Fifty Twelve Inches #44

Ghostbusters (Twelve Inch Version) – Ray Parker Jr (1984, Arista Records)

I don’t know you wait, 42 weeks for a twelve inch belonging to someone other than me to appear in this series and then three came along at once. Because, like EMF before and The Sodding Levellers last week, this week’s twelve inch belongs to my good lady and frankly she won’t hear a single bad word against this marvellous slice of eighties pop perfection, so I’m not even going to try.  Ray Parker Jr’s ‘Ghostbusters Theme’ is extraordinarily good.  Easily one of the best theme songs of any blockbuster film around.  It is way better than Partners in Kryme’s ‘Teenage Mutant Heroes Turtles’, way better than anything Prince managed to churn out when he was going through his Batman soundtrack phase and the less said about the B52’s desecration of the Flintstones theme the better.

I’m not sure about ghosts, largely because I don’t think I’ve ever seen one.  If I have it was a rubbish ghost because I can’t remember it.  I’ve been on ghosts walk in various cities (London, Dublin, Calgary, Budapest…) most of them are fundamentally the same thing.  A tour around some areas of the city that will suddenly stop outside a spooky looking church or something and the tour guide tells you a story about something that happened years ago.  Nearly all these stories are roughly the same. 

A young girl (usually a poor farm hand or factory worker) almost certainly a virgin, meets a rich land owner, who takes advantage of them, has their wicked way and then tries to cover it all up by murdering them or shaming them so that the young girl does away with themselves and as such their very soul walks that area sobbing or clanging or generally just being a bit spooky.  The girl will almost certainly be wearing a veil or dressed in white.   The rich land owner, usually lives in a castle or a stately home as well.  They never live on 60s prefab estates in Littlehampton or they never worked in the local swimming pool or worked as an estate agent in Wincanton.

Saying that some say the fish market on Grimsby’s harbour is haunted by the soul of a fisherman called Bob, who liked to sing harmonious sea shanties.  Some also suggest that the football team Manchester United is currently haunted by a man called Eric who makes terrible decisions on an almost daily basis causing much hilarity.

Anyway, Ray Parker Jr’s ‘Ghostbuster’s Theme’ is itself not without controversy.  I mean its not haunted in any way as far as I know, and I don’t think Ray has been tortured mentally by the spirit on Marshmallow Man since he recorded it back in 1984 (although it has to be said he didn’t have that much success in the UK after it, so who knows….).  However, it’s the backstory of the bassline that makes ‘Ghostbusters’ all the more fascinating.  Its fascinating because Ray Park Jr apparently stole it from Huey Lewis.

I Want A New Drug – Huey Lewis (1983, Chrysalis Records) – and whilst we are there  – what a tune that is.

Lewis sued after hearing the song and got after signing a confidentiality agreement got given a big old pile of cash.  Which is where the story should have ended.  However, in 2001, during a televised interview, Lewis told the world that Ray Parker Jr stole ‘Ghostbusters’.  Something which mean he then found himself in court for and paying Ray Parker Jr a big old pile of cash for.

All of which brings us to the no more than five words review.

“The new film is rubbish” – which is true.  It is.   It’s time to put that legacy to bed for the time being.

Here is her weekly recommendation.

Nobody (from Kaiju No. 8) – Onerepublic (2024, Interscope Records) – which the musical equivalent of snorting wallpaper paste.

In contrast to that, here is the something that has been on repeat on my headphones all week,

She Took You To Narnia – HighSchool (2024, PIAS Records)

Nearly Perfect Albums – #110

Let’s Get Killed – David Holmes (1997, Go Beat Records)

I’ve kind of gone back on one of the unwritten Nearly Perfect Album rules with this one, because ‘Let’s Get Killed’ contains an intro and outro and that should disqualify it – but on this occasion is slightly different because the intro and outro tracks fit and flow perfectly and without them, this record wouldn’t really work, which makes it absolutely fine, plus they aren’t called ‘Intro’ or even worse, ‘Outro’ which is even better.

Work on ‘Let’s Get Killed’ started more than ten years before it was eventually released.  David Holmes, then a budding DJ and producer went on a trip to New York City and when he was there he walked around the five boroughs of the city and recorded the sounds, the noises, the voices and the personalities from wherever he met (he claimed that it was the cities cultural underbelly, pimps, prostitutes and drug dealers).  The idea was to lay music in the forms of breaks, beats, synths, guitars and anything else he could get his hands on over the top of those sounds he recorded. 

In between him recording these sounds and laying down the music over the top of them, Holmes made another record entirely, his debut album, the to be honest just as good ‘This Film’s Crap, Let’s Slash the Seats’, an album that served as an imaginary soundtrack to a film that has never been made.

Which is where ‘Let’s Get Killed’ comes in, because a few years after ‘This Film’s Crap…’ Holmes set to work on the recordings from the streets of New York and created this marvellous record.  It is essentially a journey through clubland, that explores different genres including breakbeat, hardcore, jungle, house, jazz, Latino and synth pop all bound together by ambient city soundscapes that genuinely gives the impression that the album is walking you around a city.  You hear different accents, music which compliments the stories that precede it (for instance, the title track is introduced by a man who claims to have killed someone and the music that accompanies is icy, and full of tense break beats).

Let’s Get Killed – David Holmes (1997, Go Beat Records)

‘Rodney Yates’ see the album enter a distinctly Hispanic area of the city, the music goes all Latino, the drums are tinged with salsa, the bassline is jazzy and the synth is all smoky and lounge like.  It feels like something out of a seventies spy movie, which may or may not be the point of it.  Regardless its incredible. 

Rodney Yates – David Holmes (1997, Go Beat Records)

It has its pop edge though, in particularly the album’s opening single ‘My Mate Paul’.  Which is a poppy synth masterpiece that should have been a mega hit and it also has ‘Radio 7’.  That, incredibly reinterprets the James Bond theme beyond anything that has ever been expected before, bringing samba style drums in to combine with that distinct Bond riff as the strings join and the brass join it superbly but mutedly, its all about the drums in this one.  To be quite honest, if they asked Holmes to do the theme to all future Bond films back in 1997 instead of asking Moby to remix it badly, then I might have watched a few.  Still.

Radio 7 – David Holmes (1997 Go Beat Records)

My Mate Paul – David Holmes (1997, Go Beat Records)

I’ll be honest, I love this album, not just because of the inventiveness of it and the quality of the music on offer, although that should be enough – but I also love the vibe, the ethos, and the fact that at times its looks, sounds and feels like a Sabres of Paradise record (and the influence of some of the Sabres can be heard as well – and Keith Tenniswood plays on about half the tracks which helps) and that makes it very difficult to ignore.

It really is an astonishingly good record.

Don’t Die Just Yet – David Holmes (1997, Go Beat Records)

A month of uncertainty – #8 The Brothers Reid – No Badger Inspirations – #2

Taste of Cindy – The Jesus and Mary Chain (1985, Blanco Y Negro Records)

“I’ll pick number 36 please”. 

Now.  I promise I’m not making this up.  My list of inspirations is a decent list, full of wonderful people who strive to make the world a better place or great minds who challenge every day thinking and make us challenge societies norms.  It contains politicians who have literally changed the world and it contains my dad.

So, when my daughter picked number 36 off that list of about 50, my heart sank just a little bit.  Not because the number 36 was scrawled next to the words “The Brothers Reid”, that is cool.  I don’t need and shouldn’t ever need an excuse to write about The Brothers Reid from East Kilbride.   My heart sank a little because, me telling you lot about why they are inspiration to me isn’t exactly new – and I am now drastically rethinking this list and perhaps replacing the six other musicians that sit on it with some other more ordinary people.  Although I’m not sure I can ever justify replacing Kevin Shields with Fiona Bruce or swapping Jason Pierce for Pat Nevin.  Besides the No Badger Manifesto clearly states on Page 9 that you must “Never backtrack on an idea”.  Although if she picks numbers 1 (Pierce), 6 (Richard James) or 10 (James Murphy) next time you have right to call foul.

So The Brothers Reid it is and we may as well as start where it all properly begun for me, which was round about here,

Reverence – The Jesus and Mary Chain (1992, Blanco Y Negro Records)

I had of course heard the Jesus and Mary Chain before ‘Reverence’ came out.  I owned ‘Darklands’ already (£2 on vinyl from Parrot in Canterbury) and I’m pretty sure I had a taped copy of ‘Automatic’ as well.  But then I wasn’t going out with OPG then and it was her who really got me into Mary Chain.  It was her who wrote their lyrics all over my notebooks, it was her who sang their lyrics to me as we walked down the road or whispered them in my ear as she dragged her finger down my neck as we stood in the rain. 

Happy When It Rains – The Jesus and Mary Chain (1987, Blanco Y Negro Records)

But.

It was after hearing ‘Reverence’ for the first time that I realised that the Jesus and Mary Chain mattered and that was a short time before all that standing around in the rain.  In fact you could argue that it was because of ‘Reverence’ that I was able to do all that standing around in the rain, or least explain why I was.

You see, ‘Reverence’ made me dig out my copy of ‘Darklands’ and that in turn made me buy ‘Psychocandy’ and then properly invest in an actual copy of ‘Automatic’.   ‘Psychocandy’ blew my mind, it made me want to go back in time and be at those early gigs, I wanted to experience that, the band at the front, sullen and silent, backs to the crowd.  Playing behind a wall of smoke and a wall of sound and then walking off after 20 minutes, with the feedback still ringing in people ears.  Just imagine how good this would have sounded in 1985 in a working class polytechnic just outside Brighton for instance.

Never Understand – Jesus and Mary Chain (1985, Blanco Y Negro)

I saw the Mary Chain three times before they dissolved for the first time.  That was on the Rollercoaster tour (with Blur, Dinosaur Jr and My Bloody Valentine, I really hated my ears back then) and then a few months later at Brixton Academy (with the God Machine, more ear hating) and then finally I saw them in 1994 on the Stoned and Dethroned Tour (when I have a feeling Mazzy Star supported, so the ears were spared a little) and on each occasion I found myself lost in the haze of smoke and strobes that went into overtime mode when certain songs were played.  The feedback at times was so intense that I’ve found myself feeling physically weak from it only to then four minutes later be grinning like a loon at the sheer euphoria that only a song like ‘April Skies’ can produce.  Not many bands can do that once let alone three times.

There is thankfully nothing quite like them, whatever mood you catch them in, their music, their very presence continues to mean more to me than nearly all the bands that have come before or after.

JAMCOD – The Jesus and Mary Chain (2024, Fuzz Club Records)

A month of uncertainty – #7 Morcheeba – Songs that Feature the Sea – #2

The Sea – Morcheeba (1998, China Records)

There is this café down in Cornwall. Its right on the edge of a cliff, perched perilously, the brand new decking of it hangs over it like some sort of daring challenge.  About fifty metres straight down is the site of an old Lifeboat Station, the roof of which is now collapsing in on itself, damaged beyond repair by the occasional falling rock or after a battering from the rolling waves of the Atlantic Ocean.

Its quite hike to get to this café, you have to walk along a coast path, down about two hundred man made steps, clamber over at least on stile and avoid a divebomb attack from the feral gangs of seagulls that own the side of the cliff. Its worth it though, the hot chocolates get served in cups that are roughly the size of your head, the full English breakfast would be too much for even the biggest of building site bellies and if you get there after breakfast, the muffins are extraordinary and if the waiter asks you if you want “treacle sauce” on your muffin, the answer is nearly always yes.

I’ve been to this café twice in the last two years, one in glorious sunshine, where as I sat on the decking slowly enjoying my rum and raisin ice cream, if felt like the greatest café on earth.  The second time I went the heavens opened halfway down the path and I sat inside nursing a cup of tea, and slowly dripping on their panelled floor, I contemplated how I was going to get me and the family back up the other side of the cliff as a thunderstorm raged like a gorilla on methamphetamines outside. 

There is another café, located right on the seafront in the dilapidated Kent resort of Herne Bay.   Its not hard to find, you have to walk along the seafront promenade, past the park (well green space that contains a see saw) and the arcades until you reach the church and then its next door to the bookies.  I believe its owned by a chap called Sid.  It’s seen better days to be honest, the paint is chipped on the wall outside and the wooden frame of the windows look like they would fall out with a good kick. Inside isn’t much better, the floor is all sticky for a start.  The tables are covered with a plastic tablecloth but if you sneak a look underneath your see that they are old plastic ones, that they used to use when you had your lunch in your primary school canteen.  Which is where they probably got the chairs as well, as they are the hardened orange plastic ones that hurt if you sit on them for more than twenty minutes.  On the tables are three bottles, each of them is plastic.  One is red and contains ketchup, its all crusty round the top, the second one is yellow and contains mustard or something which used to be mustard and the third one is brown and doesn’t contain brown sauce but vinegar, or at least a brown watery substance that might be vinegar. The menu hasn’t changed since 1995 and pictures of Princess Diana adorn the walls alongside framed photos of West Ham United.

I’ve been in this café once in the last five years, it was about minus seventeen outside with the windchill and I was supposed to be going to Reculver to see the tower but it was too cold.  My tea was lukewarm and my chips tried to walk off the plates by themselves but I was too scared of the lady behind the counter to say anything.

On all three occasions when I was in these cafes, ‘The Sea’ by Morcheeba was playing when I ordered my food and drink and on each occasion ‘The Sea’ was followed by this,  

At The River – Groove Armada (1997, Tummy Touch Records)

A month of uncertainty – #6 Green Day – Alternate Versions -#2

Basket Case (BBC Live Session) – Green Day (2021, Reprise Records)

Basket Case (Album Version) – Green Day (1994, Reprise Records)

I think this BBC Session was the first time I heard Green Day, it comes from the time when (I think)  Steve Lamacq and Jo Whiley presented the Evening Session on the radio and every band who was something fell over themselves to appear on the show.  Two or three weeks later, the NME gave away a cassette on the front of their paper – which contained this session and within weeks ‘Basket Case’ had gone top ten in the UK singles chart.  Something like that anyway.

Its easy to see why, ‘Basket Case’ is great, a soaring punky pop blast about sexual frustration and panic attacks that was both radio and dancefloor friendly and appealed to a market who were still craving American alternative rock bands.  Green Day though, divided opinion.  On the one hand you had those people who liked them, who didn’t care about their backstory or anything like that, all they cared about was pogoing like crazy when this or any of the other singles from their breakthrough album ‘Dookie’ came on the radio.

Welcome to Paradise – Green Day (1994, Reprise Records, Taken from ‘Dookie’)

On the other side of the road you had the other lot.  The punk rock lot.  Green Day you see started out life in the underground punk rock clubs in California.  They formed a band after hearing groups like Operation Ivy, Rancid and Bad Religion.  Bands who had played those clubs, kept vehemently independent and had formed devoted fans who saw them as heroes.   Green Day included.  Green Day originally won over those fans and played the same clubs and toured with those bands and then in 1993 they signed to a major label.  The sell out bastards.

The proper punks took umbrage accusing them of selling out and being plastic.  The band found themselves banned from the clubs that they loved because they’d signed to a major label.  Their early fans accused them of turning their back on Operation Ivy and all the others (not that the bands themselves thought that).  Even bands who toured with Green Day found themselves targeted by the punk rock mafia.  Of course Green Day’s fanbase had multiplied by about fifty million by this point and I doubt that they really dwelled on it that much – but their treatment was by and large harsh and the bands popularity didn’t stop the independent label that they were on before ‘Dookie’ came out, reissuing the first two Green Day albums (and that debut ‘Ker-Plunk!’ has now sold more than 4 million copies, making it one of the best selling independent records of all time and I suspect that it has allowed that record company to continue to releasing records for a long time).

Stuck With Me (BBC Live Session) – Green Day (2021, Reprise Records)

Stuck With Me (Album Version) – Green Day (1995, Reprise Records)

It wasn’t all bad. They managed to annoy John Lydon who called them “Wank” and moaned at them being called punk rockers (yeah at least they never advertised butter and molested ostriches for food).  They also annoyed Noel Gallagher who accuses them of ripping off ‘Wonderwall’ when the band released ‘Boulevard of Broken Dreams’.  (‘Wonderwall’ being of course, the most original song ever written).

Boulevard of Broken Dreams – Green Day (2004 ,Reprise Records)

A month of uncertainty – #5 – Cover Versions – #1 – Nirvana

You know what this blog lacks, reggae.  It rarely gets a mention, apart from perhaps when I am being nasty about UB40 (because they are dog shite, that’s why).  There isn’t for instance a single reggae album on the Nearly Perfect Album Long list, and The Robster’s excellent piece on Horace Andy aside (which I would argue is a dub record anyway), the genre barely gets a look in on these pages.

Well, all that changes today because today we welcome to these pages, the Jamaican dancehall artist Little Roy.  A man whom some of you will be familiar with I am sure, but if you are not, here are some words on him that I have cribbed from Wikipedia and changed ever so slightly.

Little Roy (Earl Lowe to his mam and dad) began his career when he was twelve years of age when he recorded some music with Prince Buster.  In 1969 his track ‘Bongo Nyah’ a song about the Rastafari movement was massively successful in Jamacia.  He then worked with the Wailers and Lee Scratch Perry and over the next twenty years became a global name in the reggae field.

In 1996, he worked with Adrian Sherwood and in 2011, he worked with Prince Fatty and the Mutant Hi Fi sound system to record an album of Nirvana songs…..

Hang on, what the actual flip, a reggae collection of Nirvana songs, I bet none of you want to hear some of that.  What’s that you do?….Well that’s lucky….

Heart Shaped Box – Little Roy (2011, Ark Records, Taken from ‘Battle For Seattle’)

‘The Battle for Seattle’ it’s not half bad to be honest.  ‘Sliver’ for instance, sounds exactly like a reggae version of it should sound.

Sliver – Little Roy (2011, Ark Records)

Whilst the version of ‘Polly’ is effective in that at times, Roy’s voice adopts a similar sort of growl to that of Cobain, well sort of, if you close your eyes, and scrunch your ears up a bit, you can hear sort of hear it. Even if he does change the words slightly to be less erm, ‘rapey’. Although I suspect that Little Roy hadn’t listened to an awful lot of Nirvana’s music before he made this record.  I might be wrong.

Polly – Little Roy (2011, Ark Records)

There are a few tracks that really standout, a dubbed up ‘Come as You Are’, which has this twinkling beat behind it that sounds like it should have always been there.  ‘Dive’ sounds incredible, and the album closer ‘Lithium’ is given a sunny sixties feel.  All of which work better than you expect them to.

Come As You Are – Little Roy (2011, Ark Records)

Lithium – Little Roy (2011, Ark Records)

Of course reggae versions of indie pop songs are nothing new, although none are quite as good as ‘The Battle for Seattle.  In 2019 these two efforts surfaced as examples of how not to do it.

Bittersweet Symphony – Booost (2019, Wagram Music)

Seven Nation Army – Nostalgia 77 (2019, Wagram Music)

A month of uncertainty – #4 Polly Jean Harvey – No Badger Inspirations – #1

When Under Ether – PJ Harvey (2007, Island Records, Taken from ‘White Chalk’)

So I’m not sure how this part of the month of uncertainty is going work but bear with me.

Of course I made a list.  I always do.  A list of at least 50 people who are alive and have in some way influenced my life.  A list that doesn’t just feature musicians.  It has politicians on it, activists, writers, chefs, film directors, comedians, normal people that no one apart from me and a select band of people will have ever heard of – it has my father and his brother on it and at least two members of the Musical Jury.  The idea was to write about them and some how crowbar some music that appears to be relevant or at least linked in some way to them.  For the musicians that is easy not so for the activists and the others – but hey I’m don’t suppose it matters all that much.

I gave each name on the list a number and then got my daughter to pick a number.  Today she picked 24 and next to 24 sat the words Polly Jean Harvey, which is a relief because I will find it easier to write about Polly Jean Harvey than I will some of the other numbers on the list (like number 37, Jacindra Ardern or number 42, Yotam Ottolenghi and definitely number 28, Michael Barry Watson, who I can guarantee no one reading will have ever heard of)

Anyway, where do you start with Polly Jean Harvey – currently the only musical artist to have won the Mercury Music Prize twice, a performer who constantly reinvents herself, a musician who is not afraid to experiment, to do new things and continues to be breathtakingly outstanding in whatever she does.   I think the only place we can start is with some music – and I’ll start with a track that perhaps should have been on a different playlist.

Down By The Water – PJ Harvey (1995, Island Records, Taken from ‘To Bring You My Love’)

It’s that sound, that dirty bluesy grunge that I love the most about Polly’ music.  The way that music compliments the sometimes topic of the song, as if a song about sex should have this chugging riff behind it or the way a song about longing should have a guitar that sounds frustrated rampaging all over it or the way a song about religion sounds repressed

Songs like this – which back along soundtracked nearly all of my early relationships with females.  The way that guitar crunches is just filthy and almost expecting you.

Oh My Lover – PJ Harvey (1991, Too Pure Records, Taken from ‘Dry’)

But its more than that.  It’s the fact that for over the last 30 years, Polly Jean Harvey has continued to push back the boundaries around music.  She has evolved from that angry female who made records that made records specifically designed to “humiliate herself and make listeners feel uncomfortable” to something close to being a national treasure, if that’s even the right terminology, Polly Jean would almost certainly think it isn’t..  In 2011, she made a record about the first world war that saw her elevated to some sort of war laureate.

The Words That Maketh Murder – PJ Harvey (2011, Island Records, Taken from ‘Let England Shake’)

Before that we had trip hop records, petulantly claustrophobic punk rock records, haunting, ice cold balladry featuring pretty only a piano.  All of them different, all of them brilliant, all of them unquestionably PJ Harvey records, none of them remotely like anything that was being made at the time.

After that we’ve had books of poetry, albums inspired by Kosovo and Afghanistan, film soundtracks, Peaky Blinders, and a raft of new female (and male) musicians who are heavily influenced by Pollys work over the last 30 years. 

Here are a few more of my favourite Polly moments,

You Come Through – PJ Harvey (2004, Island Records, Taken from ‘Uh Huh Her’)

This Is Love – PJ Harvey (2000, Island Records, taken from ‘Stories From The City, Stories From the Sea’)

A Perfect Day Elise – PJ Harvey (1998, Island Records, Taken from ‘Is This Desire?’)

50 Twelve Inches – #43

15 Years – The Levellers (1992, China Records)

I don’t know, you wait 42 weeks for a twelve inch record owned by the wife to be picked by the finger of fate and then two come along all at once.  If the finger of fate stops on her copy of ‘Roobarb & Custard’ by Shaft next week then please feel free to call foul because I fear that mind control techniques might have infiltrated both the shouted stop command and the finger of fate.  Anyway, lets talk about The sodding Levellers again. Who by the way just happen to be the favourite band of one of my daughters best friends, largely because her parents took her to the Beautiful Daze festival a couple of years back.  The last time this friend came to our house, I took them some snacks and was greeted by the jaunty folky indie of ‘Far From Home’ as I delivered the Jaffa Cakes.   So my daughter sort of likes The Levellers, which is probably better than her liking Lewis Capaldi I suppose.

Far From Home – The Levellers (1991, China Records)

As it happens, this twelve inch of ’15 Years’ is a quite a wonderful thing, is a big old bulky thing, gatefold sleeve, that opens out into a lovely inlay and a thick slab of vinyl, something that back in the day felt quite special, whether the quality of music was any better on a heavier vinyl I’m never sure, it doesn’t matter really.

As I said in early April, back along The Levellers were all the rage.  This particularly indie kid and some of his friends had all put down their Ride tshirts and their converse trainers and swapped them for old army jackets, Doc Martens boots, tie dyed tshirts and had then sprayed themselves with a scent that seemed to pong of a strange blend of patchouli and hemp.

Some of course went even further and got themselves a dog, which they dragged around town on a string – actually on that – back in the day, if you were unemployed and on benefits, if you got yourself a dog you could claim money off the government every week so that you could ‘feed your dog’.   A friend of mine, went the whole hog and started living in a converted British Telecom van, and hanging out with Spiral Tribe and listening to Eat Static and taking far too much acid.  He’ll probably tell you it was the best eighteen months of his life, but he’d be lying.

Whether this was entirely the Levellers fault is of course debatable, but between 1991 and 1994, they were one a few bands that helped spearhead a period of time when music, protest and rebellion for once sat comfortably with each other.   Hundreds of thousands of people would attend Rock Against Racism marches, which usually ended in some big park in London where The Levellers would headline a festival (usually preceded by Sir Billy of Bragg, Chumbawamba and Radical Dance Faction). 

The Levellers, probably weren’t solely responsible, but back in the dark days of the early nineties, where the Tories had a massive majority and the spectre of the Far Right loomed (buoyed by the success of the BNP in some poorly attended local elections in East London) amidst a rise in racist murders in the capital and the emergence of draconian laws like the Criminal Justice Bill, they gave thousands of disillusioned people a voice.  They (and others) made rebellion seem worthwhile and helped bring about change (sort of).

I look back on those days, and then I look to the current state of affairs, with increasingly disillusioned youths, rising financial concerns, and once again the spectre of the Far Right lurking in the background, this time thinly disguised as mainstream figures of people like Richard Tice, Nigel Farage and Lee Anderson, who know that they can’t solely peddle the same racist agendas as their predecessors so badge it up as a concern around migration and immigration.  I see that and I see them.   I can’t help but wonder if maybe we need someone to do what the Levellers did thirty years and start the fight back.

’15 Years’ is great, not the best Levellers songs you will ever hear, but still decent enough.  The twelve inch came backed with three other tracks, all of which were made digitally available on the repackaged ‘Levelling the Land’ album several years ago.

Dance Before the Storm – The Levellers (1992, China Records) – In which The Levellers go a little back acid house before remembering that they are crusties.

The Riverflow (Live) – The Levellers (1992, China Records) – The original version featured on the ‘Levelling the Land’ album and was shelved as a single in place of ’15 Years’.

Plastic Jeezus – The Levellers (1992, China Records) – which on reflection should have probably never have left the recording studio.

Here is the no more than five word review

“M2 really like The Levellers”.  M2 isn’t her real name, her parents didn’t name their daughter after the motorway that runs to Medway.  Even if she was conceived on it during a particularly long and boring traffic jam – I made that up, that almost certainly didn’t happen.

Here is the eleven year old recommendation of the week, which appears to actually be quite good.

Take Me to the River – Lorde (2024, A24 Music, taken from ‘Stop Making Sense’ a new talking Heads tribute album that has come out I’ve added some actual Talking Heads to the daughters playlist just in case she decides that post punk is where it is at from now on)

In comparison, here is something that I have been listening to on repeat this week.

Honey – Caribou (2024, City Slang Records)

Nearly Perfect Albums – #109

The Money Store – Death Grips (2012, Epic Records)

It seems sort of right that after raucous racket of At The Drive In and the angry polemic venom of Shellac that we arrive at Sacremento experimental rap rock act Death Grips.   Who take the racket produced by At The Drive In and glue it to the venom that Shellac gave us and then add a bit more anger and a whole truck load of vengeance for good measure.

I say rap rock, but to be honest that’s not really an accurate description for the sound that Death Grips make.  Yes its noisy, and chaotic but over the 41 minutes that this utter masterpiece lasts, only one song features something that sounds like a guitar, and I’d bet you each a bag of doughnuts that the sound is made by a synth.  Most of the sound is a spluttering of buzzes and tweaks and crashes and almost industrial sized banging, all of it at about a million miles per hour and as it happens, all of it brilliant. 

Hustle Bones – Death Grips (2012, Epic Records)

I wouldn’t even call what comes out of lead vocalist MC Ride’s mouth as rapping either.  He does lead shouting if that helps, and when he does that he sort of sounds like Mark E Smith with a mouthful of marbles (if Mark E Smith came from Sacremento that is).  Don’t even try and get some meaning from the lyrics, most of them have been thrown at a fridge and then copied down wrong.  Saying that the hoarse, panicky vocals are outstanding and perfectly compliment all the stuff going on behind them.

The Cage – Death Grips (2012, Epic Records)

It’s a thrilling journey, ‘the Money Store’, it opens with the exceptional ‘Get Got’ as close to an accessible track as Death Grips ever get.  Although, you have stretch the definition of accessible to include a frantic, claustrophobic looping synth that twists and turns all over the place which a potty mouthed maniac shouts at you.

Get Got – Death Grips (2012, Epic Records)

Twelve more manic, distorted and occasionally raw tracks follow, stamping all over our ear drums and stamping on them a bit more without really pausing for breath.  The experimental influences can sort of be heard.  ‘I’ve Seen Footage’ takes an old school electro house beat and twists it beyond all perception as MC Ride rants against the voyeuristic nature of modern society (I think).  You can hear traces of crunk, industrial noise, and NWA in there.

I’ve Seen Footage – Death Grips (2012, Epic Records)

Whilst ‘System Blower’ seethes amidst drones, sirens, synths and a stuttering bassline that sounds like Death Grips have turned dubstep inside out and taken to it with big old bats. It’s insane, but essentially so.

System Blower – Death Grips (2012, Epic Records)

‘The Money Store’ ends with ‘Hacker’ which if you ask me sounds like it was recorded to be played in a café teetering on the edge of earthquake as volcanic dust covers everyone and everything, and if that is true, it would probably be the best place on earth to be.

Hacker – Death Grips (2012, Epic Records)

A Month of Uncertainty – #3 – Pale Saints – Songs that Feature the Sea – #1

Sea of Sound – Pale Saints (1990, 4AD Records, Taken from ‘The Comfort of Madness’)

When she was much younger, I use to take my daughter to beach all the time and we would usually remove our shoes and march along the sand and take our pick of the stones and when we got to a certain point we would lob them all in.  On one occasion she saw a man skimming his stones, with his boy.  Her little face lighting up as she realised that stones if you chuck them properly can jump over the water.

She looks at me and ask me the question,

“Daddy can you teach me to make the stones jump please?”

She Rides The Waves – Pale Saints (1990, 4AD Records, Taken from ‘The Comfort of Madness’)

I can’t skim stones, never been able to do it, I get the concept, I even get how to do it, I just can’t do it, but you can’t tell your child that.  So I bend down pick up a few flat stones and show her the concept, she’s probably four maybe five at this time, so she’s going to be terrible at it, but we try.  We spend about half an hour collecting flat stones and then try and make them jump, but end up lobbing them all in the sea instead.

Every time we go to the beach (regardless of the beach of the type of stone) for the next two years we try and make the stones jump until one day, at Cadgwith Cove in deepest, pointiest Cornwall, a fantastically pebbly beach with hundreds of perfectly flat skimming stones, we try again.  I hold the stone in the back of my hand, between my thumb and forefinger and twist it and…it just plops in the water like it’s just been throw badly by an idiot.  But my daughter picks one and does it exactly the same way, mind you, and it jumps, four, five times before crashing against a big rock and splashing marvellous in the water, like a big show off.

Sight of You – Pale Saints  (1990, 4AD Records, Taken from ‘The Comfort of Madness’)

There is a whoop, a cheer even, and I look at her, I’m now officially the worst stone skimmer in my household.  She picks another flat stone up, it jumps again.  She’s got it and she is utterly delighted.

Half-Life Remembered – Pale Saints (1990, 4AD Records, Taken from ‘Mrs Dolphin’)

Now, every time we go to a beach, my daughter, all eleven years of her, tries to teach me, how to skim stones, and we try, her stones gracefully skipping over the water for several metres before falling with a satisfying plop in sea, mine, just sort of making a splash and not even nearly skipping over the flat sea surface I’m as good at skimming stones as I am at teaching the cat to read Sanskrit.

 No musical genre does sweeping coastal imagery as well as shoegaze does.

Those little crashes of cymbal, that’s the waves gently lapping at the shore, that faint feedback noise that the small pieces of pebble being dragged up the shore and then dragged back down again.  That bassline that whips along in the background, barely there but so important, that’s breeze, it will occasionally whip itself up slightly just to remind you that its still there.

Henry – Pale Saints (1994, AD Records, Taken from ‘Slow Buildings’)

Of course, then we have the lyrics, delivered in a sort of hushed whisper, like the vocalist has deliberately locked themselves in a soundproof cupboard and has forced the sound engineer to record the singing through the air vent to make it dreamier and more distant and otherworldly. But those lyrics must feature in someway a line about the sky or the colour blue or flying high.  Even better if you can manage all three.