends took the guitars from Pablo Honey and added different moods and paces, most notably in ‘Street Spirit’ and ‘Fake Plastic Trees’. OK Computer started with sleigh bells, no less, alongside the guitar riffing. It featured other sonic curios such as the seven minute three act ‘Paranoid Android’, the analogue collapse at the conclusion of ‘Karma Police’, the field recording and ripe synth of ‘Exit Music (For A Film)’ and the robot doom chanson of ‘Fitter Happier’. It was perhaps ‘Climbing Up The Walls’ – featuring Sonic Youth-style feedback, sub-aqua drumming and outright screaming – that gave a clue of where the band were going to go with Kid A, even before they’ve realised it themselves. This is rock music, but not rock music that is going to end up on a Mondeo ad.

The trajectory Radiohead hurtled along has previous form: Talking Heads did something similar, particularly with their album Remain In Light, itself frequently a nominee for Best Album Ever. That the band could have worked on their own deconstruction of their perky guitar sound was evident – just listen to ‘Drugs’ from Fear Of Music – but they needed an external catalyst to propel them further. In the case of Remain In Light, this was African polyrythyms, funk and electronics.

We can compare and contrast this with Radiohead. OK Computer, whilst coming from a different place and time, can perhaps be compared to Remain In Light, a guitar album with various textures and timbres of guitar. If we compare OK Computer, to Kid A, I’ll be saucy and vulgar and say it feels like Remain In Light, goes bleep techno. Of course, it isn’t solely electronic, but in terms of the “universe” of sounds, the stance and attitude feels different. It feels bleepy not riffy. Kid A, reimagines what a rock band can be, pushing the perimeter of that outline with a combination of force and gentle persuasion. For contemporaries such as Björk and DJ Shadow, to name two examples, electronic music production techniques and attitudes were “permitted” – even respected, praised. For a rock band such as Radiohead, rockist tradition would not allow them to do so without the obligatory rock critic carping.

Where does the album sit now, this side of Brexit, coronavirus and Mumford and Sons?

Reggie Watt’s funny yet affectionate impersonation of Radiohead, you can hear the Kid A-era sections as they crop up. That they fit into the overall continuity of the band, rather than jutting awkwardly out, demonstrates that with time, Kid A can be reconciled as part of the band’s chronology, and not as some Metal Machine Music exception.

The legacy of Kid A has, if anything, improved over time. From a wobbly start it has since been heralded an album of that decade by publications such as Rolling Stone and The Times, a move which even Mark Beaumont later acknowledged he was in the minority holding his contemporary view, recognising that other people loved it, even if he didn’t.

Any number of average indie bands in their wake have cited the album as they have upped and moved sticks to Berlin, in order to “find” Steve Reich, Basic Channel and themselves. However, few of the acts I’m thinking of did it with the depth of Radiohead – the acts just added interesting colours to ultimately average music”.

I am going to end with a couple of features. The first is from Rolling Stone. Rob Sheffield writes why Radiohead’s Kid A sounds right on time. How it is as relevant now as it was in 2000. I am curious how critics will assess and remember Kid A ahead of its twenty-fifth anniversary on 2nd October. It is a brilliant album that should have received more love than it did upon its release:

“Y2K was the all-time peak of the music biz, so it was a time when big-name artists indulged themselves in experiments that would have seemed insane a few years earlier or later. Garth Brooks recast himself as Chris Gaines. Two weeks after Kid A, Limp Bizkit debuted at Number One with Chocolate Starfish and the Hot Dog Flavored Water. The stars figured it was the right time to risk their “I’m a serious artist now” move, and if it flopped, hey, there’s always next year. But Y2K turned out to be the year without a next year, as far as CD sales were concerned. The Limp Bizkits of the world were up nookie creek without a cookie.

Kid A came out in the wake of D’Angelo’s Voodoo, everybody’s favorite jam that summer. Both required serious ear time — you had to live with the music before heating up your take. It was frustrating for some fans, since both Radiohead and D’Angelo were proven experts at instant-gratification crowd pleasers. (Nobody had to listen to “Planet Telex” or “Brown Sugar” twice to figure out if they liked them.) But that sense of adventure turned out to be part of the fun. The audience loved being invited along on this loony experiment — and in both cases, the audience has kept listening ever since.

“The National Anthem” holds up as their fiercest space-rock groove, especially in live versions — the studio original is marred by the self-consciously cheesy horns. “Idioteque” shows off their proudly amateurish electronica. Their expertise can be deceptive to new listeners who discover Kid A before they’ve had a chance to hear Autechre, Aphex Twin, Boards of Canada, or Funki Porcini. Yet to the Radiohead audience back in the day, these were obvious reference points, and “Idioteque” was meant to sound raw and clumsy in comparison, a garage-band cover. Jonny Greenwood was clearly a punk who’d just unboxed his gear, and the klutz-thud beat of “Idioteque” was in the same spirit as his pedal-stomp noise-guitar blurts in “Creep.”

If there was a moment in the Kid A arc where the album took on its current mythic stature, it was 12/12/00, the day the Supreme Court threw out the November election results and blocked the state of Florida from counting its ballots. (More precisely, the Republican-appointed five-ninths of the Court — what a coincidence.) Mind-blowing. Unprecedented. But it happened in broad daylight. After 12/12, all the things about Kid A that seemed overblown, paranoid, maybe a bit hysterical? They now sounded right on time. How could this be happening? This was really happening.

The album became the mournful soundtrack for seeing the Nineties’ hard-won political gains dissolve into air. Election Night Y2K, watching on my couch as George W. Bush gave a strutting victory speech for the election he hadn’t won, I switched to Comedy Central — needed a laugh — and got an SNL rerun, the 1993 Charles Barkley episode with musical guest Nirvana. Kurt Cobain was in the middle of singing “Heart-Shaped Box.” Hearing his voice at that moment made an already unimaginable night feel absurd. So much thrown away, so fast, for nothing. The Nineties were over. Hey, wait, I got a new complaint.

Something about this music made it uncannily perfect for the fall of 2000 — the same thing that makes it perfect for the fall of 2020. Just a couple of weeks ago, the night Ruth Bader Ginsburg died, Questlove went on social media to spin a three-hour DJ set of Radiohead — “chopped and (we’re) screwed?,” as he put it. It was a spontaneous way to cope with his grief, but it was powerful, with the doleful tones of “In Limbo,” “Treefingers,” and “Optimistic.” His theme was “One weekend to mope and that’s it!”

In a way, that’s the ultimate tribute to Kid A and its legacy. It’s music for taking your despair and channeling it into rage. Music for refusing to give up. Music for seeing possibilities in the future that the future doesn’t want you to see. That’s why Kid A struck a chord with so many people. And 20 years later, that’s why Kid A sounds more inspiring — and more necessary — than ever”.

In 2009, The Guardian named their albums of the decade. Graeme Thomson shared his words on Kid A. The sound of today in 2009, it is also the sound of today in 2025. That is why Kid A is so enduring and important. For anyone who has not heard the album in a while then make sure that you listen to it now. An extraordinary listen:

“If Achtung Baby was the sound of U2 chopping down The Joshua Tree, Kid A saw Radiohead ripping the wires from OK Computer, setting fire to the motherboard and throwing the wreckage from a tenth floor window. The sound of a stadium-rock band dissolving and regrouping into something considerably less well-defined, the bold steps made on their fourth album liberated Radiohead, enabling them to approach each subsequent record free from the shackles of preconceptions.

Depending on your sensibilities, Kid A was the moment when Radiohead became either wilfully contrary and insufferably worthy (no single, no video, strictly no fun) or just about the only big band that mattered. Having suffered an allergic reaction to the conventions – both musical and personal – of stardom, they almost split up after OK Computer but instead settled on a "change everything" ethos, largely dispensing with guitars in favour of skittish rhythm and an electronic sound palette inspired by krautrock, free jazz and the more abstract end of hip-hop.

Released in October 2000, Kid A wrestled with key post-millennial themes: the application of technology, information overload, identity and alienation. Doggedly anti-corporate and often stubbornly anti-melodic, it sometimes seemed less a collection of songs than a prolonged experiment in sound and possibility. There were moments when the band second-guessed their own instincts to a ludicrously leftfield degree, but also moments of profound beauty and deep emotion. Motion Picture Soundtrack had the ache of a long goodbye; How to Disappear Completely sounded like a letter from a desperate man confronting the corrosive effects of fame. Like much of the album, the scrambled paranoia of Idioteque – "Ice age coming ... we're not scaremongering" – was a jittery premonition of the troubled, disconnected, overloaded decade to come. The sound of today, in other words, a decade early”.

On 2nd October, we mark the twenty-fifth anniversary of Radiohead’s Kid A. It is amazing to think back to 2000 and the reaction around it. How there were some who were critical and thought that the band had made a bad move. Twenty-five years later and we can see Kid A as a necessary step from Radiohead. Rather than them repeating what had gone before and staying stuck in a rut, with Kid A, they very much created the…

SOUND of the future.

FEATURE: Impressive Instant: Madonna's Music at Twenty-Five

FEATURE:

 

 

Impressive Instant

PHOTO CREDIT: Jean-Baptiste Mondino

Madonna's Music at Twenty-Five

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THIS was one of the…

most important albums Madonna ever released. In 1998, she released Ray of Light. That was perhaps the most successful and acclaimed albums of her career. It was this reinvention that few expected. Two years after that, when Music was released, there were so many eyes on her. Her first album of the twenty-first century. A simple title, it was hard to tell what was in store when listening to her eighth studio album. Released on 18th September, 2000, I want to look inside Music ahead of its twenty-fifth anniversary. Whereas Madonna was the leading Pop artist of the 1980s and would inspire artists that followed, by 2000, there was a new crop of artists that were on vogue. Those that she had influenced. Even though this was a new Madonna album, there was still more focus on younger and newer artists like Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera. Music’s title track was released on 21st August, 2000. It was an intriguing sign into what the album would sound like. Electronic sounds still at the fore, though a slightly different sound compared to Ray of Light. Madonna’s collaborations with Mirwais Ahmadzaï and William Orbit resulted in a more experimental album. The second single, Don’t Tell Me, bringing in Country influences. Music went to number in multiple countries, including the U.S. and U.K. It is one of Madonna’s best albums. I will end with reviews of Music and some album ranking lists that show Music high up the order.

Before getting there, there are features about Music that are worth bringing in. I wonder if any new ones will be published ahead of the twenty-fifth anniversary. In 2020, Albumism marked twenty years of Music. Madonna could have repeated what she did with Ray of Light. Instead, she brought in new collaborators and, with it, a new canvas to work from. The results are extraordinary:

“The scripting for Music started in September 1999 and stretched into the incipient half of 2000. Guiding the sessions for the project was Madonna’s desire to maintain the album-oriented cohesion emblematic of Bedtime Stories (1994) and Ray of Light (1998). As she had on those two anterior efforts, a partial “changing of the guard” was enacted, but William Orbit—Madonna’s chief partner on Ray of Light—remained. Together, they drafted “Runaway Lover” and “Amazing,” two selections that revisited the vibrant psychedelics and polite digital accents of “Beautiful Stranger” and “American Pie.”

The expected infusion of new blood was demarcated by additional collaborations with writer-producers Guy Sigsworth, Damian LeGassick, Mark Stent, Talvin Singh and Joe Henry—Madonna’s brother-in-law—all of whom aided in further rounding out the record. However, stationed to primary production and co-writing duties in tandem with Madonna for six sides on Music was Mirwais Ahmadzaï. Their paths crossed at the onset of the album’s birth, à la Madonna’s manager Guy Oseary, when the French song constructionist submitted a demo tape to her Maverick Records imprint for consideration. While Ahmadzaï didn’t end up onboarding at Maverick, his avant-gardist approach sparked an instant connection between both parties.

Opposite to the warming techniques employed for the electronica found on Ray of Light, Music fostered Madonna’s interest in juxtaposing organic and inorganic sounds. Whether it is the serrated, electro-hop edge of the title piece, the amber-hued acoustica of “I Deserve It,” or the string-laden “Paradise (Not For Me)”, Music is an eclectic study of electro-funk, folktronica and chamber pop finery—amongst other sonic textures.

Focusing on the guitar work on “I Deserve It,” the instrument became a lively foil to the twitchy production gadgetry that buzzed on that entry as well as “Nobody’s Perfect” and “Don’t Tell Me.” Although not necessarily in the league of Orbit, Sigsworth or any of the other seasoned guitarists at work on Music, Madonna taught herself to play the acoustic variation of the instrument—this was yet another layer of compositional complexity added to the LP.

Madonna further pursued exploring the aesthetic space between the natural and the artificial as a singer on Music. The limited, artful use of the vocoder—notably on “Impressive Instant” and “Nobody’s Perfect”—is beautifully contrasted against Madonna’s unadorned vocals on “What It Feels Like for a Girl” and “Gone.” The former selection is a stirring examination of girlhood anxieties—crowned with a striking Charlotte Gainsbourg quote from the 1993 film The Cement Garden—that signposts one of two topical arcs that inform the collection: introspection and levity.

Two decades parted from its launch, Music is one of four records in a stratum to denote an imperial period for Madonna (creatively) which spanned from 1994 to 2003. I remarked about the staying power of this effort in my book Record Redux: Madonna, “Music proclaimed that Madonna could party, contemplate and sustain her visionary proclivities all on one album.” Music is a singular example that anything was possible for Madonna when she fixed her sights solely upon her craft—only the sky was the limit of her reach in those days”.

I am moving to a feature from Stereogum from 2000. They heralded an album that contained “Thudding big-room electro-house, aggressive vocal manipulation, ecstatic lyrical meaninglessness, acoustic guitars chopped up and refracted into unrecognizable shapes, joyous hedonism, robot voices, the half-ironic embrace of cowboy kitsch”:

“Madonna again worked with William Orbit, who produced most of the least-interesting songs from Music. But the main force behind the album’s sound was Mirwais, a 40-year-old French producer who’d once been in a new wave band called Taxi Girl. Mirwais’ sound — sleek, robotic, rooted in house and disco, clean to the point where it was almost harsh — owed a whole lot to the French filter-house of the late ’90s, Daft Punk in particular. But then, Daft Punk probably owed something to Taxi Girl, so maybe it all comes out in the wash. Guy Oseary, the co-founder of Madonna’s Maverick label, had given Madonna a Mirwais CD, thinking that maybe Mirwais would be a good signing for the label. Instead, Madonna instantly decided that Mirwais would be the ideal collaborator.

At first, things didn’t work out quite so smoothly. Mirwais spoke no English, and his manager had to translate for him at the recording sessions, which drove Madonna nuts. Eventually, though, things clicked. Early in her career, Madonna had been a product of early-’80s club culture. Working with Mirwais, she recaptured some of that euphoric frivolity. Her lyrics on the clubbiest Music tracks can sometimes verge on gibberish: “Do you like to boogie-woogie?,” “I like to singy-singy-singy like a bird on a wingy-wingy-wingy.” But that meaninglessness worked for her. She sounded like she was having fun.

Mirwais put Madonna’s voice over mechanized thumps and fed it through voice-warping filters, giving her a cyborg sheen. On some level, this gleaming artificiality may have been a reaction to Cher, who’d had a global late-career smash with “Believe” a year and a half earlier. Cher had sung over Euro-house thump and used the brand-new Auto-Tune plug-in to make herself sound practically alien. But Cher was still working within a pretty standard ’90s dance-pop framework. Madonna’s hard, blocky sonics were fresher and cleaner, and they gave her a weird resonance in an era of dominant teen-pop stars like Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera. (Kylie Minogue, Madonna’s fellow ’80s survivor, pulled off something similar on her Fever album a year later.)

On the Music album cover and on tour, Madonna wore campy cowgirl gear, getting as far as she could from the gothy earth-mother looks she was rocking in the Ray Of Light era. It all feels like a conscious effort to strip away any lingering shreds of ’90s-style sincerity. Smart move. Very few of Madonna’s peers — maybe Kylie Minogue, possibly Janet Jackson — were able to handle the new-century zeitgeist that intuitively.

It didn’t last. Music was a smash — a triple platinum album that debuted at #1 and launched two top-10 singles and a lucrative global tour. But by the time she made her next album, the forced and grating 2003 flop American Life, Madonna was playing catch-up to electroclash. Madonna has had hits in the past 20 years, but most of those hits have been attempts to pander to the tastes of the moment, not to drive those tastes. Still, give Madonna credit. In the summer of 2000, 17 years into her pop-star career, a 42-year-old Madonna could talk about “the future of sound.” And she could be right.

I am keen to come to this review from Pitchfork from 2023. They assessed this huge record that brought people together. I think that it is one of Madonna’s best albums, though it is also one of the most underrated. If you have not heard this album in a while then I would recommend you play it in full:

“Music is a wonky, maximalist record—a far cry from the sleek and limpid techno of Ray of Light. For the first time in her career, Madonna told Tatler, she had given herself license to relax: “OK, you don’t have to win any races.” The absence of internal pressure opened space to experiment and get downright strange. Mirwais filled the songs on Music with bizarre, avant-garde touches: On “Music,” Madonna’s vocal is frequently stacked out of time, as if the song is playing over itself; a vocodered voice asking “Do you like to boogie-woogie?” is as present as Madonna herself. “I like to singy-singy-singy/Like a bird on a wingy-wingy-wingy,” she trills deliriously on “Impressive Instant.” Unlike the records she made before or after, Music is absent concept; it feels guided by first thought, and is often intentionally ridiculous in a way few (or no) other Madonna records are.

Mirwais, more than any producer Madonna had worked with before, was interested in the voice as an instrument to be manipulated and remolded. On “Impressive Instant” and “Paradise (Not for Me),” his vocoder makes Madonna sound like an alien diva, alternately nasal and mischievous and disturbingly disembodied. She had heard Mirwais’ Auto-Tune work—he claims his 2000 solo cut “Naïve Song” was the “1st electro track with Auto-Tune FX on vocals”—and asked to use the effect on Music; the resulting ballad, “Nobody’s Perfect,” is ghostly and forlorn, its self-lacerating lyrics made more piercing by the vocal processing. At the time, Auto-Tune was best known as the “Cher effect” and synonymous with euphoric dance pop. Its inverted application on “Nobody’s Perfect” presaged Radiohead’s use of the technique on 2001’s Amnesiac and the wounded android pop ballads of the 2010s. But Mirwais also recognized when to hold back, and on the steadfast and optimistic “I Deserve It,” the vocals are totally dry. Madonna has never been a particularly soul-baring lyricist, and Mirwais’ detail-oriented production allowed for clean emotional delineation between each song: one alienated and upsetting, the other expressing personal affirmation.

Other songs feel like the perfect synthesis of dozens of disparate strands of ’90s pop. “Don’t Tell Me,” the album’s most indelible song and one of Madonna’s best-ever singles, plays like Sheryl Crow’s “Strong Enough” as remixed by Timbaland. A guitar part loops and rewinds, occasionally halting to give way to a grand, glacial string break, à la Moby’s Play. (Madonna had hoped to work with Moby on what would become Music, but plans never came to fruition.) “Don’t Tell Me” began as a demo by Joe Henry, a cult singer-songwriter married to Madonna’s sister Melanie. Henry had written the song “in 25 minutes” in order to test the gear in his new studio; when he played the demo for his wife, she told him she could hear Madonna singing it. Madonna overhauled the track completely, turning it from a noirish, Tom Waits-style tango into something rhythmic, defiant, and contemporary. Although she barely changed Henry’s original lyrics, they play like commentary on her reception in popular culture at the turn of the century. From the moment she turned 40, the media had hungered for signs of Madonna’s imminent irrelevance, but in the song’s simple terms, she refuted any idea that she should be going into middle age quietly: “Don’t tell me to stop/Tell the rain not to drop/Tell the wind not to blow.”

She was rebellious as ever, but the shift that had occurred on Ray of Light wasn’t just a pose: Madonna was a more benevolent figure now than she had been in the early part of her career. Although she occasionally rolled her eyes at the mention of Britney, she saw her younger self reflected in the new generation of female pop stars, and recognized an opportunity to support them. While promoting Music, she sometimes wore T-shirts that read “Britney Spears” in rhinestones, and used interviews to decry Spears’ treatment in the media. While recording, Madonna said, she’d thought about her own place in the world, at one point realizing that, as she put it to Interview, “Smart, sassy girls who accomplish a lot and have their own cash and are independent are really frightening to men. I felt like ‘Why didn’t somebody tell me? Why didn’t somebody warn me?’”

Music codifies that warning. Although much of the record is about love and hedonism, another thread runs through songs such as “Amazing” and “Runaway Lover”: the idea that women will often be left high and dry by men, and by the world at large. The apotheosis of this theme arrives during “What It Feels Like for a Girl,” Music’s emotional climax. Produced by Guy Sigsworth, “What It Feels Like for a Girl” is something like Madonna’s take on a Dido ballad, with plush synths wrapped around the album’s purest, most traditional hook. It is a beautiful yet slightly baffling song: For every lyric that’s cutting and totally earnest (“When you open up your mouth to speak/Could you be a little weak?”) there’s a mention of “tight blue jeans” or “lips as sweet as candy.” Then again, it’s not a song of empowerment so much as a plea. Madonna wrote it while in the process of moving to London and hiding her pregnancy, fed up with the fact that she was the one having to make accommodations in her relationship. The lyrics are universal, but still hard to separate from the memory of the brazen, armored pop star who debuted in 1982, so consciously invulnerable to the standards of the world around her.

On Music, along with Ray of Light and Music’s maligned, arguably misunderstood follow-up American Life, Madonna was at her most analytical and most reflective. She has never written a memoir; these three records do as good a job as any book would, exploring her relationship with her parents, her children, and American culture at large. On “Gone,” Music’s final track, she seemingly makes a pact for the future: “Selling out is not my thing,” she sings. “Turn to stone/Lose my faith/I’ll be gone before it happens.” It was a promise she couldn’t keep. Twenty-three years later, she’s only rarely reached the same artistic heights (2005’s Confessions on a Dance Floor being a notable exception) and was never again as commercially successful: Music sold 4 million copies in its first 10 days of release, and its title track became Madonna’s final Hot 100 No. 1 to date. As the definitive end of an imperial phase, though, Music stands as a document of Madonna’s artistry at its wildest and most free”.

I shall end by quoting from album ranking features and where Music was placed. SPIN placed Music eighth in their feature from last year (“Madonna reunited with William Orbit for three songs on Music that continue in the vein of Ray of Light, but the more intriguing and commercially successful half of the album came from Mirwais. His halting, glitchy aesthetic was like a shock to the system when “Music” hit the American charts, and deep cuts like “Impressive Instant” take that sound to even weirder and more entertaining extremes. “It’s the first Madonna record in years that feels as effortless as the dance-pop of her Ciccone youth,” Alex Pappademas wrote in the SPIN review of Music”). Music came in ninth in a 2015 feature from Billboard. (“That doesn’t mean that Music was hard to get into, though: the title track remains a chart-topping triumph that united the bourgeoisie and the rebel, “Impressive Instant” sounds like Madonna mashed up with a lost cut from Daft Punk’s Homework album, and “Don’t Tell Me” — with its looped guitar lick and subtle vocal take — is one of Madge’s most under-appreciated singles ever. Time has been good to Music, an album where Madonna expanded her worldview while remaining true to her core”). In 2023, writers from The Guardian debated as to which Madonna album was best.

Chal Ravens campaigned for Music (“Madonna approached the new millennium with her usual spirit of reinvention: “Hey Mr DJ, put a record on.” Ray of Light producer William Orbit was enlisted for early sessions, but his euphoric trance-pop had by then trickled down to lesser stars like Mel C. Madonna needed something new. She found it on a demo by French unknown Mirwais Ahmadzaï. Drafted in for six songs, his micro-chopped grooves (Impressive Instant) and sad robofunk (Nobody’s Perfect) could have only come from the land of Daft Punk and Air. He also had the bold idea to cut the reverb on Madonna’s vocals – central to the airiness of Ray of Light – and the resulting dryness lends Music an unusual intimacy. It all gels to perfection on Don’t Tell Me, where finger-picked guitar and compressed vocals intertwine with post-Björk strings and a hydraulic hip-hop bassline: cyber-country on the brink of a new millennium. And while Madonna’s politics have been patchy at times, Music contains one of her most enduring explorations of gender in the dreamy What It Feels Like for a Girl. Somehow she managed to follow up the best Madonna album with, perhaps, the best Madonna album”). Turning twenty-five on 18th September, the majestic and magnificent Music still has this freshness. You can hear the artists of today who are inspired by it. If it is not ranked in the top five Madonna albums, that is not to say Music is inferior. In fact, it has dated much better than many of her albums. This 2000 release was a massive commercial success and won a lot of positive reviews. I hope that it gets some new love on its twenty-fifth anniversary. I was seventeen when Music came out. I admired the album the minute I heard it. An assuredly forward-thinking and captivating album from…

THE queen of Pop.

FEATURE: Modern-Day Queens: Chappell Roan

FEATURE:

 

 

Modern-Day Queens

PHOTO CREDIT: Ragan Henderson

Chappell Roan

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THIS is quite timely…

as the amazing Chappell Roan played incredible sets at the Reading and Leeds Festival last week. Receiving five-star reviews, I will end with one of them. There is no doubt that Roan is one of the most extraordinary and important artists of her generation. Her debut album, The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess, was released in 2023 and received massive acclaim. Since then, she has released stunning singles such as Good Luck, Babe! and The Giver. The Subway is her latest single. There is a lot of demand for a second studio album. More on that in a minute. Before that, I want to come to a few interviews with the Missouri-born artist. Born Kayleigh Rose Amstutz, she is a songwriter known for her camp-inspired, drag-influenced aesthetic and queer-themed Pop music. Even if there was division over her being awarded the BBC Sound of… 2025 prize earlier this year (as there was hope a new or underground artist would be recognised), there is no denying the fact Chappell Roan is a superstar. Not only an exceptional and distinct songwriter who is inspiring fans around the world. She is also one of the finest live performers. I want to start out with an interview from The Guardian published last year. Chappell Roan explained why fame is like going through puberty. She also disused drag, sexuality and superstardom:

“As a 12-year-old, Roan was Kayleigh Rose Amstutz, writing songs in her bedroom as a creative outlet from her repressive Christian upbringing. She struggled with her sexuality and undiagnosed bipolar II disorder, and railed against her family, the church and the abstinence culture of the Republican midwest. “I was so desperate to feel understood,” she says. “I pushed down the gay part of myself so deep because I was like, that can’t possibly be me.”

It sounds lonely. “Oh, it was,” she says. “I was very, very lonely. When I was growing up, it was like, ‘Gay means flamboyant, gay man’ and lesbian means, ‘Butch girl who looks masculine’. There was not an array of queerness. And I was very mentally ill – suicidal for years – and not medicated, because that’s just not a part of midwest culture. It’s not: ‘Maybe we should get you a psychiatrist.’ It’s: ‘You need God. You need to pray about that.’”

Roan craved escape. She would smoke stolen cigarettes and listen to Del Rey on her porch at 2am as she plotted her way out. After winning a school talent contest, she began posting covers on YouTube. She honed her songwriting at an artsy summer camp and uploaded her first original song in 2014: Die Young was a doomy heartsick ballad sung in a husky Del Rey-esque tone. It led to her signing with Atlantic at 17. She renamed herself Chappell Roan in tribute to her late grandfather and released an EP – but progress was slow and she felt constrained by her sad-girl persona. After moving to Los Angeles in 2018, she wrote a song with Daniel Nigro that felt like a gamechanger: Pink Pony Club, a sizzling cabaret dance-pop banger about her formative experiences visiting a drag bar in LA. Feeling as if she had finally found her people, she started to acknowledge her sexuality. “Drag is like a spa for my soul,” she says, touching her heart.

But Atlantic wasn’t keen, and dropped her in 2020. Pink Pony Club bubbled under but didn’t translate into a viable career. Roan spent two years working other jobs to support her life in LA and, at a low ebb, moved back home to live with her family. Unable to shake the feeling that she could still make it, she gave herself one more year to chase her dream. She returned to LA, worked at a doughnut shop and collaborated with Nigro, who was also involved in Olivia Rodrigo’s Grammy-winning debut, Sour. Together, Roan and Nigro wrote maximalist pop songs that honoured her inner child. Roan filmed videos with friends, styled in thrift-store drag. The result of this scrappy, striving year was The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess.

Pop had been in a dark place since the mid-2010s: mumbled confessions over seething beats and sparse bedroom laments. But Roan is an explosion of colour. Her songs are fun, full of camp humour as she sings about the trials of love, acceptance and being ghosted by girls. Her voice blooms from a growl to an operatic trill and back. At the heart of it all is performance. “What would be the funnest to perform live?” she asks herself. “That’s how I write.” 

The VMAs was her first big awards show. To perform Good Luck, Babe!, Roan dressed as a knight and strode out with a crossbow, shot a burning arrow to set a castle alight and chucked swords around. “I had that idea of me shooting a crossbow on fire for so long,” she says, laughing at her audacity. “Good Luck, Babe! does not warrant me coming out with a weapon on fire, but I was like, I have to do it. This is what I really would have wanted as my 11-year-old boy version of myself.”

While it can seem like Roan hates every second of being a pop star, she lights up as she talks about how bigger budgets and more agency have transformed her shows. “I get to feel the energy of other people, it’s so cool to have shows so packed and have so much joy in the room,” she says. “It’s fun that my parents are so supportive. It’s just cool to see my family get excited about things that we never thought were possible.”

And she is using her newfound status for good. Since Roan became a headline act, she’s invited local drag artists to support her (an idea suggested to her by queer masked country singer Orville Peck) and each show has its own theme. At her Manchester show, the theme is mermaid, and the atmosphere is celebratory and communal. One fan, Jasmine, resplendent in shiny purple suit and stick-on face charms, hails Roan’s “sense of freedom – I would never dress like this on an ordinary day”. Another, Emelia, in an astonishing homemade jellyfish get-up, says: “I’m gay and live in Newcastle, and a lot of people judge me for being quite flamboyant.”

For every UK tour ticket sold, £1 goes to the LGBTQ+ rights charity Kaleidoscope Trust, and at the merch stand in Manchester there are signed risograph prints selling for £100, with proceeds going towards aid for Palestine. Wearing charity shop costumes, fans Kenza and Freya say they admire Roan’s values: “She’s probably the only artist that’s really standing up for things that no one else is wanting to talk about”.

I am going to move to this year and a relatively new interview. However, I want to stay in 2024 and to a FACE interview. They rightly noted how Chappell Roan’s hot-blooded anthems are infecting and infusing the Pop world with something distinct and extraordinary. Now (2024), she is starting int o abyss of superstardom. Something that can be a mixed blessing for those in the music industry:

“The project of Chappell Roan, then, can be more wholly understood as a therapeutic experience, not only for fans who might have an idea of what those emotions feel like, but also for the artist’s younger self. ​“Now, I am the girl who does the Britney routine; I am the girl who plays dress-up. I’m making up for that time. When I realised that I should dedicate my career to honouring the childhood I never got, it got big quick.”
​“Big” as in becoming a de-facto festival headliner in the US, touring through Europe this autumn and, hopefully, nabbing some music trophies. Nominations in multiple Grammy categories, including Best New Artist and Song of the Year, seem like a no-brainer. ​“My mom would love to go to the Grammys or the Brits,” she says. But Chappell is, at best, iffy on the whole awards thing. ​“I’m kind of hoping I don’t win, because then everyone will get off my ass: ​‘See guys, we did it and we didn’t win, bye’! I won’t have to do this again!”

What’s more important to Chappell is the long game. ​“I feel ambitious about making this sustainable,” she says. ​“That’s my biggest goal right now. My brain is like: quit right now, take next year off.” Her mouth forms a small, tense line again. ​“This industry and artistry fucking thrive on mental illness, burnout, overworking yourself, overextending yourself, not sleeping. You get bigger the more unhealthy you are. Isn’t that so fucked up?” It’s a problem within the music industry, she notes, but also its attendant attention machines – TikTok, Instagram, the entire internet – which all feed on manic self-compulsion. ​“The ambition is: how do I not hate myself, my job, my life, and do this?” she says. ​“Because right now, it’s not working. I’m just scrambling to try to feel healthy.”

Listening to her talk, you can feel everything: the fury, the despair, the confusion, the resolve, the swirling depths of her personal storm. The resonance of Chappell Roan is not so much something to be understood simply from the music she makes or her aesthetic and stagecraft, but something you have to take in as a greater act of performance art. One where she dredges up the worst, most jagged edges of being a human who can feel angry, lost, jealous, vindictive, reckless, horny and scary-hot. Then she delights in it. She pairs it with dazzling synths, invites us in and turns the whole thing into an inclusive party, transmuting the project from she to we.

So, what does Chappell Roan need from us? If her success is to be understood as a collective movement, where fans feed off the music and the magnetism she’s able to dole out, despite the increasing crush of fame, what sustains her? What’s the one compliment that actually matters?

She peers out from behind the curtains of that unmistakable mane, having gone quiet again. ​“Everyone’s like, ​‘Oh yeah, she’s really intense,’ which, whatever, fine,” she says. ​“But I don’t very often get: ​‘Oh my God, you have such a good vibe.’ I think that just stems back to childhood, of [wanting] people to believe that I’m a good person and me believing it, too. So it means a lot when I hear that.” She thinks this over”.

PHOTO CREDIT: Tim Walker

In an amazing interview with W Magazine from April, we get to learn more about an artist who is redefining Pop on her own terms after years of struggles. For anyone who has not followed Chappell Roan or does not know her music, then I would strongly encourage you to check her out. One of the greatest artists in the world right now. A modern-day music queen:

“Country music is known for narrative-based songwriting—it tells stories. I think that’s also true of your songs.

Country music taught me how to write narratively.

When was the first time you heard yourself on the radio?

I think it was in an Uber when I was on tour. I heard “Good Luck, Babe.” I grabbed my friend’s hand and I was like, “Oh my fucking.…” But I didn’t scream. I don’t sing along with myself. I never listen to my own music. If it’s out, I don’t want to hear it. I’ve heard it hundreds and hundreds of times.

Abra gown; Alexis Bittar bracelets; LaPointe belt; Marc Jacobs shoes.

What’s the first song you remember singing?

“Oops!…I Did It Again,” by Britney Spears. My mother took me out of gymnastics because I did the Britney dances instead of listening to the gymnastics teacher. I also sang, “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.”

PHOTO CREDIT: Tim Walker

At the Grammys, when you accepted your award for Best New Artist, you seemed to be reading from a diary. Is that your actual diary?

Yes. I’ve been keeping a diary for—oh my god—like, 15 years. I started in middle school. I love looking back at what I had to say as a 12-year-old. I wrote that every day was “horrible.” It’s amazing to see what would ruin my day back then. It felt as dramatic as my life feels now. Throughout my life, I had a fear of losing my memory, so I kept a journal to log all these important events. As I’ve gotten older, it’s been harder and harder to keep a diary. Sometimes, when I’m having a bad day, I won’t journal, because I won’t want to remember.

Have you been asked to be in films?

I met John Waters last night, which was insane. One of my idols! And I was talking about how there are only so many “firsts” you can have with your career. And he said, “No, no, no—there are all the firsts to go through when you become an actress!” And I said, “I’m not an actress—what are you talking about?” He said, “Every singer is an actress!” And I was like, okay, maybe I am! Damn! If John Waters says I’m an actress, maybe I am!”.

I am going to include some of a recent interview with Vogue, where we learn why there will not be another Chappell Roan album anytime soon. In the interview, Roan spoke about writing through heartbreak and her incredible new single, The Subway:

“The triumph of Roan’s Grammy-winning debut album, The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess, has prompted much speculation about its follow-up, with fans scrutinizing her recent fixation on dragons, knights, and other medieval motifs and noting how the lyric video for “The Giver” features a DVD menu that scrolls past tracks called “To Be Yours” and “Read & Make Out.”

But “the second project doesn’t exist yet,” Roan clarifies. “There is no album. There is no collection of songs.”

She goes on: “It took me five years to write the first one, and it’s probably going to take at least five to write the next. I’m not that type of writer that can pump it out.” Nor does Roan see any creative value in churning out music under pressure. “I don’t think I make good music whenever I force myself to do anything,” she says. “I see some comments sometimes, like, ‘She’s everywhere except that damn studio.’ Even if I was in the studio 12 hours a day, every single day, that does not mean that you would get an album any faster.”

Besides, there’s so much to experience and be present for in her real life. Roan has spent the last few months living in New York with her best friend and creative director, Ramisha Sattar. “I have to see what New York is like in my 20s, ’cause it’s what everyone says,” she says. She’s enjoyed exploring the food scene and biking around town (“which is my favorite thing ever”), though not even pop stars are exempt from the city’s take-no-prisoners attitude. “New York is doing exactly what it does to me, which is kicking my ass,” she says, to a chorus of empathetic mm-hmms and nods from her team.

But these days, Roan is feeling optimistic about what lies ahead, which includes a series of pop-up shows this fall in New York, Los Angeles, and Kansas City, Missouri. “This pace is good right now,” she says. “This feels good and manageable. I feel like, for the first time in over a year, I can finally be excited about going to work and doing my job”.

PHOTO CREDIT: Luke Dyson/Reading Festival

I will end with a review of Chappell Roan’s Reading Festival set from last week. Attitude were among those who shared their love and respect for an artist at the top of her field. This is an amazing artist who will be talked about decades from now as one of the all-time greats. I think that next year might be the biggest of her career, whether she releases a new album or not:

“The sun struggles to cut through an endless, dust-choked landscape as tired, dehydrated crowds draw from the life-force of their gothic monarch. Defiant against the heat in sleeves, gloves and a full skirt, the figure brandishes a staff topped with a bat and wears a matching fascinator. Squint, and she resembles a giant raven.

This may sound like a scene from Mad Max, but in fact, it is the ever-eccentric Chappell Roan meeting her people at Reading Festival. It is a thrillingly serious exercise in pop.

Attitude caught the same set at Way Out West in Sweden earlier this August, where the star beamed and bounced around the stage like a woodland nymph, the innocent protagonist of a child’s fantasy story. Aspects tonight are a carbon copy — the intricately detailed fairytale fortress, for example — but ultimately it is an entirely different experience. Chappell herself is transformed, channelling pure Maleficent energy.

Not that she is reserved or stoic. This is a leg-kicking, hair-flicking spectacle – her and her all-female band never stop moving – with her booming, at times screaming, voice recalling the countless rock gods who’ve brought raw power to this otherwise nondescript London commuter town over the years. Her formidable vocal and unbridled passion peaks with a cover of Heart’s ‘Barracuda’.

PHOTO CREDIT: Luke Dyson/Reading Festival

What impresses most is the strength of the setlist. Chappell only broke through in 2024, has released just one album, and has suggested the next could be as much as five years away — yet she delivered 17 songs that were all killer, no filler. (Although Coffee does zap the energy between Red Wine Supernova and Good Luck, Babe!) It’s performed with the breathtaking confidence of a greatest hits set, and feels like a show worthy of a Glastonbury headliner. The irony? At Reading, she isn’t even topping the bill — that honour goes to Hozier.

“This one’s for my ex, who’s in the crowd tonight,” Chappell says, introducing ‘My Kink is Karma’, fixing the camera with a penetrating stare that sent chills even down this writer’s spine. This is my kind of reality TV show. Maybe this explains the seriousness? Whatever the explanation, people are living for it, with the Reading team boasting a knack for zeroing in the camera on the most dramatic of emotional faces in the crowd. (Conversely, an assumed technical issue sees the big screens intermittently cut out for the first few songs.)

“Thank you for loving me and standing with me,” Chappell tells fans at one point, sharing a rare smile. “This is a dream come true, seriously.” Then, it was straight back to game face”.

If some think that Chappell Roan is controversial or divides opinion, it is her honest and frankness that makes her so authentic and amazing. Not to say her career and life is perfect, but she is a very real and relatable artist who is the antidote to so many fake and watered-down artists. Chappell Roan is doing things her own way, and we should all be very…

THANKFUL for that.

____________

Follow Chappell Roan

Official:

https://www.iamchappellroan.com/

TikTok:

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

Instagram:

https://www.instagram.com/chappellroan/

YouTube:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCTKTRVaWrythRIGNfZYBp2A

Spotify:

https://open.spotify.com/artist/7GlBOeep6PqTfFi59PTUUN?si=PNJFfkulT9-kzom4HRAwHA

Facebook:

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FEATURE: Kate Bush: On Location: Inside a Fascinating and Important New Book

FEATURE:

 

 

Kate Bush: On Location

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush at the Royal Albert Hall, Kensington Gore, South Kensington, London on 18th November, 1979 for the 75th Anniversary of the London Symphony Orchestra

Inside a Fascinating and Important New Book

__________

I am going to highlight…

a few exerts from a marvellous new book that I think every Kate Bush fan should own. As I have been writing about extensively, Hounds of Love turns forty on 16th September. Though there is a lot to discuss, will we spend time exploring the important locations? The home-made studio she built near her family home at East Wickham Farm in Welling? The Irish Sessions in Dublin at Windmill Lane Studios? The location of the iconic Cloudbusting video? I have not seen too many podcasts or articles that explore the locations. A podcast a while back where author Tom Doyle talked about East Wickham Farm for Music Maps Podcast. Kate Bush musical map is truly fascinating. When I recently contributed to a French documentary about Kate Bush (which has not yet aired), I was asked by the producer about spots in London relevant to Kate Bush she could visit. I could have done with Kate Bush: On Location! Check out the Twitter account here. There are so many great sections about London locations that were crucial in Kate Bush’s career. Before coming to some of the chapters/places, below is some information about the upcoming book:

“On 16 September 2025, Kate Bush’s timeless masterpiece, Hounds of Love, turns 40. But have you ever wondered where the album was recorded? Or maybe you’ve always wanted to know where the video for Running Up That Hill was filmed, or where Kate’s No. 1 hit, Wuthering Heights, was penned? Well, you’re about to find out.

Kate Bush: On Location brings together in one book the location secrets behind Kate’s iconic career, allowing you to discover the fascinating stories and histories of over seventy locations that have played a part in her incredible journey. From recording studios to concert venues, television centres to outdoor filming locations, record company offices to vinyl record pressing plants – this fan-written book will take you on a virtual tour across the UK and the rest of the world to experience the real-life locations that have shaped Kate's music and career.

- Explore recording studios, soundstages, TV studios, tour venues, music video filming locations, and rehearsal spaces, as well as the places where Kate's early life and career began before she was signed to EMI Records.

- Use the given coordinates to pay a virtual visit to each location using online maps and Google Street View.

- Dive into the history of each real-life location and learn of its connection to Kate, with a handful of fascinating facts and trivia along the way.

Kate Bush: On Location visits a number of iconic rock music landmarks, including the legendary studios of Abbey Road, AIR London, Super Bear, and Windmill Lane; venues related to Kate’s 1979 Tour such as the Rainbow Theatre, the Poole Arts Centre, and the Hammersmith Odeon; famous film studios like Shepperton, Bray, and Elstree; the Efteling Theme Park and the London Laserium; TV studios such as BBC Television Centre, Pebble Mill, ATV Birmingham, and RTÉ Dublin; EMI Records and its vinyl pressing plants; Black Park and the beautiful Vale of the White Horse; the curious home of Bio’s Bahnhof; the Soho photography studio used to capture those famous ‘pink leotard’ portraits; and the setting for Kate’s pivotal recording session with David Gilmour in 1973. And so much more”.

The book will be released as both an eBook (£8.99) and paperback (£12.99), and they will be released on 1st September via Amazon. (The eBook is available to pre-order now - the paperback will be available to buy from 1st September. It will be available from Amazon in the U.K., U.S., Germany, France, Spain, Italy, Netherlands, Japan, Brazil, Canada, Mexico, Australia and India.)

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

You can pre-order the Kindle version here. I have read through the book and I love how it is this extensive, exhaustive and comprehensive love letter to Kate Bush and the locations that played their parts. Whether they are venues she performed at, studios she recorded in, or locations videos were shot on, this is like a travel guide! The book almost has the format and look of a classic travel guide. It is very easy to read and has excellent detail. I have not yet mentioned the book’s author. Max Cookney. In an email, he told me that the book might not give too much new information to diehard Kate Bush fans. I would disagree! I consider myself to be among the ultimate diehards and there are locations and titbits I was not aware of! I was engrossed. Before getting to some specific locations, this section from Cookney’s introduction stands out (he tells me that his fan club membership number was K9423, and you can find his name in the Pen Pals and Swaps sections of a couple of old KB club magazines from around c.1986-1988):

“The fan club’s address – at the time in Welling, Kent – wasn’t much more than a post office box number (‘PO Box 120’) and postal code (‘DA16 3DS, You’re welcome’) that would have directed all your letters and membership subs to the Royal Mail delivery office in Bexleyheath1 (actually, a little over a mile to the east of Welling proper). The only reason I’m able to tell you this with some confidence today is due to the one thing we didn’t have access to in 1986: the internet. A quick online search will confirm the location, although this “large user” postcode became defunct in 2010. But in 1986 and living some 240 miles away in the furthest western corners of Devon, my only option was to try and locate Welling on a map using my father’s well-thumbed RAC road atlas. I did manage to locate the Kentish town on the map, as I did East Wickham – the high-medieval hamlet a little to the north of Welling and location of the Bush family home. But I only ever knew these place names as the one- or two-word toponyms they were without the knowledge of any other more precise geographical detail or imagery. I was never going to find them in the Encyclopedia Britannica Children’s Yearbook 1986. An assumption has been made that the KBC collected their mail from the delivery office, although it should be noted that Royal Mail PO Box users could also opt to have their mail delivered to a different address if, for example, they wished to maintain their privacy.

As my enthusiasm for Kate grew, so too did the list of locations that became of interest to me, taken from the sleeve notes of Kate’s albums or any of the other material I had access to, which at the time was limited to one biography, a couple of fanzines, and a copy of the Kate Bush Complete sheet music book (with its very thorough chronology). Places like Bexleyheath, the Super Bear studios, Abbey Road, Manchester Square, Windmill Lane, the London Laserium, and the Poole Arts Centre all became the stuff of legend”.

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush at Abbey Road Studios, London during recording of her third studio album, Never for Ever

In addition to information about the locations, Max Cookney provides history, some interesting facts and coordinates (and what3words). It means that fans can find these location if they are nearby. I have been to East Wickham Farm a couple of time recently and was blown away standing outside it! Cookney struggled to find some of these locations as they are quite obscure, but Google Maps is among the resources that helped him nail them down. Lets start off with some words about East Wickham Farm:

“East Wickham Farm was bought by Kate’s father, Dr Robert Bush, in the early 1950s, presumably not that long after the death of its former owner/resident, Mrs Rose Elizabeth Gibson. Rose Elizabeth was the wife of Bruce L. Gibson, the Kentish son of an agricultural master smith and a “much respected figure in the local community.” Bruce bought East Wickham Farm in the early 1900s, and as a result, it became known locally as Gibson’s Farm. Bruce made a success of the farm, and his family grew wealthy from their supply of fresh produce to the markets in central London. The Gibson’s farmland stretched as far as Brampton Road in Bexleyheath, about a mile east of the main farmhouse in Wickham Street, although much of that land was later sold off for housing, with part of it remaining as East Wickham Open Space, which the Bush family would have been able to see from the rear of the farmhouse. Bruce L. Gibson died in February 1939, having lived well into his seventies. Rose Elizabeth remained at the farm until her own death in January 1953 at the ripe old age of 92. East Wickham Farm is now occupied by Kate’s nephew, the bladesmith Owen Bush, from where he now runs his ‘Bushfire Forge’ School of Bladesmithing”.

We can think about all the remarkable and fascinating locations where Bush shot her music videos. As we are marking forty years of Hounds of Love, perhaps Cloudbusting is the most iconic. The cover for Kate Bush: On Location is a shot of the Vale of the White Horse in Oxfordshire. However, few video locations are as iconic as for Wuthering Heights. Specifically, the video for the version (the first video) where Bushy wore a red dress. A moment that is recreated each year for The Most Wuthering Heights Day Ever:

“On 26 October 1977, the first of two promotional videos for the soonto-be-released Wuthering Heights was filmed on a grassy lea in the middle of Salisbury Plain in Southern England. Directed by Nick Abson, the Rockflix video (shot on 16mm film and more commonly referred to as the “red dress version”) was ultimately ditched in favour of a second video produced by Keith ‘Keef’ MacMillan, who would go on to produce several more for Kate. For a long time (and well before the arrival of YouTube), the Rockflix video wasn’t easy to find, with Keef’s video forever remaining the preferred choice released on official videotape compilations such as The Single File and The Whole Story. But for those who had managed to watch Nick’s version, no one really knew where it had been filmed. However, in 2018, following some impressive investigative work by some particularly dedicated fans, the exact location for the video was finally identified. Fortunately, the cameraman on the day, Mike Miles, was happy to share with fans everything he could remember about the shoot and provided an incredibly detailed report, especially given it was over forty years ago. The location was confirmed as being Salisbury Plain, and more specifically, Baden’s Clump – chosen for no reason other than because Nick and his team were in the area anyway, heading west towards Wales to continue filming a feature-length fly-on-the-wall documentary for a Stiff Records tour of the UK (the Live Stiffs Tour)”.

As I and many others are thinking about Hounds of Love at the moment, it is interesting drawing a mental map of the spots where songs were recorded and videos filmed. Ireland and its influence extends beyond lyrics and sounds. The physical recording space of Windmill Lane in Dublin saw some of the most magic and best moments from the 1985 album. It is a spot I will definitely visit if I ever go to Dublin:

“The Irish instrumentation sessions of Night of the Swallow, Hounds of Love, and The Sensual World were all recorded at Windmill Lane Recording Studios, which, incidentally, caught me out in much the same way as EMI in Hayes. If you were to search an online map for the studios today, you’d be signposted to a rather impressive turquoise and cream-coloured Art Deco building located on Ringsend Road, Dublin. Originally a power station for the Dublin United Tramways Company, you can find it at 53.342052, -6.234657 ///thanks.agreed.manage. But this is not the building we’re looking for. The sessions for Kate’s albums were recorded at the studio’s original site, located in, unsurprisingly, Windmill Lane. The original docklands site on the southern banks of the River Liffey was opened in 1978 by Brian Masterson and James Morris. Originally used for recording traditional Irish music, the studios were soon playing host to bands like Clannad, Def Leppard, The Waterboys, and most notably, U2, whose first three albums were recorded in full there. Because of the connection, many U2 fans from across the world used to visit the site and pay homage to the band by covering the outside walls with graffiti”

There is one more location I want to highlight before round off. One of my favourite ever moments in Kate Bush’s career is when she performed songs from her 1978 debut album, The Kick Inside, to promote the opening of a Dutch amusement park. It was suitably bizarre and wonderful. Before The Tour of Life in 1979, this was a chance for people to see her perform ‘live’ – she was miming for the performance – these tracks that would be brought to life a year later:

“The Efteling theme park in the Netherlands was the filming location for a twenty-minute, six-song television special Kate recorded for the Dutch broadcaster, TROS. The special, produced and directed by Rien van Wijk, was filmed in April 1978 and aired on the 12th of May, 1978. The given coordinates are for the old entrance to the former Haunted Castle (also known as the Spookslot) that Kate danced in front of at the start of the show (during the opening song, Moving). The Spookslot was designed by creative director Ton van de Ven, who’d designed most of the attractions at Efteling. It opened just two days before the airing of Kate’s TV special and remained so right up until 2022, when the park owners determined the attraction could no longer be maintained. In its place now stands a new attraction called Danse Macabre, in the Huyverwoud Forest-themed area. The tenebrous gravestone (or ‘zerk’ in Dutch) bearing Kate’s name that was used to open the TV special was kept as a memento and spent a good number of years at the park in storage before making a surprise reappearance outside the Spookslot in 2003, presumably in recognition of the attraction’s 25th birthday. It soon disappeared before resurfacing in 2007, when it was put on display in the Spookslot catacombs, where it remained until the attraction’s closure in 2022. It briefly showed its face again in the spring of 2023 during an Efteling exhibition at the Noordbrabants Museum in Den Bosch. The gravestone’s current location remains a mystery to the author of this book; however, it is said that if you were to visit the new Danse Macabre attraction and maybe even stop for some refreshment at the Black Cat Tavern (‘In den Swarte Kat’), you might just stumble across one or two hidden references to Kate, but you’re not going to find any spoilers here!”.

This is just a small representation of a book that I think Kate Bush fans should carry around with them. Maybe you will not be based in England or Ireland or near any of the locations. However, I do know of people who come to the U.K. specifically to trace places Kate Bush has been and is part of her legacy. This book is indispensable for that reason. Also, it paints a more detailed and nuanced picture of her career. Why these locations are important and why they need to be discussed. I know there are some old documentaries where some of the locations are mentioned, though nothing new where someone visits many of these spots and talks about them. As I said, the French documentary I was involved with covers a few. I was at a park near East Wickham Farm. Covent Garden will also feature (the site where The Dance Centre used to be located) and there are so many places and wonderful areas dissected for Kate Bush: On Location that I did not know about. It goes to show that no Kate Bush fan can never know everything! Go and buy the book on 1st September, though you can pre-order the eBook. I am going to buy a physical copy, as it has provided inspiration for some new features! I have been writing about Hounds of Love ahead of its fortieth anniversary on 16th September, so this is very timely! I love the style and tone of the book. How it does seem like this guide book that and has the coordinates so you can go and see these places! Kate Bush: On Location is an exceptional, well-written and extensively researched book that is...

RICH with essential and fascinating information.

FEATURE: Kate Bush’s Hounds of Love at Forty: Eighteen: Kate Bush’s Genius As a Producer

FEATURE:

 

 

Kate Bush’s Hounds of Love at Forty

PHOTO CREDIT: John Carder Bush

Eighteen: Kate Bush’s Genius As a Producer

__________

WHEN people speak about…

Kate Bush, as I have said numerous times, do we ever mention her production talent? Bush co-produced 1980’s Never for Ever and produced solo from 1982’s The Dreaming on. I think every album she produced is absolutely fantastic. However, everything came together for Hounds of Love. EMI were not keen for Bush to produce the album. The Dreaming did not sell huge amounts, though it was a chart success. The label almost handed the album back. Fearful that a follow-up would not be commercial and could end her career, can we forgive EMI for having cold feet and doubts?! Bush was adamant that she wanted to produce her own music. You can see why. She would not be able to work with anyone because she is a singular artist who writes her own music. She would have to compromise and she would have control taken away. Hounds of Love would not have worked and been as good if someone produced with Kate Bush or produced without her. Although it took longer to record than EMI would have liked, Hounds of Love is a masterpiece. It is not a case of there been twelve straight tracks. There is an awesome first side that included timeless tracks. Then the second side, The Ninth Wave, that is conceptual and is very different to the first side. The skill and focus needed. Hugely ambitious and with so many different lyrical and musical themes to execute, it is wonderous that Bush pulled it all off! Few other producers would have had that talent and passion!

It is said that Bush had copious notes. Details about every song breaking them down. Technical notes and all these instructions. Not only is Bush’s production genius evident when you hear the overall sound and how ahead of its time it sounds and how timeless it is now. Uniting all of those musicians and making it all hang together. Although there would have been assistance with orchestral, vocal and string arrangement, it is Bush’s production brilliance that makes everything on the album sound so captivating and original. In the 1980s, it was rare for women to produce their own albums. Maybe more common today, I don’t think that women were encouraged to produce. Most female artists worked with male producers. I think Kate Bush is one of the best producers ever and definitely among the most distinguished and accomplished of the 1980s. We do not acknowledge that enough. We think of Hounds of Love and its brilliant songs. The songwriting and vocals. However, Kate Bush’s production is not really spotlighted. I am going to round up soon enough. However, when I interviewed Leah Kardos last year – who is the author of the 33 1/3 book on Hounds of Love -, I asked her about Bush’s production and whether it was under-discussed:

“I think many people do not discuss Kate Bush as an innovative and incredible producer when they speak of Hounds of Love. Do you feel she is under-appreciated as a producer?

She is absolutely, criminally underrated as a producer. Not only in terms of her technical and aesthetic achievements, and the ground she broke as a mainstream adopter of cutting-edge music technologies, but also in terms of her vast influence in pop music culture. There is a dearth of female producers in pop music, period. Back then and today, the situation hasn't really changed much. As you've seen, I devote quite a chunk of space in my little book to yell about what an elite and historically important producer she is. If I had more space I would have written even MORE about it”.

The final of twenty features I am writing about Hounds of Love at Forty is its legacy. I will bring in quite a few different sources. However, in 2021, DJ discussed how Kate Bush’s Hounds of Love influenced the evolution of Electronic music. As a producer and songwriter, Bush perfected her experiments in sampling technology, drum machines and synthesisers. A major reason why she hugely influenced and affected Electronic music is because of her role and instincts as a producer. An innovator and ground-breaker, there are so many reasons why Hounds of Love is massively influential and remains this adore masterpiece. Kate Bush front and centre as producer is perhaps the most important:

“Even today, ‘Hounds Of Love’ remains one of the most perfectly poised electronic music records, an album where digital technology and acoustic instruments blend into an entirely seamless cyborg mix, with technology employed as a means to an end, rather than as a destination in itself. If ‘Hounds Of Love’ is overlooked as a pioneering electronic album, then maybe that’s the point: It flourishes as a beautiful whole, a gorgeous work of art that doesn’t call attention to its composite parts or the hard labor behind it.

‘Hounds Of Love’ is quite the opposite of many early electronic music records, where the electronics were designed to draw attention to their new glittery selves and show off the world of machine possibilities. On ‘Hounds Of Love’, everything is subsumed into the music. For Bush, the Fairlight was a new “tool” for writing and arranging, as she explained to Option magazine in 1990, “like the difference between writing a song on a piano or on a guitar.”

The use of the word ‘tool’ is critical: The Fairlight was important for what it did, not what it was. And what it did was to open up Bush’s world to a new range of sonic possibility, as she explained to Option like a proto-Matthew Herbert: “With a Fairlight, you’ve got everything: a tremendous range of things,” she said. “It completely opened me up to sounds and textures and I could experiment with these in a way I could never have done without it.”

What is perhaps most striking about ‘Hounds Of Love’ is that, rather than settling down into a new electronic habit, Bush used her new digital equipment in a number of different ways, depending on the song’s demands. ‘Running Up That Hill,’ the album’s gorgeous opening song, uses a subtly propulsive, rolling tom pattern on the LinnDrum (the work of Bush’s collaborator and then romantic partner Del Palmer) that lays alongside cello samples from the Fairlight, which Bush manipulated to create both the main riff and backing strings.

One could think of Kate Bush’s major influence on electronic music, though, as something almost subliminal. You would be hard pressed to name many records that sound like ‘Hounds Of Love’, because recreating the sound at the time would have needed hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of equipment, while today the relentless advance of electronic music technology means that the sounds of the LinnDrum and Fairlight have been replaced with newer gear. Besides, who has the talent to come up with a ‘Hounds Of Love’?”.

As there will be features and retrospection about Hounds of Love ahead of its fortieth anniversary on 16th September, how many will focus on Kate Bush and her production? She is one of the all-time great producers. In her book, Leah Kardos discusses the production: “The production of Hounds of Love was strikingly original for its time: poised, elemental, ethereal. And it’s worth taking a moment to shout about how this unique sound was innovated by a woman and created during a time when very few female creators had access to hi-tech recording equipment and facilities”. She goes on to say that “When Kate Bush hit a new commercial peak with Hounds of Love, she had virtually zero female peers doing it the way she was”. There is no doubting the fact that EMI should have had faith in her as a producer. As Leah Kardos goes on to say: “With Hounds of Love, Bush’s craft as a producer turned towards mastery. It is a significant mark on the map of her career where her technical prowess rose to meet the demands of her exacting artistic vision. Her unique and sensitive approach to the production of Hounds of Love is one of the reasons it endures, and it still sounds utterly remarkable today, nearly forty years after it came out”. Kate Bush is most definitely one of the greatest and most important producers…

WHO has ever lived.

FEATURE: Once in a Lifetime: Talking Heads' Remain in Light at Forty-Five

FEATURE:

 

 

Once in a Lifetimeds

Talking Heads' Remain in Light at Forty-Five

__________

THE fourth studio album…

IN THIS PHOTO: Talking Heads in 1980/PHOTO CREDIT: Lynn Goldsmith/Corbis/VCG via Getty Images

from Talking Heads, Remain in Light turns forty-five on 8th October. Following the release of 1979’s Fear of Music, Talking Heads and Brian Eno (who produced the album) were keen to put to bed any notion that this was  David Byrne solo album or his project. Remain in Light was a different music direction that brought in influences from Afrobeat with African polyrhythms and Funk blended with electronics. Often viewed as the best Talking Heads album, I wanted to go a little deeper with it. I will come to a couple of reviews for this album. Before that, there are some features that I think are important to source. In 2021, Classic Pop took us inside the making of Remain in Light. The recording and legacy of the album is particularly interesting:

“It was into this antagonistic atmosphere, albeit in the pleasantly sunny surrounds of Nassau’s Compass Point Studios in the Bahamas, that the initial sessions for the band’s fourth album, Remain In Light, were cast.

The sonic template for what would turn out to be their most enduring masterpiece was actually laid down on the opener of their previous album, Fear Of Music’s polyrhythmic I Zimbra.

The track was a compellingly propulsive combination of Africa-influenced drum sounds melded with a funky disco bassline and Byrne chanting nonsensical Dadaist poetry over the top.

In many ways I Zimbra was an unlikely touchstone, as on the surface of things the band weren’t exactly the closest of cousins to Fela Kuti, the afrobeat pioneer, whose 1973 Afrodisiac album was a major influence on the track. But the band and producer, Eno again, were committed to exploring its possibilities into a whole album’s worth of material.

With AC/DC entrenched in Compass Point’s Studio A recording comeback album Back In Black, Talking Heads established camp in Studio B.

With no songs formally written, it was agreed that the studio be utilised as a tool for composition with the music created by the band members out of improvisation – with producer/collaborator Eno to be regarded as the group’s fifth member.

As Frantz recounts in his autobiography Remain In Love, “We were interested in creating sounds that would take us deeper and far beyond what people had come to expect from us.”

To achieve this ambition rather than start with a traditional song structure or lyric, the band would create multiple fragments of songs through improvised jam sessions.

Frantz recalls: “My personal challenge and Tina’s was to conceive and perform rhythm parts that not only grooved like crazy and propelled the song forward, but that also sounded shockingly new… Tina and I created parts that were loops performed live. Then David and Jerry [Harrison] could superimpose their parts over ours.”

Byrne explained his take on the process as best he could to the Library Of Congress in 2017: “We were listening to African pop music, like Fela Kuti and King Sunny Adé, but we didn’t set out to imitate those. We deconstructed everything and then as the music evolved, we began to realise we were in effect reinventing the wheel.

“Our process led us to something with some affinity to afro-funk, but we got there the long way round, and, of course, our version sounded slightly off. We didn’t get it quite right, but in missing, we ended up with something new.”

With the Compass Point sessions over and the basic tracks laid down, the band returned to New York for more recording in the Sigma Sound studios. It was here that simmering tensions started to boil over with Frantz and Weymouth feeling unwelcome.

This is how Frantz recalls the experience in Remain In Love: “It seemed as if [Byrne and Eno] thought of us as sidemen who were no longer useful to them. At one point Brian actually said to us in his most bothered tone of voice, ‘There are too many people in the control room.’” It was a comment that the rhythm section clearly didn’t take too kindly to.

Niceties aside, the work that Byrne, Eno and Harrison were putting in was getting results. Former King Crimson guitarist and Bowie acolyte Adrian Belew was shipped in to add wild, crazy solos to several tracks, while avant-garde trumpet player Jon Hassell contributed freaky brass. Nona Hendryx, formerly one third of girl group Labelle, was also invited to add backing vocals.

It was around this time that art school alumni Frantz and Weymouth began to work on concepts for the album cover. The couple had met at the Rhode Island School Of Design in 1973, and it was there that Frantz first formed a band, The Artistics, with fellow student David Byrne; who was often referred to back then as ‘Mad Dave’ among the drummer’s circle of friends (if ever there was a warning sign…).

Remain In Light’s artwork was created digitally, which was then a new-fangled, cutting-edge process, with the aid of the Massachusetts Institute Of Technology’s powerful mainframe computer.

Initially, the iconic photograph of the US fighter planes was planned for the front cover (Tina’s father had flown Grumman Avengers during his Navy service) with the band portraits destined for the back.

However, the roughly painted bright red masks crudely splodged over the headshots made for an impactful image and the roles were reversed.

With the album finally completed, the perennially thorny issue of songwriting splits and credits was broached. Eno had wanted the album to be called Remain In Light by Talking Heads and Brian Eno, but he was eventually talked down.

After some discussion it was agreed that writers’ credits should read ‘All Songs By David Byrne, Brian Eno, Chris Frantz, Jerry Harrison and Tina Weymouth.’ The names were in alphabetical order, and the final LP artwork was signed off as such.

However, when advance copies of the LP were circulated, the writing credits had been altered to ‘All Songs By David Byrne, Brian Eno, Talking Heads.’

What’s more, the lyric sheet on the inner sleeve had been changed to ‘All Songs by David Byrne and Brian Eno, except The Overload and Houses In Motion written by David Byrne, Brian Eno, and Jerry Harrison’. It was a sleight that must have felt like a huge, hurtful smack in the mouth to Frantz and Weymouth.

Nonetheless, the album was released on 8 October 1980 to widespread critical acclaim, featuring high across-the-board ratings in the music press best of year polls – coming first in both Sounds and Melody Maker, while placing sixth in NME.

While not remotely interested in touring himself, Eno believed Remain In Light to be too dense for a quartet to take on the road, and so the lineup was extended to nine members for live performances.

To beef up the band, Adrian Belew was joined by Funkadelic’s living legend Bernie Worrell, alongside bassist Busta Jones, percussionist Steven Scales and backing vocalist Dolette McDonald. The nucleus of which would remain intact for 1984’s concert film Stop Making Sense and the soundtrack album of the same name.

Following a hugely successful world tour with the big band and after releasing four albums in just as many years, Talking Heads, sensibly for all concerned, went into a three-year hiatus.

Byrne worked on a musical score for US choreographer and dancer Twyla Tharp titled The Catherine Wheel, while Harrison’s first solo outing was called The Red And The Black. Frantz and Weymouth returned to Nassau, where they now owned a property.

Venturing into the same studio where Remain In Light was initially recorded, they formed side project Tom Tom Club and scored a couple of substantial worldwide hits in Wordy Rappinghood and the much-sampled Genius Of Love.

Talking Heads continued to work together for four more studio albums, but the psychic toll in daring to reach the creative heights of Remain In Light meant the damage was beyond repair, and what was once the most searingly sharp of cutting edges was now blunted”.

The Quietus published a feature about Remain in Light for its forty-fifth anniversary in 2020. They highlight how, even though it was created at a stressful and strange time for the band and there “may still raise questions over its authorship for the band’s exceptional rhythm section”, Remain in Light has not aged and is one of the band’s very best:

“If Talking Heads have a signature song, then even more than ‘Psycho Killer’, even more than ‘Burning Down The House’, ‘Once In A Lifetime’, which opens side two, is surely the one. It’s so familiar, so beloved, so immediately and everlastingly catchy, that it’s easy to no longer notice just how weird it is. As is often the way, while seeking to do their most self-consciously experimental work, the band fashioned their finest moment of pure pop. Has any magnificent pop song been quite so eccentric; has anything quite so eccentric become so magnificent a pop song? A gorgeous liquid ripple; one of those aforementioned loops, ascending, descending, punctuated by Byrne doing the TV preacher shtick that, like all inspired ideas, seems altogether obvious once lightning has struck its originator; then the dissolve into the chorus, the currents of time running simultaneously backwards and forwards, flow and undertow, wave and wash, river and sea. It is extraordinarily beautiful, extraordinarily profound, more meaningful and moving than, we may guess, anybody involved, even Byrne, had any notion it would be – and it is thus an extraordinary vindication of the way he and Eno chose to work. It wasn’t fair, no. The greatest art seldom is.

That ‘Once In A Lifetime’ does not render what follows – or what precedes it – redundant is a further illustration of just what a marvellous album this is. ‘Houses In Motion’ is perhaps the strangest dreamscape on here; no sooner does the tempo slow down enough for us to get our bearings, than the landmarks themselves start dancing around us, a heavy, swaying undulation, and we’re lost again. (The longer live version on the under-regarded live double LP The Name Of This Band Is Talking Heads, by the dazzling nine-piece touring outfit that took Remain In Light on the road, is even more deliciously and deliriously unsettling. Every time one sees or hears live archive of the band, one sympathises more and more with Frantz’s frustration, then fury, that they never toured after 1984. It was Byrne’s prerogative, yes; but at what grievous cost to both band and public.)

‘Seen And Not Seen’, and ‘Listening Wind’, are spooky as all get-out, in very different ways. The first, setting Byrne’s deadpan spoken vocal against a gently pulsating backdrop, feels in hindsight like a near-blueprint, certainly in mood and in theme (an existential meditation on appearance and identity), for what Laurie Anderson would soon commit to record. The second features one of Byrne’s most remarkable feats of lyric writing, putting himself inside not only the mind but the soul of a terrorist/ insurgent/ partisan – choose according to your inclination – planning and executing a bomb attack on an American target in his country. The languid, eerie, pattering loveliness of the music – and Remain In Light, it should be noted, sounds amazing throughout, something for which engineer and mixer Dave Jerden, later to produce the best work of Jane’s Addiction and Alice In Chains, should take substantial credit – imparts far more tension to the story than any overtly dramatic setting could have done. A year after America’s invasion of Iraq, Byrne would ruefully acknowledge the song’s prescience: “I don’t know if I could get away with performing that live anymore.”

If anybody has ever made an album that is more complex than Remain In Light yet runs more seamlessly, or feels closer to perfection, then I cannot think who or what. Chris Frantz and Tina Weymouth have plenty of good reasons to resent David Byrne and Brian Eno, but it’s a shame if this record is one of them. It is Talking Heads’ primary shot at immortality, and every single person involved did exactly what they needed to do, better than any other person could conceivably have done it. In the end it is the band’s name on the cover, the band’s music in its grooves, the band who collectively – and by a necessarily convoluted route – made not only their own masterpiece, but one of the supreme masterpieces of the age, and for the ages”.

I am going to wrap up with a detailed review from Pitchfork. In 2018, they heralded an Art-Rock masterpiece that is “a thrilling synthesis of artifice and Afrobeat”. There are other features I would advise people to check out, such as this and this. It is without doubt one of the best albums of the 1980s. Even though there has been a reunion of the band, David Byrne has said a full-blown reunion of Talking Heads would be unwise. They are on better terms than they were when they broke up, though I don’t think we will see them back together recording more music:

“This mass created the impression that Talking Heads was a collective—one that might embark on a familiar song only to arrive somewhere wild and strange. “There is something essential about losing control over what you do,” Weymouth told the Canadian zine Pig Paper in 1977. This would also turn out to be a central insight, as the band increasingly coupled its conceptual experiments with rhythm arrangements designed to make its core members—and its audience—lose control.

Talking Heads’ belief that artifice could feel more real than fake sincerity paved the way for future art rock acts, but Remain in Light differs from successors like Laurie Anderson or Life Without Buildings in that you can dance to it. The rhythm arrangements on this album are irresistible. They are the visceral complement to Byrne’s conceptual lyrics about air conditioning and his face. This combination of gutsy rhythms and heady words elevates songs like “Crosseyed and Painless” from nonsense to dream logic. What begins as an idea becomes, in its fullest expression, a feeling.

Although Remain in Light has become an acknowledged classic, it retains a feeling of unfamiliarity. It is tempting to attribute this quality to Byrne’s obtuse lyrics, but the album’s instrumental arrangements also constitute a break with rock’s conventional forms. Weymouth’s bassline on “Crosseyed and Painless” crowds staccato bursts of notes into the first half of each measure, leaving the second half empty in a way that defines the percussion pattern. This technique, essential to funk, diverges from rock’s standard practice of using the bass to keep time. Perhaps the album’s greatest heresy, though, is its total absence of guitar riffs. Like Weymouth, Harrison prefers to use his instrument as a noisemaker. His howling fills on “Listening Wind” lend a foreboding, unpredictable atmosphere to lyrics that are as close as Byrne gets to conventional narrative. These tracks do not hew as strictly to Afrobeat forms as “Once in a Lifetime” or “Born Under Punches (The Heat Goes On),” but they still manage to introduce a coherent sound that is alien to mainstream rock.

Without Afrobeat, though, there is no Remain in Light. The central role of West-African polyrhythms in the album’s sound draws attention to a curious aspect of its longevity. Could a group of white musicians playing Afrobeat be taken sincerely in 2018? Virtually every genre of American music, including punk and especially rock, is taken from black forms. Afrobeat is not African-American, though; it’s straight-up African. The 21st-century sensibility finds something problematic in a band of white art-school types playing West African music. Earlier this year, the Beninese musician Angelique Kidjo released her own version of Remain in Light, which NPR described as “an authentic Afrobeat record” compared to the original. Given how closely Kidjo followed the Talking Heads’ arrangements, this description raises questions about what we mean when we say “authentic.”

The success of Remain in Light—undeniable regardless of our ideas about the degree to which artists should respect historically ethnic divisions between musical forms—forces us to reckon with the album’s contradictions. Rock is a more welcoming genre today than it was in 1980, and punk has never seemed closer to the perennial danger that it will become a parody of itself. Still, it is hard to imagine a current underground rock band like Joyce Manor taking a turn toward the music of the Nigerian Afropop star Davido without getting laughed into oblivion. The fact that Talking Heads pulled it off so spectacularly, even 38 years ago, is a tribute to their aptitude as students of music.

There is something motivational about Remain in Light, not just as dance music but as expression. On “Seen and Not Seen,” Byrne speculates that a man might change his appearance “by keeping an ideal facial structure fixed in the back of his mind.” It’s an absurd commentary on the nature of vanity, but it also declares a touching faith in artistic willpower—a faith Remain in Light rewards. The album presents such a strange artistic vision, foreign to what came before but operating as though it were the culmination of a long tradition, that it seems to declare the power of weirdness itself. To be not just strange but singular, to reinvent a form in a way that you can dance to, to smuggle beer into the museum: This is the visceral thrill of art. We want to deny it on theoretical grounds, but we can’t. So we must revise our theories”.

On 8th October, the exceptional Remain in Light turns forty-five. I am sure it will get new inspection and affection closer to its anniversary. Forty-five years later and the album remains ageless and as astonishing as ever. Remain in Light is a moment in music history that…

FEW can match.

FEATURE: Up the Hill Backwards: David Bowie's Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps) at Forty-Five

FEATURE:

 

 

Up the Hill Backwards

David Bowie's Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps) at Forty-Five

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THIS album was released…

IN THIS PHOTO: David Bowie in 1980/PHOTO CREDIT: Brian Duffy

at a very interesting time. In terms of David Bowie’s career. His first album of the 1980s, Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps) followed a year after Lodger. I think this was still part of a golden run of albums that began in 1977 with Low. Containing Bowie classics such as Fashion and Ashes to Ashes, it is no surprise that this album is seen as one of Bowie’s best. It turn forty-five on 12th September. Lodgers was the final album of his Berlin trilogy. Though these albums were not a huge commercial success, Low, “Heroes“ and Lodger are masterful albums from an artist at his peak. I do think that Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps) is a little underrated in David Bowie’s cannon. As it turns forty-five on 12th September, I want to spend some time with it. I shall come to reviews for his fourteenth studio album. I am going to get to some retrospective features before coming to reviews. In 2020, Stereogum wrote how Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps) summed up everything we knew about David Bowie. They erroneously argue that it was his last great album. That it was a creative peak that he never scaled again. Forgetting Bowie recorded several superb albums after that, including 1983’s Let Dance and 2016’s Blackstar:

“David Bowie’s Scary Monsters (And Super Creeps) came out in September of 1980, 40 years ago tomorrow. And for 50 to 75 percent of the time since, it’s been known as “David Bowie’s last great album.” Retrospective reviews and biographies harp on it, while, naturally, every half-decent Bowie release in subsequent decades was proclaimed “the best album since Scary Monsters.” Many of Bowie’s generational peers have similar albums, but perhaps there was always something more glaring about it within Bowie’s career: The musician that once shed skins so easily, flailing through pop stardom in the ’80s and exploring new genres in the ’90s but never being able to live up to the groundbreaking work he did in the ’70s. Just before Bowie’s death, the transfixing mortality meditation of Blackstar may have finally rearranged things so that Bowie’s last album was also his last great album. But in the grand scheme of Bowie’s career, the story still pivots around Scary Monsters — the album that marks the end of at least one creative peak that now, having spent all these years with the burden of simply being the “last great album,” may also be an altogether underrated work in relation to the more canonized Bowie albums.

Scary Monsters arrived after the Berlin trilogy, an adventurous and massively influential stretch of albums that have only become more and more hallowed as the decades have passed. That era was obviously fruitful, but Bowie changed things up for Scary Monsters, decamping to New York and spending more time crafting the songs in an attempt to get something more direct. As a result, Scary Monsters would eventually be hailed as a successful marriage between Bowie’s experimental impulses and his songwriting acumen. Its infectious art-rock situated it perfectly at the dawn of new wave — a genre obviously heavily indebted to Bowie — yet at the same time it seemed to carry the whole preceding decade with it. It was a capstone, summary, and new beginning all at once, emerging from Bowie’s dizzying ‘70s run.

While Scary Monsters was a more grounded, rock-oriented album compared to its immediate predecessors, that was still only true relative to Bowie’s world at that moment. All of his transformations were swirling and colliding here. Glam rock songs were dressed up with hissing technological sheen. Remnants of the Thin White Duke’s plastic soul instead became the sound of melted plastic and warped, raw humanity. The chilly atmospherics of Heroes were now emerging into a new light, flashing and screaming and sputtering. The album seemed to underline how far Bowie had journeyed across the ’70s and how all of this somehow still lived within him. Hearing the different versions of Bowie at play on Scary Monsters can still, four decades later, make you reconsider his arc and inspire awe all over again that, say, “Rebel Rebel” and Low are separated by less than three years.

Yet in the overarching narrative of classic rock history, Scary Monsters might be beloved, it might be that last great album, but it’s not often mentioned as breathlessly as his theoretically more definitive albums — the widely accepted classic rock masterpiece of Ziggy Stardust, the psych-tinged soul reinvention of Young Americans paired with the nocturnal coke spiral of Station To Station, and then of course the genre-imploding and otherworldly Low and Heroes.

On some level this makes sense: The synthesis and refinement of things is rarely going to loom as large as the first, mind-blowing leap into unforeseen horizons. Even if Low and Heroes are half full-fledged (if askew) pop songs and half ambient excursions, they helped birth whole new genres. Scary Monsters, in comparison, was the sound of an aging Bowie more or less engaging with the new sound of the time — quite effectively, but no longer years ahead of everyone else. Still, Scary Monsters deserves credit beyond what it’s given: This is the less-heralded classic of Bowie’s career, taking everything about him and recontextualizing it within a jagged robotic aesthetic, all of it sounding like it took place in a nightclub in some retro-futuristic cityscape”.

The next feature I want to include is this from The Quietus. In their header, they write how, in “Silhouettes And Shadows, Adam Steiner takes a deep dive into a pivotal moment in the transformation of the Thin White Duke”. Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps) is a pivotal album and a truly remarkable moment in David Bowie’s career. I feel it warrants a lot of new love and attention ahead of its forty-fifth anniversary:

“Bowie emerged blinking into the cold light of 1980 to find a new Britain. The election of a Conservative government seems to be the moment of first blood; death as rebirth, sparking his renewed interest in the growing discord reflected across society: “Scary Monsters always felt like some kind of purge," Bowie said in an interview with Bill Demain from 2003. "It was this sense of: ‘Wow, you can borrow the luggage of the past; you can amalgamate it with things that you’ve conceived could be in the future and you can set it in the now’”. This fed directly into Bowie’s continued fascination in post-apocalyptic scenarios, always jumping the gun to the greatest hits of the worst-case scenario –even Ziggy Stardust’s good time rolling in 1972 kicked-off with doom and gloom of ‘Five Years’.

From his review of Lodger, Jon Savage noted “a small projection from present trends, call it Alternative Present if you will,” in Bowie’s music. This granted him the perspective of an advanced future (present) tense, seeing through the everyday atrocity as if with a knowing sense of inevitability. Everything seemed to be running fast-forward, in free fall, accelerating toward the hyperreal technocratic state chained to the conspiracy theories of the military-industrial complex – the hunger for progress driven to a fever pitch at the bleeding edge of now. Viewed through the twisted prism of a thwarted political climate, everywhere Bowie looked, the world seemed full with clear and present dangers of terrorism and foreign conflict – some imagined, others very real – made manifest in the political rhetoric of Reagan’s “evil empires” and Thatcher’s “enemy within.” This weaponized language provided just cause for witch hunts to root-out the freaks, radicals, and rebels on the domestic front, to normalize the notion “war all the time” against one common (invisible) enemy after another – all for the preservation of Western conservative supremacy. Scary Monsters is infused with the same spirit of paranoiac doom-ridden rhetoric chattered among the political classes and echoed throughout sustained media bombardments; Bowie’s lyrics are flush with violence, broken bones, and damaged lives cut short. Where before Bowie had heard warning shots fired overhead, they now rained down as friendly fire from loose cannons and assassins, all with the deadly intent of the sniper picking off undesirables.

Where so many people’s inner lives hinged on daily uncertainties, the songs of Scary Monsters find Bowie setting himself against an unhinged global picture. His lyric notes express burning ambiguity mired in contradiction; for once, Bowie seems afraid to make the first move: “Half of me freezing, half of me boiling, I’m nowhere in between,” as Bowie seemed to write compulsively across his lyrical sketch sheets: “A reactive person … too much data, possible events.” Chris O’Leary hears the album as a singular “horror documentary,” the reel caught in its own teeth; phrases tumble out of him, spooling endlessly, turned over and over in a frantic mind as if overhearing oneself from another room: a wild terror, fresh heartbreak, psychic collapse.

Tired of occupying his station as the permanent outsider looking in, passing commentary on a planet that in many ways had always seemed alien and foreign to him, Bowie discovered a newfound need to reconnect with other people, though still focusing on himself as an introspective subject. Chris O’Leary noted that the David Bowie of 1980, whether by accident or design, found himself most at home in a “society of one.” The rising atomisation of the individual remained at the heart of Bowie’s music for several albums, charting humanity’s widening separation from common cause. In 1997, Bowie observed of himself, “Thematically I’ve always dealt with alienation and isolation in everything I’ve written.” Putting himself into the mind-set of loneliness as a place to write from, where small universes bloomed inside the mind, this act of self-distancing would increasingly become a mutual splintering disconnect. As Bowie watched the real-time heat-death of common mutuality, it seemed to confirm that alienation was simply a new expression of freedom (from others), so worldly concerns became centred around transactional analysis, individuals weighing the needs of their own lives against the invisible many. The decline of the nuclear family, rising divorce rates, and the carve-up of land and homes into ‘real estate’ spoke to private interest trumping collective responsibility, with each Englishman raising the drawbridge of his or her own castle. This confirmed the entitlement of a round-waisted petit bourgeois middle class, championing the climbing of the social ladder and the accumulation of “new” money to escape their past and avoid working-class associations, kicking the rungs out beneath them as they strained to climb ever higher.

Writer and journalist Jon Savage, who began as a music fan and became the man-on-the-ground chronicler of punk, noted the perilous times of 1980 in which Bowie had arrived. Still popular, it was as the glam rock entertainer that mainstream audiences and casual radio listeners valued him most. But now even his most outlandish tendencies had been absorbed into the new subculture. Bowie was no longer himself; he was “us,” standing at odds with the unsettled mood of the times, while the most radical of new musics that emerged in the brief renaissance of post-punk would gradually become less confrontational, more acceptable, and unthreatening as the decade wore on or remained underground as nonconformist subversion, somehow ruining the party: “In the face of increasing hardship and political polarisation, arty posing and homosex – inextricably linked too often thanks to Bowie’s example – are definitely seen to be out: the former as a childish luxury, the latter as a definite social disadvantage as dog eats dog.”

On Scary Monsters, there is a suppressed rage that mourned, mocked, and sampled the Bowie mythology, dissecting the beautiful corpse, still living. The faint and resigned “woah-ah-oh” line that ushers in the pre-chorus of ‘Ashes to Ashes’ is heard again on Tonight’s ‘Loving the Alien’, reaching strange heights of self-awareness but also managing to sound new and different and standing entirely in its own right. Elsewhere, Bowie blogger Neil Anderson points out that Bowie’s 1999 song ‘Pretty Things Are Going to Hell’ revisited the youthful spring of ‘Oh You Pretty Things!’ like ‘Changes’ in reverse, backward growth that interrogates images of the past. The sheer magnitude of Bowie’s back catalogue meant that he was weighed down by the number of songs and the refraction of images, making Bowie confront his many selves. As Greil Marcus noted, “Right at this point, then – the verge of the 80s – Bowie should be ready for a major new move, or a major synthesis”.

I will end with a couple of reviews for the amazing Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps). Rolling Stone provided their take on this David Bowie gem in 1980. I will also put in some links to a few rankings lists where we can see how this album is viewed. Whether it features among David Bowie’s ‘best’:

“On Scary Monsters, he comes out fighting. Fusing the sheet-metal textures of the Eno trilogy into something darker and more dense, Bowie focuses his attention on a world he helped create. Lodger, with its sardonic gambol through “the hinterland,” was the final serving — and sendup — of the old pose of evasive escapism. Scary Monsters presents David Bowie riveted to life’s passing parade: streamlined moderns, trendies and sycophants in 360 degrees of stark, scarifying Panavision. With its nervous voyeurism, Scary Monsters is more like Aladdin Sane (probably Bowie’s best record) than anything else. But because the bleakness that Bowie now witnesses is partially of his own devising, it gives the new LP a heavy, stricken pall. If there’s condescension in the artist’s stance (Prometheus aghast at what mortals have made of his gift?), there’s also genuine concern. Bowie has the air of a superhero who’s shrugged off his powers and thus volunteered himself to a reality from which he can’t quick-change away.

Claustrophobia descends immediately in the opening “It’s No Game (Part I),” which clanks and jerks its way into a lumbering, robotic dance. Bowie’s vocal — a long, distorted yowl of pain — is intercut with a harsh, rapid-fire Japanese translation. With its blunt rhythms, discordant accents and cautionary lyrics (“Throw the rock against the road and/It breaks into pieces…/It’s no game”), the song is meant to jolt and distress. The end is particularly disturbing. As the tune falls away, Robert Fripp’s stair-stepping guitar riff continues until the singer’s screams of “Shut up!” snap it to a halt — and you realize it was just a tape loop: mechanical companionship. It’s an ugly, disorienting moment. Scary Monsters is full of them.

Throughout the album, the beat is so jackbooted, the pressure so intense, you find yourself casting about for relief. Yet each hint of help (the ice-crystal space walk of “Ashes to Ashes,” the crooner’s catch to Bowie’s vocal in “Because You’re Young,” his failed leaps at a romantic falsetto in “Teenage Wildlife”) pulls you back into the same gray night-mare. The freeze-dried Bo Diddley riff that begins “Up the Hill Backwards” slashes into the middle of a bunch of swaying, arm-linked half-wits, who coo with the blank contentment of Brave New World some addicts: “More idols than realities/Oooh/ I’m O.K. — you’re so-so/Oooh/ It’s got nothing to do with you/If one can grasp it.”

David Bowie has always utilized distance for self-preservation, but now he’s shuddering at the results — at what happens when estrangement becomes not only an illustrative concept but a code to live by. The wraiths who inhabit Scary Monsters are all either running scared with their eyes closed or too wasted to notice what’s in front of them. They’re antiromantic, half-dead, disposable. “I love the little girl and I’ll love her till the day she dies,” Bowie leers in the title track, his exaggerated London accent a garish caricature of maudlin sentiment.

“Ashes to Ashes,” a sequel to “Space Oddity,” is Bowie’s most explicit self-indictment. Mirroring the malaise of the times, Major Tom — the escapist hero-has metamorphosed into a space-bound junkie, clinging hard to his pride and the fantasy that he’ll “stay clean tonight.” Though the image is chilling, it’s difficult to see “Ashes to Ashes,” with its reference to “a guy that’s been/In such an early song,” as anything but perverse self-aggrandizement. More successful is “Fashion,” a heavy-handed, irony-laden parody of stylistic fascism (“We are the goon squad/And we’re coming to town/Beep beep”), complete with handclaps and trendy buzz-and-whir accents. Hollow to the core, the tune is infectious enough to be a dance-floor hit, which will merely prove its point.

Terse, rocky and often didactic, David Bowie’s compositions cut away all illusions of dignity in isolation, of comfort in crowds. Even Bowie’s cover version of “Kingdom Come,” Tom Verlaine’s anthem about strife and salvation, is dark. He changes the heart-stopping shimmer of the original into a strained lock step. Verlaine’s affirming call-and-response (“I’ll be breaking these rocks/Until the kingdom comes”) is treated as a deadly joke. Bowie sings “Kingdom Come” in a flat, fake-naive drawl, and each line is answered — not with a promise but with a mock-gospel echo — by the lobotomized choir of “Up the Hill Backwards.” Since every last knee slap has been preplanned, it’s like a revival meeting in which nobody is transfigured. Any chance for redemption is out.

No one breaks through on Scary Monsters. No one is saved. Major Tom is left unrescued. The tortured, reprocessed gays of “Scream like a Baby” can’t save their friends — or their badge of difference. The human mannequins of “Fashion” can’t stop marching. Indeed, the kids in “Because You’re Young” can’t even tell each other apart Instead, beguiled by the hope of hope, they track the wasted remnants of romance (“A million dreams/A million scars”) until youth, too, is wasted.

Where do you go when hope is gone? Bowie’s enervated, meditative, half-speed reprise of “It’s No Game” leaves the question — and the record — hanging. The artist’s next album may see him questing, but on Scary Monsters, he’s settling old scores. Slowly, brutally and with a savage, satisfying crunch, David Bowie eats his young”.

The Treble posted their review of Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps) in 2008. For anyone who has not heard this album, I would advise you to spend some time with it. It is a remarkable album that perhaps came at the end of the greatest run of his career. However, it was definitely not David Bowie’s last truly ‘great’ album:

“It’s no wonder, considering the panic and emotion he goes through in the center of the album. “Scary Monsters” keeps up a paranoid atmosphere, where Robert Fripp’s guitar work squeals as you picture spidery, Nosferatu fingers reaching for the girl left “stupid in the street” who can’t socialize. Though it’s Bowie who says he’s running, you’re left to question who the vampire is here: “She asked me to stay and I stole her room / She asked for my love and I gave her a dangerous mind.” It should be noted that his vocals, when not sounding tortured, tend to have an almost mechanical inflection adding to the creepiness of this song.

The next two songs are probably the most well-known from the album: “Ashes to Ashes” and “Fashion.” They’ll both end up on repeat, though they’re very different kinds of songs. “Ashes,” often speculated to be Bowie’s drug confessional, is a wash of trippy, plunking effects, with the lyrics whispered behind Bowie’s singing. “Ashes to ashes / funk to funky / We know Major Tom’s a junky / strung out in heaven’s high, hitting an all-time low” seems to speak more to Bowie’s past than his recent drug addictions. Glam’s most-celebrated chameleon has a wax gallery of personas, all of them worshipped throughout the 1970s. In “Ashes,” Bowie seems to be saying goodbye to all of them: “My mother said, to get things done / you better not mess with Major Tom.” He’s moving on here, and, appropriately, Scary Monsters is recognized as a fusing together of his disparate styles and sonic experiments leading up to 1980.

“Fashion” heads off in a different direction altogether. It’s more a straightforward dance song, with a killer beat and funk-filled bass line. The imagery that comes to mind is an army of metrosexual robots, dapper, hip, and completely brainless: “We are the goon squad and we’re comin’ to town – beep beep!” Despite the dark lyrics, it’s irresistibly catchy, and perfect for any dance party.

The last standout song is “Teenage Wildlife,” almost an open letter to the aspiring pop cretins following in Bowie’s footsteps. Flocks of lonely teenagers and make-up-wearing rock Lotharios have prayed at the shrine of Bowie since his rise to stardom. Now estranged from his glittering costumes, Bowie has little in common with these starry-eyed performers, seeking advise on how to be rich, famous and well-loved: “A broken-nose mogul are you / One of the new wave boys / Same old thing in brand new drag comes sweeping into view / ugly as a teenage millionaire.” It’s a coming to terms with the wonderland he’d been floating through most of his young adulthood. But as fun as the fame and spotlight have been, it’s hard not to be sick of fans hanging on to his every word – with famous fans now trying to pen words like his. Bowie was earning his freedom here, asserting that he’s a man and an artist, but not “a piece of teenage wildlife” to be hunted, trapped, and prodded to perform.

The ’80s would be a quagmire for his career, and the ’90s, though he’d receive more attention, were uneven as well. Yet in the ’00s, albums like Heathen and Reality proved he still had an eclectic range in him, on up through the triumph of The Next Day and, ultimately, Blackstar. Bowie’s public remained relatively quiet following Scary Monsters, when he closed the door on his wild, fanciful menagerie of space aliens and cracked actors. But he closed it with a bang, and it holds up remarkably well even decades after its release”.

Last year, Rough Trade rankled David Bowie’s albums and placed it first. In 2013, Rolling Stone placed Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps) in seventh (“There really isn't a weak track on the album, proving that Bowie was almost unique among Seventies rock icons in his ability to stay relevant after the punk revolution. He made many great songs after this, but never again was any album this satisfying from start to finish”). SPIN also placed the album seventh in their ranking from 2022. I shall end things there. A true David Bowie classic, Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps) turns forty-five on 12th September. A masterpiece from an icon that…

WE very much miss.

FEATURE: Everybody Screaming…and With Good Reason! Why Florence + The Machine Could Deliver the Album of the Year

FEATURE:

 

 

Everybody Screaming…and With Good Reason!

ALL PHOTOS: Autumn de Wilde

Why Florence + The Machine Could Deliver the Album of the Year

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EVERY year delivers…

an album that seems to define the time. That year and its mood. Charli xcx did that in 2024 with BRAT. It seemed to arrive at a particular moment when we needed an album like that. Something that took Pop to new places and united people. Perhaps the soundtrack of the summer, it is still impacting people today. Such an incredible album. This year’s defining album is perhaps going to come on 31st October. An autumn masterpiece that I think has this sense of catharsis and drama. Beauty and something seductive. Florence + The Machine’s Everybody Scream is very much going to be up there with the absolute best albums oc this year. The title track has just been released and reception has been understandably ecstatic. I will come to that. Some people vibing to its epic and spine-tingling wonder. Something sexual and enticing in the song. Others highlighting how it is very much Florence + The Machine but on a new level. One of the things I hate about the hype and attention around the group is a word/term I have attacked and called out a few times. The ‘return’. The band coming back with this album. The fact is, as I often say, artists that do release afters after a year or two are not ‘returning’. They are continuing their career. Florence + The Machine released Dance Fever in 2022. Only three years ago, they have not gone away, retired or stopped. They have been playing gigs and active, so it seems somewhat odd and pressuring to say they are making a return. In any case, the group’s sixth studio album could very well be their best-received. There was this tantalising teaser and clip where their lead, Florence Welch, could be seen in a very picturesque and peaceful field aggressively digging into the dirt and then screaming into the hole. Not only is it a powerful and memorable visual. It also seems like her screaming at the world. The state of the world. Something so many of us can relate to!

I think that is why Everybody Scream will resonate and prove hugely popular. The promotional images and videos for the album are shot by Autumn de Wilde. It is a fantastic and natural collaboration. Everybody Scream garnered some incredible reaction. This feeling that Florence + The Machine are about to give us the album of the year. Not only that. A group hitting a peak so many years after their formation. Or hitting a new high. It is inspiring to other artists. I am going to start with an article from NME, who provides some backdrop to Everybody Scream:

“The song arrives after Florence Welch took to social media yesterday (August 19) to confirm the details of a sixth album. Set for release on October 31, it follows on from the 2022 album ‘Dance Fever’, and is said to be inspired by mysticism and witchcraft.

Inspiration for the record stems from singer Welch undergoing lifesaving surgery during the ‘Dance Fever Tour’ and starting to look into spiritual mysticism and folk horror – understanding the limits of her body and questioning what it means to be “healed”.

These are themes that helped shape the record, along with exploration of womanhood, partnership, aging, and dying. All songs were written and produced by Welch over the past two years, and contributions to the LP come from IDLES’ Mark Bowen, Mitski, and The National’s Aaron Dessner.

Today (August 20) sees the release of the title track and an accompanying music video directed by Autumn de Wilde and featuring Bowen.

The album will comprise 12 songs and is available to pre-order here. There will also be ‘Chamber Versions’ of CD and vinyl editions which contain four bonus tracks, and a ‘Bloodwood Edition’ of the cassette, which features a different cover.

Speculation about a new Florence + The Machine album got momentum last month, when the singer hinted at new material on Instagram. 

One of the photos in her post showed a whiteboard reading: “You can have it all,” before listing off “Clarity, power, purpose, vocals, space, dynamics and beauty”. Flo also mentioned “Witchcraft, folk horror, mysticism, magic, poetry [and] insanity” in the post, and shared a photograph of Simon Critchley’s 2024 book, On Mysticism.

Earlier this year, the group celebrated the 10th anniversary of ‘How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful’. That was their third record, arriving after their 2009 debut ‘Lungs’ and 2011’s sophomore release ‘Ceremonials’. It was followed by 2018’s ‘High As Hope’”.

Apart from, depressingly and invariably, every review staying Florence + The Machine are ‘back’ or ‘returned’ – because three years is practically like giving up on music and going into hiding! Or the suggestion their previous work was inferior -, there is this consensus that the opening track from their upcoming album is already one of the singles of the year. Far Out Magazine shared their take on the extraordinary Everybody Scream:

“When Florence and the Machine announced that her new album, Everybody Scream, was set to be released on October 31st, fans could already guess what direction she was taking. On the titular track, Florence Welch takes a bite of the poison apple and welcomes the listener into a world that is dark, broody, and outrageously seductive.

The song comes a week after the ‘You’ve Got the Love’ singer posted an unsettling video of herself to social media, in which she was depicted frantically digging a hole in the ground and screaming into it. It’s not a stretch to say that what could be heard on the other side of the abyss might sound something just like ‘Everybody Scream’.

Apt for the album opener, it begins with a mythical, jangly synth, and cult-like vocables flexing Welch’s incredible vocal timbre and range. Soon, a heavy drum kicks in, and things take a turn for the weird. The beat pushes forward, dangerous and inviting.

In the pre-chorus breakdown, Welch commands the listener to dance, sing, move, and scream. She is in full control. Here, in the gothic-inspired music video directed by Autum de Wild and featuring Mark Bowen of Idles, the singer-songwriter parties and dances with ghosts and ghouls, dressed all in red. The track is produced expertly and plays with darker, heavier influences, most notable in the dipping guitar riff that unravels into the chorus.

After five studio albums, Welch’s attack on the demands of the industry comes to the forefront in the racing track. She details the parasocial relations of those “breathless, begging and screaming my name” as Welch bursts through the ceiling. She muses on the expectation to be “extraordinarily normal at the same time.”

As always, Welch deftly depicts a painful world in which she has no choice but to partake. This time, however, it seems Welch is conjuring the spell.

The track leans even further into ghoulish mysticism for an eerie, if abrupt, ending. “So witchcraft, the medicine, the spells and the injections / the harvest, the needle protect me from evil / the magic and the misery, madness and the mystery / Oh, what has it done to me?”

Welch might be ruined by the necessary evil she must excavate from within to make music as enchanting and addictive as ‘Everybody Scream’, but the listener is certainly all the better for it”.

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A post shared by Florence Welch (@florence)

There is so much in this one song! It may reflect the rest of the album in terms of tone and themes. Welch hitting out at those who judge her or have these double standards. Expecting women in music to be exceptional or overlooking those who are not, but then criticising those they see as too weird or wild. The spellbinding imagery and this gothic feel to the song. The fact it is a slightly new direction. Florence Welch’s voice at its peak. So strong and commanding. It is a bewitching and epic song that is so powerful and moving. I don’t think it will be a red herring in terms of the quality and effect. I do feel the whole album will be this incredible. Seeing Everybody Scream performed live and these songs reaching the fans in such a direct and physical way will be something to witness! We will know more about the album and its origins when there are promotional interviews. At the moment, we have this first single and new taste of Florence + The Machine’s sixth studio album. One that is not as comeback or a return. Instead, it is them moving on and releasing a new album that I think they will be involved with for another year or so - in terms of the touring demands. I think that Everybody Scream will be voted as this year’s best album. I am curious to hear what Florence Welch says when we get to read her insights in interviews. On 31st October, this amazing and potentially year-defining album arrives. If you are a major fan of the group or not, this is one that you will want to own! I genuinely feel it will define this year. It is going to be both personal and universal. One that is meaningful and true to Florence Welch, yet its themes, words and energy is going to be taken to heart by so many people. Seeing the social media reaction and how excited people are by Everybody Scream is heartening. At a time when we need music more than ever to life and bring us together, it is a perfect moment to spotlight a song and band that has…

GOT so many people talking.

FEATURE: The Digital Mixtape: Texas Hits and Deeper Cuts

FEATURE:

 

 

The Digital Mixtape

Texas Hits and Deeper Cuts

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NOT tied to any anniversary at all…

IN THIS PHOTO: Sharleen Spiteri

I wanted to put out a mixtape with a selection of Texas songs. Starting life in 1986, we celebrate forty years of their formation next year. The current line-up consists of Sharleen Spiteri, Johnny McElhone, Eddie Campbell, Tony McGovern and Cat Myers. The band were formed in Glasgow and the original line-up consisted of Johnny McElhone, Ally McErlaine, and Sharleen Spiteri. Their most popular album, 1997’s White on Blonde, is one that I remember fondly. Say What You Want, Halo and Black Eyed Boy are classics from that time that I was completely hooked on. I will get to some detailed biography in a minute. I have always been a fan of Texas and think that Sharleen Spiteri is one of the great leads. She was also a big musical crush when I was in high school! An amazing voice whose is backed by an incredible band, I was keen to combine many of their best-known songs with some deeper cuts. First, let’s get to some biography from AllMusic:

“Texas cultivates a specific niche by splicing a deep love of American R&B with a sense of popcraft and rock muscle endemic to their homeland of Scotland. Initially, Texas operated on a grand scale reminiscent of such fellow 1980s rockers as U2, but the group's 1997 album White on Blonde pulled their strengths into focus, emphasizing smooth soul grooves and the intensity of lead singer Sharleen Spiteri's vocals. From that point forward, Texas concentrated on variations of blue-eyed soul, sometimes veering into slick adult contemporary territory but remaining flexible and stylish enough to make collaborations with hip-hop mavericks the Wu-Tang Clan feel logical. The first of these Wu-Tang duets, a remix of "Say What You Want" dubbed "Say What You Want (All Day, Every Day)," arrived in 1998, near the start of nearly a decade's worth of U.K. Top Ten hits, a streak that included "Black Eyed Boy," "In Our Lifetime," "Summer Son," "Inner Smile," and "Getaway." The second Wu-Tang collaboration, "Hi," was the title track of their 2021 album, a reunion that helped emphasize how Texas continued to find fresh inspiration within their signature blend of soul, pop, and rock, while their 2024 album The Muscle Shoals Sessions -- cut at Alabama's FAME Recording Studio with Spooner Oldham -- underscored their debt to classic soul.

Taking the group's name from the Wim Wenders film Paris, Texas, bass player Johnny McElhone organized the band in Glasgow in 1986. McElhone, a veteran of the bands Altered Images and Hipsway, brought in singer and rhythm guitarist Sharleen Spiteri, lead guitarist Ally McErlaine, and drummer Stuart Kerr. Paris, Texas boasted a score by Ry Cooder, whose slide guitar playing heavily influenced McErlaine, and Spiteri sang without any discernible Scottish accent, giving the band a distinctly American sound. Texas made their concert debut in March 1988 at Dundee University in Scotland. McElhone's previous connection with Mercury Records through Hipsway led to the label's signing the band, which initially tried to record with Bernard Edwards of Chic as producer before settling on Tim Palmer instead. The first result of this association was the single "I Don't Want a Lover," the initial effort of the writing team of Spiteri and McElhone, which Mercury released in the U.K. in January 1989. In March, it peaked at number eight. Southside (the title referring to a neighborhood of Glasgow), their debut album, was released in March and peaked at number three at the end of the month. As Texas toured the U.K. and Europe, three more singles were released from the album but failed to reach the Top 40; nevertheless, Southside eventually sold more than two million copies worldwide. Meanwhile, Mercury released "I Don't Want a Lover," and Southside was released in the U.S. in July. The single broke into Billboard's Album Rock Tracks and Modern Rock Tracks radio charts before finally entering the Hot 100, where it peaked at number 77 on September 30; the album peaked at number 88 a week later.

Texas continued to tour Europe in 1990 before beginning work on their second album. Kerr left and was replaced on the drums by Richard Hynd, and keyboard player Eddie Campbell, who had been playing with them live, became an official member of the band. Mothers Heaven was released in September 1991 and proved to be a commercial disappointment, peaking at number 32 in the U.K. on October 5. In the U.S., the track "In My Heart" reached the Modern Rock Tracks chart as Texas made their first visit to the U.S. in November, but the album failed to chart. "Alone with You," the album's third single, returned them to the British Top 40, reaching number 32 on February 15, 1992, but their first substantial hit single since "I Don't Want a Lover" was a one-off cover of Al Green's "Tired of Being Alone," which peaked at number 19 on May 9.

After touring primarily in Europe, Texas retired to write and record another album, this time turning to Paul Fox as producer and recording at Bearsville Studio in Woodstock, New York, which gave them their title, Ricks Road, the name of the dirt road leading to the studio. "So Called Friend," released in advance of the album in August 1993, peaked at number 30 in the U.K. on September 11. (It was later used as the theme song for the U.S. television series Ellen, starring Ellen DeGeneres [1994 to 1998], and in the 1996 feature film Last Dance, starring Sharon Stone.) A second single, "You Owe It All to Me," reached number 39 on October 30, before Ricks Road finally appeared in November, hitting number 18 on November 13. The album was not initially released in the U.S., but it eventually came out in 1994 as the band made several trips to tour in North America. Despite this effort, like Mothers Heaven, Ricks Road failed to chart in the U.S., selling a meager 38,000 copies. The band wrote off the American market thereafter, concentrating primarily on Europe.

One more single from Ricks Road, "So in Love with You," made the British Top 40, peaking at number 28 in February 1994. But by the time Texas ended their tour in support of the album in December, they were ready for an extended break, and little was heard from the band over the next two years, while they worked on their fourth album with producer Mike Hedges. They re-emerged with a hometown concert in Glasgow on December 5, 1996, and in January 1997 came the advance single "Say What You Want," which became their biggest hit yet, peaking at number three on January 25. That surprising comeback was followed by the album White on Blonde, which entered the British charts at number one on February 15, 1997. It remained on the charts for nearly two years, selling 1.7 million copies in the U.K. alone and throwing off three more Top Ten hits: "Halo," "Black Eyed Boy," and "Put Your Arms Around Me." The band spent the year touring extensively in Europe and made their first trip to Australia in May. (They did not tour the U.S., where White on Blonde was finally released on August 5, 1997, as "Say What You Want" appeared in the comedy Picture Perfect, starring Jennifer Aniston, although they did find time for a promotional trip in October. The album did not chart, but Hollywood continued to favor the group, with "Put Your Arms Around Me" appearing in the 1998 film Ever After, starring Drew Barrymore.)

On February 9, 1998, Texas appeared at the BRIT Awards, performing "Say What You Want" in the company of rapper Method Man of Wu-Tang Clan. The seemingly unlikely pairing led to a new recording of the song, and the single "Say What You Want (All Day and Every Day)" by Texas featuring Wu-Tang Clan's Method Man and RZA entered the U.K. charts at number four on March 21. The band played shows periodically in 1998 while working on their next effort. That fifth album was prefaced by the leadoff single "In Our Lifetime," which entered the British charts at number four on May 1, 1999. For The Hush, which followed within weeks, the band comprised Spiteri, McElhone, Campbell, and McErlaine; soon after, it was announced that Mikey Wilson was the new drummer. The album entered the charts at number one on May 22, 1999. Second single "Summer Son" reached number five in August, but "When We Are Together" stopped at number 12 in November, capping Texas' run of consecutive Top Ten British hits at seven. Touring continued throughout 1999.

Texas' next single was "In Demand," a Top Ten hit released in October 2000 that prefaced The Greatest Hits, which hit number one in Britain in November and spawned a second new track, "Inner Smile," that reached the Top Ten in January 2001, and the band launched an extensive European tour. (By this time, Mercury wasn't even bothering to release Texas' records in the U.S.) In July, they issued a remixed version of their first hit, "I Don't Want a Lover," which made the Top 20. Spiteri then took time off to have a baby, giving birth to a daughter on September 9, 2002. More than two more years passed before the October 2003 release of their sixth album, Careful What You Wish For, which was prefaced by the single "Carnival Girl," featuring Kardinal Offishall, a Top Ten hit. (The credits announced that Neil Payne was the new drummer, replacing Wilson, and that a new guitarist, Tony McGovern, had joined the band.) The album peaked at number five and also featured the Top 40 hit "I'll See It Through." By November 2005, when their seventh album, Red Book, was released, Texas' commercial fortunes had declined, but the disc was still able to debut in the Top Ten in France, the band's most reliable market. (The album marked the addition of keyboard player Michael Bannister.) "Sleep," a duet between Spiteri and Paul Buchanan of the Blue Nile, was excerpted as the album's third single in January 2006 and made the U.K. Top Ten.

In 2008, the release of Sharleen Spiteri's first solo album, Melody, marked the beginning of a hiatus for the band; she released another, The Movie Songbook, in 2010. Reunion plans were put on hold after McErlaine suffered a brain aneurysm in late 2009, but less than two years later, Texas were on the road again. A record contract followed, and in 2013 the band released The Conversation via PIAS. Featuring contributions from Richard Hawley and Bernard Butler, it reached number four on the British charts and would later be certified silver. In February 2015, Texas celebrated their quarter-century anniversary with Texas 25, where the group reworked selected hits with the assistance of the production outfit Truth & Soul. Two years later, their ninth studio album, the self-produced Jump on Board, was released, preceded by the single "Let's Work It Out," a retro '70s disco throwback. Texas' tenth studio album, Hi, arrived in 2021; on the title-track single, the band once more teamed up with the Wu-Tang Clan's Ghostface Killah and RZA.

Texas entered a reflective period in the early 2020s, releasing the compilation The Very Best of 1989-2023 in June 2023, then revisiting highlights from their catalog for The Muscle Shoals Sessions, a 2024 album recorded at Alabama's FAME Recording Studio with seminal soul keyboardist Spooner Oldham”.

I am keen to get to this mixtape. The essential Texas songs, together with a blend of deeper cuts. Showing what a strong and consistent band they are. Having been a fan of their since the 1990s, I didn’t need a special occasion to feature them! Merely a chance, ahead of their fortieth anniversary next year, to show my affection for…

THE legendary Scottish band.

FEATURE: Celebration Day: Led Zeppelin III at Fifty-Five

FEATURE:

 

 

Celebration Day

Led Zeppelin III at Fifty-Five

__________

THOUGH perhaps not as lauded…

PHOTO CREDIT: Getty Images

as Untitled (1971) or Physical Graffiti (1975), there is no denying how transformative Led Zeppelin III was. In terms of broadening the sound palette of the band. Having released two albums to that point – 1968’s Led Zeppelin and Led Zeppelin II of 1969 -, you could feel them growing as a band. However, Led Zeppelin III was where there was a mix of acoustic, epic and the harder and more Rock-based sound of the first two albums. I think Led Zeppelin III is a perfect introduction for new fans, as it shows where the group came from and indicates where they would head. On 5th October (that is its U.S. release date), we mark fifty-five years of this extraordinary album. Much of the recording was done at Headley Grange, with additional sessions at Island Studios and Olympic Studios in London. Hard Rock influences on Immigrant Song fusing with more Folk-based sounds on Gallows Pole. That latter song is based on a traditional English Folk song. Hats Off to (Roy) Harper is a reworking of a Blue song. On this album, Robert Plant, Jimmy Page, John Bonham and John Paul Jones were at the top of their game. Even though they are perhaps more ambitious and spectacular on Untitled and Physical Graffiti, I think Led Zeppelin III is incredibly rich, accomplished and varied. The songwriting from Robert Plant and Jimmy Page so exceptional. The two working beautifully with one another. I am not sure how much people will mark fifty-five years of this album. Maybe an awkward anniversary to mark – we celebrate fifty and sixty years, but do we bother with fifty-five?! -, I wanted to spend time with Led Zeppelin III here. Opening with the classic, Immigrant Song, you are instantly hooked and intrigued! I want to get to some features about this album. Why it is so important and affecting.

Led Zeppelin III remains misunderstood. Maybe fans expecting something similar to the first two albums or not connecting with the acoustic and Folk touches. Perhaps not as many natural standout songs as you get on Led Zeppelin II and definitely would a year later for Untitled. Led Zeppelin III is integral to the band’s development. I will end with a couple of reviews for the 1970 album. Before that, there are two features to bring together. I am going to start out with a 2021 feature from Far Out Magazine. They argue how Led Zeppelin III is a misunderstood masterpiece. Hard to argue with that:

“On Led Zeppelin III, however, they split their audience and it remains to this day their most divisive record. The album is a gentle and cultured reimagining of their traditional sound and sees Zeppelin at perhaps their most daring.

Released on this day in 1970, the album ranks as one of the most controversial in the band’s canon. While much of what Led Zeppelin did is rightly revered to this day, the band’s third album has always had both its admirers and detractors within their fanbase. Some have simplified the album to simply “an acoustic record” while others see it as an inevitable fading of the band’s creative buzz following three intense years of making music. We, however, would argue it is one of the band’s best records for precisely this reason.

After Led Zeppelin had released their first two records, the hype surrounding the band’s third was almost impossible to withstand. Zeppelin had become the biggest band in the world and the decision to change direction musically would not land well.

It was to be expected, too, look at Bob Dylan’s decision to go electric and the heinous response that received. The group had just gone a long way to defining a brand new genre of heavy rock and just as they have got the whole world wanting more, they switch the delivery of their sound and move away from blues and rock and toward folk.

The previous albums had been flecked with elements of folk but now it had become the main priority and the whimsical potency was there for all to see. It may well have had something to do with the location in Bron-Yr-Aur. Much of the record was written in a remote cottage in Snowdonia with both Jimmy Page and Robert Plant needing time to recuperate from their extensive touring and excessive behaviours. They found respite in the hills but also a brand new sound along with it.

If you’ve ever had the pleasure of visiting Snowdonia, you will know that the idea of picking up a lute and letting rip a folk song of the highest order is never too far from your mind when traversing the many different medieval sites that surround it. It played on Led Zeppelin’s sound too. It led the band to introduce almost every track with an inspirational folk line that always lands heavily on those track-skippers out there.

To do so would be to miss the point too. This album is Led Zeppelin showing their musical chops. They had already blasted away the cobwebs of the sixties while they were still in them and now they were ready to ditch being just a band and become icons. To do that, you need depth and to gain depth you need variances and it means the switch to folk wasn’t just warranted but wanted. It was a clear signifier to the world around them that Zeppelin wasn’t just ‘the biggest band on the planet’, a title they had only just stolen from The Beatles, they were artists too.

That’s not to say it doesn’t have some big thumping songs on there. In fact, it may well contain Led Zeppelin’s most deliberately heavy rock track in ‘Immigrant Song’. It also welcomes ‘Celebration Day’ and ‘Out on the Tiles’ as some rockier moments on the record. But it is safe to say, that the majority of the album turns its back on rock music”.

In 2020, Classic Rock wrote how Led Zeppelin III is their most misunderstood album. This note of apology and explanation! If critics were confounded in 1970, this album arguably brokered their legend. This is what Classic Rock write. Again, hard to disagree with that opinion! We need to give more represent to an album that took Led Zeppelin to the next level. If some felt it was them watered down or going soft, it was a band not sticking rigidly with one sound:

“Nineteen sixty-nine was one helluva year for Led Zeppelin. In the short span of 12 months they played close to 150 shows, recorded two best-selling albums, toured the US five times, and established themselves as one rock’s top box-office draws. In the harsh winter of ’68 they had been lucky to get $1,500 (around £883) for a club gig, but by the time 1970 rolled around, they were demanding as much as six figures a show.

The band’s meteoric rise had been breathless. While the music press weren’t particularly kind to them, their dramatic, sexually explicit hard rock was almost irresistible to a new generation of kids searching for something new and exciting that wasn’t “the same old Beatles and Stones”. But after a year of non-stop touring, recording and shagging, the band were ready to take a break.

It was singer Robert Plant’s idea to head for the hills – the Cambrian Mountains in Wales, to be exact. The 22-year-old remembered an 18th-century cottage called Bron-Yr-Aur he had visited in his youth, and felt it would be great place to temporarily escape life in the fast lane and commune with nature. Plant extended an invitation to his co-writer, guitarist and producer Jimmy Page, and in the spring, the two men took their women, instruments and supplies to the bucolic retreat to recharge their batteries and “get back to the garden”.

“It was time to take stock, and not get lost in it all,” Plant said later. And what better way to keep it real than at a place with no electricity, candles for light, water from a stream and an outside toilet?

The story of Plant and Page’s regenerative trek to Wales looms large in Zeppelin folklore, with many assuming that most of the acoustic-based songs that eventually appeared on Led Zeppelin III were written there. Page disputes that notion, but doesn’t dismiss the significance of the journey.

“When Robert and I went to Bron-Yr-Aur we weren’t thinking: ‘Let’s go to Wales and write,’” says Page. “The original plan was to just go there, hang out and appreciate the countryside. The only song we really finished while we were there was That’s The Way, but being in the country established a standard of travelling for inspiration and set a tone for Led Zeppelin III.”

While it might not have been conceived as a writing trip, the singer and guitarist’s stay in the Welsh mountains was deemed important and influential enough to be acknowledged on the album’s sleeve, stating: ‘Credit must be given to Bron Y Aur a small derelict cottage in South Snowdonia for painting a somewhat forgotten picture of true completeness which acted as an incentive to some of these music statements.’

Little did the band know that this ‘incentive’ and subsequent ‘tone’ would end up sending massive shockwaves throughout the rock world. Led Zeppelin’s pastoral third album was recorded at Olympic Studios in London and released in October 1970. It seemed almost self-destructively perverse – a 360-degree retreat from the testosterone-infused hard rock that had made them international superstars.

John Bonham teased the press about the band’s intended direction when Zeppelin regrouped for the first studio sessions of III in late May. ‘’We’ll be recording for the next two weeks and we are doing a lot of acoustic stuff as well as the heavier side,” he told the Melody Maker. “There will be better quality songs than on the first two albums.’’

The drummer wasn’t wrong. Six of the 10 tracks on the third album were built around the sweet ’n’ bitter strains of Page’s acoustic Harmony guitar as the band touched on everything from traditional bluegrass (Gallows Pole) to country blues (Hats Off To (Roy) Harper), to a folk song so upbeat you could square-dance to it (Bron-Y-Aur Stomp). To emphasise the rustic nature of the album, Zeppelin even changed their appearance, growing facial hair to Hobbit-like proportions and wearing clothes that made them look more like hippie farmers than sex gods. Fans and critics were dazed and confused, but the band stood their ground.

“We were so far ahead that it was difficult for people to know what the hell we were doing,” Page told journalist Brad Tolinski in the 2012 book Light & Shade: Conversations With Jimmy Page. “Critics especially couldn’t relate to it. Led Zeppelin was growing. Where many of our contemporaries were narrowing their perspective, we were really being expansive. I was maturing as a composer and player, and there were many kinds of music that I found stimulating, and with this wonderful group I had the chance to be really adventurous.”

Soon after the album’s release, Page was keen to emphasise Zeppelin’s evolution. “There is another side to us’’ he said. “Everyone in the band is going through changes. There are changes in the playing and the lyrics. Robert is really getting involved in his lyric writing. This album was to get across more versatility and use combinations of instruments. I haven’t read any reviews yet, but people have got to give the LP a reasonable hearing.’’

Page would go on to read the reviews. Some writers went so far as to accuse the band of jumping on the Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young acoustic-rock bandwagon, which Page called “pathetic”, noting that acoustic guitars were all over the first two albums and arguing that they were at the core of everything the band did. The reviews so incensed the guitarist that he refused to grant any press interviews for the next 18 months after the album’s release.

Plant, at the time Led Zeppelin III came out, was more direct: “You can just see the headlines, can’t you? ‘Led Zeppelin go soft on their fans’ or some crap like that. But now that we’ve done [this album] the sky’s the limit. It shows we can change. It means there are endless possibilities for us to go in. We won’t go stale, and this proves it.”

The truth is, the third album should have come as no surprise to anyone paying full attention to the band. The radical seeds that sprouted onIII had been planted years earlier. Throughout the 60s, as Page toiled as London’s top session guitarist, very little escaped his attention. Like a musical sponge, he absorbed every lick the Chicago blues boom had to offer, took copious notes on contemporary folk-guitar virtuosos like John Fahey and Bert Jansch, and even purchased a sitar years before world music caught the attention of Beatle George Harrison”.

I am going to end with a couple of positive reviews for a titan of an album. Returning to Classic Rock for a review published in 2019, they got some words from fans. How this album has impacted them. Even though Led Zeppelin III is less bombastic than what came before (from the band) and maybe less so than what would follow for the rest of their career, that does not make their third studio album any less impactful and incredible:

“Some critics accused the band of jumping on the Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young acoustic-rock bandwagon. Page called them “pathetic”, noting that acoustic guitars were all over the first two albums and arguing that they were at the core of everything the band did. The reviews so incensed the guitarist that he refused to grant any press interviews for the next 18 months after the album’s release.

It was singer Robert Plant’s idea to head for the hills – the Cambrian Mountains in Wales, to be exact. The 22-year-old remembered an 18th-century cottage called Bron-Yr-Aur he had visited in his youth, and felt it would be great place to temporarily escape life in the fast lane and commune with nature.

Plant extended an invitation to his co-writer, guitarist and producer Jimmy Page, and in the spring, the two men took their women, instruments and supplies to the bucolic retreat to recharge their batteries and “get back to the garden”.

“It was time to take stock, and not get lost in it all,” Plant said later. And what better way to keep it real than at a place with no electricity, candles for light, water from a stream and an outside toilet?"

“We were so far ahead that it was difficult for people to know what the hell we were doing,” Page told journalist Brad Tolinski in the 2012 book Light & Shade: Conversations With Jimmy Page. “Critics especially couldn’t relate to it. Led Zeppelin was growing. Where many of our contemporaries were narrowing their perspective, we were really being expansive.

"I was maturing as a composer and player, and there were many kinds of music that I found stimulating, and with this wonderful group I had the chance to be really adventurous."

What they said...

"What’s great about it, though, the Zep’s special genius, is that the whole effect is so utterly two-dimensional and unreal. You could play it, as I did, while watching a pagan priestess performing the ritual dance of Ka before the flaming sacrificial altar in Fire Maidens of Outer Space with the TV sound turned off. And believe me, the Zep made my blood throb to those jungle rhythms even more frenziedly." (Rolling Stone)

"While there are still a handful of metallic rockers, III is built on a folky, acoustic foundation that gives the music extra depth. And even the rockers aren't as straightforward as before: the galloping Immigrant Song is powered by Robert Plant's banshee wail, Celebration Day turns blues-rock inside out with a warped slide guitar riff, and Out On The Tiles lumbers along with a tricky, multi-part riff." (AllMusic)

"If the great blues guitarists can make their instruments cry out like human voices, it's only fitting that Robert Plant should make his voice galvanize like an electric guitar... Plant is overpowering even when Page goes to his acoustic, as he does to great effect on several surprisingly folky (not to mention folk bluesy) cuts. No drum solos, either. Heavy." (Robert Christgau)

What you said...

Warren Bubb: What an album. It just gets better with time like a fine wine. Immigrant Song is a great opening track in the vein of previous albums, then a change with Friends, Celebration Day and Tangerine. Still hate Hats Off To Harper though.

Damian Keen: Of course, it’s Led Zeppelin, and it’s one of the first six albums, so it’s one of the best albums of all time. Except for Hats Off To Harper. That’s terrible.

Philip Qvist: Not their greatest album but I still think it is a fantastic album in its own right. Immigrant Song is a great rocker that gets the pulse going, while Since I've Been Loving You is my favourite Led Zep song - and I still maintain this is Jimmy Page's best solo.

As for the rest - well who cares if the bulk of it is acoustic; with one exception they are mainly fine songs. Easily their most underrated album - a solid 8.5/10.

Dave Ferris: This album is like a never-ending treasure chest. I believe my first copy that I owned was a used cassette. I loved the intensity of the Immigrant Song as the opening track. I would settle into the album. I remember that I loved Gallows Pole from first listen, and how Bonham made a simple acoustic tune into a rocker by the end of the song.

Since I've been Loving You has always been a signature Zeppelin blues song. When the reunion album called Celebration Day was released I went back to the original track and came to love that. When Cameron Crowe made his movie Almost Famous, he wanted to include Tangerine in the soundtrack. Lastly, for me, I have come to love the harmony vocals on Bron-Y-Aur Stomp.

I started my journey as a Zeppelin fan in college in the 80's. But, with every listen, a new appreciation for a different track catches my attention. Pretty damn awesome for an "Acoustic" album.

Adrian Bolster: Not my favourite Led Zep album, but it does contain my favourite track, Since I've Been Loving You. What an astonishing track, squeaky pedal and all. When Tangerine is played in Almost Famous it makes the film almost perfect!”.

I will finish with a review from BBC. This word ‘underrated’ seems to be used in so many features and reviews. As Led Zeppelin III turns fifty-five on 5th October, maybe we need to reassess it and see it for the phenomenal album it is. One of the best of the 1970s:

“Although Led Zeppelin’s much-maligned third album remains divisive to this day, it’s now widely accepted that it was not, after all, the product of some collective brain fade or bizarre schizophrenic episode within the band. The persistent perception of it as an acoustic album is also an inaccurate and oversimplified view. But it’s easy to understand how misconceptions could arise, especially when it was first released.

The sense of anticipation surrounding Led Zeppelin III was simply enormous. The success of their first two albums (I, II) had transformed Zep into the biggest band in the world. It’s hardly surprising, then, that their decision to radically change tack would cause confusion and consternation. Where I and II were blues-rock workouts with acoustic and folk embellishments, III was essentially the opposite. The embellishments and embroidery became the central focus.

Much of the album was written at a remote cottage in Snowdonia called Bron-Yr-Aur while guitarist Jimmy Page and vocalist Robert Plant recuperated following an extensive US tour. The cottage had no electricity which encouraged the pair to explore the band’s mellower, pastoral side. That the results originally met with such a lukewarm critical response was unfair, if predictable. The acoustic introductions to so many of the songs continue to fool those casually skipping through the album just to make sure they dislike it as much as other people say they should. The reality is a little different.

Ironically, given the album’s generally laid-back feel, III features one of the band’s most blatantly overt big-trouser moments. Opener Immigrant Song, with its strident riff and macho subject matter, is proto-heavy metal at its best. It’s true that the bulk of the material doesn’t favour rock, with even Celebration Day and Out on the Tiles lacking the sledgehammer weight of previous efforts, but this is no lightweight fluff. The slow blues of Since I've Been Loving You and the touching That's the Way are other clear highlights which have earned their place on any genuine best-of collection. Elsewhere, the wistful folk rock of Tangerine and Gallows Pole – another Zep arrangement of a traditional folk song – bolster what is by any reckoning an underrated work”.

Turning fifty-five on 5th October, I do hope that someone writes about the album. Led Zeppelin III probably came with the weight of expectation following Led Zeppelin II in 1969. Maybe Untitled was a response to those who felt that there was too much acoustic and Folk on Led Zeppelin III. However, there are moments like this on Untitled (Going to California for one). We need to salute and give affection to…

AN album that deserves more respect.

FEATURE: Kate Bush’s Hounds of Love at Forty: Seventeen: Two Reviews…and Ranking the Tracks

FEATURE:

 

 

Kate Bush’s Hounds of Love at Forty

IN THIS PHOTO: Kate Bush in 1985/PHOTO CREDIT: United Archives/Hutton Archives/Getty Images

Seventeen: Two Reviews…and Ranking the Tracks

__________

I will talk about the legacy…

of Kate Bush’s Hounds of Love in another feature. For this one, I will end with my ranking of the twelve tracks. My opinions have changed since I last published a track ranking feature for Hounds of Love. Before I get there, I want to drop in two critical reviews. An album that has gained almost unanimous praise, it is worth noting why critics love this album so much. Released on 16th September, 1985, there will be a lot of new attention around the album. It will be interesting what features arise that celebrate forty years of a true classic. I am going to start out with the first of two reviews. This one is from AllMusic:

“Kate Bush's strongest album to date also marked her breakthrough into the American charts, and yielded a set of dazzling videos as well as an enviable body of hits, spearheaded by "Running Up That Hill," her biggest single since "Wuthering Heights." Strangely enough, Hounds of Love was no less complicated in its structure, imagery, and extra-musical references (even lifting a line of dialogue from Jacques Tourneur's Curse of the Demon for the intro of the title song) than The Dreaming, which had been roundly criticized for being too ambitious and complex. But Hounds of Love was more carefully crafted as a pop record, and it abounded in memorable melodies and arrangements, the latter reflecting idioms ranging from orchestrated progressive pop to high-wattage traditional folk; and at the center of it all was Bush in the best album-length vocal performance of her career, extending her range and also drawing expressiveness from deep inside of herself, so much so that one almost feels as though he's eavesdropping at moments during "Running Up That Hill." Hounds of Love is actually a two-part album (the two sides of the original LP release being the now-lost natural dividing line), consisting of the suites "Hounds of Love" and "The Ninth Wave." The former is steeped in lyrical and sonic sensuality that tends to wash over the listener, while the latter is about the experiences of birth and rebirth. If this sounds like heady stuff, it could be, but Bush never lets the material get too far from its pop trappings and purpose. In some respects, this was also Bush's first fully realized album, done completely on her own terms, made entirely at her own 48-track home studio, to her schedule and preferences, and delivered whole to EMI as a finished work; that history is important, helping to explain the sheer presence of the album's most striking element -- the spirit of experimentation at every turn, in the little details of the sound. That vastly divergent grasp, from the minutiae of each song to the broad sweeping arc of the two suites, all heavily ornamented with layered instrumentation, makes this record wonderfully overpowering as a piece of pop music. Indeed, this reviewer hadn't had so much fun and such a challenge listening to a new album from the U.K. since Abbey Road, and it's pretty plain that Bush listened to (and learned from) a lot of the Beatles' output in her youth”.

Awarding Hounds of Love a perfect ten in 2016, Pitchfork stated how Kate Bush’s fifth studio album was a perfect marriage of technology/technique and exploration. It is interesting how each critics approaches the album and its context. It is clear that there was no limit to Kate Bush’s ambitions when producing Hounds of Love:

“This was a striking achievement for a quintessentially femme star: Among her gender-bending UK generation, Bush had the highest chirp, the most flowing locks, and the tightest leotards; when she shed the latter for the fantasy segments of her “Babooshka” video, she transformed into a scintillating windblown warrior with disco levels of exposed flesh and shameless camp. Both “Breathing” and its video is set in a uterus; “In the Warm Room” exalts vaginas the same way Led Zeppelin sang about dicks.

Hounds of Love proved there were no compositional mountains Bush couldn’t climb. While the second side asserted her vanguard bent, the first side yielded four UK Top 40 hits. Neither synth-pop nor prog-rock, Hounds of Love nevertheless drew from both with double-platinum rewards on her home turf, and yielded her first U.S. hits, even without a tour. And its idiosyncrasies have only fueled Hounds’ lingering influence: Florence and the Machine cribs its Gothic angst. Anohni mirrors its animal divinity. St. Vincent draws from its sexual politics and sonic precision. Utah Saints sampled it and the Futureheads covered it, both with UK Top 10 results. Coldplay’s “Speed of Sound” goes so far as to paraphrase “Running”’s rhythm, chords, climax, and highland imagery. It’s the Sgt. Pepper of the digital age’s dawn; a milestone in penetratingly fanciful pop.

Bush’s talent was so undeniable that she could sneak into contemporary music’s center while curbing none of her eccentricities. The album’s second single “Cloudbusting” celebrates Wilhelm Reich, a brilliant Austrian psychoanalyst but crackpot American inventor. Full of details gleaned from his son Peter Reich’s A Book of Dreams, it’s specific to their teacher/pupil relationship, which is played out further in its video featuring Donald Sutherland. But “Cloudbusting” also deals with a much more universal situation: Children long to protect their parents, despite having no adult power to do so. Accordingly, Bush resorts to the one thing all children possess in abundance—imagination. “I just know that something good is gonna happen,” she sings, a string sextet sawing insistently as martial drums beat a battle cry that morphs from helplessness to victory, however imaginary. The son she portrays wills himself into thoughts nearly delusional as his dad’s, and the result is optimistic yet poignant, as he ultimately believes, “Just saying it could even make it happen.”

Imagination’s pull is the subtext to Bush’s entire oeuvre, but that theme dominates Hounds of Love, and not least in the title track. Whereas her piercing upper register once defined her output, here she’s roaring from her gut, then pulling back, and the song shifts between panic and empathy. “Hounds of Love” boasts the big gated ’80s drum blasts Bush discovered while singing background on Gabriel’s “Games Without Frontiers,” and yet its cello just as percussive: It builds to suggest both her pulse and the heartbeat of the captured fox she comforts and identifies with. She fears love: “It’s coming for me through the trees,” she wails. Yet she craves it, so desire and terror escalate in a breathless Hitchcockian climax.

On Hounds of Love, the singer who started directing her own videos at this point becomes total auteur, and takes such a firm grasp on every aspect of the recording process that she often replaces Del Palmer, her own lover, on bass. On “Mother Stands for Comfort,” an all-knowing maternal contrast to the delusional papa of “Cloudbusting,” she duets with German jazz bassist Eberhard Weber, who plays yielding mother to Bush’s wayward daughter. Her Fairlight clatters with the crash of broken dishes while her piano gently wanders, but Weber’s fretless bass maintains its compassion, even when Bush lets loose some freaky primal-scream scatting toward the end.

Skies, clouds, hills, trees, lakes—along with everything else, Hounds of Love is also a heated paean to nature. On the cover, Bush reclines between two canines with a knowing familiarity that almost suggests cross-species congress. She honors the sensual world's benign blessings on “The Big Sky” even while Youth’s raucous bass suggests earthquakes. Bush references its elements with childlike awe: “That cloud looks like Ireland,” she squeals. “You’re here in my head like the sun coming out,” she sighs in “Cloudbusting,” and her stormy emotions are reflected by the music’s turbulence. But nature’s destruction can also inspire us to seek solace in spirituality, and that’s what happens on Side Two’s singular suite, “The Ninth Wave.”

Bush plays a sailor who finds herself shipwrecked and alone. She slips into a hypothermia-induced limbo between wakefulness and sleep (“And Dream of Sheep”), where nightmares, memories and visions distort her consciousness to the point where she cannot distinguish between reality and illusion. Is she skating, or trapped “Under Ice”? During her hallucinations, she sees herself in a prior life as a necromancer on trial; instead of freezing, she visualizes herself burning (“Waking the Witch”). Her spirit leaves her body and visits her beloved (“Watching You Without Me”). Then her future self confronts her present being and begs her to stay alive (“Jig of Life”). A rescue team reaches her just as her life force drifts heavenward (“Hello Earth”), but in the concluding track, “The Morning Fog,” flesh and spirit reunite, and she vows to tell her family how much she loves them.

As her sailor drifts in and out of consciousness, Bush floats between abstract composition and precise songcraft. Her character’s nebulous condition gives her melodies permission to unmoor from pop’s constrictions; her verses don’t necessarily return to catchy choruses, not until the relative normality of “The Morning Fog,” one of her sweetest songs. Instead, she’s free to exploit her Fairlight’s capacity for musique concrete. Spoken voices, Gregorian chant, Irish jigs, oceanic waves of digitized droning, and the culminating twittering of birds all collide in Bush’s synth-folk symphony. Like most of her lyrics, “The Ninth Wave” isn’t autobiographical, although its sink-or-swim scenario can be read as an extended metaphor for Hounds of Love’s protracted creation: Will she rise to deliver the masterstroke that guaranteed artistic autonomy for the rest of her long career and enabled her to live a happy home life with zero participation in the outside world for years on end, or will she drown under the weight of her colossal ambition?

By the time I became one of the few American journalists to have interviewed her in person in 1985, Bush had clinched her victory. She’d flown to New York to plug Hounds of Love, engaging in the kind of promotion she’d rarely do again. Because she thoroughly rejected the pop treadmill, the media had already begun to marginalize her as a space case, and have since painted her as a tragic, reclusive figure. Yet despite her mystical persona, she was disarmingly down-to-earth: That hammy public Kate was clearly this soft-spoken individual’s invention; an ever-changing role she played like Bowie in an era when even icons like Stevie Nicks and Donna Summer had a Lindsey Buckingham or a Giorgio Moroder calling many of the shots.

It was a response, perhaps, to the age-old quandary of commanding respect as a woman in an overwhelmingly masculine field. Bush's navigation of this minefield was as natural as it was ingenious: She became the most musically serious and yet outwardly whimsical star of her time. She held onto her bucolic childhood and sustained her family’s support, feeding the wonder that’s never left her. Her subsequent records couldn’t surpass Hounds of Love’s perfect marriage of technique and exploration, but never has she made a false one. She’s like the glissando of “Hello Earth” that rises up and plummets down almost simultaneously: Bush retained the strength to ride fame’s waves because she’s always known exactly what she was—simply, and quite complicatedly, herself”.

In the next part of this feature, I am going to rank the twelve tracks from Hounds of Love. It has been a tough decision! I know each fan will have their own interpretations. Maybe the top four or five tracks will surprise some. However, it goes to show how strong all the songs are that the more underrated or under-played hit me hardest! Let’s get down to the ranking:

TWELVE: Under Ice

“It was very much the idea of going from very cold water, it’s getting dark, you’re alone, the only way out is to go to sleep, no responsibilities, and forget about everything; but if you go to sleep, the chances are you could rool over in the water and drown. So you’re trying to fight sleep, but you can’t help it, and you hit the dream. The idea of the dream being really cold, and really the visual expectancy of total loneliness, and for me that was a completely frozen river, no-one around, everything completely covered with snow and icicles, and it’s that person all alone in this absolute cold wilderness of white, and seeing themselves under the ice, drowning, to which they wake up and find themselves under the water

Kate Bush in an Interview by Tony Myatt at the 1985 Kate Bush Convention

This was all kinda coming together by itself, I didn’t have much to do with this, I just sat down and wrote this little tune on the Fairlight with the cello sound. And it sounded very operatic and I thought “well, great” because it, you know, it conjured up the image of ice and was really simple to record. I mean we did the whole thing in a day, I guess. (…) Again it’s very lonely, it’s terribly lonely, they’re all alone on like this frozen lake. And at the end of it, it’s the idea of seeing themselves under the ice in the river, so I mean we’re talking real nightmare stuff here. And at this point, when they say, you know, “my god, it’s me,” you know, “it’s me under the ice. Ahhhh” [laughs]

Richard Skinner, ‘Classic Albums interview: Hounds Of Love. Radio 1 (UK), aired 26 January 1992“ – Kate Bush Encyclopedia

ELEVEN: The Morning Fog

“Well, that’s really meant to be the rescue of the whole situation, where now suddenly out of all this darkness and weight comes light. You know, the weightiness is gone and here’s the morning, and it’s meant to feel very positive and bright and uplifting from the rest of dense, darkness of the previous track. And although it doesn’t say so, in my mind this was the song where they were rescued, where they get pulled out of the water. And it’s very much a song of seeing perspective, of really, you know, of being so grateful for everything that you have, that you’re never grateful of in ordinary life because you just abuse it totally. And it was also meant to be one of those kind of “thank you and goodnight” songs. You know, the little finale where everyone does a little dance and then the bow and then they leave the stage. [laughs]

Richard Skinner, ‘Classic Albums interview: Hounds Of Love. Radio 1 (UK), aired 26 January 1992” – Kate Bush Encyclopedia

TEN: Mother Stands for Comfort

“Well, the personality that sings this track is very unfeeling in a way. And the cold qualities of synths and machines were appropriate here. There are many different kinds of love and the track’s really talking about the love of a mother, and in this case she’s the mother of a murderer, in that she’s basically prepared to protect her son against anything. ‘Cause in a way it’s also suggesting that the son is using the mother, as much as the mother is protecting him. It’s a bit of a strange matter, isn’t it really? [laughs] (Richard Skinner, ‘Classic Albums Interview: Hounds Of Love’. BBC Radio 1 (UK), 26 January 1992)” – Kate Bush Encyclopedia

NINE: Watching You Without Me

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

Richard Skinner, ‘Classic Albums interview: Hounds Of Love. Radio 1 (UK), aired 26 January 1992” – Kate Bush Encyclopedia

EIGHT: Cloudbusting

“This was inspired by a book that I first found on a shelf nearly nine years ago. It was just calling me from the shelf, and when I read it I was very moved by the magic of it. It’s about a special relationship between a young son and his father. The book was written from a child’s point of view. His father is everything to him; he is the magic in his life, and he teaches him everything, teaching him to be open-minded and not to build up barriers. His father has built a machine that can make it rain, a ‘cloudbuster’; and the son and his father go out together cloudbusting. They point big pipes up into the sky, and they make it rain. The song is very much taking a comparison with a yo-yo that glowed in the dark and which was given to the boy by a best friend. It was really special to him; he loved it. But his father believed in things having positive and negative energy, and that fluorescent light was a very negative energy – as was the material they used to make glow-in-the-dark toys then – and his father told him he had to get rid of it, he wasn’t allowed to keep it. But the boy, rather than throwing it away, buried it in the garden, so that he would placate his father but could also go and dig it up occasionally and play with it. It’s a parallel in some ways between how much he loved the yo-yo – how special it was – and yet how dangerous it was considered to be. He loved his father (who was perhaps considered dangerous by some people); and he loved how he could bury his yo-yo and retrieve it whenever he wanted to play with it. But there’s nothing he can do about his father being taken away, he is completely helpless. But it’s very much more to do with how the son does begin to cope with the whole loneliness and pain of being without his father. It is the magic moments of a relationship through a child’s eyes, but told by a sad adult.

Kate Bush Club newsletter, 1985” – Kate Bush Encyclopedia

SEVEN: And Dream of Sheep

“An engineer we were working with picked out the line in ‘And Dream Of Sheep’ that says ‘Come here with me now’. I asked him why he liked it so much. He said, ‘I don’t know, I just love it. It’s so moving and comforting.’ I don’t think he even knew what was being said exactly, but the song is about someone going to sleep in the water, where they’re alone and frightened. And they want to go to sleep, to get away from the situation. But at the same time it’s dangerous to go to sleep in water, you could drown. When I was little, and I’d had a bad dream, I’d go into my parents’ bedroom round to my mother’s side of the bed. She’d be asleep, and I wouldn’t want to wake her, so I’d stand there and wait for her to sense my presence and wake up. She always did, within minutes; and sometimes I’d frighten her – standing there still, in the darkness in my nightdress. I’d say, ‘I’ve had a bad dream,’ and she’d lift bedclothes and say something like ‘Come here with me now.’ It’s my mother saying this line in the track, and I briefed her on the ideas behind it before she said it. And I think it’s the motherly comfort that this engineer picked up on. In fact, he said this was his favourite part of the album. (Kate Bush Club newsletter, Issue 21, 1987)” – Kate Bush Encyclopedia

SIX: Waking the Witch

“These sort of visitors come to wake them up, to bring them out of this dream so that they don’t drown. My mother’s in there, my father, my brothers Paddy and John, Brian Tench – the guy that mixed the album with us – is in there, Del is in there, Robbie Coltrane does one of the voices. It was just trying to get lots of different characters and all the ways that people wake you up, like you know, you sorta fall asleep at your desk at school and the teacher says “Wake up child, pay attention!”. (…) I couldn’t get a helicopter anywhere and in the end I asked permission to use the helicopter from The Wall from The Floyd, it was the best helicopter I’d heard for years for years [laughs].

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 behavior, 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.

Richard Skinner, ‘Classic Albums interview: Hounds Of Love. Radio 1 (UK), aired 26 January 1992” – Kate Bush Encyclopedia

FIVE: Hounds of Love

“[‘Hounds Of Love’] is really about someone who is afraid of being caught by the hounds that are chasing him. I wonder if everyone is perhaps ruled by fear, and afraid of getting into relationships on some level or another. They can involve pain, confusion and responsibilities, and I think a lot of people are particularly scared of responsibility. Maybe the being involved isn’t as horrific as your imagination can build it up to being – perhaps these baying hounds are really friendly.

Kate Bush Club newsletter, 1985

The ideas for ‘Hounds Of Love’, the title track, are very much to do with love itself and people being afraid of it, the idea of wanting to run away from love, not to let love catch them, and trap them, in case th hounds might want to tear them to pieces and it’s very much using the imagery of love as something coming to get you and you’ve got to run away from it or you won’t survive.

Conversation Disc Series, ABCD012, 1985

When I was writing the song I sorta started coming across this line about hounds and I thought ‘Hounds Of Love’ and the whole idea of being chasing by this love that actually gonna… when it get you it just going to rip you to pieces, (Raises voice) you know, and have your guts all over the floor! So this very sort of… being hunted by love, I liked the imagery, I thought it was really good.

Richard Skinner, ‘Classic Albums interview: Hounds Of Love’. BBC Radio 1 (UK), 26 January 1992” – Kate Bush Encyclopedia

FOUR: Hello Earth

“‘Hello Earth’ was a very difficult track to write, as well, because it was… in some ways it was too big for me. [Laughs] And I ended up with this song that had two huge great holes in the choruses, where the drums stopped, and everything stopped, and people would say to me, “what’s going to happen in these choruses,” and I hadn’t got a clue.

We had the whole song, it was all there, but these huge, great holes in the choruses. And I knew I wanted to put something in there, and I’d had this idea to put a vocal piece in there, that was like this traditional tune I’d heard used in the film Nosferatu. And really everything I came up with, it with was rubbish really compared to what this piece was saying. So we did some research to find out if it was possible to use it. And it was, so that’s what we did, we re-recorded the piece and I kind of made up words that sounded like what I could hear was happening on the original. And suddenly there was these beautiful voices in these chorus that had just been like two black holes.

In some ways I thought of it as a lullaby for the Earth. And it was the idea of turning the whole thing upside down and looking at it from completely above. You know, that image of if you were lying in water at night and you were looking up at the sky all the time, I wonder if you wouldn’t get the sense of as the stars were reflected in the water, you know, a sense of like, you could be looking up at water that’s reflecting the stars from the sky that you’re in. And the idea of them looking down at the earth and seeing these storms forming over America and moving around the globe, and they have this like huge fantasticly overseeing view of everything, everything is in total perspective. And way, way down there somewhere there’s this little dot in the ocean that is them.

Richard Skinner, ‘Classic Albums interview: Hounds Of Love. Radio 1 (UK), aired 26 January 1992” – Kate Bush Encyclopedia

THREE: Running Up That Hill (A Deal with God)

“It is very much about the power of love, and the strength that is created between two people when they’re very much in love, but the strength can also be threatening, violent, dangerous as well as gentle, soothing, loving. And it’s saying that if these two people could swap places – if the man could become the woman and the woman the man, that perhaps they could understand the feelings of that other person in a truer way, understanding them from that gender’s point of view, and that perhaps there are very subtle differences between the sexes that can cause problems in a relationship, especially when people really do care about each other. (The Tony Myatt Interview, November 1985)

‘Running Up That Hill’ was one of the first songs that I wrote for the album. It was very nice for me that it was the first single released, I’d always hoped that would be the way. It’s very much about a relationship between a man and a woman who are deeply in love and they’re so concerned that things could go wrong – they have great insecurity, great fear of the relationship itself. It’s really saying if there’s a possibility of being able to swap places with each other that they’d understand how the other one felt, that when they were saying things that weren’t meant to hurt, that they weren’t meant sincerely, that they were just misunderstood. In some ways, I suppose the basic difference between men and women, where if we could swap places in a relationship, we’d understand each other better, but this, of course, is all theoretical anyway. (Open Interview, 1985)” – Kate Bush Encyclopedia

TWO: Jig of Life

“At this point in the story, it’s the future self of this person coming to visit them to give them a bit of help here. I mean, it’s about time they have a bit of help. So it’s their future self saying, “look, don’t give up, you’ve got to stay alive, ’cause if you don’t stay alive, that means I don’t.” You know, “and I’m alive, I’ve had kids [laughs]. I’ve been through years and years of life, so you have to survive, you mustn’t give up.”
This was written in Ireland. At one point I did quite a lot of writing, you know, I mean lyrically, particularly. And again it was a tremendous sort of elemental dose I was getting, you know, all this beautiful countryside. Spending a lot of time outside and walking, so it had this tremendous sort of stimulus from the outside. And this was one of the tracks that the Irish musicians that we worked with was featured on.
There was a tune that my brother Paddy found which… he said “you’ve got to hear this, you’ll love it.” And he was right [laughs], he played it to me and I just thought, you know, “this would be fantastic somehow to incorporate here.”

Was just sort of, pull this person up out of despair.

Richard Skinner, ‘Classic Albums interview: Hounds Of Love. Radio 1 (UK), aired 26 January 1992” – Kate Bush Encyclopedia

ONE: The Big Sky

“Someone sitting looking at the sky, watching the clouds change. I used to do this a lot as a child, just watching the clouds go into different shapes. I think we forget these pleasures as adults. We don’t get as much time to enjoy those kinds of things, or think about them; we feel silly about what we used to do naturally. The song is also suggesting the coming of the next flood – how perhaps the “fools on the hills” will be the wise ones. (Kate Bush Club newsletter, Issue 18, 1985)

‘The Big Sky’ was a song that changed a lot between the first version of it on the demo and the end product on the master tapes. As I mentioned in the earlier magazine, the demos are the masters, in that we now work straight in the 24-track studio when I’m writing the songs; but the structure of this song changed quite a lot. I wanted to steam along, and with the help of musicians such as Alan Murphy on guitar and Youth on bass, we accomplished quite a rock-and-roll feel for the track. Although this song did undergo two different drafts and the aforementioned players changed their arrangements dramatically, this is unusual in the case of most of the songs. (Kate Bush Club newsletter, Issue 18, 1985)” – Kate Bush Encyclopedia

FEATURE: Spotlight: Debbii Dawson

FEATURE:

 

 

Spotlight

Debbii Dawson

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WITH one of the best…

PHOTO CREIT: isstudio

official websites I have seen from any artist, it is clear that Debbii Dawson takes care when it comes to every aspect. She is a Minnesota-born artist whose most recent E.P., How to Be Human, was released last year. Next month, she has a string of U.S. dates that will see her take her incredible music to new places. There are not that many interviews from this year. However, I want to include a couple of particularly interesting ones. First, I am heading back to last year and Pop Dust. They spoke with Debbii Dawson around the release of the How to Be Human E.P. This is an artist I feel everyone should listen to:

“For her second EP, Debbie Dawson set herself a just about impossible task: figure out how to be human. Yet, the result, How To Be Human, doesn’t purport to have all the answers. Instead, it offers scenes and sentiments of a person simply trying to live in the world — torn between the comfort of solitude and the call of the unpredictable outside world.

One of her major inspirations for the album is Emily Dickinson, she tells me. After grappling with her own reclusive tendencies, Dawson dug into Dickinson’s life and work. In the end, she has resolved not to end up like Dickinson. So she leaned away from her desire to isolate and into her need to create. And we, the audience. are so lucky to reap the benefits.

How To Be Human follows her 2023 debut EP, Learning, a folk-tinged proclamation of her utterly unique singer-songwriter voice. The songs convey the stumbling first-steps of establishing one’s own personhood, filled with musings that are raw and never pedantic. Although the title was exploratory the songs hold clear truths about lessons learned. Dawson’s wisdom is inherited from legendary country songwriters like Johnny Cash and Patsy Cline while her ear for melody was honed by hymns and sharpened by classical music. The result is 70s-inspired folk-pop with songs fit for a cinescape. They’re songs of yearning, but also songs for dancing around your bedroom just to remind you that you’re alive.

Her eclectic influences get even more surprising as she tells me about her writing process — sometimes humming over dishes, sometimes inspired by art she’s consuming. Yes, the Dickinson, but also movies like Shrek. You’ve heard of a wall of sound? Dawson combines her unique musical background, diverse influences, and personal identities to create a tapestry of sound that cocoons its listener and welcomes them into her world”.

“POPDUST: The sound really shifts from the first EP to this one. Learning was more folk-inspired, but How To Be Human sounds like ABBA meets Kasey Musgraves. Can you talk through the choices that you were making on both and why you gravitated to this new sound?

Debbii Dawson: When I was trying to find my sound when I first started doing music, I thought I had to pick one lane so as not to confuse people. A lot of that was me actually trying to come to terms with my own identity. And until I did that, the sound didn’t come. So I had to be comfortable being a person in multiple worlds — being a first generation American, being a person of color, growing up in a white town. I had a lot of things to deal with internally. Once I accepted that, the sound came and I realized I didn’t have to pick parts of myself. I could do more than one thing at a time and people would be fine with it.

POPDUST: How did those different parts of your identity impact you as a musician?

Debbii Dawson: Being South Asian, I had a different cultural upbringing and realities than my peers, so my version of what it means to be an American looks different from someone else. Even with other South Asians, it varies so much between us. Musically, I also had so many influences. I grew up with old country music like Johnny Cash and Patsy Cline because that’s the western music my parents, who are immigrants, had access to. And then I grew up listening to a lot of hymns and classical music. And I think you can hear all of those present in the stuff I make. And, of course, older songs like ABBA and later, QUEEN, and really amazing musicians really resonated with me.

POPDUST: When did you start picking out the music that you were listening to, and what were you gravitating to?

Debbii Dawson: I had more of a religious upbringing, so I wasn’t exposed to music a lot of other kids my age were. So I started listening to music for myself probably in middle school. I listened to Coldplay for the first time, and John Lennon, and a lot of Muse. And because I loved classical music too, it was really cool how these people could take from their influences, like blues influences — and I know Coldplay had a lot of influence from hymns as well — and see them make something palatable for people.

POPDUST: Connecting to people and connecting to fans is so special. How do you keep that alive on stage?

Debbii Dawson: It’s a different connection. I was super shy. I didn’t know if I could perform live. I wanted to throw up thinking about it, but I remember doing my first show last year and realizing that I really loved it, and it was different when people are connecting with the music. It’s not about me standing and having people look at me — it’s about what I’m bringing to them. It’s like, here look at this thing. So it’s been nice to connect with people in that way. It’s not me and listeners connecting, but me, the listeners, and the music. So it’s less scary”.

There are a couple of 2025 interviews I really need to get to. I am starting off with Atwood Magazine and their chat from July. Highlighting the track, You Killed the Music - which Debbii Dawson kicked the year off with -, we get to know this incredible artist a bit better. One that has such clear passion and focus. I am really interested to see where she heads now and what her future holds:

“For 29-year-old Dawson – who signed to legendary major RCA Records last year, and subsequently released the EP How to Be Human to critical acclaim – “You Killed the Music” is a story of both pain and perseverance. “Like a lot of breakup songs, the story explains how someone hurt me and I got through it,” she tells Atwood Magazine. “In this particular situation, an individual tainted something so pure for me, my love for music. It got to the point where I couldn’t listen to the radio anymore, let alone write or sing, without feeling sad or angry.”

That hurt cuts deep, but it’s the act of rising up and reclaiming her love that gives this song its power. “You killed the music / Left me in ruins / Wrapped up in quiet / Poison with silence,” Dawson sings, her voice trembling with both grief and fire. And yet, what begins in silence doesn’t end there. “I closed the door / And changed all the chords / Then my feet start to move…”

Atwood Magazine: You kicked off the year with the song “You Killed the Music,” an incredibly cinematic anthem full of liberation and an empowering spirit. What's the story behind this song, for you?

Debbii Dawson: Like a lot of breakup songs, the story explains how someone hurt me and I got through it. In this particular situation an individual tainted something so pure for me, my love for music. It got to the point where I couldn’t listen to the radio anymore, let alone write or sing, without feeling sad or angry.

I'm really struck by how freeing this song feels – it's like we're watching a phoenix's rebirth in real-time. What was it about this theme, of renewal and perseverance, that inspired you – in other words, why this topic, why so much passion and emotion behind it?

Debbii Dawson: Every single word in this song is a direct reference to what I was going through, I was having a really hard time so the emotions are very real. I’m singing about music but on a deeper level this song is about any person or circumstance that sucks the life out of you, breaks your spirit, and steals your spark. And then the triumph felt when it doesn’t get the better of you.

I also really love your refrain, “Now all these brand-new melodies keep falling off the tip of my tongue.” It's such a powerful visual, and it brings so much energy to the moment. What do you hope listeners take away from this song, and what have you taken away from creating it and now putting it out?

Debbii Dawson: Thank you! I hope listeners feel empowered and discover resilience they didn’t know they had. For anyone going through something that is leaving you feeling broken, you’re going to be ok. You will be the person you were before again, but whoever or whatever is making you feel that way has got to go!

Making this song was a cathartic experience for me. My heart was so heavy when I went into the studio to write this track, and I left that night floating in the air with a smile on my face.

Now with “Gut Feelings,” you've once again delivered this striking song about self-trust, belief in yourself and your instincts, etc. – it honestly feels like the next step after that initial release in “you killed the music.” What is this song about, for you, and how does it fit into the wider world of Debbii Dawson in 2025?

Debbii Dawson: You’re right! “You Killed The Music” was a song of victory, but “Gut Feelings” is me wishing I never got into that bad situation in the first place. This track is definitely building on the tone of what’s to come both visually and sonically. You can also probably expect more keytar solos in the future.

Just my cornball question over here, but what does trusting your gut feelings look like, for you?

Debbii Dawson: The lyric “trust your gut feeling” is a mantra, a reminder not to doubt myself. I tend to give everyone the benefit of the doubt before I give it to myself. I think for me, it looks like not second-guessing first instincts and being kinder to myself.

You have such an incredible way of harnessing 1980s disco elements and electropop inspired sounds, and bringing them to life in a way that feels fresh and new. Can you talk about your own musical inspirations, and what you hope to convey through these songs?

Debbii Dawson: I grew up listening to a lot of old music, oldies across various genres – country, disco, classical, religious hymns, gospel, jazz… and from several countries/languages as well. Although the range of influences is broad and I don’t always understand the lyrics I’m listening to, I know how a song makes me feel. I’m chasing that magic and I hope listeners can feel it.

For those who are just discovering you today through this writeup, what do you want them to know about you and your music?

Debbii Dawson: I’m a weird girl who makes weird music for weird people. I’ve lived my whole life looking for a place to belong, and music has given that to me. I hope the songs I make can provide that to the world as well”.

 PHOTO CREDIT: Carianne Older for NME

I will end things with NME’s interview from earlier this month. An artist that is “embracing life outside her comfort zone, trading hushed confessionals for glittering pop fused with retro grooves”, I do hope that we get more interviews with Debbii Dawson soon. For anyone who has not discovered her music, do make sure you check her out as soon as possible:

“Dawson’s sound is rooted in the eclectic soundtrack of her upbringing: a mix of retro sensibilities and contemporary storytelling that resists easy categorisation. One weeknight might have been spent around the table with her family singing old bluegrass songs in three-part harmony, instruments in every hand. The next, they would be belting gospel standards she learned growing up in the church, or performing for tight-knit congregations at Congolese, Nigerian, Korean, Indian, and Mexican churches.

Those experiences weren’t just musical; they were cultural immersions, each one deepening her understanding of how community and sound intertwine. “It’s a really good way to experience a culture,” she says. “You get to be part of their traditions, and the music is so tied to that.”

Her influences stretch beyond those church halls. She grew up listening to American, Spanish and Italian oldies, classical compositions, religious hymns and old country music. These days, she’s been diving into Japanese city pop and Italian disco, sometimes through hours-long YouTube deep dives. She doesn’t track the Billboard charts obsessively – in fact, she admits she rarely listens to much current pop, which may be why her songs avoid the trappings of trends.

Instead, she treats every element, from chords to production, as part of the storytelling process. “Even if the lyrics are gone, I want the song to still portray the emotion I’m trying to get across,” she says. The studio, she adds, is her playground, a place to be meticulous and experimental, where a track might be stripped back to its essentials or layered until it shimmers.

For Dawson, the true measure of a song has nothing to do with genre or trends. She judges music by a transcendent quality that’s hard to put into words. “The magic is that feeling when something reaches through the speakers and touches you,” she says. “Or makes you smile. I’m always chasing that.” It’s what drew her to the aching ballad ‘Back At Your Door’, her 2024 collaboration with Orville Peck, whose own brand of cinematic country felt like a natural extension of her storytelling instincts.

Her touchstones are as varied as her influences: Whitney Houston for her undeniable, unreplicable presence; the sweeping drama of Hans Zimmer’s Lion King score; James Horner’s romantic swashbuckling in The Mask of Zorro. Film scores were an early lesson for her in how to evoke emotion without words, a skill she now brings into her own songwriting.

PHOTO CREDIT: Carianne Older for NME

When she talks about music, it’s with a mix of spirituality and playfulness. She describes it as something elemental, “like electricity” – a force that existed before humans and was discovered rather than invented. Writing a song, then, is about “tuning into the station” with like-minded collaborators, catching the wavelength that already exists. That process, she says, works best when approached with a childlike spirit: curious, open and always willing to play.

“There’s horrible stuff going on, but I hope what I’m making contributes some light,” she adds. “If someone can listen and feel like they’re not alone, that would feel magical.”

She knows that for her, growth isn’t about abandoning the quiet; it’s about finding ways to carry it into the crowd, then back home again. Sometimes that means company in unexpected forms – like the blue-eyed mannequin head she spotted on the street on her way to a concert. Her best friend named him Fernando, and now he travels with her, tucked neatly into a road case. “He’s usually hanging out during rehearsal,” she says, holding him up to the camera. “He has a secret Instagram page. The fans found out about it. They think it’s me running it, but it’s really Fernando”.

Go and spend some time with Debbii Dawson. Even if I am new to her work, I can identify the fact that she is going to be a huge name. Making music that is irresistible and highly memorable, everyone needs to get behind her. I do hope there are plans to come to the U.K. in the future. People here would love to see her. It is only right that we get to salute…

THE stunning Debbii Dawson!

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PHOTO CREDIT: Jennifer Juniper Stratford

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